What does happy look like?

She tosses her hair back and laughs at the silly joke. I can’t hear what’s said, but I notice she turns her face to the ground when she thinks no one is looking and grimaces, biting her lip. There’s pain, but she’s trying not to show. It’s Happy Hour. The sun is shining. The libations are flowing. The appetizers are passed around the table. Is this what happy looks like?

He bought a new car. It can hit 80 in seven seconds. He knows, because he pushes it on every interstate on-ramp. He’s told me — several times. I get it. He’s 50, but with a tan and a flowing hair that just touches his earlobe, he feels 25 all over again. The directors just gave the promotion and the check that follows. But inside, he wonders. He asked me once, “Is this all?” Is this what happy looks like?

She clutches the check in her hand and leaves her keys on the counter. Off to discover the world, to find herself. Left behind are memories – good and bad. But there’s no place to hide the bitterness, the shame and regret. Her friends told her that her happiness is what counts most, even claiming that God wants us in this condition. But the anchor that she drags behind is the reminder of what should have been. Is this what happy looks like?

I have chased happy. You name it, I’ve thought it would fulfill. Sex. Possessions. Relationships. Money. Power. Position. I thought all of them would satisfy, that they would make me happy. But they carved the ravine in my heart deeper still, and the tears could never fill the hole.

We constantly tell ourselves that it’s a love or a relationship that makes us happy, or just a little more money, or a better job. Sometimes it’s a drag, or a sip or two. Sometimes it’s losing ten pounds, or twenty. It can be a vacation or an hour of sheer pleasure. But really, happiness like this really never lasts.

I choose joy.

Joy isn’t dependent on a situation in life. It doesn’t need another person to complete. It’s free and without strings. And best of all, unlike happiness, it doesn’t require detox or botox or lipo in the end.

I don’t have achieve it, earn it or work for it.

At the end of the chase, looking for pots of gold and nirvana and bliss, I wheeze in, breathless and spent.  Joy sits, legs crossed at the end of the path, twirling a piece of grass. “Where have you been?

“The hope of the righteous brings joy” Proverbs 10:28


Linking up with Jennifer today, “God Bumps”