Ode to Joys

Even though I was nearly 500 miles away when this little beaut grew its wings, I felt deep joy at its introduction to this wild, weird world.  Of course, the mother in me would like to point out that the reason I was able to experience this joy was because my kids--decent beyond decency, good beyond good--filmed its wet-winged release so that I could experience it.

I cannot imagine a world without joy.  Especially right now.

What if it turned out that the best thing we could do in the face of so much ugliness and hatred was to simply enjoy something when the opportunity presented itself? To refuse to let that  moment of joy be taken from us?

It strikes me as wonderfully radical, this notion that joy, like breakfast, should never be skipped, lest the world come unraveling before our very eyes.

Last week,  I read an article about U.N. Ambassador Nicky Haley telling a group of conservative teen leaders that "owning the libs" (a term new to me, although it also hit close to home) was nothing a true leader would pursue. After reading it,  I realized that maybe I'd been played all these months.  And, yet, I also saw a sliver of hope in her message to these young leaders.

So I devised a plan in response to all that owning.

But it turns out that my new approach to this crazy life is actually my old approach to it--to never turn down an opportunity to embrace joy, to stand gape jawed in the presence of a newborn monarch butterfly, its wings still wet, its mind wondering where all the good milkweed is.

Joy, I believe, just might hold the key to something better.

In fact, I know it does.  . . . a better me, to begin with.