Musings
There are days when finding joy takes a deliberate relooking to remind myself of the gifts embedded in the ordinary:
~the coffee that was the perfect temperature for the morning air;
~the idea that I shared that landed and might bear fruit;
~the feel of the warm sunshine on my skin walking out of the cool of the grocery store;
~the letter in the mailbox that said a friend is doing well;
~the chittering squirrels under my porch mixed with the chirping birds above it;
~dinner with family; pets bumping against my legs in welcome;
~friends texting just to share a bit of their day;
~a meme a far off kid sent that speaks to a shared life.
Joy is there in the simple moments, and it is persistently sustaining. #JoyAsResistance
Dolly’s Joy
I’ll confess to shameless scrolling and endless clicks on Dolly tributes. I want to learn more about this icon who chose not to become a billionaire but instead poured into her world, to laugh with her wit, and sit with her songs.
Joy in Support
These are just human beings supporting other human beings to do hard things
Joy in Peacemaking
In an ironic twist of fate, this is the room in Clonard Monastery where the Catholic priests met monthly with the protestant pastors during The Troubles.
Smokey Joy
The house is warm this morning as it is sealed tight against the smoke drawn through the mountain passes from all the fires on the eastern half of our state.
Joy in Intentional Attention
Yesterday’s job was to simply stay awake—which my body did just fine from about midnight until four am, but I had the rest of the day to keep my eyes open for. . .
Joy on the Edges
There I stood, in Albertson’s, with all four kids trying to get through the aisle without Octopus Arms grabbing contraband, or the Nap Deprived losing their cool before we left the store. I didn’t feel much like a professional at that moment. . .
Joy in the Not Knowing
Was I good at these things? Well, no. But grade school me didn’t know that. Grade school me didn’t let that keep me from trying.
Joy in growing another kind of world
How is it with you? Where do you live?
What do you love? Will you please show me.
Joy as the Keeper of Stories
I noticed my noticing, and I gave myself a moment to wonder what unexamined assumptions were traveling with me that day.
Joy takes asking my soul what she needs. . .
You held me until I was steady enough to continue the journey again.
Joy in the morning
just couldn't tune out the incessant beeping of the garbage truck from some other part of the neighborhood. . . .
Joy as Ballast
t is so hard to find a place to process what is happening in the world because the heaviness is everywhere, and you don’t want to be that person who tanks the room. You either place your thoughts a box that you have secured with a carefully crafted lock and key, or your internal life is a dumpster fire of unwieldy fears popping up (and out) in the most inconvenient times. It is exhausting.
Joy at Costco
Amid the cacophony was a deep bass voice cutting through the noise, like a foghorn in a storm. . .
Joy that leaks
Yesterday their hope, their peace, their invitation to us right here in our time and place, ran right out of my eyes as I pictured a world the way it could be.
Joy as Ritual
This week a little girl came over, and, amid the hubbub of Yellow House chaos, she grabbed her Daddy’s hand and took him to the tree.