"Bless the Lord oh my soul, oh my soul. Worship his holy name. Sing like never before, oh my soul. I'll worship your holy name." 

"Praise Adonai. From the rising of the sun, to the end of every day. Praise Adonai. All the nations of the earth, all the angels and the saints, sing praise."

"Counselor, Comforter, Keeper. Spirit we long to embrace. You offer hope when our hearts have hopelessly lost the way. We hopelessly lost the way... you rescue the souls of men. You give the healing and grace our hearts always hunger for."

This morning began as any usual sunday morning would have begun: early. Mom has been a worship leader at our church for as long as I can remember (and personally, I think she does a beautiful job of it). As I rolled out of bed, a good 2 hours earlier than I would have, I was spent in every way imaginable. Physically, my body is exhausted and complains every morning, usually inflicting various back pains or head aches. It's choice of weapon this morning? A combination of both. Emotionally, yeah, don't really even want to go there. I feel very empty - I've used up every ounce of "trying to care" and "trying to process things." I was kind of done processing. Spiritually, I was incredibly discouraged. Reading my bible, praying, meditating on God's promises, and even singing worship music to remind myself of God's goodness has done little to still my restless weary soul. I'm not trying to be dramatic, but I don't know how else to describe it. The closest I can come to describing it is that feeling you get after a really really long fight, when there's no resolution. Only in this case, I didn't even know who I was fighting against. Let is suffice to say, I woke up this morning, pretty sick of life in general.

But what can you do? Life goes on - I don't know how sometimes - but it does, so you pull yourself together, you mutter another 10 second, half-hearted prayer, and you get in the car to go to church. On the way mom was worried about the set (as she usually does), which is was silly because worship went beautifully (which it usually does). But I got to church and I don't know what happened, but I finally felt like I was home. I greeted pastors, elders, friends, the worship team... These are people that have watched me grow up, the only people outside of my family. They might not know me very well, I don't tell them what I struggle with or what makes me tick. But they know me, in a weird sort of way. I guess I never really understood it till this morning. Standing up onstage I saw in the congregation children I had taught now teaching others, babies I had just met a year ago, now running around with the bigger kids, parents who's children I had grown up with, godly men who had visibly led their wives and been strong for them, women who had followed through thick and thin - this felt like family. This felt like home.

There's a very very very elderly gentleman who hasn't missed a sunday in something like 20 years, except once when he got snowed in his house, back in whatever state he used to live. He has so much scripture memorized it's coming out of his ears. He still lifts weights almost every day. He still reads. a lot. And he's constantly pouring through his bible. I've always admired the men who, in old age, talk about the lives they saved, or the battles they've fought, or the glory they achieved. But this man... he is more of a man than anyone I've met (except for Daddy of course). He might not have scars to show, but he has fought hard and well. He is a testament to God's faithfulness. He adored, protected, and provided for his wife until she passed away (I think about 8 years ago). But he still continues on. It really does amaze me.

Contrast that with my precious little Shaylynn. I taught this girl through 1st and 2nd grade. I've watched her grow and thrive at church and among her friends here. Every time I come back from college, she's always ready to run at me and give me the sweetest hug anyone could wish for. She's still quite young 11, but she's already a sweet, mature young lady. I can't wait to see what the Lord has planned for the precious girl's life.

As I sat in that high school gym, I remembered why life is important. I remembered the joy of family and friends who will always be there with you. My soul settled down, and my high strung spirit is temporarily calmed.

Fast forward 5 hours. 70-80 people have just been to our house, and you can tell. Clusters of balloons are tied to every chair, streamers and banners decorate our backyard, and the tables on our porch and littered with leftover cupcakes, fruit and chocolate, and brightly colored table cloths. Our backyard looks beautiful.

Two of my dearest friends graduated this year, and because of various reasons, were't able to have a graduation ceremony even though they graduated (they were home schooled). One of them, Devynne, has been an amazing example of encouragement and steadfast faithfulness. Through open heart surgeries, and other medical problems, she has been such an amazing picture of quiet joy and never-ending trust in the Lord and his promises. Her sister, Brenna, has been such a sweet and wonderful friend to me. We've had some awesome memories (cheez-its and llamas. Am I right?!?! ;) :)). I've seen her stick by her sister. But not only that, I've seen her define her life with joy, friendship, and endurance. I've cried with her, laughed with her, been silly and serious - all that friendship can bless two people with, that is what I've had in her friendship. I love both these girls so much, so it was such a blessing to be part of this with them.

I think that every one should hold a balloon at least once a week. I skipped around the yard with handfuls of balloons. Pinks, greens, whites, and yellows danced on the ends of bright orange strings. They followed me around like a cluster of fairies, but obnoxious and noisy. It was fun, and free, and totally childish, but so fulfilling. It was good to be able to let go like that.

So far this post is a random assortment of images and experiences, but the overall tone is one of delight. This is what I have lost. I've been so blinded by selfish despair and anxiety that I had totally lost delight. But it's back.

God loves us and made flowers pretty. I never used to understand that statement. Then for a little while, I thought I had figured it out. But now I realize I didn't really get it, and I probably still don't. But God created this world beautiful. Yes, it is fallen, but there is still beauty to be found. Rivers still sing, trees still whistle, and flowers are still pretty. This is enough to rejoice over. It makes sense.

I know this has been really random, but if you get nothing else out of this, know that there is so much to be delighted with. There is so much beauty in the world. So much gladness in youth and old age. So much life to be lived, life worth living.