November 21 – Bring Joy
“That where there is sadness, I may bring joy. (Today)” — Prayer of Saint Francis
At the end of E.T., the little alien is getting ready to leave, and Elliott’s crushed. He doesn’t want to say goodbye. But E.T. touches his finger to Elliott’s forehead and says, “I’ll be right here.” That line hits me every time. It’s not a promise that things won’t hurt — it’s a reminder that love and connection don’t vanish just because life changes shape.
Sadness is part of the deal. People move on, relationships end, plans fall apart. But I’ve learned in recovery that joy doesn’t depend on the outcome — it grows out of presence. Sometimes joy is just sitting with someone who’s hurting, not fixing a thing, and letting them know they’re not alone.
AA taught me that laughter is sacred. It’s medicine. In meetings I’ve cried, and five minutes later, I’ve laughed harder than I ever thought possible. Tears are a one-way street, and I’m glad it’s built that way — it would be strange if tears could go back inside of me. So let them out into the world, and don’t try to hold on to them. Getting the tears out of the way helps me remember there is still purpose in my life, no matter how confusing that may look to me at the time. That’s what joy looks like to me now — a strange mix of tears, truth, and lightness.
When trying to bring joy where there’s sadness, it’s not about cheering anyone up. It’s about showing up. Maybe with a cup of coffee. Maybe with a quiet nod across the room. Maybe just with my presence — saying, without words, “You’re not alone. I’m right here.”
When was the last time someone’s simple presence brought you a little light when things felt heavy?
