Some days, choosing joy feels effortless.

The coffee or tea tastes just right. The garden is blooming. The grandkids are laughing and playing. Dinner turns out exactly as planned, and life feels wonderfully ordinary.

Other days…

Not so much.

Some days begin with pain before your feet even touch the floor. Fatigue settles in before breakfast. Plans get cancelled because your body has made a decision your heart wasn’t ready to accept.

If you live with a chronic illness, you’re probably familiar with those days.

I know I am.

Living with Multiple Sclerosis has taught me that there is a big difference between choosing joy and pretending everything is fine.

For a long time, I thought those two things were the same.

I believed that if I admitted something was hard, I wasn’t being grateful enough. That somehow acknowledging disappointment meant I was giving up.

I’ve learned that’s simply not true. The truth is, life can be incredibly beautiful and incredibly difficult at exactly the same time.

I can be thankful for our home by the beach while grieving the energy I used to have.

I can laugh until my stomach hurts with my kids and grandchildren while silently calculating how long it will take to recover afterward.

I can feel deeply blessed by the people in my life while still wishing my body worked differently.

Those things aren’t contradictions. They’re simply real life.

Joy Doesn’t Require Perfect Circumstances

One of the greatest gifts I’ve received over the years is realizing that joy isn’t something we arrive at once everything gets fixed.

Because if that’s the requirement…

Many of us would spend our entire lives waiting.

Waiting until we’re healthier.
Waiting until we’re less stressed.
Waiting until finances improve.
Waiting until life slows down.

But joy has a funny way of showing up in ordinary places.

It slips into morning tea on the patio.

Into watching hummingbirds fight over the feeder.

Into pulling fresh herbs from the garden.

Into hearing someone you love say, “We’ll have a fend for ourself night for dinner.”

Into sunsets that seem almost too beautiful to be real.

None of those moments erase the difficult ones. But they remind me they aren’t the whole story.

Giving Yourself Permission to Feel Both

I think one of the healthiest things we can do is stop believing we have to choose between gratitude and honesty.

We can have both.

We can say,
“Today was really hard.”

And also say,
“I’m grateful for the people who helped me through it.”

We can miss who we used to be while appreciating who we’re becoming.

We can cry over what we’ve lost without losing sight of everything we still have.

Holding both isn’t weakness.

It’s resilience.

Joy Is Often Found in the Small Things

I’ve noticed something over the years. The older I get—and perhaps the more MS teaches me to slow down—the smaller my definition of joy has become.

Not because my world has gotten smaller.

Because I’ve started noticing things I used to rush past.

Fresh sheets.

Warm soup on a rainy day.

A perfectly ready to pick pepper from the garden.

The smell of rosemary between my fingers.

Watching Larry smile at one of the grandkids.

A quiet down day with nowhere I have to be.

Those little moments have become treasures.

Not because life is perfect.

Because I’ve learned they’re never guaranteed.

Where I Land With It All

If someone asked me whether life with MS is hard, I’d answer honestly.

Yes. It is.

There are days I miss the woman I used to be.

There are days I wish my body would cooperate.

There are days when choosing joy feels more like work than a feeling.

But there are also days when I stand in my garden, tea in hand, watching the morning sun catch the flowers, and I realize something.

Joy was never waiting for all my problems to disappear.

It was quietly sitting beside them all along.

So these days, I’m not pretending life is easy.

I’m simply refusing to let the hard parts be the only parts I see.

Because joy doesn’t ignore reality.

It simply refuses to let reality steal every beautiful thing still left to notice.

And I think that’s a choice worth making, one ordinary day at a time.

Maybe that’s why I still find myself in the kitchen so often. Not because everything is perfect, but because stirring a pot of soup, pulling fresh herbs from the garden, or setting the table for the people I love reminds me that joy often lives in the simplest moments.

Some days call for celebration. Others simply call for comfort.

This Creamy Chicken and Rice Soup is one of those recipes I turn to when life feels a little heavier than usual. It’s simple, hearty, and the kind of meal that fills more than just your stomach. Whether you’re recovering from a long day, feeling under the weather, or just craving something warm and familiar, this soup has a way of making everything feel a little softer.

Maybe that’s part of choosing joy too—not in grand gestures, but in the quiet comfort of a homemade meal shared around the table or enjoyed with a cozy blanket and your favourite mug nearby.

I hope this soup brings a little warmth to your kitchen and your heart.