Joy Floats

I used to love a book entitled : The Hotel New Hampshire. I'm afraid to read it again because I think I wouldn't be able to get past a lot of the icky stuff, which is too bad because I really liked that book. One of the running themes through the story was: 'sorrow floats,' the idea being that sorrow never really goes away. It might go under for a while, but soon enough it will come back to the surface, taking a different and unexpected form, but back again all the same.
Maybe that's true, but this morning I'm putting in a plug for JOY. Because joy takes many forms, too.
Sometimes it arrives simply, like in the form of a t-shirt given in love.
Sometimes it emerges slowly, from a deep place, when you are tentatively and cautiously pulling something from a place of pain in your heart, and offering it up to people whom you are learning to love and trust. And they, being of like mind and of one body, treat that pain with care and love. And the sound of their voices, and words brought to that pain, and the presence of Jesus brings such deep and profound joy you can hardly speak.
Sometimes it shows up warm and sweet, on a plate, and calls itself snickerdoodle.