“Joy is not meant to be a crumb.”

My fibromyalgia has reared its ornery self, and I’m in the midst of a major flare-up. All of my nerves are at the surface, screaming “Arggggg!!!!!”

I have been off this week. It’s been rough, full of physical pain and losses. 

The world is in chaos. Nobody sane seems to be in charge.

Luke Perry died. Dylan McKay, gone. Damn. 

Alex Trebek revealed he has stage 4 pancreatic cancer.

The “leader” of this country is still spreading Twitter lies and blaming everyone and everything else for the gigantic messes he has created. 

I’m tired of winter. I hate my coat, my mittens, and especially socks. I’m sick of socks. 

I’ve been on a constant verge of tears. Anything can set me off. This morning it happened at the coffee house when they were out of my favorite coffee.

My hair dryer stopped working.

And then…

I read Mary Oliver’s “Don’t Hesitate.”

I took a breath. 

Sudden and unexpected joy.

I am choosing to lean into it, fighting back against the sludge. The world is shitty, yes, but, damn, there is joy.

It was at the neighboring table at the coffeehouse where a group of women were discussing love and religion.

It’s in a warm bowl of oatmeal, dolloped with brown sugar and cream.

Joy is the knowledge spring is only fourteen days away.

It is funny, heartfelt texts from dear friends.

Joy is the smell of cherry pie baking in the oven. It’s flaky, gooey joy.

It’s acknowledging Dad’s birthday. Missing his jokes, yet knowing he lives in my boys.

It’s seeing my husband come through the door.

Joy is when my favorite Train song comes on the radio, and I automatically smile.

It’s snuggling up in my cozy blanket in the mornings with journal in my hand and kitty at my feet.

Joy is a fabulous glass of wine, a good book, the sun after weeks of dreariness, the feel of clothes straight out of the dryer, yoga, spotting a congregation of eagles on the river, and a perfect alfresco dinner at dusk.

Joy gives us snippets of hope. Even in the midst of misery, joy surrounds us. It’s everywhere. So take a moment.

Smell its wonder.

Taste its solace.

Feel its indulgence.

See its splendor.

Hear its merriment.

Don’t carelessly wipe it off the table.

“Joy is not meant to be a crumb.” ~Mary Oliver

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s