Filled With Joy
Joy seemed elusive to me in the two years leading up to my daughter’s birth. My heart’s desire to be an adoptive mom was like a mirage in the desert. I would journey so long across a barren land, void of relief, before I’d get a glimpse of hope off in the distance. I’d inch closer, certain the end to my pain was in sight, only to watch it dissolve into thin air. This happened so many times that I began to question if joy was ever real to begin with. Psalm 56:8 says, “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” These words brought me comfort in my season of suffering. I imagined God collecting all my tears, of which there were many, in a giant cup that grew fuller and heavier by the day. After our sixth attempt to adopt had failed, I knew that cup was overflowing.
Then, a miraculous thing happened. My tears that God so faithfully and lovingly collected were used to water my dry and desolate soul. On November 1, 2011, I became a mother to the most beautiful baby girl I’d ever seen. I remember holding her in my arms that very first night, wondering if it was all a dream. We named her Providence Joy. I thought I needed joy before, during all those times when I’d gone home without a child and the prospect of joy had been ripped out from under me, but I was wrong. I didn’t need it then as much as I needed it on November 1, 2011. With wisdom and generosity I will never comprehend, God waited to provide joy when He knew I needed it most. Only when my cup was overflowing would there be enough tears to sow songs of joy.
One of my favorite movies is Under the Tuscan Sun. Reeling from an unexpected divorce, an American writer, Frances, impulsively buys a run-down villa in the heart of Tuscany, Italy, and embarks on a year of "firsts": learning Italian, renovating a villa, and navigating love on the rebound in a foreign country. As you can imagine, restoring an ancient home to modern-day standards of living is filled with challenges. On her first day in the house, Frances notices a large water spigot protruding from the wall of her living room. She turns the knob every which way, but no water comes out. She’s perplexed but chooses to ignore it for the time being. Throughout the year Frances continually forgets about the spigot and often bumps into it as she walks by, snagging her clothes and bruising herself. She notices it’s started to drip, ever so slightly. The months pass by, construction work on the home continues, and Frances slowly rebuilds her life through newfound friendships and opportunities. Her broken heart is being restored just like her house. In the very last scene of the movie, Frances is walking by the spigot when she decides to try turning the knob one more time. Lo and behold, fresh, clean water comes gushing out. Barefoot, Frances stands in the water pooling under her feet, and claps for joy.
I love the symbolism of this scene. What a sweet reminder to not lose hope, and to trust that joy is on the horizon. The very thing that discourages us can be what brings us delight in the end. This was certainly true for me. My pursuit of motherhood filled me with deep sorrow as I experienced loss after loss. I was often bruised by the prospect of a child that I feared would never come. With every turn of the knob, I became more and more discouraged. Until one day that little drip became a fountain of joy. It turns out joy wasn’t a mirage after all. It was a baby girl with olive skin, a head of luscious, black hair, and deep brown eyes. She is the product of tears well sown. The reward of motherhood is rich indeed, and it has brought whole new meaning to the phrase, My cup runneth over.
Psalm 126 reads, “When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dreamed. Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy. Then it was said among the nations, ‘The Lord has done great things for them.’ The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy. Restore our fortunes, Lord, like streams in the Negev. Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.”
If happiness seems elusive to you today, take heart. Your cup of tears may be filled to the brim, but those tears are being collected by the God who loves you and saved for a time when you will need them to wet the soil of your sorrow. Songs of exultation are not far off, and they will ring out louder and sweeter with every tear you sow. He will turn your wailing into dancing, remove your sackcloth of grief and clothe you with joy (Psalm 30:11). Your cup will soon be filled with joy, and it will runneth over.