The Baton

Our high school track team was good… really good. Several individual performers stood out in sprints and jumps. Our relay teams were also consistently top placers….
I was often assigned to run in the distance medley relay. 

It was stressful…

Not because I was a poor performer….
I understood my assignment: Take the baton and maintain the lead for two laps. 
The stress was in the handoff. 
Coach stressed the importance of not dropping it so many times, over and over, I was semi-convinced it must be slippery. 

My three teammates collectively ran the first two laps…
Then it was my turn. I was simply expected to take the baton and run.  

My first race with my teammates filled me with a crazy amount of adrenaline. 
They were all older, more confident, and more experienced than I. 
I assumed they lived exciting lives... 

I didn’t. 
My Saturdays were filled with family time and chores. I was the second oldest of six kids. I had a lot of responsibilities to do my part and help my younger siblings. 
I didn’t usually love the weekends…
Mom was a great singer.  She played the Carpenters' vinyl record and easily out-sang them as we all tasked on Saturday mornings. Dad would occasionally listen to his transistor radio as he sifted through papers on his desk as we all buzzed about, pounding through our chores. Every once in a while the song “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver would find its way onto a transistor radio.  
Dad would turn it up with delight, slap his knee, and try to sing along.  He’d miss a few more words than he’d hit, snap here and there- until the chorus.
He’d sing it loud and word for word each time:
“Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain mama
Take me home, country roads."

Those memories invite happy thoughts. 
If I were to summarize my thoughts on happiness. They center around a baton. Similar to the one I clasped during my first distance medley relay as a Freshman in High School. 

There were only a few specific yards that my teammate could hand me the baton in. 
I needed to gauge my speed, stride, and reach in order for the exchange to be effective.
My heart raced. My feet stood still until my teammate yelled “go” and then “reach”….
I did it. 
I held the baton in my hand and white knuckled grasped it for two laps around the track. Certainly the task of receiving the baton from someone else and carrying it just right was more stressful than keeping pace, cadence and rhythm in breath as I raced….

Gratefully- happiness batons don’t work that way. They are NOT received due to someone else’s work, effort or diligence. Equally, it’s not my job to provide the happiness baton for anyone else. 

Happiness is available to me anytime, anywhere. It’s a choice. 
I can choose to remember my Saturdays as a series of lack-luster weekends as part of a large seemingly boring, sometimes annoying family….
Or I can remember Dad singing about country roads and the freshly baked bread we enjoyed each afternoon…

I myself have been down sooo many roads…
Choosing happiness is always available to me as I journey. 

Some roads are freeways that if pictured at night , would simply look like white lines of lighted blurs across the shadowed landscape. 
Some are rough bumpy hardened dirt mixed with gravel rebelled on by an older rusty bicycle that shakes and rattles with every dip in terrain. 
Some are ice covered windy hilly roads with white knuckles clasping the steering wheel. 
Some are powder fine dirt roads taken so fast the plume behind me impairs any vision of where I’ve been. 
Some are simply carved out of natural occurring regions as if I’ve got a machete and am clearing brush with every step I take. 
Each road I take is part of my journey. 
Perhaps I’m wearing a different set of hats on each course…
But they are all necessary parts of my journey…. 

I’ve learned that “easy” doesn’t equate to “happy”. 

I’m grateful for the opportunity to stroll, run, ride and drive my way down so many roads, all while choosing to grasp my happiness baton or let it fall away. I’ve missed clearly marked turns and ignored sound advice by fellow travelers.  I’ve carved out my own path and sluggishly conformed behind nondirectional footsteps.
I’ve had my own steps disappear into thick mud and then disappear when my strength was no longer enough to keep traveling.  Here is where I was met by my Savior…I was carried, led, and rejoiced with as my efforts renewed. 

Happiness is not a baton I receive. It’s a choice I make. 
-On any day, traveling on any road. 

In all…
The journey is towards my eternal home…
“To the place-
Where I belong.”
Not literally just yet-
But in my memories, and faithful hopes for the future, it’s why I choose faith in my Savior Jesus Christ and work to choose happiness everyday. 

-JC

Peanut Butter Bars with Whipped Ganache Frosting

¾ cup melted butter
¾ cup creamy peanut butter
2 cups packed brown sugar
3 eggs
1 Tablespoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
¼ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt

Mix melted butter, peanut butter and brown sugar until smooth. Stir in eggs and vanilla extract. Mix in flour and salt until smooth- about 30 seconds. Spread dough into a 9” x 13” baking pan sprayed with baking spray. Bake at 350 degrees for 25+ minutes. Let cool completely. Frost with Whipped Ganache Frosting. Garnish with melted peanut butter and melted chocolate bar as desired.
Let. set. Share.

Whipped Ganache Frosting

2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 cup heavy whipping cream
Dash of salt

Melt chocolate chips and cream in the microwave for 1 minute and stir until smooth.  Let cool to room temperature. Stir in a dash of salt. Mix on high for 3+ minutes to whip. Frosting will turn a lighter color, and become fluffier the longer it is mixed.