My apologies for being late with this week’s blog post. As I mentioned last week, I was scheduled for jury duty pool this week and I was seated on a jury! More about that experience next year.

Since I’ve spent most of the last two days in the courthouse, my evenings have been busy catching up on what needed to be done before family gathers on Saturday for Wigilia, our family Christmas. More about that in a bit. But for now …

Sunday was the Third Sunday of Advent. Gaudete Sunday. The Sunday of Joy. The liturgical color is rose; our deacon insists the color isn’t pink. Whichever the color, it symbolizes a change in mood as Christmas nears, (the other three candles being purple). I’ve come to think of Gaudete Sunday as a rose stop sign. A moment to pause and remember what this season of Advent is all about, a moment to restoke the excitement for Christmas and what Christmas means. The Grands’ nativity set is ready, including ‘the Jesus barn’ as one calls the stable.

During his sermon Sunday, the deacon quoted theologian, Henri Nouwen, “Joy is not the same as happiness.” Then he went on to say that simply put, happiness stems from external experiences we react to, but joy wells up from within. It doesn’t need an external trigger.

For me, happiness is a fun wonderful emotion but it’s fleeting. It’s the burst of sensory pleasure from that first taste of good chocolate or good salmon, or the thrill of that first hill on a roller coaster. If I were a sports enthusiast, I imagine my team winning a bowl game or winning any game would make me happy. I couldn’t sustain a life of happiness, of high energy.

Joy, to me, is a constant. It’s a deeper emotion that’s always present, even when it’s not apparent. It’s how I can view the world in all its ugliness, and know its beauty and goodness outweigh that.

Nouwen’s quote continues, “Joy is the experience of knowing that you are unconditionally loved and that nothing—sickness, failure, emotional distress, oppression, war, or even death—can take that love away.”

I agree joy springs from within, but I also believe it can’t stay within. When I think of joy, an image like this comes to mind. It’s an unharnessed release into the universe.                                                                                  

There’s an outpouring of that unconditional love sometimes as simple as how I greet others, or the attitude in how I face the day. For those of us who believe, Jesus’ birth, life, and death showed us how that unconditional love manifests. It’s what we’re preparing for this season.

One outpouring of joy for me is making the gingerbread houses the Grands–and some of the adults–will decorate on Saturday. I’ve written before about this activity being part of our Wigilia tradition … and baking is how I’ve spent the last two evenings after sitting all day. I enjoy making the dough, smelling the scents of ginger, cinnamon, allspice and molasses swirl out of the bowl. Mixing and kneading the dough grounds me and connects me back to my mom and grandma who baked during the holidays–mom with her prune cakes and strudel, and grandma with her dozens of cookies.

The first year I made the houses we had two Grands. One batch of dough makes two houses. This year I’m up to five batches for ten houses! The butter is already softened for the last batch I’ll work up tonight. Tomorrow, we construct.                                                                                                   

One of the benefits of making so many over so many years is I’m getting better at it. The individual pieces actually look like they’re supposed to, and they’re squared enough to fit together well enough the Grands won’t have to hide gaps with extra M&Ms, gumdrops, and candy canes. Of course, the Nerds ropes will still make a perfect string of Christmas lights along the roof ridge even without having to fill a gap from a missing ridge piece … because there are ridge pieces this year.

Yet another part of Nouwen’s quote is the acknowledgment that joy doesn’t just happen to us, we choose it. Again, it has to come from within. I have several friends who are celebrating their first Christmas without a loved one, or experiencing some other significant loss, and that choice will be extra challenging, if not impossible, for them. For those friends reading this, know I’m holding you in prayer especially now.

During the rest of this week of joy, I hope you take some moments to pause and step away from the sometimes-frenetic activity around you and allow (or choose if you can) the joy within, to well up. Will that be by listening to Christmas carols? Taking a walk in the snow? Being with friends and family? I’d love to hear how you found it.

I’ll be back on Monday after a whirlwind weekend of joy … and happiness.