So much goin’ on, I don’t know where to begin. So let’s just cover two things.
First, I might’ve made a poor decision when I recently bought a pair of jeans. They’re Levi’s. Good. They’re a 30-inch waist. That’s freegin’ awesome. Yes. I’m bragging about my recent weight loss. They’re light blue. Some people (I’ll call them “my daughter” and “my wife”) think they are lady-jeans. While some other people (I’ll call them Donnie Wahlberg, Billy Squier, and Tiffany) think they’re totally retro and cool. You be the judge. Vote below.
Second, in the last place you’d expect to be inspired (sarcasm), I really got inspired. At Church this past weekend, the Priest gave a rather long Homily. He’s usually pretty funny, but this time he was very serious. His Homily went on and on and he finally brought it around to a story about Mother Teresa and never being able to match her level of compassion, mercy, and giving. All true. But what struck me was how he challenged us that we could also never match her level of joy. He talked about how she didn’t simply do all her acts of charity out of duty and obligation and she didn’t do it while wallowing in pity and despair. No. She did amazing things with a smile on her face and with joy in her heart and that is truly the divinity behind her life’s work. He talked about how it was impossible to ignore her joy, energy, and charisma.
Then the Priest made us laugh, which is his way, until eventually he got super serious again by pointing out that, no, unless you and I give away all our worldly possessions and spend the rest of our lives feeding the poor and caring for the sick, no, we can never match her level of charity. But, we can match her joy.
In whatever we do, we should be joyful, and it will be impossible for others to ignore and impossible for them not to admire us and be inspired by us.
This smacked me in the face. This reminded me of a wonderful person I work with who does, indeed, seem to go through her life full of joy, and last week, I was rude to her. Then I had a less-than-comfortable conversation with a client. Why? That shouldn’t happen because I admire this particular client and am incredibly impressed with how much success he’s had so quickly. When I talk with him, he should know that I want some of that success and brilliance to rub off on me. When my joyful co-worker stops by my cube to give me a high-give or throw a wadded up ball of paper at me . . . I should soak it in and return the favor. I mean, I make time for the people who stop at my cube and wanna gossip and complain . . . why couldn’t I make time for a little silliness, kindness, and a random high-five?
Shame. On. Me. Shame for being rude and not welcoming and matching her joy. And more than that, shame on me for not living with joy. I’m healthy. I have food and shelter and a house full of people who love me. Why shouldn’t I be joyful in everything I do?
It’s probably more than 50% of the reason I like Chazzano Coffee. The coffee is great and always freshly roasted. But the owner is joyful about what he does and it’s contagious and probably makes the coffee taste better.
If I can make one change over the next 40 days (which I’m calling Lent Part 2), it’s bringing joy back into my day.
OK. Back to my jeans. What do you think?