Joy. That's the answer. "Rejoice in the Lord always...again, I say, rejoice." That's a command, if ever I heard one. The chick on The Ellen Show today who got a new car -- she didn't have to be told to rejoice. Apparently, however, we are to rejoice even when it's not automatic.

It makes sense to me, given what I'm struggling through right now. I have a really good life. If I were asked to write out my ideal life I would write out exactly what I have (minus the health problems, the messy apartment, the disorganization). What I don't have is joy.

I can visualize it, I can imagine it, I can dream it, I can plan for it...and when I finally get ready to go, ready to get off the couch and go for it...I meet my first challenge. Getting off the couch. It hurts.

Everything hurts. Everything is uncomfortable. When I start to try to live the life I imagine, it doesn't feel like I'd imagined. It feels like trying to live the life I imagine with 200 pounds packed inside and outside of me.

So I have a choice, here -- I can try anyway, fail some and hurt a lot...or I can quit. Quitting is a real option -- I might even get famous for living naked in my bed for a few years before I die. Even if I don't go out that spectacularly (?) I could probably get by, maybe have some happiness. I think that's what a lot of people in my position end up doing. So it really is an option.

I don't want that option, of course. So I'm going to have to do something else. It is *not* an option to begin right now feeling light and happy and energetic. I'm going to have to find joy *before* I get there.

I'm going to have to find paths to joy that can coexist with the pain and the discomfort. I'm going to have to find joy in small successes, and get my eyes off of all the work that is yet to be done. I think for me that's going to mean doing "small things with great love," which may mean that I look a little silly.

Yesterday I did something that fits this idea -- I opened up a box of decorated mason jars and put away the stuff on my counter, enjoying the feeling of doing it in a beautiful way. It's not the fastest way to get my kitchen counter clean (I could have put the plastic bags into the cabinet), but it made me feel good. It made me feel like I was creating beauty, not just meeting obligation.

So...it's 5:00 pm. I'd like to spend the evening cleaning up my apartment. More specifically, I'd like to have some joy when I wake up in the morning. Yes, that's a better way to say it. The joy of the Lord is my strength.

I'm going to go back to the kitchen, and see if I can find joy in every little patch of counter or floor that's cleared and cleaned. See if I can be doing it because I really want to, because it fits with who I am...not because I'm so full of shame about letting it get dirty.