joy and happiness

i'm looking out over the cloudy sky.  it's complicated.
a red tailed monkey is eating leaves on the tree in front of me. 
there is swirling, and darkness and light and some color.
here i am.  wondering. 
what is happening on the other side of the world right now? 

the hibiscus flowers are closing, the sun starting her decent. a steady drum beats.  down close to the ground things are settling.  but the lightness of the sky goes on and on, upward, and elsewhere.

the boys just got back from the trampoline with their ugandan friend.  he likes it here- he likes it at our house- he likes our popcorn and our movies and our home baked cookies.  i think if i said he could stay forever, he would.

today we drove into kampala to have lunch and go to the market.  we drove through lots of broken down.  lots of dirt and rust and disheveled. lots of ugly.  the kids fell asleep.  it is becoming normal to them?  what do they do with it? what do i do with it?

it made me start to think about joy and happiness.  because in the middle of the broken and the poor- people are laughing, and smiling, and flirting.  and people are living.  they are cooking and washing and cleaning and waiting and talking and making things.  as if this is all just normal.  because it is to the people who live here.

but it's not for me.  not yet. 

and i've been sitting around all week- granted sick with this hacking - energy sucking cough, and i've been feeling the not-so-happy.  i've been wondering what we're doing, where we've landed, and how long we are staying.  after a month- i'm feeling it- the far-ness, the foreign-ness, the completely different-ness.  i'm feeling my smallness and paleness and am finding myself calling to mind the quotes of the giants who've walked before me - on whose shoulders i balance and try to be tall too- who said things like - "one can make a difference" etc.  because i can find myself so easily lost. 
vassilating between the sheer joy of finally getting here- and the privilege of being able to serve and work in a place with such need, and the pure boredom of being here, the lack of life at my fingertips, the reality of living with less, the reality of living in the dark. 

in atlanta it's also almost october.  i'd be going up the north carolina mountains on the weekends- seeing the changing leaves- the colors- the smells of firewood- the light crisper, cooler.  we'd be planning holloween costumes and making pumpkin bread, we'd be apple-picking.

happiness is dependent.  happiness has requirements- it needs things.  we try to search for it- to create it.  it's moody and temporary and even fickle.  it also wants more- or bigger- or the upgrade.

joy is deeper.  joy is not circumstantial. joy has roots.  joy digs in and satisfies.
joy can be friends with disheveled and dirty.  joy can live with broken down.

the night sounds are beginning.  the night air is cool.  the soft breeze gently moves the branches.  the monkeys have gone home.  the leaves and the bark have merged together- they are now silhouettes.  
the sky is brilliant.  it's full of pockets- holes- surprises- light peaking out beneath. it's full of joy.
and so am i.