learning to celebrate when it's hard

It's no secret that I love a good celebration.

Birthdays, weddings, a random Tuesday--you name it, and I've probably thrown a party for it. I love the laughter, the balloons, the confetti, the glitter; everything about it screams joy. Pain and fear and sadness all melt away in the presence of celebration.

So when I heard the news of a dear church friend's death last Friday, I almost cancelled the Galentine's Day sleepover I'd been planning for weeks. The phone call broke me. I knew there was no way I'd be able to entertain my pals just hours later with that pain sitting in my heart.

Well, that is, until I imagined my late friend's response to my potential cancellation. I knew she'd be so upset if I halted something fun just because something sad had happened to her. So I forged on with a renewed mindset of finding small victories to celebrate in the midst of what feels like overwhelming loss and struggle.

Find your Tuesday

Whether you're battling a tightening budget, a lonely season or the mourning of a loved one, there's a nugget of goodness tucked somewhere in all that mess. Find it and celebrate it.

Maybe today's the only glimpse of sunshine you've seen in a week. Celebrate it. Now, I'm not saying throw an impromptu party on a Tuesday afternoon (though I'd probably show up), but you sure can take a walk in the sun on your lunch break. If you have change to spare, you can grab your favorite cup of coffee and head to a sunny bench to sit and sip. You can grab a coworker or a friend or a pup and just walk. Cherish today's sunshine and you'll be refreshed when the gray skies circle back.

Relish in your latest Netflix find. Pop some popcorn and watch the heck out of that show (do not watch all 5 seasons in one weekend; I am a horrible influence).

Have an actual conversation with that person who made you smile in passing; you'd be surprised how much a five-minute chat will benefit both parties.

Wake up a little early and cook a hot breakfast instead of scarfing down a granola bar on the way to work.

There are so many little joy-filled things you can discover in the midst of an ordinary day. Don't rush past them; stop and celebrate. Battles are a lot easier to fight when you can see the light poking through.

Hit the road

Now, y'all know I'm all about hopping on a flight to the coolest available location, but it's not always about the destination (not going to quote that cheesy line about "the journey," but you know where this is going).

Last Saturday I had an itch for adventure and started researching for trips to anywhere from Savannah to New York City. Our budget did not agree with my desires and I was left in distress. Again with my dramatics; who's surprised?

Thankfully I have a husband who's down for just about anything and a town full of the cutest antique shops. On a beautifully warm, sunny February day--thank you, Alabama winter--we popped all around our downtown area to scope out the coolest finds. Neither we nor our wallets were interesting in buying anything, but we had the best day exploring our hometown and its businesses.

Even if you call the tiniest town home and have for all your life, there's something there that can feel like a celebration. Keep your eyes open and follow the sidewalk.

Find the perspective

After the Galentine's festivities ended and all my gal pals headed home Saturday morning, I was left with a bittersweet feeling in my gut. The joy from our party was real, but so was the pain in attending my friend's funeral that night. I didn't know how to reconcile the celebration with the loss.

I'd heard funerals called "celebrations of life" before, but something about seeing that phrase across the top of her obituary switched my thinking. My friend was a faithful servant of Christ as a mother, a daughter, a sister, a teacher and a friend. She fought cancer with grace and grit and is now, no doubt, celebrating her homecoming with Jesus. There is joy in that.

Obviously, our church family is mourning with her and her family, but we find a deep peace in the impact she had on her students, her church, her family and her friends. That impact is worth celebrating. So her funeral was a celebration of her life; we worshiped God for His goodness and thanked Him for the life of our sister in Christ. We celebrated even though we were hurting. We were joyful even though it was hard.

So I'll keep looking for things worth celebrating despite the hard, painful things happening around me. I'll keep pursuing adventure in the mundane routines of everyday life. I'll keep rejoicing even though pain is real and hard and inevitable.

I pray you'll celebrate with me, adventure with me, rejoice with me even though it's hard.

xoxo,