When you need to choose joy

I'm linking up at Holley Gerth's place today for Coffee for Your Heart. She has the prompt, "what brings you joy?" I'm also linking up at Three Word Wednesday. 

Here is my story.




When I was ten I got my first horse. His name was Prince and he was tall, dark and handsome. 

At ten years old, I thought he was majestic and I remember being a little terrified of getting on him. I was so short I couldn't reach the stirrup to climb up to the saddle, so my dad had to give me a boost.

Prince was a gentleman with his new cowgirl. When I nudged his ribs with my heels, he'd go forward. When I'd press the reins on the left side of his neck, he'd turn right. When I'd pull back on them, he'd slow or stop.

Oh, the joy and freedom I felt perched up on Prince's saddle!

But, I only had Prince a very short time.

I went to stay with my mom in Iowa, and when I returned the next season, Prince was gone. 

My dad told me that Prince had gotten out of his fence and gotten into a field of alfalfa, and had gotten deathly ill from eating that grain.

My ten year old heart was crushed. Even now, I feel the pang of disappointment.

Exhilarating joy, to crushing disappointment. Oh, what extremes our hearts endure in a lifetime! 

This current of highs and lows in my young life had already begun before this tragedy, and would continue from this moment on.

Highs and lows.
Joys and sorrows.

What do I choose to dwell on? 

If I choose to dwell on the sorrow of losing Prince, it overshadows the joy I experienced in having him. 

Healthy grief is necessary, yes. There is a definite place for that and I don't minimize that. 

But then, with time, my heart has to turn toward the light. 

Toward the memories that bring joy.

Joy should not be sequestered to the back corner of my heart and hidden away just because I've had disappointments and sorrow.

It is only in sifting through my disappointments and sorrows that I can learn to dwell more on the joy.

The joy that adds strength to my mind, soul and body.

When I remember my beautiful horse, Prince, I choose to remember the good.

I remember the surprise when my dad presented him to me as a gift.
I remember the love I felt from a father to a daughter.

I remember how I felt riding him, with my hair blowing in the wind.

I remember how gentle he was with me.

I choose joy.

Blessings friends,

Because she could let go

Today, I'm linking up with a community of encouraging writers at Lisa Jo Baker's blog for Five Minute Friday. The prompt is "she". Writing for just five minutes straight. From the heart. No need to be perfect, just sharing our hearts through words.  Won't you join in?

I only saw her three times in my life. 

Grandma Edith in a sea of flowers

She raised my dad until he was sixteen and then somehow, some way, said good bye to him as he followed his dream. His dream took him across the vast ocean to the land of “freedom rings” and the home of the brave. How could her mother heart allow that? How could she watch her oldest son leave and not know when she would see him again?

I only saw her three times but she has taught me much. 

Even though the three times I saw her, there was a language barrier . She speaking Swedish and I speaking English. My dad was the translator.

She smiled.

She laughed big. 

Her voice was warm and loving. 

And I knew by the letters she sent my dad in America that she loved him more than I can explain.

I’m not sure how she could let him go. Her oldest son. But, she did, and I am here as living proof. I’m glad she let him make the trip.

Grandma Edith, Dad and Grandpa Gustav on one of  Dad's visits home

From her I’ve learned the art of letting go of someone you love in order to let them find their dream. 

I’ve learned of love, grace and love of God.

Blessings to you Grandma Edith. Until we meet again.




How about you? Do you find it hard to let go? I do.

I have a post about my dad's trip to America at age sixteen here at my blog, A Ready Listener.