"In the quiet heart is hidden sorrow that the eye can't see"

My child has a happy teacher.  And when I say happy I mean HAPPY.  I commented on this to a fellow mother on a field trip,  "Mrs. So and So is so happy.  Chronically so."

Her response took me off guard, "That's funny to hear coming from you.  You are the same way."

Frankly I'm still trying to figure out the chronically happy teacher and to have someone compare me to her gave me reason to pause.  If this would have been the first person to point this out it would have rolled right past me.  But it's not the first time I've heard it.  Or the second time.  Or the 20th time.  Common descriptive words casual acquaintances use about me.  Always Happy.

Funny thing about a happy face, some people think it's just that, a face.  A front.  A mask to cover up what's really going on beneath.

Or some people see a happy face and believe that it belongs to a person that leads a perfect life, unfettered by sorrow or hardship.

I'll tell you what I think.  I think a happy face can mean:
I'm happy to be near you.
I'm happy to be outside of the house today.
I'm happy to be surrounded by beauty.
I'm happy we're surviving one more day.
I'm happy that I have a choice in how I react to my circumstances.

I shed tears at the end of the day, just like every other mother on the face of the planet.  I've taken years off my life with worry and anxiety over things I have zero control over.  The things that cause my heart to break into pieces are the very things I cannot blog about or chat about at the park on a sunny afternoon.

A happy face doesn't make someone any less or any more of a person.  It just means that we're all fighting the same fight and we're doing it on our own terms, winning it our own way.

Mrs. So and So is happy.
Chronically so.

And that's going to be alright by me.