I have developed a somewhat difficult relationship with happiness through the years. I read scriptures that counsel me to "be of good cheer" or remind me that "(wo)men are that they might have joy," and I take those as commandments. As I am by nature an obedient soul, I feel thus compelled to strive (sometimes through gritted teeth) to be happy. As if to punch the point home, I fully realize that my family tends to mirror my moods to an extent. Taken too far, that places the responsibility for my family's happiness on my shoulders. Oh, the pressure!
But happiness can prove an elusive concept. And with two parents who have struggled with depression throughout their lives, genetics provide precious little help in promising a life of sunny cheerfulness. I have studied happiness with diligence, tried to literally run away from depression, practiced deliberate gratitude and taken supplements when my own efforts consistently fell short. And still, while I thankfully do not suffer from constant depression, I often wonder if I am happy enough?
(Who in the heck worries about being happy enough anyway?)
This week, I came across a quote by Neal A. Maxwell that started me thinking of an alternative view. In a wonderful devotional on patience, he suggested, "If we are always selfishly taking our temperature to see if we are happy, we will not be." I found that simple statement incredibly liberating, freeing me from the necessity of constantly taking a reading of my happiness level.
As that feeling of liberation began to settle over me, a delicious thought suggested itself. What if, when God says "be of good cheer," he is presenting a possibility rather than a commandment? And, by extension, could that also apply to the Savior's counsel to "be ye therefore perfect"? What if God, ever the coach, means to inspire us with possibilities? What if he had no intention of us using his counsel as a cudgel to beat ourselves over the head? "You can experience happiness, even in the darkest of prison cells, because I will crouch down beside you in the mud." Or, "You can achieve perfection, not by your own effort alone, but by having the faith to walk with me and allow me to help you."
I begin to realize that I can safely set aside the burden of chasing happiness. I will continue to run trails and practice gratitude, because the miles and the thankfulness nourish my soul. But instead of focusing intently on happiness, and constantly checking my level of joy, I will look for the Savior on the road beside me. Joy will take care of itself.
