I was driving to my office and listening to the news on the radio, slumping deeper
in my seat with each report. New murders overnight; more bloviating balderdash spewing from politicians and pundits of every stripe on every conceivable issue; woeful economic news; protesters protesting other protesters; and so forth. And that was just the news in my beloved Indy.
Then I came to a stop sign on McFarland Road. Ordinarily, I would look in all directions and make sure it was my turn before moving on, but something caught my eye that kept me in place. There was a white-haired woman on a porch swing – not just sitting there slightly moving back and forth, but really pushing and swinging the same way a youngster does on a playground.
As I watched, I also noticed the old woman – who was wearing a short-sleeved top so loud in color that it would make Jerry Springer blush – had this wonderfully big, goofy grin on her face. Her hands were clasped behind her head as she continued to make that porch swing move faster and a bit higher. I think she might have singing, too, or revisiting some great thing from memory lane. She didn’t seem to have a care in the world.
The woman seemed to be experiencing something far deeper and more lasting than happiness. I think I was witnessing pure, unabashed, unbridled and unbelievable joy.
Then I came to a stop sign on McFarland Road. Ordinarily, I would look in all directions and make sure it was my turn before moving on, but something caught my eye that kept me in place. There was a white-haired woman on a porch swing – not just sitting there slightly moving back and forth, but really pushing and swinging the same way a youngster does on a playground.
As I watched, I also noticed the old woman – who was wearing a short-sleeved top so loud in color that it would make Jerry Springer blush – had this wonderfully big, goofy grin on her face. Her hands were clasped behind her head as she continued to make that porch swing move faster and a bit higher. I think she might have singing, too, or revisiting some great thing from memory lane. She didn’t seem to have a care in the world.
The woman seemed to be experiencing something far deeper and more lasting than happiness. I think I was witnessing pure, unabashed, unbridled and unbelievable joy.
Sure, happiness is a lot of things, all good. Laughing until your guts
feel like they will squeeze right hrough your belly button. A
brain-buzzing popsicle on a sizzling summer day. Waking up early and
realizing you still have two hours until the alarm jump starts you into a
new day. Watching the sun rise and watching it set. New, comfortable
shoes. A child or grandchild who surprises you with some off-the-wall
observation about life.
I am reminded of what the late professor Randy Pausch – famous for his “Last Lecture” at Carnegie Mellon University – said when his doctor told him he was dying from pancreatic cancer. The physician advised him: ‘It’s important to behave as if you’re going to be around for a while.’
But Randy already seemed to be heading down that path: ‘Doc, I just bought a new convertible and got a vasectomy. What more do you want from me?’
There’s wisdom in both of their words. Our birth certificates don’t come with an expiration date. No warranties or guilt-free guarantees. Just life – for however long we have it and how we choose to live it. No deep brainer there.
Perhaps for all its ups and downs, sunshine and shadows – is that golden ring of joy. IUt often seems so distant and beyond our grasp. But a ring each of us seeks and desires to wear differently. Maybe what truly distinguishes happiness from joy is that there is hope in joy.
I would like to think that old woman on the front porch was swaying and grinning and singing not from just some distant memory. I want to believe she was also swinging to a rhythm of hope in a world that needs so much of it.
I shut off the radio news, rolled through the intersection and headed back to work.
I am reminded of what the late professor Randy Pausch – famous for his “Last Lecture” at Carnegie Mellon University – said when his doctor told him he was dying from pancreatic cancer. The physician advised him: ‘It’s important to behave as if you’re going to be around for a while.’
But Randy already seemed to be heading down that path: ‘Doc, I just bought a new convertible and got a vasectomy. What more do you want from me?’
There’s wisdom in both of their words. Our birth certificates don’t come with an expiration date. No warranties or guilt-free guarantees. Just life – for however long we have it and how we choose to live it. No deep brainer there.
Perhaps for all its ups and downs, sunshine and shadows – is that golden ring of joy. IUt often seems so distant and beyond our grasp. But a ring each of us seeks and desires to wear differently. Maybe what truly distinguishes happiness from joy is that there is hope in joy.
I would like to think that old woman on the front porch was swaying and grinning and singing not from just some distant memory. I want to believe she was also swinging to a rhythm of hope in a world that needs so much of it.
I shut off the radio news, rolled through the intersection and headed back to work.
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