A Different Kind of Happy

There are different levels of happiness. There is the kind of happiness you feel when you eat waffle fries smothered in Chick-fil-a sauce. There is the kind of happiness you feel when Taysom Hill runs in for the touchdown. There is the kind of happiness you feel when you ace that biology final you have been cramming for. And the list goes on and on: summer nights, chocolate, volleyball, stargazing, and caramel popcorn. You get the picture.

Then there is a special kind of happiness--the kind that only comes around once in a while. It is the deep, swirling, start at your head and end in your toes kind of happy. And all is well in the world. Do you know the feeling?

It is this kind of happy.  

Or this kind.

This kind too.

 

This kind of happiness does not come around all that often. At least I didn’t think it did. Don’t get me wrong, I am a pretty happy kid. But until I came here, those moments when I felt the “special” kind of happiness seemed rare.

Well, that kind of happiness doesn’t seem so uncommon to me anymore. Those moments, those perfect moments of complete happiness, they happen quite often here in Romania. I don’t know exactly why. Perhaps there really is something to this “happiness in serving” theory. Maybe its because I am surrounded by adorable kids all day. Maybe it is because I feel closer to God now more than ever, and that brings happiness. Perhaps it is a combination of all three. All I know is that I am so so incredibly happy here.

Let me tell you about a few of my most recent happy moments. These are the kind of moments that just fill my heart right up to the brim.

There is an older boy in the orphanage here; we will call him Al. Al just turned seventeen and has a bright, happy personality. Al is confined to a wheelchair and is unable to talk, but he is very aware and quite intelligent. I do not get to see him often because he is not in my assigned room in the orphanage. Well, a few days ago I took my boy Dee out to play in the backyard of the orphanage. There were probably ten other children back there, including Al. As the other children ran and played together I watched Al sitting in his wheelchair. I had a tinge of sadness come over me as I watched him observe, his frail body unable to participate in the games. I walked over to Al and took both of his hands in mine. I started singing Taylor Swift “Crazier” and we danced together. Well, sort of. He squeezed tightly to my hands as I swung our arms back and forth and spun myself in circles.

Al beamed up at me and I felt it. I felt that special kind of happy. And for a moment all was well in the world.

Just a few days later I was in the hospital with a little eight-year-old boy named Rob (at least for the sake of the story). I am not sure what exactly happened to him, my Romanian isn’t good enough to understand the story, but he has severe burns completely covering both of his legs. They are wrapped in gauze but the burns are still visible. Well, despite his situation Rob is still a happy, smiley little boy. That particular day I had brought a beach ball with me to the hospital. I blew it up and me and Rob, along with a couple other interns, started hitting the ball back and forth to each other. After a while the fourteen year old boy in the next bed joined in. Rob would hit it hard at someone’s face and laugh. Someone would hit it further then they meant to and we would hurry to hit it again before it hit the floor. All of us were giggling so hard.

In that crammed, stuffy hospital room I felt it again. I felt the special kind of happiness.

Ok last story. I have written before about the little boy in my orphanage room named Dee. Well, he is a pretty wild seven year old but I absolutely adore him. Every day Dee and I play “Ninu-Ninu” together, which is how he says police. The game basically consists of him putting me in imaginary handcuffs and locking me in an imaginary cell by the bathroom. For the next twenty or so minutes I pretend to escape and he catches me and puts me back in jail. Great fun eh? Haha so the other day we were playing police and somehow I ended up sitting on the floor. As Dee got down to put me in handcuffs again he rubbed against my stomach and I giggled. (I am ridiculously ticklish. It’s a problem.) Well, this small discovery was pretty exciting for Dee and he started tickling my stomach until I was crying from laughing so hard. He thought it was just hilarious.

And there it was again. The overwhelming, perfect kind of happiness.

I used to associate happiness with relaxation. I would push through a few hard days knowing that on Saturday I would be able to take it easy. Well, I am just finishing a bout with a nasty cold and my last few days have been jam packed with relaxation. It’s really not all it is cracked up to be. All I want is to be back with my kids laughing and singing and playing Ninu-Ninu.

Being miserable is really no fun at all. May I suggest that you look for those moments in your life when you feel the absolute happiest. Look for the moments when you feel that special kind of happiness. And then, fill your life with whatever it is that made you feel that way. Is it holding your new baby niece? Great! Hold her more often. Is it singing in a local choir? Great! Do that. Maybe it is spending time in the mountains. Then you need to spend more time in the mountains. See the trend here?

Fill your life with whatever makes you happy. And I mean really, really happy. (I am not encouraging you to eat Chick-fil-a for every meal).

But Carlie, what about work and school and bills and food poisoning and potholes? We don’t have TIME for this kind of thing!

My answer? Well, as my extremely wise mother says, “You have all of the time in the world and you get to choose what to do with it.”

There are approximately eight thousand, seven hundred and sixty hours in every year. That is a lot of time to fill. Work and school are both important. So are doctor’s appointments and test reviews. But may I suggest that you fill in all of the little gaps and holes of time with things that bring you the most happiness.

It’s a beautiful way to live.