Celebrate Anyway {23 of 40 Stories}

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For a long time, I’ve claimed Philippians 4:4-7 as a compass to how I live. I’ve memorized the New International Version. Tonight I read The Message and smiled. You’ll see why…

Celebrate God all day, every day. I mean, revel in him! Make it as clear as you can to all you meet that you’re on their side, working with them and not against them. Help them see that the Master is about to arrive. He could show up any minute! 

 Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.

Celebrate! I’ve come to believe that celebration saves us.

The biggest difference between adopting the girls and adopting Jordan is now I celebrate. The world would be happy to tell you that the 8 year old boy with a long history in foster care would be a harder adjustment for a family than the 4 and 6 year old sister sibling group.I’m here to tell you celebration has made it much easier.

I smile, laugh, and relax more. I celebrate…

  • That he doesn’t want to go to bed because it means he likes to be around us.
  • That he rushed through his homework because then he sat on my lap while he corrected it.
  • That he is the loudest eater in the history of the world, because it means he has delicious food on his plate.
  • That he grumbled about not getting enough reading time because it means he loves books.
  • That he ran his mouth and said unkind things and hrmphhed and pulled the covers over his head because I had to ask, “So do you want a hug?” He said, “Yes, sheesh, you know I want a hug, why do you always have to be difficult.”
  • So I laughed, because (lucky for him) he is just so cute. Then I tickled him.

And he laughed too, wrapped his arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. I held him until he snuggled in that perfect space between my shoulder and neck.  “I love you, Mom,” his voice his muffled, warm against my ear. I squeeze him tight, then pull the blankets over his arms and all the way up to his chin, just the way he likes.

I kiss his forehead. “Good night, Jordan. I love you.”

“I know it.” His voice is already thick with sleep. 

I smile, and you know why.

Celebration saves.

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