What brought you joy today?

A new friend regularly posts this question/challenge on her Facebook page. Already something of a community activist and good-hearted person, she’d been doing it for a while when, in July, she had to have emergency brain surgery.

As you’d expect, she was temporarily down but not for long. A few weeks later, she resumed her near-daily inquiry as she started her journey toward recovery.

What brought you joy today?

Amazing, if you ask me, that she continued asking, picking up the pieces of her life after such an ordeal.

That she even asks it at all is even more inspiring considering the nightmare that 2020, and, frankly, the last four years, has been for many.

Truthfully, the first couple of paragraphs of this blog sat on my computer desktop for several weeks.

I couldn’t bring myself to talk about “joy” as Donald Trump worked overtime in plain view to dismantle and destroy our entire American democratic system, while millions of fellow citizens encouraged his lunatic ravings.

I couldn’t see “joy” beyond the hundreds of thousands of deaths tied to a worldwide pandemic — not to mention the ancillary crush of collapsing economic, social, and governmental systems.

I couldn’t hear “joy” over the clanging of cynical, politically motivated indifference, and deliberate attempts to mislead, misinform, and ignore.

What brought you joy today?

A deceptively small and simple question with big and complex answers. Perhaps too big, I thought, as I kept trying without success to get past the start of this essay.

Then, this week, as I started to take a much-needed break, it dawned on me. Joy flickers softly at first, then soon burns so brightly that you cannot see past it. Still, like most important things, one must be open to it. Must want to see it. And in so wanting, must almost will it to life.

What better time then, to talk about joy, than Christmas week when a baby turned out to be the light of the world?

So, on Christmas Eve-Eve-Eve, here are some of the many small (yet big) things that bring me joy:

  • The shining eyes, silly laughs, and unfiltered love of a child – not that one, but our two-year-old granddaughter. Her natural exuberance and adventuresome spirit are a magical tonic to my tired soul.
  • The raft of memories of my dad, who passed away in January 1997 at the sad, young age of 51. They seem to pop up these days when I least expect — or perhaps, when I most need them – bringing a smile, a quiet laugh, or even a tear. He wasn’t a perfect human, but he was a great father. I miss him.
  • The courage of those fighting this pandemic. Yes, of course, I refer to all the essential medical workers, police, fire, etc. But I am thinking specifically of the four nurses in my family. They probably had some idea that something like this could happen. They likely had some training. But reality always overpowers anticipation and speculation.
  • The commitment of the teachers working through remote learning. In my other life, I have heard, seen, and shared dozens of stories of teachers leaving their contractually limited duties in the dirt and finding ways to connect with children who desperately need it, at a time of extreme disconnection.
  • Not to mention the thousands of families and students who likewise have made tremendous sacrifices to fit the very square peg of daily schooling into the very round hole of “regular” life in 2020.
  • The friends, spouses, significant others, etc. who stand by, ready to bolster our spirit, boost our energy, and sometimes even give us a much-needed kick in our spiritual backsides. “Support” and “encouragement” come in many shapes and sizes.
  • Adult children whose every success proves the value of love, discipline, respect, and faith, and erases my many parental failings.
  • The easy serenity, awareness, and acceptance that comes with long-term relationships.
  • The coworkers big-hearted enough to tolerate the occasional (but always unintended) outburst, as layers upon layers of calcified frazzlement explode.
  • The 81 million people who said, clearly, firmly, and beyond question, enough is enough.
  • Those willing to tolerate and forgive our external nonsense because they know our internal truth.
  • The peace brought by a quiet evening (or afternoon, or morning) spent reading.
  • The awe and humility that comes with admiring someone else’s talent and artistry.
  • The grace of holding another hand, hearing another voice, healing another heart.

And most especially, those who seek and find and celebrate joy itself, wherever, whenever, however they can.

They shine a light on, and into a world too easily and too often consumed by darkness. They remind me every day of my opportunity and obligation to do the same.

So, what brought you joy today?

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