The Day to Enjoy is Now: Joy as Resistance in Turbulent Times

Hope Infusion Newsletter - May 18, 2025 Edition

As writers, we never know when or how inspiration will strike. During a recent conversation with a dear sister friend, she challenged me not to delay or postpone joy, even in the smallest ways, despite the world being on fire and topsy-turvy right now. In her final admonition, she ended with, "The day to enjoy is now in any way you can, no matter how small. NOW!"

That phrase captured my attention and set the wheels of my writer's brain in motion. The poetic reflection that follows emerged from that brief but transformative conversation, a reminder that sometimes our most profound insights come from the people who know us best.

The Day To Enjoy Is Now

I've been waiting for the world to calm down before I fully exhale.  
Holding my breath in anticipation of better days ahead.

Postponing small pleasures,  
Hoarding potential joys like emergency rations  
For some uncertain future.

As if happiness must be earned through sufficient suffering.  
As if delight is a limited currency I dare not spend too freely.

Yet the sunrise doesn't wait for global peace to paint the sky.  
The robin doesn't postpone her song until justice is served.

Cherry blossoms don't refuse to bloom until all wounds are healed.  
And a child doesn't withhold laughter until the mortgage is paid.

The wisdom they possess that I temporarily forgot is this:  Time moves in one direction only, and delayed joy becomes no joy at all.

So today I choose the small pleasures:  
The first sip of morning coffee, warm against my lips.  
The reassuring weight of a book in my hands.  
The unexpected text that simply says "I was thinking of you."

The world may continue burning,  
problems unsolved and multiplying.  
But I am done postponing delight  
as if it were a luxury I cannot afford.

Because the day to enjoy is NOW.  
The permission to savor is NOW.  
This breath, this moment, this life,
the only one guaranteed is  NOW.

And in claiming these small joys,  
I find not escape, but sustenance.  
Not indifference, but resilience.  
Not denial, but the courage to continue.

In a world that demands our constant attention to crisis,  perhaps the most radical act is to notice what remains beautiful.  

To collect moments of wonder like smooth stones in my pocket, carried not as burden but as ballast.

The day to enjoy is now.  Tomorrow is not promised,  but this moment—this one right here—still offers its gifts. Will I receive them?

Joy as Resistance

In a world that often feels designed to deplete us, finding joy becomes not just a personal indulgence but an act of resistance. The small pleasures—a moment of laughter, a beautiful sunset, a cherished conversation—these are not trivial distractions but essential nutrients for our weary souls.

I've come to believe that postponed joy rarely arrives at its intended destination. Instead, it gets lost in the maze of "someday" and "when things get better."

What if, instead, we recognized that joy is not the reward at the end of struggle but the fuel that helps us persist through it?

This weekend in my life, that looked like an outdoor concert with two of my favorite jazz artists — Brian Culbertson and Marcus Anderson. It was a melodious reprieve. Music as medicine. Concert as collective exhale.

For three sacred hours, I was able to step outside the noise of the news cycle and lose myself in a sanctuary of keys, chords, and breath.

And in that pocket of grace, I found space to reflect—not just on the brokenness of the world, but on the beauty that remains. On love. On life. On the man beside me, my partner in all things for 35 years.

This week I invite you to identify one small pleasure you've been postponing and reclaim it. Not as an escape from reality, but as an affirmation of what makes life worth fighting for.

What small joy will you refuse to postpone any longer? If you want to share it, please comment. I’d love to hear it!

"Joy is not made to be a crumb." These words from poet Mary Oliver remind us that claiming happiness isn't selfish—it's essential. If this reflection resonated with you, please share it with someone who might need permission to embrace joy today. Your support in building this community of intentional living means everything.