My name was given, not chosen. My parents prayed seperately, then came together when they'd both been given the same name: Priscilla Joy. You can mess around and get a few different translations, but essentially it means "inherent joy". That name defines me; it's defined me since before I understood what it meant. Because it was given, not chosen, it is me. And yet - because it was given, not chosen, because it is God's plan for me - I've had to fight to keep it. I get pushed into depression or frustration or cynicism or just wanting to be well liked and I begin to lose what I am.
I don't want that. I'm sick of it. I want to rejoice in Him. I want to share that peace and joy with everyone around me. I want to love people. I want to serve. I want to forget how I look and how insane I must appear and just revel in my God and in everything He's put around me. I want to stop caring what everyone - even my dearest friends, my heart - thinks about me and what a little nut I am. I want to stay connected to Him; to never lose my love for Him. It's only in Him that I am joy - when I leave Him I let other things affect me and then I become just like everyone else. It's just not worth it. He satisfies me. He gives me joy in and with everything so that I enjoy life and don't fear death. Without Him, everything pales. I can't enjoy anything to the extent that I do when I can laugh with Him. He makes me...me. He's life, and life's nothing without Him.
Ach, enough, I'm off to bounce and grin with one of my dearest friends. Did I mention that I spent this afternoon crashing cars? Amazing explosions...wonderful thing to do before going swimming. Apparently, I'm an old-style Victorian lady...
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