Joy Comes in the Morning

If you saw me first thing in the morning, joyful is not the word you would use to describe me. It takes coffee and my meds to create the version of Mary Harvey the world can tolerate. Most mornings, I take that coffee outside while Gabby does her thing. It is quiet, the kind of quiet that only shows up early. The sun comes up slowly. Birds are singing. Creation wakes up beautifully, and I try to begin my day with it.

All week, I have carried a line from the Psalms: Joy comes in the morning. I have been turning it over, trying to decide what that joy actually looks like now.

Because here is what I know: joy changes.It used to live in the big moments—weddings, births, graduations. Those moments arrived, bringing the feeling with them. That still happens. But those are events by design and less frequent. As we age, we need to find joy from within as well as from the invitation in the mail.

Most of life is not made of those. Most of life is a Wednesday, and Wednesdays may be mundane. If there is going to be joy in a day like that, you must put it there.

This Easter week, I find myself looking forward to the preparation as much as the day itself. I find joy in the repetition and tradition of significant days.

The marinade and seasoning for the main course are prepared. Strawberry shortcakes are baked, that one dessert presence which is not up for discussion. And the annual call to Dinstuhl’s Fine Candy Company to make sure my Charlie rabbits are ready. Sorry, Becky. Late again.

The chocolate mold in the photo is one of my antique molds. Dinstuhl’s asked if they could use it as their official Easter bunny. They named him Charlie. Now, every year, thousands of families across the Mid-South give their children a Charlie. Our family knows it’s part of a collection with great meaning. Every place setting has one.

I wait for my niece’s call about recipes for their family dinner—the same questions (give me the dill potato salad recipe again), the same conversation, and somehow it never feels old.

In April, there will be great joy in planning the florals for my great-niece Lainey and her fiancé Jacob’s wedding. There is joy and satisfaction in giving your attention to someone else’s beginning.

I find joy helping people out at Millstone Market, seeing plants I’ve never noticed before, being excited about what the delivery trucks brought this week, helping a young couple plan their first garden, and selecting the color palette for mine.

None of it is dramatic. Most of it would be easy to overlook. I promise there is joy in those simple moments.

Joy is not delivered at your door.

For some, it’s waking up without pain. For others, it’s the first cup of coffee, a long walk, or a quiet hour that actually feels quiet. Maybe it’s knitting tiny hats for NICU babies or gathering for a weekly bridge game.

I can’t find it for you. But I hope these words inspire you to notice what brings you light, however small, each day.

May you find moments that remind you of your soul’s spark, not just in the morning, but in the ordinary minutes that make up a life well lived.