From "Getting Happy" to Finding Joy: An Unexpected Lesson from the Sidewalk
Sunday Supper Newsletter
Welcome to Sunday Supper!
Set the Table
Say your grace
Prayer - Dear God, Thank you for being the source of my joy! Amen.
Affirmation - I am joy.
Gratitude - I am grateful for purpose.
I am grateful for every reader, subscriber, commenter, and those who share this newsletter with others.
The Main Dish
Dig in
From “Getting Happy” to Finding Joy: An Unexpected Lesson from the Sidewalk
Getting Happy
I haven’t heard someone say “getting happy” in a long time. It’s a phrase I heard and used throughout my childhood to describe an intense, uncontrollable reaction to the Spirit.
When someone “gets happy,” they sometimes cry, shout, dance, or even faint. While powerful and beautiful, it is ultimately a fleeting, temporary emotional response.
Yesterday, as I meditated on the word joy, the idea of “getting happy” resurfaced. I realized that what I seek is not just moments of happiness, but also an embodiment of joy.
The meditation helped me discover that my joy is fueled by a clear sense of purpose.
Joy! Joy! Joy!
Joy transcends time and emotion. It is a steady presence, not bound by imagination or circumstance. Joy resides in the untouchable core-self, accessible only to the one who possesses it.
Unlike happiness, which can be sparked by kee-keeing with my friends, going fishing, or watching a funny movie, my joy is woven into the very fabric of my being.
Nothing can steal my joy because no thief is clever enough to find it.
Happiness, on the other hand, is exposed to the world. It relies on good weather, good news, good music, good circumstances... But joy? It is an internal fortress made with purpose.
Sidewalk Struggle
Last week, I received a reminder of how joy can exist regardless of the circumstances.
My son and I went to an optical center in a mall to find him some glasses. As I looked for a parking space, my son noticed an older gentleman struggling to walk into the mall.
“Mama, I hate to see older people out alone and struggling to get around,” he said emphatically.
“Me too,” I responded.
The gentleman disappeared into the mall by the time we parked.
After we’d picked out my son’s new glasses, got in the car to leave the mall, and were reversing out of the parking space, we noticed another older man with a shuffle gait walking on the sidewalk adjacent to the mall. Each step looked as though he was about to tip over.
Within a few seconds of our noticing the man, he fell face forward onto the sidewalk.
There was no thought, only instinct. My son slung the car door open and rushed to assist him. I parked in the nearest parking space and ran to the gentleman.
“Please help me get up.” The man asked calmly, and I knelt beside him.
He looked up, and blood ran from his mouth and nose onto his white skin.
Assist or Apathy
As we assisted the gentlemen, the passerbyers had a stark contrast to our efforts. I noticed several people staring, but quickly rushing into the mall. While we were focused on assisting the bleeding man, the world around us seemed to shrink away. One person got close enough to say, “EXCUSE ME!” like we were an inconvenient pile of trash. We were in her way.
I saw a mall security guard driving around, so I flagged him down and asked him to call 911.
The gentleman who fell rolled over on his back, and my son and I assisted him to his feet.
“Yeah, a strong gust of wind knocked me down,” he said with a seriousness that I recognized as cognitive decline. He insisted his car was parked by a puddle, though puddles covered the parking lot. He told us that he lived over an hour away and had come to the mall alone to buy Christmas presents. He told me he bought a gift from a store, but he didn’t have any bags in his hands.
From the Sidewalk to the World
Watching the stream of people ignore a bloody, older man on a sidewalk made me question where humanity is in its ability to care for and about others. Only one person among the many busy shoppers stopped to ask if the man was okay.
Suffering survives when people keep walking. The ease with which people step over suffering—literally and figuratively—helped me grasp why some people ignore their civic duties or throw trash out of their car windows, or are capable of ignoring governmental abuse, daily bombings in countries, or ethnic cleansing occurring across the globe.
The apathy in the world doesn’t make me happy. In fact, it makes me deeply sad. But this is the miracle of joy: it sustains me when happiness fails. Joy helps me navigate challenges, both internal and external, with empathy and care, with hope and peace, with wisdom and an open mind. This navigation is a part of my purpose.
Additionally, raising empathetic, caring children—and knowing that my purpose as a mother is intertwined with this calling—is also a wellspring of joy. It springs when I see my children empathizing with and caring for others.
My son and I didn’t “get happy” while helping. There was no dancing or shouting. There was only the act of kneeling on freezing cold concrete beside a vulnerable, bloody stranger. In his distress, I said a silent prayer for him.
My son and I stayed with the man until help arrived.
Joy and Gratitude
Reflecting on joy, I see that while “getting happy” is a beautiful, Spirit-filled moment, it is only a glimpse of something deeper. Joy is the undercurrent that sustains me long after “getting happy” passes. The cold sidewalk and bloody man didn't threaten my joy, but the experience reminded me of my purpose: to love others and live with empathy.
I am grateful for every time I’ve “gotten happy,” but even more grateful for the joy that anchors me.
Lesson Learned
In my experience with the fallen man, I picked up a lesson:
Joy is not fleeting. Joy is a strength that shapes my life. Joy allows me to care for and about others, even when others walk by. Joy is doing what I am supposed to do.
I don’t just have joy. I am joy.
Pot Likker and Cornbread Crumbs
There’s flavor in the small things.
“…Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.” Nehemiah 8:10
Table Talk
Join the Conversation
What small, consistent act of care or service (for family, community, or even yourself) do you recognize as a wellspring of joy, rather than a draining obligation?
Potluck
From Our Community Kitchen: Book, Music, Art, Substack
Book
Music
Art
Substack Recommendation
Recipe Exchange
Joy-full
I lived in Florida for several years, but I never went to Disney (the happiest place on earth). I preferred the rollercoasters at Universal, so I took advantage of my teacher discounts there and got my adrenaline rush.
Although I never visited Disney, I found a recipe for their famous churro candy several years ago, and I usually make it around Christmas. This tasty candy is easy to make and makes great Christmas gifts.
I’m happy to share the recipe with you today.
If you try it, let me know.
Disney Candy
Ingredients
1 cup unsalted butter
1 cup granulated sugar
½ tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla extract
1½ cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp ground cinnamon
Topping
½ cup sugar
1½ tsp cinnamon
Instructions
Preheat oven to 350°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment.
In a saucepan, melt butter over medium heat.
Stir in the sugar and salt until they are dissolved.
Add vanilla, then remove from heat.
Stir in the flour and cinnamon quickly until a thick dough forms.
Spread dough thinly (about ¼ inch) on the baking sheet.
Bake for 25–30 minutes until golden and bubbly.
While hot, sprinkle generously with cinnamon sugar.
Cool completely, then break into candy shards or squares.
Dessert
A Sweet Send-Off
Life by Paul Laurence Dunbar
A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in,
A minute to smile and an hour to weep in,
A pint of joy to a peck of trouble,
And never a laugh but the moans come double;
And that is life!
A crust and a corner that love makes precious,
With a smile to warm and the tears to refresh us;
And joy seems sweeter when cares come after,
And a moan is the finest of foils for laughter;
And that is life!
This is an honest question: What response would you have liked to see from the people who looked then kept walking? I ask because this is usually me. I look, see that the situation is being taken care of, and keep moving so that I don't turn the vulnerable person into a spectacle. The last thing someone in distress wants is a crowd standing around staring at them. When the situation warranted, I've run for towels or done crowd control to get people to stop staring and keep walking, but that usually isn't needed. So, when it appears that the situation is under control, what response would you like to see from passersby?