Joy isn’t the same as happiness.
Happiness shows up when everything’s perfect—your coffee is hot, the new dress fits, and no one is crying in the Target parking lot. Joy, on the other hand, is louder, messier, and wonderfully stubborn. It shows up uninvited, in the middle of chaos and ordinary imperfection. And the miraculous part? Joy doesn’t wait for the right season. It just waits for us to notice.
I remembered that recently, somewhere between a cliff and the clouds in Switzerland. I had signed up for my first via ferrata in Mürren—essentially, scaling a rock face while clinging to a metal cable with a 3,000-foot drop below. My heart was pounding, my legs were trembling, and halfway across, I started laughing. (Possibly crying, but let’s go with laughing.) It was terrifying and exhilarating—and it cracked something open.
Happiness would’ve been standing safely at the bottom, taking a photo and calling it a day. Joy came when I risked it—when I leaned into fear and felt the raw, unfiltered thrill of being fully, wildly alive.
If Swiss cliffs aren’t your thing, there’s good news, dear reader: joy doesn’t care. It’ll sneak into your kitchen, your carpool, your laundry pile …basically anywhere life is messy, loud, or slightly terrifying. Even better, it often arrives while you’re juggling three things at once and wondering how you became an adult. Here’s the little recipe I’ve been scribbling on napkins lately:
Notice the small stuff. Joy hides in details—the way sunlight hits your kitchen counter, the sticky fingers after hot chocolate, the dog nudging your hand for attention. These crumbs lead you back to delight.
Give like it matters. Bake the cookies. Leave the note. Offer your time, not just your stuff. Joy multiplies when it spills onto someone else.
Laugh like a rebel. At burned cookies, wardrobe malfunctions, or your own spectacular missteps. Life’s too short for quiet despair; laughter is the small rebellion that keeps us human.
Keep gratitude flowing. Say it, write it, whisper it—three things you’re thankful for today. Repeat tomorrow. Gratitude is joy’s favorite companion.
Protect your joy. Say no to what drains you. Step away from the scroll. Don’t overcommit. Joy deserves space to breathe.
This season, I hope you’ll remember that joy isn’t a finish line or a photo op. It’s a practice, a daily act of noticing. A tiny, sacred rebellion against the world’s rush.May it carry you from December’s sparkle into January’s clean slate, steady and shining, right where you are.
Heather Anne Lee
Editor
