Where is Joy?

I didn’t grow up thinking about Joy. No teacher ever taught me to seek her out or recognize her. So I never noticed she was missing from my life. Mostly because I was taught something else entirely: make as much money as possible—and then, and only then, Joy would arrive.

So call me surprised when I made some money, moved into a country club, and still didn’t find her. Instead, I found burned-out, tired people who hadn’t spent their lives chasing Joy at all—only trading their time for money.

After the divorce, I didn’t go looking for Joy either. I honestly didn’t think she was possible anymore. Hence the therapist.

I did, however, want to do anything that kept me from sitting alone in a room with my thoughts. So I decided to volunteer at a local church’s food pantry.

On the drive there, a negative thought hit me:

This… might be depressing.

My brain started painting the (false) picture before I ever arrived:

Another negative thought: Depressed, poor people. Desperate for food.

I almost turned around, convinced the experience might actually make my mental health worse. But something told me I needed to finish what I had started. To push past all of the negativity.

When I arrived, I didn’t find what I expected. I found the truth:

I found joyful, grateful, blessed people—deeply thankful for something as simple as food.

In other words, I found Joy in the last place I ever thought I would.

And this Joy wasn’t logical. Heck, my own brain had just straight up lied to me about the experience.

It didn’t make sense.

Or cents.

And that’s when The Truth hit me: JOY isn’t made out of GOLD. 

JOY is found in trials...