The Nervous System, Spring Bulbs, and the Return of Joy
A few weeks ago, we experienced unseasonably warm temperatures. As I walked about the landscape, I noticed green shoots that should not have unearthed themselves yet. The blanket of mulch intended to keep the spring bulbs tucked safely underground until the appropriate time was no match for the mild breezes and bright sun. With the tip of my shoe, I gently pushed some mulch over the tender shoots. I knew the harsh temperatures and snow forecasted for the weekend were coming, and the tiny hyacinths weren’t ready for that.
Despite my silent admonition to the bulbs to stay underground a bit longer, I found daffodils pushing their green tips through the mulch the very next day. I stared at those persistent green shoots and thought about how the nervous system heals.
If you have experienced trauma or lived with chronic stress, your nervous system can become stuck in fight, flight, freeze, or shutdown. Without even realizing it, life becomes more about surviving than thriving. Emotions exist on a narrow spectrum—either volatile or nearly nonexistent. We rush through our days because the adrenaline of fight-or-flight demands it, or we push ourselves relentlessly, forcing ourselves forward while stuck in freeze or shutdown. We’ve learned how to cope, but we cannot heal in this state. Joy has long since disappeared, and peace feels out of reach.
But as you begin healing and nurturing your nervous system, joy will return. I have experienced this myself. Subconsciously, you may want to push this unfamiliar feeling back down. For a long time, there hasn’t been the capacity to feel anything beyond stress and overwhelm—or numbness. There is no time to dance in the rain or shout a hallelujah. Life feels too hard and too busy.
Joy that emerges through healing is like my spring bulbs. It is going to bubble up anyway. It may feel unfamiliar or even frightening. Perhaps you feel guilty—others are suffering right now. Perhaps you fear that any goodness will be followed by something bad. Or maybe you believe you don’t deserve to feel joy.
Whatever intimidation you feel around joy, I invite you to take it to Jesus. Phylicia Masonheimer, in a blog post, reminds us not to fear the abundance of God. This is not prosperity gospel. We live in an imperfect, broken world where suffering, disease, and evil still occur. But Jesus is the giver of joy. Out of His abundance, He offers us “the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit” (Isaiah 61:3).
Physical healing often revives emotions, and emotional healing often brings physical relief. So the next time you feel a hint of joy, thank the Lord for the reminder of healing after a hard and difficult season. Smile widely. Notice how your body sighs with relief and contentment. It may be fleeting, gone in a moment. Embrace it anyway, and don’t be surprised if tears fill your eyes. Tears release the stress hormone cortisol as your nervous system steps out of fight, flight, freeze, or shutdown and into calm—alongside joy.
And if joy feels as far away as the moon right now, I encourage you to lament your pain with Jesus. He is “close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). And in your lamenting, you too are releasing cortisol, allowing your body to continue its healing process.











