Joy.

On Friday, Andrew and I had a rare date night. We drove to a neighboring town about 40 minutes away, so there was plenty of car chatter, which also meant that our dinner chatter got a little more random, since we'd covered all the typical end of the day topics already. I asked Andrew, "If you had to name 5 things, in no particular order, that bring you joy, what would they be?"

Not surprisingly, Andrew's list and mine were pretty similar. While I don't remember everything exactly or in what order, here's a general summary of the things we said:

- Riding our bikes together
- Working with our church youth group/feeling a sense of community within our church
- Curling up with the kitties and each other
- Improving our house/coming home to our house at the end of the day
- Enjoying the nature and changing seasons where we live
- Spending time with family
- Finding meaning in our work
- Eating, growing, preparing organic/sustainable/local food

Looking at that collection, it makes me realize that our joy (and many of our goals) stems from the idea of living a simple life. Sometimes, I feel like I should be striving for something greater. Other times, I feel like living a simple life in itself is complicated, daunting, frustrating, chaotic, and possibly probably unattainable.

One of the things that stuck with me from my abnormal pyschology class in college was the idea that a disorder becomes a problem when it gets in the way of a person finding pleasure in the things they once enjoyed. But in order to identify if a person has lost pleasure in these things, the person has to first identify the things that they do (or did) find pleasure in to begin with. A person who is depressed and has been for some time can have a hard time identifying what once made them happy. The example that our lecturer used was of one client who said that she once found pleasure in sitting in quiet and drinking a cup of coffee - it took her nearly an entire session to identify that one activity as being one that used to bring her happiness.

Forgetting your joys is not something that I think is limited to a person who has depression. While I'd say that I have a relatively happy, hopeful outlook at the moment, I still forget to identify the things that bring me happiness sometimes. Is joy real if it goes unacknowleged?

A lot of times, when I carry a burden, it can become oppressive until I write it down, speak it to another person, voice my concern in prayer - whatever it takes to acknowledge the idea as being one that is weighing me down. Then, once acknowleged, I can begin the process of overcoming or letting it go. Once it is voiced, that burden becomes real and I'm better able to tackle it or face it. I begin to feel better in the exact moment that I am able to voice my pain. I think joys work the same way for me. To acknowledge it, write it out, or say it out loud makes the joy feel more real.

For me, the end of October signals not so much the celebration of Halloween, but instead it means it's time to re-focus, start slowing down, and acknowledging what's important. At work, I'm encouraging my students to re-focus on their goals and what they need to do to attain those goals before the semester slows to a close. And at home, I'm re-focusing on the seasons to come, managing my time into bits and pieces so that I'm prepared to enjoy the holidays and the vacation time that comes with the end of the year. With Thanksgiving coming in just a few more weeks, there will be a house to clean, meals to plan, dishes to prepare, and family and friends to welcome. After that, there will be gifts to buy, bags to pack, celebrations to attend, and gifts to wrap (ugh, I hate doing that). In the season of giving thanks, there are still lots and lots of distractions. So maybe it's best that I get a head start on voicing my thanks and sharing my joys by writing them down and sharing them out loud.