It’s two AM and Noelle wanders into our room, mumbling a need to have ice  for her owie finger, the result of some three year old dreaming.

I roll out of bed and guide her back to her room, realizing that she’s wet the bed.  So I bundle her softly on the couch under a huge fleecy blanket while I strip the wet sheets off and exchange them for new, clean, bright pink bedding.

As I bend down to kiss her face and smooth the covers over her chilly, soft skin she licks my face: “Because I’m your kitty” she says, “and kittys lick.”

I laugh, even though I’m slightly grossed out, and shut off the hall light before crawling back into bed.  Somehow smiling in the midst of a 2 AM, pee soaked wake up call.

Suddenly my mind switches on and I wonder why I was able to find joy in the non-ideal.

Then scenes from last night drift back and keep me from sleep. I nagged at Kel for playing on his phone and he reminded me that a whole day cannot be defined by one moment.  He encouraged me to remember all the good despite the slip up.

This way of relating is a marriage gold mine if you can dig it and, God I need to dig it.

Last night I made the wise choice of apologizing for the comment so as not to spoil the evening.  Then on a whim, I walked up to him with my ridiculous t-rex arms, offering comic relief as an olive branch.

He responded with his silly crabby dance, the one where he bobs his head and makes his hands into pinchers.  (Which he won’t do on camera or else I would YouTube it for you, it can bring a smile to any face)

We laugh together and move toward the bedroom, where we used the laser pointer to torture the cat for the next 20 minutes.  (Seriously, who needs cable?)

As I lay in bed sleepless at 2AM, those moments fell sweet and melt like cotton candy on my tongue.  They make me feel lighter inside and bring hope with the silliness.

My mind recalled the verse I scribbled on the chalkboard for the week.

“Be cheerful no matter what, pray all the time, thank God no matter what happens.  This is the way that God wants you who belong to Christ Jesus to live.” ~ 1 Thess 5:16-18

And then I recall something in scripture about having strength and laughing at the days to come (Prov 31:25)

I want to laugh more, for one who claims to choose joy I feel as though I have been choosing mere survival for a while now.  I don’t write as one who has mastered this cheerful, laughing way of life.  I can’t deny that it’s sweeter, lighter and given to us by God.

These thoughts melt on my soul so sweetly and cause me to wonder why we’ve lived so heavy and hard for so long.

Is it residual grief from my mom’s death?  Knowing that healthy grief takes about two years helps me understand our survival season but also fuels me to push out to the other side of this tunnel.

I want to surrender more anger and irritation.

Laugh at more childlike silliness.

Pray more with a cheerful spirit

Choose more cotton candy moments with ridiculous T-Rex arms and Crabby dancing.

live a life where choosing joy doesn’t look like just making it, but laughing, sweetness on the tongue.

Do you have a method of tasting the sweetness?  Do you need to learn this too?