It’s 7:55 in the morning. The teenager missed her ride to school because she’s having a breakdown about moisturizer and schoolwork. The six-year-old refuses to return the earbuds she swiped from the twelve-year-old, who is protesting the injustice at the top of her lungs. The preschooler woke up late, and I’m scrambling to get him and myself fed, dressed, and out the door while the nine-year-old waits impatiently in the garage, wondering what all the fuss is about.

      In this moment, I am not a happy camper. I’m muttering unrepeatable things under my breath through clenched teeth, and, if my megafrown is any indication, I have completely forgotten that—ahem—the Lord loves a cheerful giver (see 2 Cor 9:7).

      Now, we moms know perfectly well that life in the mother’hood isn’t all unicorns, rainbows, and lollipops. And it’s definitely not about perfectly behaved children or having consistent time to accomplish uninterrupted anything. Instead, it’s often about tracking down missing shoes (again), keeping toddlers from bum-rushing the altar during Mass (again), wiping up frivolous messes (again), and eradicating heinous mystery smells from the van (again). It’s about perpetual mountains of laundry, ridiculous to-do lists, and bags under our eyes that are carrying their own unchecked luggage.

      I defy anyone to feel supremely “happy” about any of the above circumstances. We give and we give, and then we give some more. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not always (ahem) cheerful about the giving.

      And yet, as Christians, we are told to view even our hardships as a reason to rejoice: “Count it all joy, my brethren, when you meet various trials, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness” (Jas 1:2–3).

      At this point, you might be thinking, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. We don’t have enough in our checking account to cover our bills. My kids are driving me crazy. But … God wants me to … count it as … joy?

      In a word, yes. Now, stick with me here for a minute.

      As a young mom, my skin crawled whenever some well-meaning stranger observed my spirited youngsters daring to be youngster-like (usually I was running late when they decided to go full-on Lord of the Flies in the grocery store before lunchtime) and felt compelled to offer this gem: “Treasure every! single! minute!” I’d usually grimace and bite the inside of my cheek to keep from pelting the speaker with my exhaustion-fueled litany of grievances. Did she expect me to cherish every blowout diaper, each sleepless night, all ear infections and colicky episodes? How about the countless tantrums and the myriad other energy-sucking maladies of young motherhood? Happy? Happy? Joy? Joy? Give a tired mom a break.

      You and I both know that it isn’t always easy to master our feelings or conform our will to that of our heavenly Father. Our bodies are broken and poured out for our families, often multiple times a day. Yet God wants us to know that, when we rely on him as our source of strength (see Neh 8:10) rather than waiting for our circumstances to improve or our feelings to change, we will have abiding joy that the world cannot give. Even when the dinner is burning and the math homework is insanely difficult and the two youngest won’t stop touching one other.

      So … what is joy of the Holy Spirit variety, really?

       Joy isn’t a feeling—it’s a reality

      Now, this isn’t some mumbo-jumbo New Age-y concept or a pie-in-the-sky, fortune-cookie phrase. It’s Gospel truth about God’s kingdom here on earth. Remember: we pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven” (Mt 6:10). Even here on earth, Jesus wants his joy to be in us, and for our joy to be complete (see Jn 15:11).

      Yet this joy is not the same as happiness. It took me many, many years to understand this, and I know it’s a tough concept. So I repeat: joy and happiness are not one and the same. While happiness comes and goes like the wind, depending on circumstances and feelings—“I just rocked my presentation at work, and the kids aren’t biting each other’s heads off for a change. I’m so happy!”—joy is an unchangeable reality rooted in our identity as beloved