Your Weekly Spark: The Quieter Kind of Joy

I’m taking part in a Joy Challenge again this year. It's something I’ve done for several years now. Usually, I’m more actively engaged in it. This year, not so much. I haven’t been feeling well, and to be honest, just getting through the day has felt like enough some days.

And yet, maybe because of that, I’m noticing something deeper about joy. Not the loud, obvious kind. Not the performative kind. Something quieter. More subtle. More available than I might have realized before. Yesterday, joy showed up unexpectedly.

I was still feeling worn out, but I needed to take my dad to the doctor. He also wanted to run a couple of errands while we were out, which meant lugging his heavy wheelchair in and out of the car with a body that already felt spent, making small talk when what I really wanted was silence, and counting the minutes until I could crawl back into bed.

We made it through the appointment. The errands got done. On the way back to Dad’s place, we drove past SweetBerries Frozen Custard & Eatery, and I felt a little spark.

In that moment, I forgot how tired I was. I asked Dad if he wanted to stop, and of course he said yes. He loves SweetBerries. So I turned the car around and went back. He wanted to go inside. In that moment I remembered how tired I was and I set a boundary. I couldn't even think about dragging the wheel chair in and out of the car another time. I heard myself saying no. I'll just pull the car over into the shade and enjoy our custard in the car. 

Normally I would put his needs and desires first. But this time, I took care of myself first. It was an odd feeling but inside of it there might have been just a hint of a new sort of joy that celebrated me taking care of myself first and setting a boundary that served me in that moment. 

While I was ordering, I got a text from my cousin saying she and her husband were at Dad’s place hoping to visit. I told them where we were, and they came to join us. What followed was one of those simple, lovely moments life sometimes slips in when you least expect it. A spontaneous visit in the parking lot over frozen custard. My dad was happy. It was good to see my cousin. And I felt a pause in the heaviness I'd been feeling.

Later, after I dropped Dad off, I went home, laid across my bed, fell asleep immediately, and woke up surrounded by my cats and just in time to see my favorite UConn women’s basketball player go first in the WNBA draft and join my second favorite former UConn player on the same team.

Not exactly a great day.
Not exactly an on top of my game day.
And still, there it was ... Joy.

This morning, joy found me again, this time through a Facebook memory in the form of a YouTube video: Seasons of Love from the musical Rent.

“Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles. in laughter, in strife?

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?

How about love?
Measure in love ... "

As I listened, something clicked. Joy, at least the kind I’m noticing right now, may simply be love noticed in the present moment. It’s noticing the places where love exists.
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In our friendships.
In our relationships.
In nature.
In our bodies, even when they are asking more of us than usual.
In our connection with animals.
In play.
In a conversation.
In simple moments and simple pleasures.

Even when life feels hard. Even when we’re tired. Even when things are not quite right.

Joy is not always the absence of struggle. Sometimes it is the willingness to stay present enough to notice what is still beautiful, what is still warm, what is still connected, what is still alive with love.

Maybe that’s why joy can feel so profound. Not because everything is easy. But because something deeper is always there waiting for us to notice.

I’m thinking another trip to the doctor may be in order, because something still feels off physically. But I’m also aware that even in the midst of that, there is always joy to notice or create in and around the less than joyful moments of life.

Joy really is a state of mind.
A way of seeing the world.
A way of meeting the moment.
A way of being.

And maybe, just maybe, joy is what happens when we become present enough to recognize love where it already lives.

If you want to listen to Seasons of Love, here’s the version that found its way back to me this morning:
https://youtu.be/UvyHuse6buY?si=ookpFkNrsFOwoxoB

If you'd like a wonderful tool to help you be present in the moment no matter what else is going on, check out my favorite tool here. 

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