Blather/Musings on Joy & Hope

The other day a conversation I was in touched on the phrase “Choose Joy.”

“It’s all in how it’s said,” the other person was saying, and it hit me how very correct he was.

Say it with heartfelt sincerity and it sounds like what it’s intended to be — an encouraging sentiment. Say it sarcastically, sardonically, with a touch of a sneer and it is exactly the opposite. However a person has heard in the past probably impacts how they hear it today, right?

Every trite little slogan has that potential.

When life is an utter sh-thole, the last thing someone needs to hear is “Choose Joy” — as if they had chosen the fecal matter surrounding them. Sometimes, our choices do lead us to the latrine — but sometimes a thousand things outside our control take us there.

Timing is everything.

When I wake up in the morning, I can tell myself to choose joy today. When I drop a cinderblock on my foot, I may not choose joy in that moment.

But, then, I do have a sign boldly proclaiming “HOPE” on the side of our barn. Does”HOPE” also fall somewhere on the sarcasm/sincerity continuum? Can it be said both ways? I sure hope so? not?

Hope somehow feels different to me.

Yesterday, I lifeguarded at a local park. All the young lifeguards are back to school or at soccer practice or some such. I’m glad I can help.

An old woman came down to the beach. I would guess that she was in her late 70s, maybe early 80s. She was unsteady entering the water from the beach. I watched her pick her way along, hoping she had water shoes on because the zebra mussels can hurt terribly when stepped on.

She lifted the rope separating the shallow end from the deep end over her head and started swimming. Maybe she was a strong swimmer at some point in her life, but she wasn’t yesterday. She made me nervous, especially when she had to stop and “rest” holding onto the rope delineating the further boundaries of the deep end.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, and sounded annoyed at the question.

When she went back to shore, she lost her footing in thigh deep water. I jumped up, quite sure I would need to go in to assist her, but she finally stood again on her own and walked the rest of the way. Back on the beach, she sat, exhausted, in an Adirondack chair for the next hour.

Why she came to mind as I pondered Joy and Hope stream-of-consciously is a bit of a mystery to me. I wish I understood how my mind works. Here’s my guess though:

I think she chose Joy when she chose to go swimming that day. She drove by herself — a questionable choice because she hit a bench when attempted to park. She descended steep uneven stairs to get to our narrow beach. Then she swam — even though it exhausted her and she had lost her footing in the water. She chose to do all that even though the rest of us questioned her choices.

Maybe that’s choosing Joy — choosing something for ourselves, even when it doesn’t make sense.

That line that she clung to? That was Hope. It’s not so much a choice as it is something we just hold onto when we need it.

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This Blather is brought to you by Linda Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Today’s prompt chews/choose. Use one, use ’em both, use ’em any way you like.

I chose choose.

I also choose Hope and Joy.