Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Choose Joy

I always say that Tuesday is the worst day of the week. You expect Monday to be rough, so you mentally prepare yourself for the week. You huddle over your homework as you wait in the long Sunday laundry line, and you tell yourself that you are going to need that third cup of coffee. “Treat yo’ self” and whatnot.

You choose to do things to make yourself happier on Monday.

But what about Tuesday?



On Tuesday you have to wake up again. You have to do homework again. You have to get that third cup of coffee again. For some reason, Tuesday struggles always seem to come as a bit of a shock. What seemed easy to handle on Monday now looks like a particularly difficult challenge, one that you would not expect yourself to be able to handle.



Tuesdays are difficult because you never prepare for them.

And since you had all of Monday’s responsibilities, you are more likely to be tired on Tuesday.

How can we make Tuesdays better?

Choose Joy.

Again.



To choose joy does not mean that you have to be completely happy. In fact, joy has little to do with happiness. Joy means “an emotion evoked by well-being.” To be well does not mean you have to be completely happy or have your life completely put together. Well-being is alive, healthy, and functioning to some capacity.

Choosing joy is simply recognizing that all is well.



Whenever things go wrong, my mom reminds me to “choose joy.” The day that my NSF proposal returned unreviewed, or my exam grades dropped in my first semester of graduate school, or I had a hard day, my mom would remind me to choose joy in that moment. I was blessed to be where I was, and I was learning lessons that would help me grow in to the woman I was meant to be.



But choosing joy can go a bit deeper. It can also mean to believe that all will be well, or rather, all will be even better than it is in the moment. As I said, I don’t believe it is good to say “it’s ok to not be ok,” but rather say “I’m not ok right now, but I will be ok.” 

This belief stems from my mother’s instruction to choose joy. It gives me hope.

Choosing joy is having hope.




It’s no secret that I am single and searching for my future Saint Joseph. I make fun of my love life so much that I get tagged in Facebook videos about it. I write about it on my blog, and I am an advocate for publicly adorable yet respectful relationships like my parents’ have shown me.

With all of my cute little posts and rom com nights, you would think that I have always been this hopeful romantic.

For the most part, you would be right. 



Every time a boy broke my heart, or I broke someone’s heart, I would go to the dining room of my Tucson home and look at the picture of my mom in the wedding dress that I will some day wear. When I moved to Nashville, I would go home and just spend time with my parents.

I chose joy in the face of everything I faced because I had reminders of joy everywhere I looked. 



I prepared like one would on a Sunday night, but then a Monday night came, and I did not prepare, and I did not choose joy.



It’s a particularly vivid memory for me. I had been searching for quite some time, and I finally took a break from my search for my Saint Joseph. Grad school had gotten insanely busy, and I was overwhelmed with my first grant proposal, my constantly failing experiments, and adjusting to life without my family close by.

Unprepared and vulnerable, I ended up sitting outside at 9:47pm when it was 42 degrees outside with a light jacket and no gloves.

At 10:04pm, I looked up at the sky with teary eyes and told myself to drive home.




“I give up” I said over and over to myself as I got in the shower and attempted to get ready for bed. And yet I could not sleep. I just laid in my bed, tears streaming down my face because I knew that I had failed yet again. I knew that I was not looking in the right places.




For a week I cried myself to sleep because the hopeful romantic I had become in college had crumbled in the wake of the adult world. 

I thought God had been clear with me, but perhaps I misheard Him.

I had no clue where to go next.



Now it is a Tuesday, a day that is particularly difficult, and it is also a Valentine’s day.

And what do we do on Tuesday?

We choose Joy.

Again.


I won’t go in to the details of how I found myself again, how I became a “Ted Mosby,” or any of the very important steps that brought me to this place. What I will say is that I have prepared myself for such a day.



I took care of my body

I spent time with God.

I found beautiful and loving friends who I wish I could truly express my gratitude towards.

And I found hope in the world around me.




One thing I will share is a story that came to me as I was driving during this “monday” of my life. A song called “Oh Darling” came on the stereo. It was the song that I used to drive my little brother Mark and his girlfriend Kate around town to. Not because they wanted to, but because that was the only thing on the radio.


That was back when they were freshmen in high school.

When we moved away, they broke up, and it was sad for everyone.

And yet they found one another again, perhaps because they had always known that they loved one another. 




When Kate came to Nashville last year at the end of Christmas Break, it was as if nothing had changed. The only real change was that Mark was driving and she was in the front seat while the other kids sat in the back. I can’t speak to everything, but there was something absolutely beautiful about sitting in the backseat while the songs we used to listen to when they were freshmen played on the car radio again.

As I drove to the old song in South Bend, I remembered that happy moment.

And I felt hope again.



Mark and Kate are one of the few couples in my generation that has shown me what it means to be in a true loving relationship. And even though they both had to go through their own difficult moments, they somehow were able to come back.

All of Team Newton has been blessed because of it.

My sisters have someone to look up to, and I have hope in my heart that there will be love in my life like their’s. I don’t have to settle. I just have to work a little bit.



Someday I’ll find a man who loves Jesus and is willing to help me fight for the misunderstood lysosome populations and put a swingset in the backyard.

So on this Tuesday Valentine’s Day, choose joy Dear Readers. 



Choose to have hope in the future. Choose to keep searching, keep fighting, keep believing that whatever happens will lead you to where you are meant to be.

Choose joy


Again and again, choose joy.

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