It was barely 11 AM, and already almost 90 degrees. I felt myself becoming anxious and irritable as the temperature rose. Worries about layoffs at my husband's company and his hours being cut were making me miserable.

In an hour, I would be the main attraction at a seven year old child's birthday party. I had been a professional clown for several years, and have always enjoyed my role as Pinky The Clown. My Pinky disguise usually transformed me, not only physically, but also mentally. I felt safe behind the clown's makeup, and could act in ways my grown up, responsible self wouldn't allow.

This day, however, as I applied the white grease paint to my face, I noticed frown lines etched deep in my forehead. I really did not feel like clowning, and would have liked nothing more than going back to bed. Grudgingly, I painted the finishing touches on my bright red, oversized smile, and powdered my face to set the makeup. I put on my hot pink, striped costume, and pulled on my curly pink wig. Not bad, I thought, as I surveyed myself in the mirror. Too bad I don't feel on the inside how I look on the outside, I thought.

Driving to the birthday party, I tried to shake off my anxious thoughts. Did I bring enough balloons? Will the children like me? Will they see through my painted on smile and know how miserable I really am? My image seemed to mock me as I caught a glimpse of myself in my rear-view mirror.

Some children playing in their yards waved as I drove by, and I heard shrills of laughter. People in cars waved at me and smiled. Others honked their horns. At a crosswalk, surprised people grinned and pointed at me for their children to look at the clown. As I waited for a traffic light to change, I wiggled my fingers in a pretend shy wave and, by rote, beamed my grandest smile at a little boy in the car next to me. His eyes grew wide with wonder, and his pouting lips lifted into a hint of a smile. Then he broke into a full-fledged grin, as he pressed his face into the window to get a closer look.

Without even realizing it, I found that I, too, was smiling, really smiling. This time, my smile started somewhere deep inside of me. My big, red, exaggerated smile seemed almost too small to express the joy I felt.

Even before I had intended to, Pinky had brought a moment of joy to at least a dozen people. That joy turned back to me, and my painted-on smile became alive and very real. I'd forgotten my problems by the time I arrived at the party.

Now, when I feel down and life's problems begin to form a frown on my face, I think of Pinky The Clown. I recall that bringing happiness to others will change the way that I feel. I tell myself to smile, even if I don't feel like it, and I find someone to share my smile with. Before long, I find that I am genuinely joyful. As I see the joy my smile brings to others, my half-hearted, painted-on smile becomes real.

I still have my Pinky costume. Although I haven't been a clown for several years, I cannot bring myself to let the costume go. I look back fondly at my years as Pinky The Clown. She taught me to be humble, to not take myself so seriously, and she helped me grow spiritually. She taught me the power in the simple gift of a smile.

I found this prayer by an anonymous author when I started my clowning ministry. I had it printed on cards along with my contact information. It is still as relevant today as it was then. May you be blessed by it, as I am.

The Clown's Prayer (anonymous)

As I stumble through this life, help me to create more laughter than tears, dispense more cheer than gloom, spread more joy than despair.

Never let me become so indifferent that I will fail to see the wonder in the eyes of a child, or the twinkle in the eyes of the aged.

Never let me forget that my total effort is to cheer people, make them happy, and forget, if only for a moment, the unpleasantness in their lives.

And in my final moment, may I hear You whisper, "When you made My people smile, you made Me smile."