Joy Lessons

2019 ended the same way it began: At a funeral for a good man, gone suddenly, leaving behind loved ones who thought they had more time.

It’s sad, but death had a way of marking this year more than it ever has. 

There were the deaths of these men and a few others close to us. There was also my grandmother’s passing after a nearly decade long decline into Alzheimers grip. 

There was a horrible day on the farm where heat took multiple animals in a matter of hours and, for a moment, Adam swore he was done with it all. Vowing in sadness, anger, and self blame to sell it all.

… Only to dust himself off a few hours later and come back to try again.

We bore witness to death of marriages we watched ignite from the first spark years ago. 

And, also the change in our friends as many took on the role of caretaker for ill or aging parents. Their identity, expectations, and hope thrown. 

Other friends lost their innocence to the sharp edges of parenting as we prayed for their baby’s hearts, fevers, and vitality.

We also lost friends as they walked with darker sides of themselves this year, leaving us behind in a cloud of questions. Feeling sad, confused, and sometimes even angry.

It’s not to say it was all bad, of course. 2019 brought so much good to us and those around us too. Adam’s business did well, despite the rocky farming season. I made strides in my writing, gaining bylines on large platforms and completing the first draft of a book. 

Our family was healthy. Our kids were happy. Smart and pretty funny, too. 

A friend who struggled with fertility welcomed a baby. As did many others in our circle. My brother and great friend settled into strong relationships. I made a new friend this fall who reenergized my passion for food, wine and community.

I got to spend a weekend laughing with friends at my parents home and time with my sister exploring New York City. Forth of July was so special up in Michigan with all my siblings, our families and parents under one roof. Christmas was magical as the curiosity about Santa and reindeer clicked with Theo for the first time.

Even simple things were pretty good. Like spending the summer singing along to Taylor Swift with the kids and weekends exploring local parks and the library. We made great meals at home and had an amazing multiple course meal out- complete with wine parings- thanks to an opportunity with my work. We boated and swam in the lake. I even became a runner again and figured out how to maintain a sourdough starter.

During the most recent funeral, the young man eulogizing his father spoke of joy and happiness and the differences between the two. 

My ears perked up because “joy” had been my word of the year. 

I remembered how nearly embarrassed I was to claim the word joy. It sounded so saccharine. Juvenile. So not me. It brought to mind flowers and cliches like “Choose Joy!” in loopy calligraphy script.

I chose the word because I needed something that was so not the way I was living.

It wasn’t working- the bold, action and achievement focused words. 

At the end of 2018, I was interested in a slower way of living. A happier one. 2018 had been a year where I felt like I was always racing after big (and small) things, cramming more on my To Do list, checking boxes, grabbing one more accolade, one more task, one more goal, one more latte… and yet, always bracing for impact as it felt so out of control. 

I wanted off the train. 

In the blog post explaining my choice of word, I wrote:

“Joy.  It’s a way of living.  A way of being. It’s facing extraordinary moments and ordinary moments and finding the same emotion: Pure Joy.”

I wanted to stop and smell the roses. Smile in the sunshine for a moment longer than normal.

Instead, I learned that this isn’t all that joy is.

Joy is also dancing in the rain.

That’s a smidge metaphorical, of course. I would never tell a friend who is truly grieving to “just dance it out.” But, I do believe there are things you can do. I believe that even when it feels impossible and your heart is breaking, Joy doing something small- like a run or turning on a Taylor Swift song. Joy is getting present and moving slower, stopping to find gratitude or breathe or kneed some bread or even smell some literal flowers. And, it’s… Choosing it. Waking up. Owning the control. Choosing optimism. Choosing to give thanks. Choosing joy.

It’s not as simple or cute as it sounds. It’s not even as happy as it seems. But, it is a way of living. A great way of being. A brave, conscious, strong way of being.

It’s facing extraordinary moments, ordinary moments and hard moments and finding- even when it’s not easy- the same emotion: Pure Joy.

That is what my friends, my family, my own actions and 2019 taught me.