Woo-hoo & Hallelujah!

My husband will tell you that I cannot contain my joy in a quiet manner. This is especially true when we are watching sports. When IU won the Big Ten Football Championship, my “woo-hoo” hit the highest of decibels. There might have also been a little “Happy Day” dance.

Then, when their quarterback, Fernando Mendoza, won the Heisman Trophy, there were tears. His acceptance speech … tears. When his mother spoke … more tears. Joy can bring tears.

My husband knows my joy bucket tips easily.

I try to keep my joy bucket filled up. I notice even the little things that make my heart smile.

After Saturday’s six-inch snowfall, I woke up Sunday morning to the bitter cold -20º windchill. While drinking my coffee at the kitchen table, I looked out to see that the slinky on the shepherd’s hook had a thick coating of snow and ice. It made a beautiful design. I felt my heart smile. If I had not looked closely, I would have missed it. (The Slinky keeps the squirrels from climbing and robbing the birdfeeder.)

Photo provided by Janet Hart Leonard

Some joys cannot be contained without a loud woo-hoo, while other joys are soft and quiet. Both are so needed.

Sometimes, our joy gets interrupted by a bitter reality.

As I write about joy this week, I have to admit it has been a hard week. My body tells me so. My body, as well as my calendar, reminds me that this week marks five years since my mother passed away. Don’t tell me your body doesn’t process grief. It was a year ago, on December 16, that I was diagnosed with Bell’s Palsy. The neurologist asked me if I was under any stress. I told him it was the anniversary of my mother’s passing. He said my body could be reacting. I think he was right.

You know, joy, hurt, and grief are so personal. I feel them all deeply (and often loudly). The holidays enhance both joy and sorrow. My soul feels it. When hurt and grief try to steal my joy, I sometimes have to fight to hold onto it. A good cry, my husband holding my hand while I share my thoughts that aren’t always pretty, and a long walk.

My writing will not always put a pretty bow on life. Sometimes I feel the need to share that my life isn’t picture perfect or easy. While joy is a way of life for me, there is still grief that I wrestle with.

Some will not understand the waves of my grief or hurt. That’s okay. Others will whisper, “Me too.”

I believe joy is not determined solely by circumstances, but by perspective. Joy is a way of life. I will always look for the joy in every day … even in the midst of my grief.

A song on the radio that beckons me to join in with a loud voice.

Holding a cup of hot cocoa while I watch the lights on the Christmas tree. It’s such a beautiful, quiet joy.

I sit on the floor while I play with two of my great-grandchildren, Tiberius and Thomas, and hear them squeal with delight as they think I am funny. They might laugh a bit as they watch me get up off the floor.

Whether I am loudly woo-hooing or raising a soft “Hallelujah,” I will always focus on the joys I find when I take the time to seek.

If we did not have grief, we would not appreciate joy.

I pray that this Christmas you will take the time to look for the joys in your life.

I’m hoping we all find great joy on New Year’s Day when IU wins the Rose Bowl. I will be loudly woo-hooing! My husband might be doing the same. His woo-hoo is quieter than mine … and that’s okay.

I wish all my readers a Merry Christmas, and may your joy bucket be overflowing.

Janet Hart Leonard can be contacted at janethartleonard@gmail.com or followed on Facebook or Instagram (@janethartleonard). Visit janethartleonard.com.