I originally published the following story on May 27, 2023. Since then,
our cabin has undergone more improvements, bringing both hassles and happiness.
My then-newborn granddaughter is now a spunky, mischievous, and delightful almost-three-year-old.
Next week, we will again celebrate the death and resurrection of our Savior. The darkness of Good Friday will be replaced with Easter morning “Alleluias!”
And for the third time in five years (and second in the past two), our family will mourn the death and celebrate the life of a loved one within days of Easter. On March 31, 2021, we lost my dear mother. On April 10, 2025, my mother-in-law went to be with Jesus. And last week, my brother-in-law traded a troubled earthly life for one of heavenly glory.
Once again, I’m reminded to forget the pain and anguish and let JOY have the final word.
From the archives (May 27, 2023)
“How did we get so lucky?” I asked my husband, as we took in the view. From the porch of our Minnesota cabin, “our lake” looked stunningly blue through the white birch and pine trees.
Our cabin on the lake was an unexpected dream come true at the end of last summer. And although it’s already given us many happy moments, and promises years of delight in the future, it hasn’t come without some pain and struggle.
The cabin was built about 18 years ago and rumor has it, the owners—who sold it due to age-related mental and physical decline—had run out of money along the way. We bought the cabin “as is,” knowing there were several unfinished projects and items in need of repair.
And so, we’ve spent the first four weeks at our cabin (three last summer, and one so far this year), working on those projects, either through our own sweat equity or by paying professionals. (I’ve gotten to know a tile guy, a couple of plumbers, a window guy, and a handyman so far.)
We’ve made countless trips to the Hubbard County Solid Waste Transfer Station (a.k.a. “the dump”), Goodwill, and the Habitat Restore to discard the vast collection of “stuff” that we inherited with the cabin. I’ve learned how to use power tools and become adept at installing hardware and cleaning or changing filters of all types. Tom has progressed from Michigan leaf raker to Minnesota pine needle raker, and for the first time has helped move a boat lift into a lake.
Through all of this, we’ve been reminded that no joy in life is free. Every good thing tends to come with some blood, sweat, tears, and mosquito bites (yes, Minnesquitos were out in full force already in mid-May!).
I thought about the connection between joy and pain more than once during our week at the cabin. On Thursday, our son sent the text we had been anxiously awaiting. Our daughter-in-law, after nine months of pregnancy (including a prolonged period of morning sickness) and six hours of labor, had delivered our newest family member, Eloise Joy! Our Fam Bam group text blew up with happy emojis, squeals of delight, and reports of happy tears.
The next morning, while basking in the glow of being a grandma again and taking in the lake view out my window, I turned on my “Pray as You Go” app for my morning devotions. The meditation started with a song called “Joy” by CalledOut Music that lifted my spirits even more. A reading from John 16, that included this verse, followed:
A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. (John 16: 21)
How timely and true those words were. It’s true we women forget the pain of childbirth as soon as that newborn is placed in our hands. I must have been very forgetful to go through the ordeal four times.
Of course, the pain of having children doesn’t end with childbirth. There’s the middle-of-the-night feedings, potty training, toddlers pushing limits, time-outs, and temper tantrums. And later we endure the agony of science projects, teen angst, driving tests, big kids pushing limits, loss of privileges, and more temper tantrums (by both parents and kids).
But the joy our children bring us over our lifetimes is indescribable. All the struggles are forgotten when your toddler snuggles with you or your grown-up kid calls you “just to chat” and ends the call with “I love you, Mom.” Don’t even get me started on the immeasurable joy of grandkids! Blessings upon blessings.
Again, I ask, “How did I get so lucky? Why do I deserve all of this goodness?”
Yet, I remember times of grief and sadness. Of pain and struggle too. How can I reconcile the mix of emotions?
Jesus’ words in John 16 were given to comfort his disciples. He wanted them to know that the grief they would suffer upon his death was not the end of the story. He assured them they would experience joy—lasting joy—again.
We can count on this promise as well, knowing with confidence that the pain, grief, and brokenness we experience in this world are temporary. Not only does our earthly pain sometimes turn to joy (as with childbirth, or working hard to produce something beautiful); but we can also be sure of eternal joy when our lives on this earth are over.
Saturday was our last day at the lake, and my husband and I decided we’d done enough work for one week. We pushed extra hard on Friday—assembling bunk beds, hanging towel bars, raking pine needles—so we could enjoy some recreation on our last day. We took the boat out for our first fishing attempt on this new lake. Then, after a late lunch, we walked back down to the water to take our kayaks out for a spin.
As I drifted on the water, surrounded by thick green forests, the melody of chattering birds, and the smell of the lake breeze tickling my senses, again I thought, “How did I get so lucky?” Thoughts of aching muscles and mosquito bites faded as I focused on goodness and gratitude. Memories of struggle and work were soon drowned out by the lapping of the waves against the boat.
Two days later, we held our little Eloise. Happy tears brimmed our eyes, and squeals of joy filled the air. Her parents, though tired, were filled with wonder and love—my daughter-in-law’s morning sickness already a distant memory; labor pains all but forgotten.
Our pain and sadness never get the final say. Whether here on earth or when we leave this world, we will find joy in the end.
How did we get so lucky? I don’t think that’s the right question. Luck has nothing to do with it. The real question, is “How did we get so loved?”
And the only answer is “through grace.” We don’t deserve any of this. There’s just all this goodness poured out on us. And sometimes it’s too much to take in.
Jesus has promised us joy gets the last word.
…and no one will take away your joy. (John 16: 22b)
It seems the only fitting response to all of this goodness is gratitude. Whether smiling, dancing, singing, or writing—the joy we’ve been given needs to be expressed.
So I’ll join my voice with Samuel Nwachukwu (CalledOut Music) and sing for Joy.
I've got grace everywhere I be
Blessings falling on me
There's nothing too hard for the God that I serve
Tell me, why should I be afraid?
No matter what comes my way
I'll overcome with a smile on my face
I've got that joy like a river flowing down to my soul…
I feel like dancing, yeah, I feel it in my bones…
So give me joy in my heart, keep me praising
Give me joy in my heart, I pray
Give me joy in my heart, keep me praising
Keep me praising 'til the break of day.
oh yes someone said the j word
Such a delight to wander down 'memory lane' with you -- how quickly time has flown by. Thank you for sharing this post encourages us to wander and wonder as we head into this Easter week. Wishing you and your family blessings!