A newly-minted priest at our new church gave us something to think about in his sermon today. He talked about the difference between having joy and being happy. I can't do his sermon justice, but, basically, he cited a study in which parents single-mindedly agree that their A#1 goal for their kids is happiness. But what is happiness? That's the question...
The priest suggested that joy -- not happiness -- is a Christian's true calling, and that joy is contentment in the now... accepting that we have what we need in life, and that both the ups and downs make our lives what it is -- something for which to be grateful. He further suggested that we can't both be grateful and empty inside, for, when we are grateful, we have joy.
I'm not sure that made sense then, and I'm not sure that it makes sense now -- but I do think that he's onto something, because I thought about it: Happiness, to many, is really the completion of a wish list (the priest suggested that, and I think he's spot-on). Happiness is success, or wealth -- the attainment of some goal. We wish happiness for our kids as a future goal. But what about now?
I, for one, take it back. I don't seek for my kids to be happy someday after checking off a list of random goals. Happiness might be making the team, going to the right school, landing the right job, marrying the right spouse -- but that's all fluff.
Joy, however, is a different matter. Joy is realizing that life in the everyday is pretty darned good. That when we're running from school to a playdate to an activity to a dinner that might not be exactly what we want to eat -- even then, especially then, life is unfolding in just the way it was meant to unfold. All those to-dos that we're checking off our list aren't really the stuff of contentment, the stuff of life. Instead, what matters most is waking up and knowing that we're doing our best to live as Christians; that we're doing unto others as we would have done unto ourselves -- that when we're running around, doing what we do to keep up with the Joneses (or, in our town, the Jobs), that we're doing it with our necessities met, in good health, with loved ones surrounding us. We have those good things in the here and now, and, for them, we should be grateful and full of joy. And that is so much more than happiness gained by checking off a list could ever bring -- just look at Tiger Woods to know that money can't buy happiness, and that, oftentimes, happiness is elusive. Joy, however comes from within -- or, perhaps, from Above. Joy is a peace in your heart that you know only through gratitude and contentment, and that certainly doesn't come from all of the "stuff" around us.
Perhaps it's because I've been sick for six months (getting better, slowly!) that I feel like I have the perspective to say that joy is what I seek for my kids. I want them to wake up every day thankful for their lives and for what the day will bring them (even the most rotten days, for often those days teach us something valuable); and, like me, I want them to ask themselves what they're going to do that day to make the world a little bit better. Maybe they'll smile a little more or thank someone they usually take for granted; maybe they'll help a friend who's down or even perhaps just put their laundry where it belongs. For all they have, I want them to be joyful, and the best joy is that which is not only felt but shared. Forget going to Yale; if they can live with joy in their hearts, they do, indeed, have it all already.
I have to also confess that I'm not there quite yet, at the threshold of being joy-filled with only what I have. But I once met someone who very much did have that quiet contentment, and I aspire to be like her, for she was the most Christ-like person I ever knew. Once, when I was particularly impatient (I believe this was when I knew the Guv was going to propose marriage and was waiting and waiting and waiting), this woman, Shaun, taught me a lesson. She said, "You keep asking God for patience, Roxane, and you don't realize that he's not going to give it to you. Instead, he's giving you an opportunity to learn it." I spent a few days more focused on that, one of the greatest lessons another human taught me, before finally becoming engaged -- when, suddenly, my focus was off of the attainment of a future desire and instead on what was happening inside me and the message I was receiving.
This holiday season, I seek to be more grateful and to know contentment even when I'm wrapping the umpteenth gift and frustrated with the to-do list that's distracting me from the gratitude I have for all of this life. I wish you all peace, contentment and, most of all, joy this holiday season.
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