Joy

Several weeks ago a friend of mine asked me what brought me joy. I had a quick answer for her: my family, the gospel of Jesus Christ and solitude. She further asked me: what if your family was gone? What, aside from God, would you  need to allow you to find joy?

Setting aside the definition of "joy" (that's a blog for another day, I guess), I really started thinking about what 4 or 5 essentials I felt I must have to be happy. I finally decided on a few.

I need meaningful relationships. Loving ones, trusting ones. Just a few. When my paternal grandfather died, my grandmother, who was quickly descending into the depths of senility, never forgot that she was alone. She missed having that someone, that person who was just for her. I think I am like that. I need that someone who is just for me, who loves me best, who always defends me, who listens to and believes in me. Since I was 16 or so, that person has been my husband. Nobody loves me better than he does, I think.

I also need self-expression. I need to be able to talk/write about important feelings and ideas and conclusions. I have kept a journal since I was 8. I keep records of what I wear and how I felt wearing it. I write my concerns, my gratitude...everything. If I'm not writing, it's because I'm talking. But even after I talk about something, I will need to write it down. So I don't forget it. So I get it down just right. So it is real.

 I need learning. I need access to ideas and information. I need to figure out things. I think this craving must be an inborn part of my character because it drives me in a way that very few things do. I don't know if you'd consider my house organized, but I think my mind is highly organized. I must figure out how I feel or think, why I feel or think that way and what I'm going to do about it. There are few or no dark, cobwebby corners in my head. I'm always in pursuit of ideas and how they fit into my reality. It's probably one of the most defining aspects of my character. I don't think I'm unusually smart or highly creative or an original thinker or anything like that. Just that what goes on in my head is probably the most active part of me. For better or for worse.

 As I have gotten older, I have come to greatly value self-mastery. I used to believe that total freedom to do what I pleased just when it pleased me to do it (within the realms of basic righteousness, of course) was the ultimate in happiness, but I have discovered that self-indulgence is rarely followed by joy. More often it's followed by guilt, regret, anger, even self-contempt. I think the most effective path to self-mastery is through seeking after God's will. That's a tall order, though, and one I think it will take me all my life to figure out. Anyway, I now know that if I don't master myself and my desires (for shopping, for food, for entertainment, etc etc), I cannot be happy.

Finally, I need quiet time. In my life now, that time has come alone in the car (waiting for some kid somewhere, most likely), reading in a comfortable chair, sitting up alone against the pillows in my bed on a quiet morning, looking out the window, scrapbooking, sitting at the beach, looking out at the hills that surround my house, standing in the wind, smelling the air.... I wouldn't say that this time is thinking time--cuz I do the majority of that stuff through expression. But this is just refilling time. It's time to just be, away from all the things that define the bulk of my time. Remembering who I am when I'm all alone.

So I think that's how I would find my joy. Aside from the great concerns of my life--my family and my religion--these are the things that it takes for me to find that deep happiness and peace inside that I think joy is.

My "Carpe Diem"

Here's my brother, with his youngest asleep in his arms.



I've read several things lately on the internet written by young moms who sound tired and a bit overwhelmed. Their complaints remind me of when I was a young mom, sometimes feeling overworked, misunderstood, sleep-deprived, lonely and unappreciated myself. I still have kids at home and my little kid years aren't too far behind me that I've forgotten how much a mixture of joy and fatigue they were.

What I hear these moms saying is that they don't want to be lectured about enjoying these years wholesale. They find them a lot of hard work and are satisfied with finding the small beautiful moments among the general chaos. They look forward to the time when the kids aren't so dependent and demanding and when they themselves (the moms) can find some more time for themselves. Don't tell them "carpe diem" while they're busy just making it through each day without totally losing it. I well remember feeling something of this myself.

But what I remember more clearly is the ending of each little event in each of my children's lives. Being a mom is to know what endings feel like. When my first daughter was born, each night brought the end of another precious day with her. When she stopped nursing, that unique bonding time between us was over. When she crawled, the days of her infancy were gone. When she walked, her crawling days were done. When she began speaking, her baby coos were gone forever. When her teeth appeared, her gummy smiles ended. Every birthday was the closing of a year of her babyhood that would never come again. When her brother was born, my days alone with my firstborn were gone. And so it continued with each of my precious children. As each chapter began, it meant the closing of another chapter. I looked forward to every step they gained, every evidence of maturity, every new experience, but I also mourned the ending of the times that I had loved with them. Every beginning was also an ending.

Now I have adult children and teenagers. They are lots of fun to spend time with. We shop, we talk, we hang out, we enjoy our time together. But sometimes I really miss those baby days. I miss the unconditional love and affection. I miss the easy hugs and kisses. I miss tucking them all into bed and going to sleep myself, knowing that they were all safe under my roof.

And I feel even more keenly the endings that loom in the not-too-distant future. In just a few short years all my children will be gone from my house and building their own lives in their own houses. Hopefully I'll have grandchildren and a whole new chapter of my own life will begin. But those years when they were just mine, just my babies, just my little family to love and to spend time with... those days will never come again.

Honestly, I don't want them back again. Things are as they should be. My kids are growing up and going places and that's just right. It's rather bittersweet. They leave as I raised them to be--independent, hard-working, ambitious, righteous--but they are leaving. I miss them when they go. I don't mean for them to stay, I don't wish for them to stay. But I miss them.

Yes, we moms are the expert at endings. We've experienced them over and over. I think this should make us all natural experts at enjoying THIS day, THIS smile, THIS baby, THIS experience because we know it'll all be different in a week, a month, a year. And it'll never come back. So you young moms, don't reject the carpe diem idea. You're already doing it. It comes with the territory. You're already the expert at grasping today because no one knows better than you do that it'll truly be gone before you know it.