Choose Joy (but maybe keep the windows down)

My day started out with good intentions. I was trying to finish a chapter about distraction.  The irony of this will reveal itself shortly.  All three dogs—my lab and the visiting golden and lab—had simultaneously placed their heads in my lap and sighed.

It was a beautiful day, and I couldn’t resist their faces. I loaded them into the car and we headed out to the fields. I was wearing my “Choose Joy” sweatshirt. It was a beautiful spring day—the grass had greened up after a good rain, and the redbuds were in bloom.  They bolted out of the car when we arrived and they were off.  Furry joy comets zipping around, completely free.  A pack of happiness.

No leashes. No agenda. Just dogs being dogs—running, sniffing, rolling. They chased each other. They hunted. One jumped into the cow’s water trough like it was a spa. Another rolled with great enthusiasm into something… let’s just say earthy. Organic.  (Cow pie. It was cow pie. This detail is important for later.)

The cattle just watched us. I didn’t have to throw a ball. I didn’t have to insert myself. No treats needed.  It was just 3 dogs, 1 field, and a whole lot of joy.  A happy pack of dogs reminding me how simple joy is—and that friendship doesn’t have to be complicated.

Watching this happy pack, I wondered if this was an invitation to experience joy:

• Let yourself be off-leash once in a while.

• Find your people and run a little wild.

• Roll in the grass.

• Make a mess.

• Feel the sun on your face.

And me? Well, I almost missed it.  Here’s my confession: as they zipped and played (which I’ve seen many, many times), I realized—this could be the blog post I didn’t get written yesterday.  So I pulled out my phone to record a voice memo.

Spoiler alert: do not recommend.

That’s probably when I missed the moment they ALL rolled in something gross—and also the moment I realized that the water trough didn’t have nearly enough water to solve that particular problem.  All three dogs came galloping back toward the car. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say… they didn’t smell like fresh grass. I had to open the car door, because what else was I going to do? We had to go home. The dogs launched into the back seat, sat there panting and grinning their hilarious dog grins.

And I stood there, wondering how I’d arrived at this moment of deep gratitude and deep regret all at once.

Turns out that joy isn’t tidy.
It doesn’t always smell good.
It isn’t a curated experience.

Sometimes, it’s muddy paws and a stinky coat and three noses smearing up your windows.
Sometimes, it’s a whole-hearted, off-leash, cow pie-covered kind of joy.

If I want to live fully, I can’t just love the frolic and resist the aftermath.
I have to love the mess, too.

I’ll be cheering you on—
but I’m not closing the windows on the drive home. 😉