(Ed note: I just found this when doing some research for a sermon I'm giving on May 31st in Kirkland - that will be another story how I find myself preaching - so I decided to post it...no reason to let it sit all alone in my computer with no readers to entice! Enjoy!)
I recently read the first chapter of Elizabeth Gilbert's book Eat, Pray, Love. In it she reveals how desperately trapped she felt when after reaching 30, buying a home with her husband and preparing to have a baby, she realized that she wanted something else out of life. She continues to briefly tell how she leaves her husband and sets off on a year long journey to Italy, Tibet and Indonesia to find joy and religion and learn how to blend these into her life.
I think her situation is as extreme as her solution, but don't we all find ourselves trapped in the mundane of our lives forgetting to look for joy? I was recently in that mode, the house was a mess (who's isn't from time to time – or even regularly), I had put on too much weight after giving in to the comfort foods provided when my father was ill and dying and then continued to comfort myself over the following year. Work was un-challenging and my various and assorted other responsibilities were demanding of time and energy. I was feeling drained and tired and sick of it all. I was desperate to regain that energy I used to have. The energy that motivated me to compete in triathlons or run a marathon (ok, only a half marathon – but I crossed the same finish line in about the same amount of time as most of the marathoners so I count it as real!) I remembered wistfully the mornings I'd wake up early to a sunny morning, throw on my shoes and go for a run because it actually felt good. Thankfully I have a husband who knows me better than I know myself when I am upset or depressed. He pumped up the tires of my bike that I love so dearly and told me to ride. He told me to just ride as far as I wanted, not worrying about time or how long it would take to get back or if I'd even have energy. He said wherever I decided to stop to give him a call, he'd come get me! On top of that, he promised to clean the house while I was gone and make a healthy meal for me when I got back. (This gives you just a glimpse into why I in no way felt connected with Elizabeth Gilbert's issue with her marriage – that one I had down and even in my darkest moments I recognize how lucky I am!)
I dried my tears, borrowed his bike shorts (there wasn't a chance mine would fit), donned the sunglasses and just took off. I rode down the trail and just started moving without worrying about how fast I was going, starting my timer or figuring out if my heart rate was in the right zone. I just wanted to ride. To escape and see how it felt to run away. I wanted to feel the wind in my hair and feel my legs burn. But as soon as I was out, I started to see families walking or riding and smiling and laughing, glad just to be out on a beautiful day enjoying each other's company. I saw young kids, just mastering the fine art of keeping their bikes in an upright position and seasoned athletes beginning their spring training for the next great race. Dogs on leashes, horses on the trail, walkers, runners, bike riders and scooters: the world was out and taking full advantage of the day! Amazingly enough, little by little the collective joy on the trail began to sink in and pick up my spirits. With the wind blowing in my face (I didn't even mind the headwind!) and the sun on my back I was free. I could go as long or as far as I wanted with no responsibility to anyone but me and my body. For that moment in time I was free to find my joy. As I worked my way North on the trail I felt myself unwinding and opening up to the experience. I reached a park and decided to stop and turn around. I took some time and watched people ride by or stop and rest and then headed back home. As I rode home, I suddenly wasn't running away, but running toward. As I got closer, I started to notice the simple things. The way the light and shadows played on the trees as the sun began to set; the cacophony of geese flying overhead and coming to land like mini sea-planes with loud splashes on the river; Mount Rainier, peaking out between wispy clouds with the sun still strong on its peak. I began to remember those feelings of joy just to appreciate the daily experiences of life.
It's so easy to get bogged down in the day to day. Laundry alone will make any mother of pre-teens cry! Add to that the self-exploding house to clean, the kids to keep on schedule and drag out of bed every morning for school, the meetings and doctors appointments and all of the other daily responsibilities of life and it's pretty darn hard to remember to look for the joy.
I don't know yet how I'm going to hold on to this. I know that as soon as tomorrow I'll get bogged down again and there will be more homework problems and doctor's appointments and laundry to clean, but I do know that none of those things make sense if we don't teach ourselves and our children to remember to look for the joy in life. From the big experiences of life: graduations, marriages, births and deaths to the small joys in a simple bike ride on a sunny spring day, it's the joy that makes life worthwhile and I intend to remind myself of this everyday until it's ingrained in my daily routine.
I choose joy.
