Chaos likes to make its big, noisy entrance. It celebrates in the little cracks of mess and noise. That unruly force of distraction and confusion fills every corner of our lives.
And yet, there is a curious thing about chaos. It doesn’t demand all our attention. Between the whirlwind’s fury and destruction is joy waiting, soft and steady, outside the storm’s reach
Joy doesn’t arrive with fanfare. It comes when, amidst all those deadlines, you catch the quiet laughter between friends. It appears in glimpses of sun slivers between the chaos of a crowded street. Joy is not determined by order or by peace, but it will lurk between the lines we draw, deciding not to let the world have its way with us.
We wait for the storm to pass, for the mess to settle, before we allow ourselves to feel good, to feel light. Joy doesn’t work like that: it blooms in the thick of it, a flower pushing through cracked concrete. It’s when you take that deep breath when everything is too much when you find an unexpected connection, and when you make a quiet decision to notice beauty even if everything else is falling apart.
In truth, joy stands out sharper, more clearly, in chaotic noise. It is like a silhouette in the mess, noting what stands out as plain and true. Without chaos, would we have noticed joy at all? Would we have known its value, how fleeting it was, and how necessary it was?
And so, in the midst of your own chaos—be it what that may look like—stop and pause. Joy is hiding there just for you. It has not disappeared just because things are messy. It is woven right through the mess, and it can be held in your hands.
