The Joy of the Lord

His handwriting isn't the best in the world; I can say I come by it honest.

But he always uses the same black or blue or red Uniball pen.

He's used that kind for years.

They've written cramped numbers in spreadsheet after spreadsheet.

They've penned signatures on cards for me and my sisters and my Mom.

They've jotted down Scriptures as he studies his Sunday School lessons.

They've noted measurements on logs and buildings and Fort Caleb.

If I close my eyes, I can see him, pen on desk, fingers flying on the keyboard of a calculator, completing someone's taxes.

Or bent over claim files, trying to determine what his client's needs were.

And now he uses those pens to write down how many ounces Melody takes in her bottle.

Tonight, our preacher spoke on joy- Rejoice.

Joy again.

And my Dad jotted down those Scriptures. His hand furiously scribbling, to capture something to review later.

Because joy can be fleeting.

We face difficulties, and joy gets hidden in the fog...

But it's still there. Bubbling under the surface, getting ready to spill over, because Jesus came to fill us and give us the more abundant life.

And my Dad said "Praise the Lord" and "Amen" because that's just what he does.

And I listened and thought about how a lot of the times I don't feel strong.

At 36, I still look up at my Daddy and think that he's invincible. I know that he's not, but when I'm not strong, that's what he's for...

But his strength in difficult situations, as I've grown up...

It's because of the joy of the Lord.

And teary-eyed, I watched him pen those words tonight. I listened to him laugh during parts of the Bible study, because when you are joyful, you can't keep it to yourself.

And more than anything, I want what he's got.

And the good news is, it's free for the taking.