Comfort and joy

 I keep hearing the line "Comfort and Joy" from the Christmas Carol jingling in my head. It's a bit early even for me, but with the wind howling outside, it's not hard to conjure up the image of a roaring fire, a cup of tea, and a piece of Christmas cake—comfort and joy at its best!

I took up swimming in the lake last year. I started as a symbolic act for something God was talking to me about - washing off apathy and exhaustion. Once I started, I met people who found swimming in cold water helped with anxiety, depression and other mental health struggles. Slowing down breathing when the body is in shock, telling you to get out, can apparently build resilience in times of flight, fight and freeze.  As I looked into it a bit more, I learnt how it can help heal emotional trauma*. And I found this to be true for me. I was curious as to why. As I was taking a cold early morning shower, with a bold, although not completely true declaration, of "I'd rather be cold and fully alive than comfortable and half-asleep", I thought about how the generations before had washed. Cold water splashed over the face with an occasional hot bath. Comparatively, we have to be the most comfortable society in history- running hot water, inside flushing toilets, central heating, a choice of regular food, kettles that boil in minutes, sofas, cars to get to work, washing machines, dryers, dishwashers. All these amazing inventions that make life easier and more comfortable. Yet joy doesn't seem to have increased. What if the discomfort of a wash in the river every morning is good for us, and our desire for physical comfort means we're missing out on something valuable? Think of the current life "hacks" that Granny would have just called life.

Fasting was hunger

Upcycling was make do and mend

Running/riding a bike was travel 

Meditation was prayer

I had two reoccurring nightmares throughout my childhood and would wake up in a terrible state, yet, by now, these have become some of my most precious memories of my dad. He used to get up and come see me. He never said much or stayed long, but knowing he'd heard me and got out of his cosy, warm bed to settle me down and tell me it was ok, significantly impacted me. I knew I was loved. This is the kind of comfort I need even as an adult. Comfort that soothes my spirit and soul, whatever's happening around me. That's one of the names of the Holy Spirit - Comforter. He doesn't come to keep us comfortable, but so that when life feels a bit crappy, we can ask Him to come and comfort us where we are. I read once that if you ask Him to come comfort, He never takes longer than a minute. I tried it, and it's true, probably because He's ever-present! But I don't always remember, and that minute has helped me become aware. Try it!

When I was asked as a child, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" my answer was "Happy". I wasn't trying to be clever; I just thought that if I made happy my aim, everything else would sort itself out. The response of adults often left me confused, because they laughed at my reply. I learnt to give a different answer because I didn't like how it made me feel small and silly, but it still is what I want to be "when I grow up". Or perhaps it's not happy. That seems bland now. I'd rather be joyful.

When the sun shines, the birds sing, and people around me tell me they love me, it's easy, but to choose joy when life is pants can seem impossible. Walking around with blinkers on or rose-tinted glasses isn't joy. I've been through times where I've worn a fake smile and times where I've pretended, even to myself, that things are ok when they're not, and that's a recipe for an emotional crash at some point down the line. To walk in joy in dark places, I've realised I first need comforting. It's great to have someone by my side that sits with me as I recall everything wrong and all that it should be; I grieve and complain. Sometimes it's a person, sometimes it's God who comes like my dad did all those years ago. He gives reassurance that this, too, will pass. That I'm seen, loved and heard. And THEN, from that place on his lap, so to speak, I can choose where to keep my eyes, mind, and heart fixed; on the darkness, discomfort, and pain, or I can take a second look and see what's good, lovely, pure, and worth praising. Choosing the latter always settles my soul. It puts peace deep in my belly and takes me to a depth of gratitude and thankfulness - joy. And Joy gives strength. It's not a childish emotion to grow out of. It sustains and lifts the soul from the pit of despair and makes it possible to carry on. And with joy planted deep in the garden of your soul, you never quite know when it's going to pop-up in a giggle, smile or contagious belly laugh.

* Swimming in very cold water can be dangerous, especially if you have certain medical issues. Check with your Dr etc. etc.