I remember being about 11 or 12 and sitting in church hearing my pastor, Lucinda Holmes, talk about Mary being just a young teenager when she was told she'd be pregnant. Then we read the scripture about Mary singing song of Joy (or something like that) and sang "There's a Song In The Air." Many of the grown-us were smiling. I wasn't smiling ... not at all.
I was mortified.
I mean, what if God came to me and told me that I was going to be pregnant. First thing I'd do was calmly explain to God that I was afraid of needles, and I was pretty sure I'd have to get a shot if I were pregnant.
And then maybe He'd say, "Okay, Heather, I'll find someone else." Then, he'd pick someone who was older, like 22, and who wasn't afraid of needles.
Those were the days that we ended every hymn with "Amen." Only, I would sing, "Awomen" because it was the early 80s, and I was a feminist. I think, I wasn't sure. I just knew that I could bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan.
I was certain, though, that I'd be anything but joyful if I were told I'd have a baby a very young age.
Now, I'm older and wiser (sorta), and I know that I still wouldn't be joyful if I'd have had a child at 12. I have a 13 year old and an 11 year old. The word "mortified" isn't nearly strong enough to describe how I'd feel if they turned up pregnant.
What I do know now is this: God has in mind to give me opportunities on a daily basis to find joy.
In a world where I cannot get enough sleep, I haven't taken a shower or peed by myself since I can't remember when, and the laundry is multiplying with every sunrise, finding joy is not always easy to do. This week? I'm going to have it in my mind to look for the joy--the things that make me smile, that make my heart happy, that offer me joy. And I'll take those things.