I am amazed at how many good things happen to me on a regular basis. My husband tells me all the time how much he loves and appreciates me. The people I work with do such kind things for me, like all signing a "thank you" card and giving it to me out of the clear blue. I have good, true friends who make me laugh and smile. My daughter moves over and smiles happily when I lie down on her bed with her before she goes to sleep. My life is so full of good things.

And it is so easy to be joyful during the good things. My heart sings with these small moments of happiness, and when something big and grand happens (like Bella's fifth birthday at Disney Land), it's hard to contain the happy.

Yet...when big and grand things happen to others, it is also easy for that joy to slip. We can subtly shift from joyful to jealous, falling into the trap of asking "why them" - when what we really want to know is, "why not me?" We may even be tempted to play the victim card, thinking things like, "I should have gotten that. That should have happened to me. I DESERVE that." (If you know me personally, you know that the whole "I deserve" entitlement mentality is one of my biggest, angriest grievances against modern culture. I'll save that for another rant.)

Being happy for other people sometimes seems like a chore, and it doesn't come naturally. I first noticed it when I was teaching kindergarten, and two kids were playing a game. One of them won, as someone is wont to do during a game. (The whole idea of filling children's lives with mandatory mediocrity [i.e., nobody ever wins or loses] is probably my second biggest, angriest grievance against modern culture. I'll save that for another rant too.) Anyway, Kid A won. I congratulated Kid A. Kid B started crying and accusing Kid A of cheating. Kid A did NOT cheat. She just got a lucky spin and landed on the ladder that propelled her to the top of the board. But in Kid B's mind, a stroke of luck was equivalent to cheating. His instant thought was, "I should have won, not you," and it came out as a fit. After that moment of clarity, I made a point of actively teaching that aspect of character. The speech usually went something like, "I know that you wanted to win, but you may not have a fit about losing. So-and-so is your friend, and when good things happen to our friends, we need to be happy for them, not angry." I repeated this speech MANY times over the next seven years.

And I repeat it in my own head too. It's easy to be happy for my friends when good things happen to them, if it happens to be something I don't care about. Someone got a brand new car. Cool! I have no desire to own a luxury vehicle, ever, so if you get yours and it's a dream come true, then I am over-the-moon excited for you. YAY! But if someone goes on an amazing vacation and travels to places that I want to go....oy. That's harder. My immediate thought is, "I want to travel. I wish it was me. I don't think that person will appreciate it NEARLY as much as I would!"  

Ha! Even as I think those types of things I KNOW that they are untrue. I KNOW that it's only my own fallen nature speaking, that I am allowing jealousy to thrive instead of fostering joy. It's one of those things that, in my daily request that God change me, is often repeated. Because, really, who would want to live a life of jealousy when she could be living a life of joy?

I co-coordinate a community produce co-op along with two good friends, Amy and Alice. Today Alice and I were there later than usual, dealing with discrepancies. We knew that we had unloaded eleven fruit packs from the truck, but when the last woman came to pick hers up, there was not one left for her. We knew that we had unloaded eleven bags of bread, but when the last participant had left, there was an extra bag, staring at us in mockery. And to top it off, there was a whole basket of fruits and veggies missing. My friends and I are three imperfect people, managing a crew of fifteen or more imperfect volunteers, coordinating the distribution of produce to ninety or more imperfect participants. The margin for error is high. Still, it's frustrating when there are discrepancies - not because it's a pain to fix them (though it is), but because it means that something, somewhere, failed. It wasn't as efficient or as accurate as it should have been, and then we end up making a dozen phone calls, retracing our steps and stretching our memories, trying to figure out who got a box of fruit that wasn't theirs, who left a bag of bread that they should have taken, and why on earth there is no basket for Amy.

Our lives are full of discrepancies. They happen everywhere, from the very minor to the life-altering major; in subtle ways and in knock-you-upside-the-head ways; in public life and in personal life. And they happen for a whole lot of reasons.

Take the holidays, for instance. Perfect example of discrepancies. For one thing, there are the unrealistic expectations. We see TV commercials of a (beautiful, put-together) mom and dad with a nice (immaculately clean and clutter free) house. The (large, real) tree is decorated and lit, and there are (gorgeously wrapped) gifts piled high underneath. The kids are smiling as they unwrap (large, expensive) presents, and the whole family gathers around the table where a (plump, golden) turkey is the center of a veritable feast. Mom gets jewelry, dad gets a Rolex, the kids all get electronics, nobody is grumpy and everybody loves cranberry sauce. Oh, and it's snowing outside. Mustn't forget the snow.

In real life, of course, that's not true. In real life, mom runs around with sneakers on and her hair thrown up in a ponytail, standing in front of an overwhelming amount of store merchandise, wondering exactly how much she can afford to spend on presents. In real life, the house is perpetually messy, because...well, people live there. Mom makes a grocery list the length of Manhattan for this one special meal, trying to overlook the fact that she doesn't actually like to cook. At the last minute she remembers that she should probably get a present for her husband and not just the kids, so she grabs something that she hopes he will like, then wonders if he got something for her, then decides it doesn't matter. On Christmas morning, she's exhausted, the kids are up crazy early, nobody likes the cranberry sauce and the kitchen is full of dishes and leftovers. Oh, and there's no snow. Because they live in San Diego.

We create such images of things the way we wish them to be, and so often they are not. We all have an idea in our heads of what our "perfect" holiday (date, boyfriend, spouse, career...insert your fantasy here) would be, and sometimes we even go crazy trying to bring it into existence...but how many of us have ever had a holiday exactly the way we wanted? That's not to say we haven't had absolutely marvelous holidays, but they are rarely the "ideal." The discrepancy exists because our expectations are unrealistic. 

Sometimes, discrepancies occur because people are dumb. And dumb people do dumb things, which brings a whole lot of dumbness into the world.

And sometimes, discrepancies occur because change is hard. I know what I want to be. I think to myself, "I want to be healthy!" But I don't get home from work until six o'clock and I know there are people waiting to be fed. I could go to the gym and then head home to make dinner, but it's easier to grab Taco Bell. 

I think to myself, "I want to live a life full of joy!" And then life hits me with a brick. And I could be joyful in spite of the brick, but it's easier to resent the brick.

It's always easier to resent the brick.

But, here's what I figure...this is my solution to all this. I keep trying. My life is going to continue to be full of discrepancies; that cannot be helped. Some of them will undoubtedly be my fault; some, maybe not so much. But I keep trying to bridge that gap between what is and what was meant to be. That is, after all, why God sent his Son to earth in the first place. I'll never quite make it as long as I'm here, but every day, I will try to undo the discrepancies.