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They laughed behind cupped hands, grade-school whispers assessing her dress.
Look! It’s as big as a tent!
Peter’s face reddened as he accepted his forgotten lunch bag from his mother’s strong hand. Her face glowed, Scandinavian accent thick as she spoke love over her son in broken English.
I dangled upside down from the playground bars, observing this heavyset woman adorned in a shapeless house dress swishing past her ankles.
Thank you, Mimu, Peter spoke quietly, his eyes beholding his mother, affection mingled with a touch of embarrassment upon realizing he had verbalized his gratitude before a captive audience. This, during his first week at our school.
Mimu smiled as she tenderly tousled his hair, murmuring love in her foreign tongue. Blowing her son a kiss she turned and padded down the street, humming as she pushed her baby home.
The playground taunting resumed.
Mimu? Mimu? Sounds like a whale! croaked one student, sending the scoffers to another round of jeering.
Peter hung his head and retreated to the swings, head down as he nibbled his sandwich.
The following week Mimu appeared at our classroom’s Show and Tell, happily dishing out Scandinavian snacks alongside tales of her homeland. Peter’s cheeks flamed as he helped translate.
I regarded this cheery woman with her small crescent eyes and rosy cheeks, and felt my heart tug. There was a uniqueness about her that was both distinct and lovely.
Why was I drawn to a person who, by common standards, was unattractive?
It was her joy. To be in her presence was alluring—a warm and happy invitation.
Several boys giggled and whispered another whale joke.
Mimu smiled. Children! God so good to bring family safely here. Thank you for nicing Peter.
Improper English did not jettison her meaning. In fact, her affable words cast sunbeams upon our classroom. The mockers fell silent.
Mimu glowed as she pointed to her daughter perched in the buggy.
I thank God to give baby sister for Peter.
The baby chewed her rattle and kicked her chunky legs.
Peter’s mother commenced with more delicacies, insisting we enjoy second servings of her light, flaky, and scrumptious dessert. She clapped with delight as each student munched the treat.
I grinned. This woman’s jubilation was radiant and contagious.
As Christians, our lives are meant to be murals of joy, splashes of color sparkling through all hardship. Authentic joy is impervious to calamity, illness, cruelty, persecution, and poverty.
The joy of the LORD was her strength. (Nehemiah 8:10)
How will we each respond when enduring trials of various kinds?
Consider that a joyful or miserable reaction stems from the heart, and serves as a megaphone to the listening world.
Recently, I have had the honour of enduring a mighty wave of suffering.
How can such tender pain be a privilege?
God has used aching circumstances to verify my source of happiness. My joy has proven genuine, an imperishable fruit of the Spirit, deeply embedded in Christ. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can diminish my pleasure in God. He holds and keeps me.
Do these trials scorch, ache, and burn?
Most definitely. Yet I remain full of steadfast joy, having learned to disentangle my gaze from this present, passing world. As such delight in the Lord increases, my eyes linger on the horizon of eternity, focused on my Risen Saviour, rather than excruciating circumstances.
As Christians, our lives are meant to be murals of joy, splashes of colour sparkling through all hardship. Authentic joy is impervious to calamity, illness, cruelty, persecution, and poverty.
Hebrews 12:2 states:
Looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. (ESV)
Jesus endured humiliation, persecution, and even death by pondering the joy of his future with his heavenly Father. May we do likewise.
When our delight in the assurance of God appears like a twinkling star scattered against the terror of night, others will question: How is this possible?
And in that moment, we hold the golden key of truth: our joy is bound up in our most precious Redeemer, who has rescued us.
His name is Christ Jesus.
In her book, Deep Roots, Good Fruit, Kristin Elizabeth Couch invites you to explore the fruit of the Spirit through captivating stories of people she’s known. By combining memorable stories with rich meditations on Scripture, Kristin encourages us to see that God is at work even in life’s mundane moments, and that although our growth may seem slow, in the Spirit’s power we really can become more like Jesus.
Kristin Elizabeth Couch is a pastor's wife, the mother of four grown children, and a grandmother. She graduated from Taylor University in 1994 with a Bachelor of Arts in English Writing. Kristin has written for Desiring God and Legacy Coalition, is a regular contributor to "Written" for SBC Virginia, and has also been a featured guest on Moody Radio's Kurt and Kate Mornings. Kristin's first book was published in 2022 and is entitled It Began on Washington Street: Tracing the Goodness of God through All of Life. She invites you to read her stories published weekly at The Palest Ink.
