The longer I journey through this life, the more I realize how committed I was to being happy in all things. To put on the smile and to settle. My mantras went something like this: I should be thankful. Life could be so much worse. I am blessed. Why wouldn’t I be happy?
And I was blessed. And my life could have been worse. BUT I wasn’t happy because I didn’t get it.
Because happy is not a choice or an exercise of will. Happy is not about me. Rather, happy is a gift given to me in moments by the One who created me and delivered to me through those He fills my life with. Happy is realizing that in all of the madness of this life – this life that cannot be normal and is never expected – I am loved, I am cherished, and I dare to hope. Happy is being astounded that I am loved despite my shit and in the midst of it. Happy is all about grace.
So I find myself less uncomfortable when life gets complicated or relationships get tricky and the happy is hard to come by. Because happy is bigger than me, and that makes me happy.