🌱 Finding Joy in the Dark Hours
When the road is long and shadows creep,
When the world feels heavy, and you can’t find sleep,
Remember this truth that whispers low:
Even in hardship, joy can grow.
Joy is not thunder, loud or proud,
Not fireworks dazzling in the crowd.
It is quieter, softer, tucked away,
Waiting to greet you at break of day.
It hides in the steam of your morning tea,
In laughter that bubbles unexpectedly.
It rests in the sigh of a loyal friend,
In pages of books that never end.
When storms arrive—as storms will do,
And gray clouds dim your brightest view,
Lift your gaze to what remains:
The scent of earth after gentle rains.
The hand you hold, the song you hum,
The memory of where you’ve come.
Joy doesn’t vanish when troubles start;
It lingers stubborn in the heart.
Yes, the news may scream of fear and fight,
Yes, the night may stretch too tight.
But joy is cunning—it slips through cracks,
A candle’s flame when the room is black.
It shows up when children play in the park,
Or a stranger smiles as you pass in the dark.
It’s a dog who insists on wagging still,
A daisy blooming on a windowsill.
Do not wait for the world to change,
For politics, weather, or fortunes arranged.
Joy is not distant, joy is near,
It thrives in the now, it whispers, “Here.”
So sing when your voice feels small and thin,
Dance when your body resists within.
Plant a seed, watch it rise,
Marvel again at familiar skies.
Write a letter, call a friend,
Bake bread that you knead and mend.
Joy multiplies when it is shared,
A light passed on, a soul repaired.
And if you falter—oh, you will—
When the mountain seems too steep to hill,
Pause and breathe, and gently say:
“I will find one joy today.”
Perhaps it’s only the warmth of tea,
Or a song on the radio setting you free.
Tiny sparks may seem too slight,
But sparks can grow to steady light.
Hard times test, but they also show,
The strength we carry, the seeds we sow.
And joy, resilient, ever true,
Reminds us daily: we can get through.
So let us choose—again, again—
To notice the good, to seek, to bend.
The world may rumble, the earth may shake,
But joy is ours to find, to make.
Hold fast, dear reader, and lift your eyes,
There’s beauty stitched into every sky.
Even in sorrow, joy takes flight:
A small bird singing into night.
✨ This week, I challenge each of us to find three small joys each day—write them down, name them out loud, and watch them gather into strength.
Julie Bolejack, MBA
