The Year That Felt Like Sunshine
Every once in a while a simple moment pulls you back into a year that still glows in your memory.
Some mornings arrive with a quiet kind of happiness.
This one did.
It was a Monday, of all things. Most people dread Mondays, but sometimes they surprise you. I had woken up rested, ready early for once, and instead of rushing around trying to beat the clock, I was simply driving to work with the radio playing softly in the background.
Outside, the air had that unmistakable feeling of early spring.
Warm sunlight. Blue sky. The kind of morning that makes you roll the windows down and breathe a little deeper.
The announcer on the radio mentioned that we might hit a record warm temperature that day. If it happened, it would tie a record set in 1986.
1986.
The number caught my attention.
Why did that year sound so familiar?
It was not the year I graduated from high school. It was not the year of any major milestone that people usually circle on a calendar. Yet the moment I heard it, something inside me warmed.
Then I remembered.
1986 was the year I was twenty years old.
And I had the world by the tail.
At that time, I had a job that I loved. To this day it still ranks as one of the favorite jobs I have ever had in my life.
I worked in a Christian bookstore.
Now if you are thinking that must have been a path to financial success, I can tell you with a laugh that it absolutely was not. Nobody who worked there was getting rich.
But money was never the reason we worked there.
We worked there because we believed in what we were doing.
The people who worked in that store came from many different church backgrounds. We used to joke about how many denominations were represented behind those counters. But even with all those differences, there was very little real disagreement.
Because at the center of it all was something we shared.
Faith.
And more than that, a desire to help people.
Many of those coworkers are still friends today. I notice their birthdays. I love hearing about their lives, their children, and now even their grandchildren. Some people drifted away over the years, but many of those relationships became a permanent thread woven through my life.
That bookstore was not just a workplace.
It was a little community.
It was also the place where I first began to understand something important about myself.
For years I have studied personality traits, motivations, and what makes people thrive. Through all of that self reflection I discovered something simple.
The thing that makes me happiest is helping other people get what they need.
That job fit that part of me perfectly.
Customers came in for all kinds of reasons. Some simply wanted a good book to relax with. Others were searching for answers to bigger questions.
Over time I got to know many of them.
One day a woman walked in and I could tell immediately that something was wrong. There was a heaviness in her face that you could not miss.
As soon as I finished helping another customer, I went over and greeted her by name.
I asked her what was wrong.
She looked at me and said she needed a book.
She had just learned that her son had been killed in a motorcycle accident.
My heart dropped.
I was only a young adult myself, but in that moment I felt the weight of what she was asking. She was not really asking for a book.
She was asking for help carrying grief that had just shattered her world.
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Growing up I had watched my father minister to people through many difficult moments. I had seen the compassion it took to sit with someone in pain. Standing there in that bookstore, I felt the same desire rise up in me.
I wanted to help.
Because I loved books and knew their content well, I was able to walk her through the shelves and recommend several that might gently guide her through the days ahead.
Even now I remember that moment.
It taught me something deeper about customer service than any training manual ever could.
People often repeat the phrase that the customer is always right. But the truth goes deeper than that.
Real service is about seeing the human being in front of you.
It is about noticing the unspoken need behind the request.
Whether someone is buying a book, asking for help in an office, or walking into a store looking for something they cannot quite name, there is always a story behind the moment.
Sometimes the greatest service we give is simply recognizing that story.
The years I spent working in that bookstore were some of the happiest of my life.
I did not rush immediately into what people might call an important career. In fact, I stayed there for many years. Even after moving on, I returned part time during the Christmas season because I loved the place so much.
Walking through those doors always felt like coming home.
The coworkers were friends.
And the books felt like friends too.
Books have been my companions since I was a child. I do not even remember learning to read. One day I simply could. After that I read everything I could get my hands on, and in many ways I still do.
Inside that bookstore were shelves filled with ideas, stories, encouragement, and wisdom.
But even more than that, there was laughter.
There were playful debates between coworkers.
There were celebrations of weddings, babies, and new beginnings.
And there were hard moments too.
Moments when someone we loved was hurting or when life took an unexpected turn.
Through it all, we stood together.
We were a family.
And in a strange way, we always will be.
As I drove past the old location recently, long after the bookstore had closed its doors, I felt that same warmth rise in my chest.
Places carry memories.
Some hold ordinary days.
Others hold joy.
For me, that bookstore will always be one of those places.
And maybe that is why hearing the year 1986 on the radio made me smile.
It was a long time ago.
But when I think about it, that year still feels like it is filled with sunshine.
The Joy Ambassador | Architect of Joy
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