In pursuit of happy

I used to think that happiness was a big deal. Not only that it is incredibly important, but that it literally is a huge occurrence. It takes mountain tops and sunsets and fireworks. Flowers and elaborate planning. All ducks in a row, fit with little fur coats and champaign glasses. Ok, maybe not the last part…

In all seriousness though, I think I’ve changed my mind. It doesn’t take out-of-this-world experiences to make you happy. Those are nice. Usually. But they’re rare and generally come with a lot of pain. No, I think happiness is found in the little things.

Being able to spend all day with someone. Making silly faces to another face making them back. The moment you realize, I’m not working at this, I’m not forcing anything, I’m completely content.

It’s like a smiling peace beaming from somewhere inside my chest, I assume around the heart area. It’s beyond my control. I can’t make it happen. No amount of lists or striving will get me there. I don’t have to travel to Paris or Africa, effect change to the entire nation of America, or even know how I’m going to pay the rent tomorrow.

I’m happy to be alive. I’m happy to be breathing. I’m happy to be in love. I’m happy to make and enjoy art. I’m happy I have time left with my family. I’m happy.

Not for the big things, although those are nice, but for the little things. The small treasured moments together, where God and creation and community connect in a moment of pure goodness. Look out people, there is happiness to be found in this messy, chaotic, broken story we call life.

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One thought on “In pursuit of happy

  1. So very true, Sara. Very well said also. When I contemplate this topic I remember the people I once new who lived in my old neighborhood. Their house was the same small 3 bedroom ranch common to the area. They had two daughters while we had 3 sons and 1 daughter. The mother was complaining that they did not have enough closet space, so they purchased a new bigger house. You know where this story is going, they divorced within a couple of years of the move. Closets evidently don’t help with happiness.

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