Dull, dull, dull. Joy, joy, joy

My granddaughter, Peyton, called tonight and said my blog is boring. I suppose I'm just not an exciting person. Maybe the broken ankle has hurt my sense of adventure.
Or maybe my life has gotten dull.
I sat down to write a Christmas letter the other day, and I just couldn't think of much to say that I thought other people would be interested in -- or at least that would be appropriate for a Christmas letter.
There's the good news that Michael's cancer isn't back and that my 7-year-old grandson is in the gifted and talented program at school. But then, all my grandchildren are bright and fun and adorable.
I could write about the drought and how I'm trying to save water.
Or I could write about the joy of not having anything awful to write about this year.
For the last four years it's been something: Danny's bad burns from an accident at work, Michael's cancer, the second cancer diagnosis, my sister's diagnosis and death from lung cancer.
This year, things have let up a bit. No more cancer, no life-threatening health problems anywhere in the family. My broken ankle seems like nothing.
When I hear people talk about the joy of the season we are entering, I think about Ann Clark, the sister of a friend in New York. She was dying when she wrote about her joy in life. She shopped and wrapped her gifts in anticipation of not being there when they were opened, and did it joyfully. She found joy in every moment: in folding laundry and changing the diaper of her youngest child, who proably would grow up without any memory of her.
Ann made it to Christmas and died a few days later. But she left a legacy of joy. People in my church who read her essay on joy took it to heart. In our darkest hours, there is joy.
When children bickered, parents would say, "Remember joy."
When petty differences threatened friendships, people would remember Ann's joy and their differences seemed to melt away in its warmth and brilliance. What a legacy.
Sometimes, in the midst of paying bills and working and folding laundry, it's easy to forget we should be filled with joy.
I look at the world and all its problems and realize there is still reason to find joy, even as I feel angry at the way people treat one another.
So, maybe my life has gotten dull, but it is joy-filled nonetheless.