It was a hot day in the High Tetras of Slovakia, last summer. We were on holiday in a town with a water park, so we decided to cool off there. As we walked in, we were impressed with the extent of the place—the large indoor pools came first, then multiple outdoor pools, a lazy river, creative water features, and slides of all sizes twisting off in all directions. Someone had obviously put a lot of thought and effort into collecting and channelling water in the most delightful ways possible. It worked. We had a great day. And out of all the slides and waterfalls and all the fun we had and saw others having, there was one moment that stands out as the purest, most transparent joy I saw that day.
As my children and I were walking across the hot concrete between the tallest and fastest slides, we walked through a puddle that formed where the path dipped. Our eyes were on the slides, so we thought nothing of it until later when we passed that way again. This time, the puddle was occupied by a little girl, maybe one or two years old, toddling in and out of those few inches over and over again. Every time her tiny feet hit the water, you could see the ripples of joy pass right through her entire body before they burst out of her mouth in laughter that rang clear and bright with some of the purest, most concentrated happiness I think I’ve ever encountered, anywhere.
The happiest person we saw at the water park found her pleasure in one of the few places that wasn’t designed for it. The careful engineering, the millions spent, the angles and depths and pumps all purposefully planned to elicit laughter and joy—it was all around her, but she didn’t notice. She was too busy enjoying her puddle.
She was too young to know better. Too young to realise that happiness is supposed to come from expensive things, planned means, and specially designed thrills. Or could it be that God gave us the puddle, as well, and we just forgot how to enjoy it? I think that little girl was on to something. God has placed so many small, joyful blessings all around us, ready to ripple his happiness right into our hearts. The fresh morning air, the taste of blueberries, the inside joke with a friend, the dappled light in the garden, the satisfaction of a job well done, the banter with the postman, the smell of the rain, the meals shared with family, the smiles and music and the sound of a fan cooling the air which is so much more satisfying than it seems like it ought to be—and so much more. There are countless puddles of unplanned, unexpected joy right here on the hot concrete path of normal life. They’re here, but I often step right through them without even noticing because I’m too focused on getting to the next planned holiday or weekend adventure when I’ve scheduled in some time to enjoy myself. Those slides are great. I just don’t want to keep missing the puddles.
sethlewis.ie 