Topic: Take yourself to/ back the place/time where/when you are/were happiest.
When? Where? Happiest? Have I been the happiest? I think I am happy most of the time. I, like Paul in the New Testament, have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I may find myself. Truly happy? I’m thinking? Was it childhood when troubles and cares were scarce and someone else had all the responsibilities? Was it when I made my commitment to be a Christian? Was it when I was young and in love?
Maybe it was when either of my children was born? Or is it yet to come? I don’t really know that I can say one time is happier than all the rest. It doesn’t take a lot to make me happy. Evidence of this is shown when I do something on the computer. Karen, Mike and Bart will smile because I get so excited. It might have been the day Leah graduated from college, but I think that was pride more than happiness, and that day got messed up with Josh’s trauma. Was it somewhere, sometime on a vacation? Is it when I see the thrill in a kid’s face when I take them somewhere they’ve never been? I think the happiest is yet to come. There is a lot of happy centered around family events, holidays, dinners and the such, but each of them gets shadowed by things like the relative who has died and is missing at the table or the simple tiredness, no exhaustion, form getting ready for the great event, whatever it is. Yes, I think the happiest is yet to come: when all of this life has passed away and we move to a new plane of existence. I call that place Heaven. I do think that I will be there and I hope that all of my family and friends will also. That will be the happiest. There will be only joy—no sadness—no sorrow. Many scoff. How can that be, since surely someone that I love won’t be there. I’m not worried about that. Maybe that person won’t be in my memory banks. Their absence won’t be noted, because that’s like an empty chair at dinner. We miss the person who sat there in this time and place, but we won’t there. I can’t explain it. I also can’t explain how the Red Sea rolled back and manna appeared six days a week, but I don’t doubt the certainty of it.
I’m trying to analyze why this is hard for me to address. I think it’s because I don’t want to admit that one time is happier than all the others. I also am afraid that I will have to stir up old memories that have been put away for a reason. They have been looked at, and with the happiness comes sorrow. Is it true that we can’t experience one without the other. Oh, such deep thoughts. Jack Handy would have a field day with all this. Peggy, I’m sending messages–it’s time to call time. Time to call time—funny how we play with words.
