When I'm getting a chance to do my job or make somebody's day

Hear now the words of Cole Swindell, a minstrel of the modern age, whose heart beats to the rhythm of song and whose joy is born from the faces of those before him: “When I'm getting a chance to do my job or make somebody's day, and be on stage where I love, and see all the fans having fun, you can't help but smile.” In this confession lies a truth as ancient as the lyres of Greece and as enduring as the drums of Africa: that the act of creating joy for others returns as joy for the self. For in giving light, the soul too becomes illuminated.

The meaning of his words begins with purpose. To stand upon a stage and call it “job” is to reveal that one’s work and one’s passion have become one. Many toil in labor without joy, but Swindell proclaims that his vocation is not burden but blessing. When he sings, he is not merely earning a wage but fulfilling a calling, and this calling is crowned with a smile, for it unites both the giver and the receiver in shared delight. The artist who finds such union has touched the eternal, for his work ceases to be duty alone and becomes a celebration of life itself.

History offers echoes of this joy. Recall the ancient bard Homer, who recited the Iliad and the Odyssey before kings and common men alike. Though his words carried tales of war and sorrow, the hearts of his listeners were lifted, bound together by story. It is said that he drew strength from the response of his audience—their awe, their laughter, their tears. Just as Swindell looks upon his fans and cannot help but smile, so too did Homer find joy in the communion between poet and people, proof that art lives not only in the creator but in those who receive it.

The stage itself becomes sacred ground in Swindell’s words. It is not merely a platform of wood and light, but a temple where the energy of the many merges with the offering of the one. To see the fans having fun, to hear their voices lifted in response, is to witness a circle of giving: the artist pours out song, the crowd returns passion, and the bond between them becomes a living force. In such a moment, the smile that spreads across his face is not chosen—it is inevitable, the natural overflow of joy too vast to contain.

And there is humility in this vision. Swindell does not speak of personal glory, of crowns or accolades, but of the simple act of making somebody’s day. In this, he teaches us that greatness lies not in being exalted above others, but in lifting others up. To bring joy, even for a fleeting hour, is a noble service. And to measure success by the smiles of others is to live in alignment with the deepest purpose of art and humanity itself.

The lesson for us is clear: seek out the work that brings both joy to you and joy to others. Do not settle only for labor that sustains the body, but strive for labor that also sustains the soul. Whether upon a stage, in a home, in a classroom, or in any place where life’s tasks are carried out, look for the chance to make someone’s day, and you too will find the smile rising unbidden upon your own face. For joy multiplies when shared—it is never diminished in the giving.

Therefore, let each one act thus: embrace your calling, not merely as duty but as gift; give generously of your spirit, knowing that the joy you awaken in others will return to you; and treasure the smiles that rise from your efforts, for they are the true measure of success.

Thus, the teaching is eternal: To bring happiness to others is to find happiness yourself. The stage of life is wide, the audience vast, and in every act of service or art lies the power to awaken joy. And when you see the fruit of your labor reflected in the faces of others, then, as Swindell declares, you cannot help but smile.