The Hospital & The Joy

Hi my friend,

A few years ago, 
someone asked me what my hobby was -
something I did just for fun, 
for no purpose other than 
enjoyment. 

And I remember fumbling 
for an answer.

I knew I found joy in my work 
and in the silly games 
I played with my children -
wrapping them in my duvet and 
pretending they were 
burritos.

But outside of that… as a hobby? 
I wasn't sure.

It's funny how life answers 
our quiet questions 
in the most unexpected ways.

Mine came last May… 
in a children's hospital.

I was curled in a chair beside my daughter, 
waiting and worrying.

To ease your heart…
She's healthy and well. 

But for that week, 
the doctors couldn't quite figure her out. 
She couldn't keep her food down. 
She couldn't walk. 
Her little body was swollen and tender, 
and the fever wouldn't let go. 

Test after test came back fine, 
but nothing about her was fine.

By the third day, 
we finally had a diagnosis. 
The relief of having an answer was immense. 
But we still had to stay, 
and wait for her body to slowly recover.

She spent most of her time sleeping.
It was just me and the quiet hum 
of the machines.
I had scrolled through my phone 
until there was nothing left to see.

So I asked my husband 
to bring me a book.

Nothing heavy. Nothing educational. 
Nothing that would ask anything of me.

I wanted something light.
Something joyful.
A genre I hadn't read in over a decade…

A romance.

The book I chose was 
The Paradise Problem
by Christina Lauren.

And as soon as I began reading, 
I wasn't in a hospital room anymore - 
I was on a tropical island, 
surrounded by luxury, 
feeling the butterflies 
of a love story 
unfolding.

I couldn't put it down.
It was one of those books 
that kept pulling me in. 

One more chapter…
between the nurses checking her vitals.

One more chapter…
in the soft glow of the hallway light.

One more chapter…
until I had read deep into the night.

And somewhere in those pages, 
I felt joy crack through the weight 
of those days.

It was such a simple thing -
turning the page, 
slipping into someone else's story. 
But it shifted something within me.

Like a forgotten door had finally opened, 
letting in something 
I hadn't made space for 
in so long.

Joy.

Turns out,
I love reading for the pleasure of it…
I always have. 

But somewhere along the way,
I forgot how good it feels to get lost in a story,
just for the delight of being 
swept away.

For years, I had focused on books 
that had a clear purpose -
books that were meant to teach me,
to improve my work,
to better my relationships,
to help me grow in many different ways.

But in the process, 
I had forgotten the magic of reading 
simply because it brought me joy.

So often, we set joy aside, 
thinking we'll get to it later -
once everything else is taken care of.

But in that hospital room 
it was joy that sustained me.

It gave me the energy to sit there, 
to wait, to hold space in the midst 
of the hard things.

It wasn't just a needed 
escape from my reality - 
it was the life force 
that made it possible 
to face it.

Joy wasn't waiting for me 
on the other side of the struggle, 
it was showing up right there, 
in the middle of it.

And it left me thinking…

What if joy isn't just a reward?
What if it's the thing that keeps us going, 
even when we feel like we have 
nothing left?

What if it's the fuel?

With love,
Elina