A Case for Joy

Plunge into the stream of living.

We almost lost our three-week-old daughter. She contracted a staph infection that traveled to her spine, causing immobility in her right arm. Daisy and my wife were medevacked to Oahu as the doctors on our island had no idea what was wrong with her, while her fever continued to rise like a pot of boiling water.

It was the most terrifying experience of my life. The thought of losing my newly born baby forced me into a cage covered in a black curtain. I didn’t know if my eyes were open or closed. Up until then, I’d never known the feeling of being unable to fall asleep.

For three days, I struggled to find rest, tossing, turning, allowing my mind no comfort in hope. I watched every worst-case scenario play out in front of me like watching a card dealer in Vegas. Panic swam in my blood. Fear gripped my bones, turned them stiff and cold.

Lily, our oldest daughter, who was only two at the time, joined us with her grandmother a few days later.

“Daddy, daddy, we get to stay in the Ronald McDonald House tonight!”

We’d planned for me to be Lily’s keeper over this period, while my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and wife stayed by Daisy’s side. Joy had blue eyes and bright blonde hair. She knew nothing of this present darkness except for an opportunity to sleep in a house of toys and giant-sized Disney characters.

Lily, like a raging wildfire to a dead pile of sticks, confronted my loss of life in but a moment. Like a dog on a leash at his master’s prompting for a walk, I had no choice. And then I did. I could engage passively with this young ball of energy or enter into her joy, joining her celebration and fascination with our new home for the next six weeks.

Control the Narrative of Your Inner Life

To quote my grandmother in a letter to my mother before her journey across the ocean as a young woman:

“Most fears are generated by too much thinking, talking, and anticipation nurses them from inconsequential trifles to monstrous proportions. The basic psychology of overcoming fear and gaining confidence in every phase of life is to plunge into the stream of living, adding one conquest to another.”

And that I chose. By day I took Lily to the beach, played with an over-sized Mickey Mouse, and by night I sat with Daisy, praying, hoping in light, engaging with the vision of my eyes.

Daisy made a full recovery, and we left the hospital after six weeks.

I’m reminded of that time as we process and unfurl days shrouded in uncertainty, prone to fear. I’m looking to the conquests of living again, re-challenged by an experience that mirrored a bottomless pit. I’m holding a genuine case for joy amongst a field of flowers wilting under a spring that is frostbitten.

Photo by Rodion Kutsaev on Unsplash

Fears Come With Too Much Thinking

On my worst days, I fall into a haze of “what ifs.” It starts with a single door then opens into a room with passages revolving into sets of ferocious scenarios. Before long, I’m thinking about moving my ROTH IRA to my savings account in fear of defaulting on my mortgage. Then moments before I put action to dire thoughts, I hear a cry from my baby at my toes. She’s learning how to stand. She’s a cold slap in the face turned warm embrace as I exit the world of falling lampposts.

Plunge Into the Stream of Living

This isn’t a call to do more or produce that which requires a fleet of ships. The last thing we need is the fear of destiny slipping from our fingertips due to inactivity. That is no cure. Instead, I am woken to the duties that draw the life already within, like a syringe to a bottle of remedy. I am not trying to become something. I’m merely turning my attention outward, where the water is flowing, where I find refreshing.

It Looks Like Responsibility but Doesn’t Feel Like It

There is no valor in feeding oneself with the enormity of worst-case scenarios.

How many deaths were there today? When can we watch sports again? Will the housing market crash, and with it, my dreams of retiring at 55?

I refuse the stupor then turn my undivided attention to making the waffle, spreading it with chocolate, and mapping out the day as if it were a journey unto a buried treasure chest.

I have a simple daily plan. I want to write, read, exercise and love my family. To some, these may look like duties, but to me, they are seeds of sustenance. I am a farmer to the rearing of crops. My efforts of the day course my thoughts in joy, for this is where life has made itself known to me.

We Cannot Worry About the Problems We Don’t Have

As callous as it may sound, it is not up to me to stop the death count in New York City. I can empathize, but that’s as far as I go. I have more important issues at hand that requires real vigilance. I have a five-year-old who wants to learn how to hit a tennis ball, a three-year-old who thinks she’s a kitten and wants me to be one too, and more often than not, a 10-month-old with a diaper heavier than lead.

I am turning my fears and worries for the problems I don’t yet have into energy for a giant, consistent plunge into the stream of living well.

I humbly suggest this may be the most important way to respond to the day at hand. Find your case for joy. Plunge into the stream of living.