What is Happy?

What is happy?

Hard to say when it feels like all I do is chase everything but happy.

A text. An email. A flight. A bill. A fire to put out. A worry that won’t go away. Regret.

Constant noise. So I run from it.

Even if I’m eating the best shrimp and grits by a river in the heart of Savannah. The noise doesn’t stop.

I walk down a cobbled street and critique myself, over and over. It makes me feel old.
What is happy?

Maybe it’s a moment of nothing. Silence. Just this moment, what’s in front of me, nothing else.
A stillness of thought as I walk. I can hear my heartbeat.

But the voices come back. I can’t think nothing for long. They’re too serious, too important.
How dare I not worry!
How dare I ignore the phone staring up at me, daring me to defy its call.
Don’t enjoy the meal. Check your email. Maybe it holds a surprise, a life-changer.

You’re missing something.
You’re missing something.
You’re missing something.

What is happy? Not that phone.
I laugh. I stare. I touch.
But happy? No.

Don’t give up.

A few fleeting moments of Christmas gave me hope.
A crackling fire, burning on a bed of glowing embers.
Once, in the dark alone.
Once, with my wife—her smile, her voice, our love—while the kids played elsewhere.
From the kitchen, I watched brothers and sisters, board games lit by the warm glow of home.

Why can’t I find those moments more often?
Because I run from happy.

It’s the force that keeps me on the couch when my soul says, “Workout.”
The force that scrolls the web when my soul says, “Pray.”
The force that tells me to “run away” when I should sit still and listen to the ones I love.

Happy is writing because I love to write.
Singing because I love to sing.
Telling stories to my children because I love to tell stories.
Loving my wife because I love to love her.

It’s not chasing.
It’s accepting what’s right in front of me. A gift, like grace.
Something you can’t buy, only receive.
You have to make room for it. Otherwise,
you’ll perish chasing worries and distractions through a narrow gate.

That’s it. Happy needs me to get out of its way.
It’s not me. It’s everything but me.

Get up early.
Do the work.
Pay the bills.
Answer the messages.

Then shut it down and wait for what comes next.

It will be good. It will be happy.