Endure to the end. Or as my late FIL always used to say, "the first hundred years is the hardest." (He wasn't yet 100 when he croaked so his life is still hard somewhere, I'm thinking.) Maybe it's just the crap load of snow outside and the freezing temperatures but life seems gray and icky right now. A horrible drudgery. Something to just be gotten through, like really bad sex. It's led me to do too much thinking. I'm not a good thinker. It makes my head hurt. But I've been thinking a lot about joy. Or the lack thereof.
Which brings me to the question, are there any truly happy Mormons? I'm not talking about the drugged-to-the-gills-till-I'm-smiling-vacantly kind of happy. Or the I'm-doing-what-I'm-supposed-to-so-I-can-be-happy-in-the-next-life kind of happy, either. I'm talking joy. Now. I've been told to find joy in my children. And I do! They are usually pretty awesome and I like being with them. But they can't be my whole life. Living vicariously through your children is just asking for disappointment. And what about finding joy of my own? Where does a person find joy and fulfillment in their life when they no longer believe The Church is the source of joy? Education? Career? Travel? Friends? Spouse? A cause? Where do I need to look to find my joy?
A recent blog post that hit me hard right in the gut talked about courage and cowardice. I've been trying to decide how much courage I have. Do I have enough to go after joy? Or am I a coward and so I'll just stay where I am? Existing. Enduring. Waiting for that 100 years to be up.
Well this post is a downer! That's what I get for thinking. A depressing post and a headache. Ain't life grand?