pursue something else.

Americans like the idea of happy.

of pursuing happiness.
It is even one of our inalienable rights at least according to the Declaration of Independance.

But I think maybe we should pursue something else.

like love or joy or peace or contentment.

and leave happy alone.

Don't read me wrong. I am neither bitter nor cynical. Even my problems are good problems. I am positive. Half full. And most days I laugh a whole lot more than I cry.

And simple things like a dance party in the living room, an hour alone in Barnes and Noble, the yellow pajama pants my son picked out for me for mother's day, potstickers, clean sheets, someone surprising me with coffee, jeans fresh from the dryer, a good song on the radio, or squeals of delight when I walk in the door all make my heart sing.

They make me happy.

For a minute.

But when the squealing turns to screaming, my new pants are dirty, the sheets are in a jumble on the floor or the coffee runs out....where does that leave me?

And happy isn't always good.

I remember talking to a favorite old friend right before Owen was born.

She told me that she was leaving her husband. That she wasn't sure she loved him anymore. That she just wasn't happy. So she was leaving.

There was another guy who made her happy and she was going to give that a try for a while.

She was pursuing happy and threw away of lot of good things in the process.

I wanted to hop in my car and drive the three hours to see her. To love her. And then shake some sense into her.

I think maybe we are all so often unhappy because we are pursuing somthing that won't last or an ideal that doesn't really exist. The fake picture we saw on the Cosby show or read about in greeting cards.

Happy is short lived. Experiential. And we keep desperately looking for it. Hoping for it to show up on our doorstep, in shopping bags, bottles, other people and pills. And it often makes it's brief appearance and then moves on to someone else.

I want to seek something a little more permanant.

A joy forever etched in my soul. That is still there even on days where I struggle to smile. In being content. Like Paul. Paul wrote the "happiest" book of the bible, Philipians, while rotting in a jail cell. Because his joy didn't come from his circumstances or his new favorite pair of pajama pants. But from Christ.

And He is surely worth pursuing.

(this post is part 2 of some fun stuff going on over at momalon's five for ten. click on over and check it out.)