Laying half-priced jackets over wet benches and navigating early morning conversations under neon lights.
An unexpected dinner party with just enough wine and more than enough food and plenty to laugh about.
Feeling the clean breeze whip my hair around my face as I stand in front of the Opera House, watching others salute the structure with their selfie sticks, observing people content to sit on the steps in the little sun there is is.
More often than not it had seemed that I’d been trying to patch up a wobbling belief, a faith stifled by doubt and cynicism.
But moments like these have shown me that God is still willing to explain himself to me, even when I’d stopped asking, even when he didn’t have to offer.
“Joy” is less of an abstract unattainable word and more of an experience. And I am so grateful to be learning.