Today began like a soft morning hymn—no rush, no alarm. Just me, stepping into the light of a second chance. That’s the first thing that brings me happiness every single day: the chance to try again.
Maybe I missed a moment yesterday.
Maybe I forgot to hug someone… or held back words that could’ve softened someone’s day.
Maybe I missed speaking to a good friend (Jesus).
But today—I get another try. And that alone is enough to whisper gratitude before my feet even touch the floor.
Second, I count my blessings. But truth be told, I lose count often. I start with one… two… three… to infinity, and suddenly I’m surrounded by a million. Like grains of sand at the beach—I can’t count them all. I just know they’re there, underfoot and all around, even where I’m not looking.
The third? Intentionality.
That one’s a big word with a soft meaning. It doesn’t mean dressing like a soldier or marching to a strict plan. It means brushing my hair with my fingers and still calling it good. It means taking a moment to call a friend back, or to pause while making dinner because it’s not about the meal—it’s about the heart behind it. It’s a posture. A pace. A way of choosing presence over performance.
Fourth, peace.
The kind of peace that doesn’t clang or demand. It floats like a feather—light, untethered, holy. It shows up in the hush of sunrise, in the gentle heat that warms your skin without burning, in the distant crash of waves that remind you the world is still turning, even when you rest. It’s not the absence of chaos—it’s the sacred calm within it.
And last… maybe it’s all the above. Joy.
Joy that comes not from coffee or things I can touch—though I love those, too—but from knowing that I’m alive and still growing. That God’s not finished with me yet. That I get to wake up and try again. That second chances are a million-dollar giveaway, and I’ll be first in line, hand raised high. Because that, my friend, is happiness.
And it’s not just today.
It’s every day.
...The Rest Is His Story 
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