Live in joy,

she said, 

at three thirty-three in the morning

when I woke up and looked at the bluish light of the digital clock on the dresser

and heard her mama voice in the soft echoes of my mind.

I thought of the young man from church

who I kept running into (not literally) as he walked the streets and I drove the streets of my bustling town.

"Hello!," I said, as I rolled down my car window.

He greeted me with a smile from his sunburned lips (it's hot summer; he wears no hat).

Yesterday his smile glowed;

he was leaving tomorrow for China, he said; to meet up with a friend from Pakistan; to teach English again as he had before.

This is fun, I thought, as I lay in bed, remembering.

This is life; hard, but fun.

Live in joy, she said;

I too smiled, yes, joy;

send love to every corner of the world; send love in every language on the planet;

speak to each other; greet each other; walk the streets with a smile, even if your lips are sunburned;

like the sign at church says (a narrow wooden sign with the words inscribed vertically; black letters on white background paint; put up in a planter so many years ago by church members long gone):

spread joy, the sign says,

"spread joy in a hurting world."