Fun makes me uncomfortable… probably because every time I hear the word, I equate it with danger. Try this, it will be fun. I have heard that before… especially in my more adventurous 20’s

Typically, fun would lead to me breaking the law.

I’m sorry I streaked across your golf course that night.

Fun was me making poor decisions.

Waking up in some random guy’s bed or with a hangover  with regrets.

And then, there’s the other part of fun.  The part that requires me to let go completely. Fun means silencing my worries, and the nagging voices that remind me of consequences.

Fun is fleeting.

My fun as an adult has been accompanied by pain – physical, spiritual or psychological. Fun doesn’t last very long, and as a mother, it usually means there is some sort of  mess that will need to be cleaned, or something broken to be fixed.

Fun requires me to be present, mindful, and happy.  I feel like I’m wasting my time, because I’m so used to being serious. No loud laughter. Work hard. Endure.

But what about joy? 

I’m realizing that, for me, it’s different than fun. Joy is savoring the moment. Joy is taking measured risks to grow and strive to become better. Joy is showing gratitude for the moments that we have on this earth even if the moments are painful, or difficult.

Joy is trusting that when you are at the top of a snowy hill, the rush to the bottom will be worth the ride… even though you don’t have control.

Genealogy Jen’s challenge of the week– What brought you joy as a child?  Does it still?

Bonus points – Read The Story Shucker’s piece that inspired me to seek joy and spend time on a Saturday sledding. (Even though there were piles of dirty laundry.)

I'm afraid of having fun #My40fears

 

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