Where is the Joy?

After re-reading through some of my most recent posts, plus some older ones, I realised that I hadn't written much about the subject of my blog, the very reason that I started blogging in the first place, namely Hope and Joy. On Sunday at church the sermon was about Joy, and was given by a vicar who was so obviously full to brimming with joy himself. Made me stop and think about things a bit. He made the point that as Christians in the UK we aren't exactly famed for our abounding joy, that if we were to ask someone on the street to name a quality that they associated with church goers in this country, then joy probably wouldn't be mentioned there. A very good point. More often that not, just as everyone else, I can look rather glum, and feel glum too, but I know that the reasons on my part are usually pretty pathetic in the scheme of things, maybe my future Mother in Law, has chewed my ear off over something and upset me, or MLO had said or done something. The problem is that I then go out, or to work and instead of focusing on the bigger things, I concentrate on the little things, and turn myself from someone who is, and appears to be happy and joyful into someone rather miserable, with a bit of a mood to boot. Not always, but I know more than once I have turned up to church in a rather less than joyful state because I have been upset by something said, and rather than being as friendly and open as I can, I have been rather short with people. I don't intend to though, but I am a bit over emotional at times when I don't mean to be. The result of all that usually ends up with me getting rather mad at myself for behaving like it to people.
So where is the joy, why don't I show it all the time, why cant I always concentrate on God, Jesus and everything that they are in my life, the fact that God is up there dancing away when he thinks of us (that's how the vicar put it anyway, and when he said it I got the most hilarious image of God with all the host of heaven having a right old hoe down, and almost burst out laughing). He asked us how that made us feel, knowing that God was up there celebrating every moment because of us, He loved us that much. I am totally able to accept the fact that Jesus loves me, and I have unfailing faith in that fact, no problem in declaring it, that He is my Saviour, if asked I would gladly say so, and from time to time I could have leapt across the rooftops crying this out, and have been reduced to tears when I have stopped and really thought about it, and there are also occasional days when the whole world full of people is wondrous amazing and beautiful, and I really seem to get it, but there are days when I lose sight of it all, praying becomes a chore rather than something I want and need to do, every little thing upsets me and I become unhappy or rather unjoyful. I need to go and have a good think about it all. I'll get back to you on that.
The last week has been a bit uneventful although I did come down with a rather nasty throat infection over the weekend before last, and by the early hours of last Tuesday I couldn't swallow, it was too painful. I had to take a day off work to go to see a doctor. One problem, I hadn't visited a doctor for over twenty years, and wasn't even sure where I was registered if at all, I certainly wasn't registered in Herefordshire. Unsure what to do, MLO took me to the hospital to see the on duty GP. Got there, and the receptionist said that no-one would see me as I wasn't registered anywhere, and I would have to register at a doctors surgery before I could be seen. My throat at this point felt like it was coated in stones and simultaneously being hacked at with a rusty saw, and not able to swallow, rather uncomfortable. MLO asked for me what would be required, and the receptionist said I would need my passport, birth certificate and any social security things, etc etc. MLO took me on the off chance to his doctors in the nearby village who said, yes I did need to register at that surgery, but all I had to do was fill in a simple form. Once registered they made an appointment for me for that afternoon. One doctor visit later and a prescription for some antibiotics and I was sorted. The throat is still slightly hoarse but doesn't hurt.
Work again Thursday and Friday. Saturday was spent with MLO and Mum wandering round Hereford, didn't do an awful lot though, so cant really say anything on that. Sunday, as it was my weekend off, we went to the morning service, which was a morning worship service rather than communion. Not so many people there compared to the last few times. Vicar got his guitar out and accompanied a couple of the songs with some extremely vigorous strumming. Was a great happy service, MLO was a bit unimpressed, he said it was American type nonsense, and just wasn't Church of England. Oh dear. He is quite happy to go to the village church, but it is getting a struggle to get him to agree to go to the town church. I said its not how we do, that counts but what we do, he gave me a look as if to say don't bring that cliche out on me, and remained completely unimpressed. Still no word on being confirmed, from the pew sheet it seems the vicar still doesn't know when it will be. Didn't have chance for much of a chat after church, still nevermind it will happen when it happens, and as long as it does I'm not really too worried when.
So there you are, all up to date, nothing more to say, except night night and au revoir till next time.

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2 comments:

N Abram said...

Just saying hello. I had a really bad sore throat over the summer hols so i sympathise wholeheartedly..will read more later on as it is getting late. God bless. Nicky

FullOfHopeAndJoy said...

Hi, thanks for taking the time to read, and many thanks for following too.

God bless you too.
K

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FullOfHopeAndJoy
Herefordshire, United Kingdom
Born in 1975 in Brixham, in glorious Devon. Spent most of my youth in grimy birmingham. As soon as i was able at 18 I moved to beautiful Herefordshire. Where i remain to this day. Work at Locks Garage, famous for our ice creams. Generally wonderful place.
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