Joy to the World

Perhaps it's the storm outside or the betwinkled Christmas tree or the scented curls of the frosted cranberry candle on the mantle (or most likely a combination of all three), but I'm feeling especially introspective tonight. Lots of things tumbling around in my mind and swelling in my heart, and I'm just going to go ahead and share one of them with you. Makes me think of junior high sleepovers where I would unabashedly share my secrets from the safety of my sleeping bag and the cover of the night only to be back to my reserved, tight-laced self the next morning :)

I have been relishing in random fits of joy lately. Well truthfully, these fits have been occurring for the last two years--ever since Madelyn joined our family. I do not think I ever truly experienced joy before becoming a parent. Is that sad? I don't know. My personality tends toward the grave and somber, and frivolity and contentedness have never come naturally or easily for me. I think I was a happy kid and I certainly experienced wonder and chased adventure. My husband brought loads of desperately needed laughter and light-heartedness into my life, but "joy" was always a bit difficult for me to define. It was dazzlingly unmistakable, however, the first time I snuggled my little girl and has continued to ambush me with its chest-swelling, breath-catching, tear-welling self ever since then. Dancing with my daughter to a gospel rendition of "Lean On Me" (Glee!) next to the Christmas tree? JOY. Hearing her say--with delight---that she wants to do something because it's "just like Mommy?" JOY. Snuggling with her and burying my nose in her curls while she falls peacefully asleep? JOY. Listening to her correctly rattle off the twelve varieties of penguins from a book that we've had for only a few weeks when I swear there's been no coaching? JOY. (AMAZEMENT also accompanied the joy on this last one. Can you tell a Gentoo from a Chinstrap from a Magellanic penguin? Neither can I. But Maddie can! Interest + rapidly dividing neurons = frightenly fast information absorption.) I was trying to figure out the other day what makes these moments so joyful for me. I love Madelyn, of course, but I love many other people too. Lots of other things are cute and touching and amazing, so what's the big deal about these moments? The answer came to me while we were reading Max Lucado's "You Are Special." Punchinello has been made fun of his whole life by the other wooden people, so when he visits the woodcarver, Eli, and Eli tells him that he is special, he asks with genuine exasperation and confusion "Me? Why?" Eli responds, "You are special because you are mine." For me, I think it's as simple as that--she is mine. We are created to belong, and when we connect with those people to whom we belong...JOY.