Joy Travels

It was a normal Tuesday.

I was driving to meet my daughter, running errands and mentally moving through the things I still needed to get done that day when my sister called. She was laughing before she really got started.

"You'll never guess who I saw!"

She had been at an event honoring a community member who had donated much-needed supplies to local first responders. As the event ended and the small crowd of about twenty people slowly began filing out, someone across the room noticed her.

An old friend of mine.

He crossed the room, called my sister by name and wrapped her in a huge hug. Not the obligatory kind. The kind that lingers just long enough for you to know someone is genuinely happy to see you.

He asked about me.

How was I?

What was I doing?

Please tell her I said hi.

My sister was still excited as she told me about it. Laughing. Proud. Happy to have been remembered and greeted so warmly. I could hear the joy in her voice.

This friend and I had spent eight years working together on the planning committee for the largest charity event our foundation held each year. It required months of preparation. Weekly meetings. Emails. Phone calls. Text messages. Long days that became even longer nights when the weekend of the event finally arrived.

Somewhere in all that chaos, we became each other's support system.

We leaned on each other during the quiet moments when one of us needed to step away and catch our breath. We laughed at the ridiculous things that inevitably happened. At the end of each year, we celebrated another successful event, another goal exceeded, another reminder of why we'd put ourselves through all of it again.

Then life did what life does.

I moved to another state for work.

There was no falling out. No argument. No moment when either of us decided the friendship was over. Our lives simply went in different directions.

I hadn't seen him in a long time. But hearing that he'd crossed a room to hug my sister and ask about me felt good.

It's nice to be thought of.

It's even nicer when someone carries that thought back to you. There was another part of the story that stayed with me, though.

My sister.

She's the person behind the scenes everywhere.

If there's a community event, she's probably helping. A charity needs volunteers, she's there. Something needs to be organized, supported, carried, set up, cleaned up or simply cared about, somehow she finds her way into it.

She doesn't do it for recognition. She does it because she genuinely wants her community to be better. I volunteer. She runs circles around me and just about everyone else.

I've always loved that about her.

There was something particularly fitting about her standing in that room, at an event celebrating someone else's generosity, and having this small moment of her own. Someone saw her. Someone remembered her. Someone was genuinely happy to see her.

And she called me because it made her happy.

When we hung up, I kept driving. I had things to do. Appointments. Errands. A meeting with my daughter. The usual list waiting for me.

A few minutes later, I realized I had a silly smirk on my face. I was still sitting in the moment. I found myself thinking about my friend and the time we had spent together. I was touched that he'd remembered me. I was proud of my sister. I was happy that she'd had this unexpected moment.

Mostly, I was happy about her happiness.

A few minutes later, I met my daughter. I told her about the call. She smiled warmly. Later, when I got home, I told my husband all about it as well.

Somewhere along the way I realized what had happened.

The joy had traveled.

It started with a man crossing a room. He gave some of it to my sister. She gave some to me. I gave some to my daughter. Then I carried it home and gave some to my husband.

The moment could have ended in that room. It could have ended when my sister hung up. A different version of me probably would have let it. I would have smiled, thanked her for calling, and moved immediately to the next ten things on my list.

I was busy that Tuesday too.

The difference was that this time, I noticed. I let myself sit with something that didn't require anything from me. There was nothing to fix. Nothing to accomplish. Nothing to plan. Just something good. And instead of accepting it and moving on, I passed it along.

It made me think about the things that travel between people. Stress travels.  Fear travels. Anger travels. One person's terrible day can find its way into a room full of people who had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Then I realized, apparently joy knows how to travel too. We just don't talk about its journey as often.

I'm glad my old friend remembered me. I'm glad he crossed the room. I'm glad my sister was there. I'm glad she called. I'm glad I noticed the joy in her voice. But mostly, I'm glad it didn't stop with me.

Nothing extraordinary happened that Tuesday. Maybe that's what made it extraordinary.

Joy traveled.

This time, I noticed.