I've been doing a lot of reflecting today, on this twenty-sixth birthday of mine, and mostly on Joy.
When I was younger, birthday's were a BIG deal in my house. There were sweets, presents galore, and always a big party with the girls in my class. I remember bounce places, indoor pools, Little Caesar's pizza, and one party at home (and I'm pretty sure that was the last one at home). In the exact words of my seven year old daughter, "I miss the days of my youth."
And after every party my parents would ask, "Are you happy?"
Of course I was happy. I loved parties, I loved the attention, and I loved, loved, loved presents. And so, it was all fun and games...and smiles and laughs...until one year, the one present I was dying for was not received.
Gasp.
I know. Who would withhold a Barbie from a sevenish-year old (regardless of the fact that she had seventeen other Barbie dolls)? Oh, the cruelty.
I found a picture online of the Barbie I had been dreaming to call mine. I remember it well because alas, I got it for Christmas fifteen days later. Spoiled. Rotten.
But through the tears on December 10th, sometime in the eighties, I remember my dad sitting next to me on my bed explaining, with as many kind words as he could muster, how absurd it was to cry over one toy when I had so many others. He told me, perhaps out of frustration, that I had to make a choice to be joyful about what I had been given.
In my moment of ridiculous drama, I'm pretty sure that dad's words sounded something like, "blah blah, stop crying, blah, blah, be joyful." But that conversation stuck with me. And what my dad proceeded to teach me over the course of the next several years, whether he knew it or not, was the importance of choosing joy.
And this memory struck a chord with me today while I spent most of the day helping my mom and step-father.
I have been given all the joy from my heavenly father. In fact, in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus prayed that we would be given the full measure of His joy. We have it, we possess it, but we've got to chose it.
And this joy isn't the same thing as happiness. Not at all.
I wasn't happy today when I watched my mom scream out in terrible pain. I wasn't happy when an old friend of Dads looked over my shoulder at mom and almost gasped. I wasn't happy when she grabbed my hand as tightly as she could when we told her it was my birthday, and I wasn't happy when she started weeping uncontrollably. I had a deep sadness in those moments, and in my mom's small room today, happiness would have been an unfitting and absurd emotion.
But there is still joy.
It's the same joy that Job found when he cried out in faith after loosing everything but his life: "The Lord gives and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." And it's the same joy that Mary found in the midst of fear at the news that she was carrying the Savior: "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior." These emotions have nothing to do with happiness but everything to do with joy that comes from God alone.
This gift of joy is unspeakable. It isn't depleted when we're faced with losing loved ones, and it doesn't dwindle when our sadness intensifies. Instead, this joy transforms and transcends tears, heartaches, and trouble.
Joy. I choose it, I embrace it, and I'm grateful of it. Even now, sitting here reflecting on the hope I have no matter what He gives or takes, no matter how hard or easy the day is, and no matter what tomorrow brings, I weep with tears of Joy.
It really wasn't a happy birthday, per say. But it was a joyful one, and I couldn't ask for a greater gift.
Joyful birthday to me.
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