happiness: n. The emotion of being happy; joy.
joy: n. A feeling of extreme happiness or cheerfulness, especially related to the acquisition or expectation of something good.
I want to tell you a sweet story.
Washing my truck is a rare thing. I wholeheartedly avoid some tasks in life. Washing a vehicle is one of them. Road dirt is just so dirty...and gritty and grimy.
The recent fires in my home state of Oregon left a residue of smoke and ash remains on everything, including my pickup. My son-in-law told me the paint job could be ruined if it wasn't washed off. God forbid that should happen. The sparkly blue finish was the main reason I bought it two years ago. I knew I needed to address the issue.
Arriving home from work, I parked in the driveway instead of entering the garage, an incentive to follow through on the project. Grabbing an old rag, I began the process by filling a bucket with hot water and some Dawn detergent, the recommended cleaner for dealing with ash on vehicles. I had disposable gloves on, but I could feel the warmth of the hot water as I began washing the surface.
It was a good day. A week ago, the area I live in was covered with oppressive smoke from the forest fires with air quality the worst of any place on the face of the planet. Going outside was unthinkable. Then the rains came. They dumped water on our dry, thirsty soil, flushing ash-covered surfaces clean.
The truck still needed a good, old-fashioned scrub though, and I was up for the task.
It was the first day of fall. The changing of seasons was in the air, freshened by the gift of rain.
While digging through my utility room cupboard in late Spring, I discovered a package of seeds. The label said it was a Hummingbird and Butterfly Garden Mixture, a combination of reseeding annuals and perennials. It was dated for use in 2016, so I was aware the four-year-old seeds might not be viable. Having a wildflower garden has been on my wish list for quite some time, though, so I decided to give it a try. The soil in the area I chose to plant was rock-hard and the opposite of fertile, but reason had no voice. I dug up a space bordering the sidewalk that was approximately 4' x 12', added compost from my compost bin and several bags of potting soil. My attitude was I had nothing to lose.
I sprinkled the seed mix on the area and watered it. And watered and watered some more. They were planted late in the growing season, so I had zero expectations. I checked the area often, sometimes several times a day. A magnifying glass would have been helpful in my search for any signs of life. I was ecstatic when, bit by bit, tiny green leaves peeked up through the surface. Granted, some of them were a nasty, invasive grass weed and volunteer vegetable starts from my compost that I had to pull out, but other plants were sprouting as well.
I continued to water them faithfully, ensuring their roots never dried out. They rewarded me with growth and blossoms. I recognized some of the plants--orange California Poppies; pink, blue, and purple Bachelor Buttons; Dill, Coreopsis, and Blanket Flower; Black Eyed Susan; bright pink Godetia and red Larkspur--and others unidentified. The colors resembled a crazy quilt, a mishmash of blooms and textures. I delighted in their survival and beauty along with the prospect of a perennial garden that will attract bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds.
I was focused on washing the passenger side of the truck, making certain all the smoke residue was removed when I happened to glance up. A young woman was walking along the sidewalk, pushing a baby stroller and chatting with her little girl, the big sister. They stopped by the bed of flowers, the tiny sprite of a girl squatting down to get a closer look. The washing project came to a halt as I became the proverbial "fly on the wall," observing from a distance. It was as though I could hear their conversation: "Look, mama--isn't that pink one pretty? Oh, I love the orange one! Will you take a picture of it for me?" Leaning down by her young daughter, the mother pulled out her phone to take pictures. After several minutes they were on their way.
My being was filled with pure joy as I watched the young mother and her child admiring God's handiwork. My first instinct was to run to social media and "share" it. No. This was given to me to revel in and appreciate. I have done that, thanking God for the original idea, the follow through, and for the beauty of living, growing things.
What, exactly, is joy? What is the difference between joy and happiness? Is there any?
I am going to state that happiness takes place in the physical and joy is spiritual. From experience, I agree with the dictionary definition: happiness is emotion, joy is a feeling.
My best description is that happiness takes place in the chest, up to and including the head. It tends to be transitory and short-lived. A happy mood can easily be shattered by a comment, look, or blip that results in a change of circumstances.
Joy goes the opposite direction, sinking and settling deep within a person. Each "joy" experience is a gift and blessing from God. Joy cannot be fabricated or faked. Counterfeit efforts will not, cannot endure.
My wildflower garden has brought me great joy. It has also given joy to others.
And this: If I had been washing the driver's side of the truck instead of the passenger's, my back would have been turned on the entire scene, and I would have missed out.
" ...the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness,
generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control."
Galatians 5: 22, 23
Happy comes and happy goes, but joy...
joy plants itself within and reminds us of how good God is.
Just me. Just sayin'.