Joy

"A feeling of great pleasure or happiness"  Its roots include "rejoice" "hope" and "bliss" in different languages.

Dear reader, I don't know if it is because the sun is shining, birds are singing, green is springing up to embrace both the freely falling raindrops and gentle warmth of the sun, an abundance of truly good and dear friends in my life, or a combination of all of these, but I have felt this particular emotion a whole lot lately.  I think that I've let myself feel it a lot more often and that has made so much difference.  As I was thinking this one day, I came across this message chalked on the sidewalk and loved it.

Joy has come to me as I've felt the sun on my back, watched a bird or a bug make its way in the world, laughed with friends, tasted something wonderful, moved my body into a tough balancing pose or pushed it harder than I thought I could or simply let it relax, listened to the voice of dear ones,  and smelled the freshness of air outside.  Sometimes it sneaks up on me, surprising me with its intensity and suddenness.  Other times it settles on me, growing gradually until I realize its there.  Emotions are like that--sometimes unpredictable, usually powerful, and gradually understandable.

Truly, "men are that they might have joy" (2 Nephi 2:25).  I know that all of life is not joy, and trust me, there are moments when I struggle with the emotions and thoughts.  Often times I try to flee them rather than struggle with them actually.  I've learned that I am not very swift when it comes to outpacing these thoughts and feelings.  They catch up to me eventually and then I have less strength to wrestle them, with their sneers and persistence.  Still, the opportunities to feel and receive joy abound.  They really do.

I love this poem.  Mary Oliver has captured my admiration as of late, and I felt to share something that she penned about joy.

"If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happened better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb."  

I hope you find a feast of joy wherever you are, dear reader.  I know its there for you.  Perhaps not spread out on a table, but deliberately placed in your path by someone who loves you dearly and is excited for you to find it and relish it when you do.  

Childhood

Dear reader, do you have iconic parts of your childhood?  Things that stir poignant and deep memories and feelings with the slightest contact?  I certainly do.  One of those is Winnie the Pooh.  I remember watching episodes of the TV show with my siblings, making a paper machae "hunny pot" for a Winnie the Pooh costume, being teased that I had a crush on Christopher Robin.  Much as I sometimes feel embarrassed about it now, Winnie the Pooh is very much a part of me.  

The other day, I remembered this clip from a silly ol' bear film from the 90s.  It still touched me deeply, though it has new meaning.  I love to look for types of Christ in media and to me, Christopher Robin teaches us much about the unconditional love, kindness, and help that the Savior offers each of us.  I feel like this clip captures Christopher Robin's relationship with Winnie the Pooh, and by extension, our relationship with Jesus Christ, so wonderfully well.  I know that Christ's promise that He will always be with us is real.  How good it is!  

Replenish

"Life is always unfinished business" 

Richard Gilbert

In the midst of the whirling day, In the hectic rush to be doing, In the frantic pace of life, Pause here for a moment.

Catch your breath; Relax your body;

 Loosen your grip on life.

Consider that our lives are always unfinished business;

 Imagine that the picture of our being is never complete;

Allow your life to be a work in progress.

Do not hurry to mold the masterpiece;

Do not rush to finish the picture;

Do not be impatient to complete the drawing.

From beckoning birth to dawning death we are in process,

And always there is more to be done.

Do not let the incompleteness weigh on your spirit-

Do not despair that imperfection marks your every day;

Do not fear that we are still in the making.

Let us instead be grateful that the world is still to be created;

Let us give thanks that we can be more than we are;

Let us celebrate the power of the incomplete;

For life is always unfinished business.

  

Ah, this touched me.  It replenished me.  I've been thinking about that word, dear reader.  Replenish.  I'm kind of a word nerd and love looking up etymology of words and pondering the origin so that my understanding of the meaning changes.  Its really beautiful and fun to me.  

Replenish, according to the New Oxford American Dictionary, means to "fill something up again," or "to restore."  Its origins include "supply abundantly" and "expressing intensive force" with nods to "fill" and "full".  

I've been replenished lately.  I had some gunk in me for a while; untruth that I had held on to, unrealistic and unkind attitudes, mistakes and missed opportunities that I clung to and refused to surrender.  In this bitter and withdrawing attitude, dear ones reached out in love and concern.  And I yielded to their outreach, though there was a strong pull to isolate myself.  As that gunk was pulled out, let out, gushed out, I found myself empty and able to be still rather than upset.  And then started the replenishing.  I'm not sure I'm quite empty of gunk yet, but I know that replenishment is real and that it happens and that it is healing.  

Love.  Love replenishes.  How I need to be reminded of that and to let it in to my life.  

This Morning's Gift

Wintertime walking is a real treat, dear reader.  If you're like me, opening the door to the outside brings a bracing drop in temperature, one that causes you to gulp cold air into your lungs and wake up.  Following that beginning, there is so much to enjoy.  Visible breath; brisk and invigorating freshness; water stopped in its normal downward path in splendid icicles; snow, sometimes with snowflakes that you can see the shape of; muffled sounds when snow is newly falling and crunchy steps once the snow has melted and refrozen; sometimes foggy low hanging clouds that leave the next 40 feet a mystery; delicate frost that graces every surface in sight.  (Just so we're clear, I took the following picture in hopes of capturing it, but didn't really succeed.  The other photos are from those who are more skilled than I.)

The picture really doesn't do it justice.  

Today as I walked, I thought about the frost that I saw.  It was thicker than normal, but not in an overbearing way.  I tried to think of the right word to describe how the frost had settled on the grass and tree branches, giving them a beautiful white, almost shining, outline.  

Glazed?  Nope.  

Frosted.   Mmmm, close, but not quite.  

Dusted?  Naw.  

Um...encased?  No.  That sounds almost morbid.  

Encrusted, then.  Nope, not quite.  

Engraced.  Yes, that is it.  

So I marveled as I passed so many ordinary trees, engraced with frost to make a truly beautiful sight. 

Engraced is a made up word, dear reader.  Its what my brain suggested when I was running out of descriptions for the winter phenomenon.  Graced would probably suffice, and in looking it up, the dictionary shares that grace has connections with pleasing and grateful.  The word, in its noun and verb form, contains beautiful meaning, such as "simple elegance or refinement," "to do honor or credit to," and "adorn".   

And maybe its because Valentine's Day is coming up, but I thought about how love makes the most ordinary things splendid.  That may sound tacky, but I believe that it is true.  A life graced with love is a really beautiful one.  

Cold

Cold is an enchanting hostess,
but a miserable houseguest.

When you visit Cold, she welcomes you briskly,
without hesitation ushering you into her world of white.
She may make your cheeks redden and nose redden,
your fingers and toes lose feeling,
your eyes water and nose sting,
such is the way of Cold.

But people say such nice things,
"Cold hands, warm heart," they say,
"What a healthy glow!" they say,
"Would you like some hot cocoa?" they say
that the side effects of visiting Cold seem negligible,
almost desirable.

Her decorations are always exquisite, captivating,
detailed, a delight to the senses.
Geometric, lacy snowflakes, delicate frost,
in timeless shades of white and gray, and sometimes hints of blue.
Rippled icicles, chilly yet a tactile joy,
frozen waves you cannot disrupt.

Cold creates most wonderful sights,
peace settles on the world with her
blankets of falling snow, which gently grace
every surface they land on.
She emphasizes every detail, while obscuring them at the same time.
A masterful designer, Cold is.  

When you leave Cold, exhilarated and enlivened,
you appreciate the warmth of the inside.
You remember the crisp blueness of the sky,
even if content to view it from a window,
and recall the marvel of seeing your breath as it leaves you.

Yet when Cold comes to call on you,
she is a much less gracious personality.
Her briskness remains, and she sweeps in your door without
the brief pause and welcome that cordiality recommends.
The snow that comes with her quickly melts,
leaving puddles for you to slip in or dirty the floor.

Once inside, Cold lingers near windows and doors,
sulking, avoiding, or looking for the nearest escape route.
If others join your party, she flees even further and faster,
refusing persuasion to join the conversation and company
of your other houseguests.

Anyhow, just keep in mind that cold can be a marvelous hostess,
but a reluctant houseguest.