4.8 Finding joy in the ordinary 在平凡中找寻快乐（在线收听）

There I was on a beautiful Sunday morning, sitting in church and only halfway listening as Pastor Merritt talked about finding joy in our everyday lives. A nice idea, sure, but according to the mental list I was making, I would have to schedule joy for another day. I just had too much to do.

There was laundry and cleaning house and oh yeah, the fridge was looking pretty empty. Better hit Trader Joe's. And then my brain fast-forwarded to Monday and I started thinking about my work projects. There was the program guide to edit, the newsletter to write. Maybe after I completed my home errands, I'd log on the computer and get a jump on tomorrow's tasks.

But first, on my way home, I stopped at Borders to use the gift certificate that was burning a hole in my pocket. And that's when I came upon an unexpected snippet of joy: a CD remind of my childhood. The definitive collection of Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass.

It would be nice revisiting these lost songs from my childhood, many for the first time in decades.

Each song reminded me of simpler times, when weekends weren't so hurried and demanding. There were no computers, cell phones, iPods or BlackBerrys to distract, interrupt, isolate, or intrude. There weren't a thousand TV channels to mindlessly surf through. Back then there were just a few, maybe five or six. And if there wasn't anything interesting to watch, we'd turn off the TV and visit friends. Play games, read books or pursue hobbies. We'd relax and listen to the radio or albums, like Herb.

Ah, but that was then. With today's frenzied pace, every spare moment is utilized to meet pressing demands and high expectations, I could only hope to enjoy snippets of Herb squeezed in between the hum of the vacuum cleaner or din of the dishwasher. Maybe while I finished reports, cleaned the birdcage, organized files, or checked emails.

Life today deemed that every little action have a definitive goal, objective, purpose. I had become too ensconced in the quagmire of life to find time for simple pleasures anymore.

Suddenly, tackling that mental list I made at church didn't feel so urgent. Instead, I took out my grandma's green Fiesta Ware mixing bowl, the one that reminds me of her. Baking sounded better. Afterwards, I'd stretch across the sofa and bask in a pool of sunshine while reading the Sunday paper from start to finish, with my dog by my side and Herb on the stereo. And on this simple, ordinary day, I found joy.