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Windows Rolled Down, Music Cranked Up

(( joy ))

“My mother is a big believer in being responsible for your own happiness. She always talked about finding joy in small moments and insisted that we stop and take in the beauty of an ordinary day. When I stop the car to make my kids really see a sunset, I hear my mother’s voice and smile.”

— Jennifer Garner

It’s 7:55 in the morning. The teenager missed her ride to school because she’s having a breakdown about moisturizer and schoolwork. The six-year-old refuses to return the earbuds she swiped from the twelve-year-old, who is protesting the injustice at the top of her lungs. The preschooler woke up late, and I’m scrambling to get him and myself fed, dressed, and out the door while the nine-year-old waits impatiently in the garage, wondering what all the fuss is about.

In this moment, I am not a happy camper. I’m muttering unrepeatable things under my breath through clenched teeth, and, if my megafrown is any indication, I have completely forgotten that—ahem—the Lord loves a cheerful giver (see 2 Cor 9:7).

Now, we moms know perfectly well that life in the mother’hood isn’t all unicorns, rainbows, and lollipops. And it’s definitely not about perfectly behaved children or having consistent time to accomplish uninterrupted anything. Instead, it’s often about tracking down missing shoes (again), keeping toddlers from bum-rushing the altar during Mass (again), wiping up frivolous messes (again), and eradicating heinous mystery smells from the van (again). It’s about perpetual mountains of laundry, ridiculous to-do lists, and bags under our eyes that are carrying their own unchecked luggage.

I defy anyone to feel supremely “happy” about any of the above circumstances. We give and we give, and then we give some more. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not always (ahem) cheerful about the giving.

And yet, as Christians, we are told to view even our hardships as a reason to rejoice: “Count it all joy, my brethren, when you meet various trials, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness” (Jas 1:2–3).

At this point, you might be thinking, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. We don’t have enough in our checking account to cover our bills. My kids are driving me crazy. But … God wants me to … count it as … joy?

In a word, yes. Now, stick with me here for a minute.

As a young mom, my skin crawled whenever some well-meaning stranger observed my spirited youngsters daring to be youngster-like (usually I was running late when they decided to go full-on Lord of the Flies in the grocery store before lunchtime) and felt compelled to offer this gem: “Treasure every! single! minute!” I’d usually grimace and bite the inside of my cheek to keep from pelting the speaker with my exhaustion-fueled litany of grievances. Did she expect me to cherish every blowout diaper, each sleepless night, all ear infections and colicky episodes? How about the countless tantrums and the myriad other energy-sucking maladies of young motherhood? Happy? Happy? Joy? Joy? Give a tired mom a break.

You and I both know that it isn’t always easy to master our feelings or conform our will to that of our heavenly Father. Our bodies are broken and poured out for our families, often multiple times a day. Yet God wants us to know that, when we rely on him as our source of strength (see Neh 8:10) rather than waiting for our circumstances to improve or our feelings to change, we will have abiding joy that the world cannot give. Even when the dinner is burning and the math homework is insanely difficult and the two youngest won’t stop touching one other.

So … what is joy of the Holy Spirit variety, really?

Joy isn’t a feeling—it’s a reality

Now, this isn’t some mumbo-jumbo New Age-y concept or a pie-in-the-sky, fortune-cookie phrase. It’s Gospel truth about God’s kingdom here on earth. Remember: we pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven” (Mt 6:10). Even here on earth, Jesus wants his joy to be in us, and for our joy to be complete (see Jn 15:11).

Yet this joy is not the same as happiness. It took me many, many years to understand this, and I know it’s a tough concept. So I repeat: joy and happiness are not one and the same. While happiness comes and goes like the wind, depending on circumstances and feelings—“I just rocked my presentation at work, and the kids aren’t biting each other’s heads off for a change. I’m so happy!”—joy is an unchangeable reality rooted in our identity as beloved daughters of the Most High God. We belong to him, and one day we hope to be with him in heaven. This is cause for tremendous, incomparable joy! And I can choose to believe and live in that reality … or not.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with happiness—nothing at all! In fact, Jesus talks of happiness when he gives his Sermon on the Mount, specifically the passages about the beatitudes. But happiness on earth is a passing glimpse, a mere hint at the joy that’s omnipresent in the kingdom of God.

Ultimately, we can rest in the knowledge that true joy comes from our relationship with a God who loves us beyond our wildest imaginings—that he died and rose so that we can be with him forever in heaven, where everything will be even more amazing than unicorns, rainbows, and lollipops. Our ultimate desire isn’t for joy—it’s for God.

Have you ever wondered how it was possible for so many early Christian martyrs to be unafraid—joyful, even—as they were led to their executions? Because they knew that this earth was not their home. Their real home was with God in heaven, and they were going there soon to be with him forever, so they sang psalms and hymns before the ax struck or the fire burned or the lions pounced.

Not too long ago, our family was afflicted with not one, but two separate flu strains. One kid went down, then the next, and the next. The first kid would begin to recover, only to be knocked back down by the strain that had struck a different kid. And to top it off, a sizable army of invincible ants descended upon our house at the same time. It was a nightmare of near plagues-in-Egypt proportions. Eventually, I was afflicted with a wretched, mutant version of the kids’ illnesses and found myself completely down for the count. There was painful coughing, stuffiness, nausea, dizziness, headache, persistent fever, and mucus. So much mucus!

Maybe it was the fever, but after the second day of feeling completely useless, I made a decision: I was going to try to squeeze some joy out of this horrid situation even though it was the last thing I felt like doing. I remembered the words of Job 1:21 and made them my own: “The LORD gave me health, and the LORD has taken my health away—blessed be the Name of the LORD.” With my scratchy, stuffy, weakened voice, I sang a praise and worship song that brought a smile to my face. Yes, I felt like death warmed over, and, yes, it wasn’t my best smile ever, but I did smile. Because it all reminded me of the truth: God was still good. He was still in control of the world and my life. He still wanted me to be with him forever in heaven, just maybe not quite yet. And there was nothing the circumstances of my flu-ravaged body could do to change that unchangeable, immeasurably joy-filled truth.

If the joy of the Lord is your strength, don’t forget to tell your face

In my many years as a liturgical musician and, more recently, speaking around the country, I’ve had the tremendous privilege of sharing with God’s beloved children, many of whom sit quietly in the pews sporting their very best sour-pickle face. Now, these poor folks look like someone just canceled their birthday. And that’s just wrong. None other than Saint Francis of Assisi said, “It is not fitting, when one is in God’s service, to have a gloomy face or a chilling look.” And we are all, as Pope Francis explains in The Joy of the Gospel, in God’s service by virtue of our baptism.

Observing these sad faces makes me wonder: if God is who he says he is, and did for us what Scripture tells us he did—namely, loving us so lavishly that he sent his own Son to die a wretched death for the sole purpose of opening the gates of heaven so we can be with him forever (see Jn 3:16)— why aren’t we in a constant state of rejoicing? And when did our faces forget to manifest the joy, joy, joy, joy that is, according to the children’s song, down in our hearts? Why in the world would anyone, our children included, freely choose to walk with Christ if they don’t see glimmers of joy in our lives? Saint Teresa of Calcutta said, “Joy is a net of love by which you can catch souls.” Don’t we want our children to be included in that net of joy and love, eventually caught up to heaven? How about our neighbor? How about ourselves?

I hope you answered “yes,” and I hope you’re smiling about it. If not, let’s take a minute to consider practical ways to cultivate joy in your life and put that sour-pickle face to rest for good.

Choosing joy is possible

This just in: choosing joy can be tough! Often, the good, beautiful, and joyful things about motherhood get buried under the crushing weight of an avalanche of responsibility and challenges we weren’t quite prepared to face.

It’s easy to “choose joy” when all is right with the world. But when kids are screaming at the top of their lungs, and I’m on deadline and forget to eat and morph into “Hangry Mommy” and yell at the kids because we’re running late for the fourth appointment of the day, it’s super tough to just decide to be joyful. Real tough. Throw in something major like chronic depression, illness, unemployment, anxiety, special needs, the unexpected passing of a loved one, or any other number of roadblocks, and choosing joy seems downright impossible. For more about this, please see the Roadblocks toward the end of this chapter.

Thanks be to God, all things are possible for him (see Mt 19:26). Most times, even in the midst of great adversity, we can choose to rejoice in the Lord always (see Phil 4:4), with the powerful help of the Holy Spirit.

Sometimes choosing joy looks like taking time for a pit stop so we can reset. You know—doing something to regain a godly perspective on life. Take several deep breaths. Say a prayer. Maybe take a walk around the block or jog a mile or two. Chat with a trusted friend. Go to Mass. Or confession. Or adoration. Or all three. Read Saint Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, the book that my friend’s pastor calls “The Epistle of Joy.” Do something that nurtures your spirit and reminds you that God loves you even if the sink is (still) full of dishes and the floors (still) need mopping.

Ask yourself: what brings me real joy? You know that jaunty song Fraulein Maria sings in the movie The Sound of Music during the thunderstorm, right? What are a few of your favorite things? I can think of my list, and I’m sure, given a minute or two, you could come up with your own as well.

What are the good, true, and beautiful things you enjoy about being a mom? Do you like going places and experiencing things with your kids? Do more of that! How about singing songs with them or having impromptu dance parties in the kitchen? Put that on the agenda for today if you can. Maybe you like cooking with them, or crafting, or hanging out at the park, or reading aloud, or visiting friends. Do more of the things that fill you with joy and fewer of the things that steal it away. At the very least, once your precious ones succumb to slumber, you can find some joy in knowing that y’all made it to nap/rest/bed and … bonus … you’re still alive.

When all else fails, we can choose to act as if. We can smile as if we remember how much God loves us and how blessed we really are, even when we aren’t feeling it. My mom used to call it “fake it till you make it.” And while I can’t point to the Scripture verse where Jesus says, “Amen, amen I say to you: pretend you are joyful and joy will be yours,” what if making an act of the will to smile, even when we don’t feel like it, is an outward sign of an inward grace? What if, with that choice, we invite the Holy Spirit to work in our hearts, watering the seed we’ve planted and allowing the fruit of joy to grow?

Roadblocks to cultivating joy

Sometimes we can block our own ability to live in the reality of God’s joy. Here are some common culprits:

Negativity: Nobody likes a nattering nabob of negativism. Constantly whining and complaining can render joy (ours and others’) dead on arrival. The Letter of James, which talks a lot about the power of our speech, is quite explicit: “Do not grumble” (5:9). Instead, we can strive to follow Saint Paul’s advice to the Philippians: “Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (4:8). You’ve heard the saying, “Garbage in, garbage out,” right? If we find ourselves fighting off Eeyore-like gloom, it might be time to edit what we’re allowing into our lives. Practically speaking, this could mean unfollowing, unsubscribing, and outright banning any media that threatens to drive us off the road toward joy.

Poor self-talk: Speaking of the power of speech, when was the last time you said something positive to yourself about your vocation as a mom? Maybe you’re amazing at encouraging others, but you fall short when you need encouragement yourself. Poor self-talk—I’m a terrible mom, I can’t do this, I’m going to mess my kids up, etc., etc.—flies in the face of your identity as beloved daughter of the Most High God, unconditionally and madly loved by your heavenly Father and fully capable of handling the tasks he sets before you. And I know this for sure: God doesn’t make junk. This includes YOU. If you need some roadside assistance on this journey to joy, get your hands on I AM, by Chris Stefanick, and see how revamping the messages you tell yourself about yourself can change your life.

Coveting: There’s nothing like reallllly wanting another mom’s Pinterest-worthy kitchen or birthday party or hairdo or wardrobe or vacation or career or whatever to put the brakes on joy. When we avoid dangerous detours like envy, bitterness, and resentment, we’re much more likely to arrive in a place of authentic joy.

Ingratitude: Being ungrateful for the many blessings God has given us is like crumpling up the master map that leads us to joy and throwing it right out the window. Try spending more time thanking and praising God to get back on track. More about this in a later chapter.

People pleasing and perfectionism: When we constantly worry about what other people want, need, think, or will approve, we have less fuel to seek after what God wants to give us in our vocation. Saint Paul addresses this very thing in Galatians 1:10: “Am I now seeking the favor of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still pleasing men, I should not be a servant of Christ.” Let’s seek to please God alone, walking in his will for us, and watch the joy expound!

Attachments: It’s much more difficult to enter into the joy of the Lord when we cling to things of this world, pet sins, or anything that is not of God’s kingdom. Are you having an especially rough time detaching from bad habits or attitudes? Now might be a good time to drive on over to the nearest parish for confession. Nothing brings joy to the soul quite like complete reconciliation and time spent with the Lord. Check out www.masstimes.org to find Mass, confession, or adoration at a parish near you.