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When you get home from a great weekend and boom, life begins right where it left off with the kids and the kitchen and all those life things that jump up in front of you like grasshoppers when you’re summer-walking the back roads behind the house.

For a while you do great, fending off the bugs and fixing lunches and you feel prayerful and joyful and thankful, and then you catch the baby’s cold and there’s a phone call that sets you on edge and you miss having that Saturday morning breakfast with your husband, and a week passes and it’s Monday again and you start the day with a sigh.

And that joy stuff slips away without you realizing and instead of smiling you’re gritting your teeth.

But you remember what you said back when you were talking about joy, about how it’s not about success but about surrender. And how it doesn’t come from accomplishment but from acceptance. And how it’s not something you manage through muscle, but it’s how you breathe.

It’s breathing him in and breathing him out.

You remember all that and you blow your sore, red nose and you slip into the day, knowing joy will find you there.

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