Journal Prompt: What I Know for Sure.

(Image: http://sometimessweet.com/)

Here is another Journal Day prompt from Sometimes Sweet:

"The older we get, the more certain we get about who we are and what our purpose is.  For me, a lot of it is still unknown, but as I make my way down my own path, I have begun to realize that there are indeed some inevitable truths that I know for sure. On your own blog, write a post that talks about 'the one thing you know for sure.'"

Readers have probably already noticed this, but I know for sure that a focus on tiny joys can make life sweet. It may be the only action that consistently sweetens life, in fact, because huge joys are rare, short-lived, and often exhausting. Even my huge joys have consisted of small ones. For example, my honeymoon at Disney World has lingering sweetness not because of the sweeping, fantasy landscapes, the castle, or the rides but rather vanilla ice cream encased in a hard chocolate shell at the Lady and the Tramp-themed Italian restaurant, the mardi gras mirrors at our hotel, the blue plastic wand Josh begged off a lady at the castle even though I wasn't a little girl, the bus drivers announcing us as newlyweds, the heat on my face during the Indiana Jones show, sharing an overpriced bottle of water and skinny bag of popcorn with my love, and the little girl screaming, "That's my mouse, Mama. That mouse is mine," during a parade. The joy of this pregnancy has been in little movements under our hands, little sounds on a machine that looks like a doll's karaoke machine, little grainy images, and other little bits of gradual evidence.


I don't think I really understood this until I experienced the first great misery of my life that wasn't at all self-inflicted (for most of my miseries, I can trace at least some of it back to something stupid I did). In a total haze of fear, heartbreak, shock, and horror, I actually saw small glimmers more clearly: a stranger being courteous, a runner saying, "Thank you," as I stepped off the sidewalk, a crispy little bread stick, a Shirley Temple, a neck pillow, a pink striped nightgown, multicolored rhinestones on a necklace larger than anything I'd normally buy, being able to read a paragraph without getting confused, homemade honey, wearing my own clothes, hearing my husband say, "Just tell me what you need me to do, and I'll do it," half of a club sandwich, plain pita chips and time to eat them.

I've kept that--the awareness. It's not automatic; I do have to be deliberate about it (which is part of this blog's purpose). But I rarely feel dull or depressed now. I also feel less anxiety about myself and others. I may not be able to fix some huge problem or make someone better, but I can enjoy this bite of broccoli cheddar soup or appreciate the line this cheap calligraphy pen makes. So I am okay. And maybe I can occasionally bring about or point out some little something that makes someone else okay too.