denying the real self-care:

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Joy: a chosen blessing.

A sour face and an isolated heart damage far more than it’s holder. I’m walking in the steps of remembering joy is a choice, and with that choice, a blessing. To delight in the abundance of a shortly lived life- what greater gift could we submit to the Giver?

It pains me to think we’ve ever accepted anything less.

Sometimes we encounter beautiful faces and beautiful minds. Yet their existence seems well, tainted, by the inability to be filled to the top (better yet, overflowing) with joy.

For what reason?

Some fear the response to their joy. Perhaps some might see them as naive. Some might even belittle (only prompted by envy of course). They might even sit with the sorrow-filled and feel guilty about any lingering element of joy within themselves. They fear so they refuse the gift.

Some love the stagnancy of sadness. To sit in sorrow is a time and a place- yet some waddle through it as if accepting the mud on their white shoes. Some refuse to run after joy, because the melancholy promises deep feelings and true isolation. I’ve found (sometimes being one of them) that it ends up being a ruse of selfishness. They choose sadness so they refuse the gift.

Some cannot see the value spoken over them. It almost as if they refuse to see that the gift was extended to them as well. Shame tends to triumph over the truth that they are worthy of seeking joy too. They feel inadequate so they refuse the gift.

Joy serves not just ourselves, but leads our heartbeat to love.

Watch a person with true joy: they’ll grab the hands of the sad to run as if they were flying. They’ll behold the eyes of the broken and extend a hand to wipe away tears. They’ll choose to laugh in the face of fear. To be quite honest, joy looks quite like ourselves as a child.

In embracing joy, we also choose to embrace our child-like selves. The child whose faith moves mountains, whose eyes shine with admiration towards their Papa, and their existential being brings arms of protection from Above.

It’s the belly-laughers, the seekers, the child-like of faith that seize the greatest gift that we should cheer on and run whole-heartedly with them. Throwing away any selfish thought that refuses such a blessing, and grabbing my sneakers for there is a race to be won and only the laughter of a joyous victor can truly understand such a gift.

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