A furry little giraffe snuck into bed with us this morning and took the body count to 4. The little giraffe was a little ill-tempered and the question was asked of him, “which Mr Man would you be, do you think?” The reaction of a few grunts granted him the name “Mr Grumpy.”
Naturally, the question went around the bed and when it was my turn, I melted when both boys shouted, “Little Miss Happy”!!!!
I melted because I haven’t felt happy internally recently, because of the monkey that arrived in Rock and the leak that started its damage last week. I melted withgratitude that I have been able to keep my happiness on the outside, even if not on the inside.
I read today that research has proven the theory that gratitude creates joy, rather than joy creating gratitude. The 11,000 pieces of data showed that people who described their lives as joyous or themselves as joyful actively practiced gratitude. The theory disproved that if you were joyful, you should be grateful, but rather that by a daily tangible habit of written or spoken gratitude brought forth more joy in lives.
Perhaps this is where my happiness or joy stems from; there have only been a handful of days when I have not written down at least 5 things I have been immensely grateful for in that day – from a smile or hug from one of the boys, fresh air in my lungs on a run, the active presence of the Big Man, love from friends, my Dad, my sister, our collective health to happiness and ability to heal.
Perhaps I found this information today, because I needed to hear it. For as I came downstairs in the glow of my label “little Miss Sunshine”, I found out that my little ‘Joy’ doll had been lost and left behind when I had given Joy (metaphorically and physically) to cheer up a little boy.
And it was like the plug had been pulled on my sunshine.
How crazy is that? A little plastic doll, given to me by a whole heartedly compassionate friend when I was trying to re-find my own inner and outer joy; who I kept in my handbag at all times, just in case I felt a little lost, a little sad. I could feel for her, look at her nestled in my pocket and know that joy is there, it just has to be found by looking for it.
And now she is not there to be seen or felt. And I felt a sheer moment of panic.
Until I realised that was utterly ridiculous and started to cook eggs in a routine way that does actually bring me pleasure and joy; I love a noisy, happy kitchen with eggs cooked many ways for many people.
So, wherever Joy is, perhaps under a coffee table in a coffee shop, thrown away as rubbish or found by another who needs her… I know now that I don’t need her to remind myself of my own inner, and outer joy, but instead just look to gratitude for the moment my boys called me ‘Little Miss Sunshine.’
But all the same, I will probably go and see if I can find her tomorrow.