We woke up this morning to sub-zero temperatures. By the time we left for church, it was -8 outside, with a windchill that registered -27. 

In the bitter cold, any water vapor in the air crystallizes, and you have the rare opportunity to see frozen, vertical, rainbows called sun dogs. These gorgeous pillars of light reach from the ground to the sky. On our way to church, the sun dogs in our neighborhood greeted us with swirling yellows and oranges.

It’s fitting that it’s Epiphany, the season of light. Winter’s deepest cold produces glorious displays of light.

The light shines in the darkness, and darkness did not overcome it.

John 1:5

After church, we let our lab puppy play in the backyard for a short time since it is too cold to go for a longer walk. She joyfully ran, chasing her ball and racing through the snow. Even though it was a span of just minutes, she loved it.

Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them singing, “To the one seated on the throne and to the Lamb, be blessing and honor and glory and might!”

Revelation 5:13

Meanwhile, today, the brilliant crimson amaryllis we planted in Advent fully opened. Its bright, crepe-paper blossoms trumpeted hope. Here they were, full of color, on a colorless January day. 

Who is like you, majestic in holiness, awesome in splendor, doing wonders?

Exodus 15:11

Grief is ever present in our home right now following the death of our beloved service dog. But as I scrolled through my pictures this afternoon–the sun dogs, the puppy, the flowers–I noticed spots of unadulterated joy shining out and bursting through. Joy and grief hold hands because they both spring from the soil of love. My photo journal became a prayer journal for me. The collected photos helped me see God’s presence, and I harvested the joy given to me this day. 

What does your photo roll tell you about the presence of joy in your life?