I have been thinking about happiness lately. There is one kind of happiness–it comes from eating chocolate and pizza and cuddling up with a dog while watching Netflix at night. It comes from that ethereal feeling of “Maybe this will work out” as you are peeling off your heels after a first date. It comes with drinking a smoothie on a beach and thinking that in that moment, all is right with the world.
But anyone who has lived long knows that there is another type of happiness.
A fiercer kind.
A bolder kind.
A harder kind.
That is what I was thinking of when I wrote this.
there is the happy-ness of tennis shoes
sweat dripping from hair curling in the humidity
eyes watching the pavement
blend of asphalt and yellow lines
as the mellow sun arises,
and streaks of pink and gold paint the gray sky
like the stripes on the pavement–
the runner smiles in spite of
burning calf muscles
the inconsiderate drivers who creep too close
and the fact that the coffeemaker is broken at home,
and runs for happy-ness,
in spite of the rest.
there is the happy-ness in patience
and in fighting through the silky dreams of ribbons
and the metallic ones of glory to find
the true purpose for living
the drive to paint an empty canvas
with color makes even the lowest
astronomer touch the stars.
the Creator Who breathed our dreams never lets them come without cost,
for the happy-ness
that comes when a rainbow touches the end of a long road.
there is the happy-ness of children
for whom tired mothers
and fathers who have worked too many late shifts
give and give and give.
Somehow, through tantrums
green crayon on the wall
and lipstick stains that the carpet will not shed…
somehow with a smile they can heal the tired soul.
rebirth, where a part of you lives on
and the rest dies to sustain it.
the deepest scars and joys of love revealed
in the years of holding hands
and through them there is a happy-ness
that little else can fill.
there is a happy-ness of hope,
a candle lit that is carried
when gray clouds hug the gray hills.
a triumph after battle
when a soldier lays in his blood
and cries for the One above,
and knows that though there is no
there is infinity.
for hope is a happy-ness that endures despite
the death of dreams.