Joy

The first thing I always think about when I come across the word “joy” is a petite, white-haired lady who helped to form my core attitudes about the world. Named Velma Joy by her parents, my grandmother chose to go simply by the name Joy. Just like the hats that she insisted on wearing, her name fit her perfectly. Up until the time that Alzheimer’s made her forget even the people closest to her, Grandma Joy felt she wasn’t properly dressed unless she was wearing a hat.

When I was growing up my family moved numerous times. Throughout my adolescence I never knew what to say when people asked me where I was from. I was from many places. Grandma Joy, in her little red brick house, was the anchor to my family’s wanderings. Home for me wasn’t so much a place, but a person, my Grandmother Joy.

Joy is the scent of lilacs, warm summer evenings, red sunsets, birds on the windowpane, and a little grove of sassafras trees. Joy is in the minutest details of the colors of a rock, the smell of rain, the sound of the leaves rustling in the trees, the taste of orange marmalade, and the feel of the wind on my face. In everything she did, my grandmother found and gave joy. She taught, by example, how to love and accept people, without exception.

Our society teaches us to rely on possessions and social status to make us happy. We are daily bombarded with messages of immediate gratification. The philosophy of finding personal fulfillment is waved in front of us like a flag of freedom. We search for new ways of being entertained and more extreme experiences to astound our senses. The small action of being aware of our surroundings is lost in the noise and tumult of the media. Gratefully, I continue to have a small harbor of peace within myself that was originally placed there by my grandmother. All these temporal things are transient and fleeting. We might find momentary pleasure in the trappings of the world, but deep, lasting joy is found within ourselves and our appreciation for what we have. The rest is miniscule in comparison.

The lessons of Grandma Joy were nearly forgotten with adulthood and the responsibilities and concerns of raising children. With three small sons that I frequently referred to as “Destructo Boys,” I rarely had time to stop and smell all flowers, as my grandmother always did. One early morning, as my sons lay sleeping, I mused how peaceful they were, and wondered why I couldn’t find peace when they were awake. All of a sudden I had complete understanding as to how fortunate I was to have children that had full, unrestricted mental and physical abilities. I felt joy at the knowledge that my beautiful, bright-eyed sons were capable of wreaking the havoc that gave me daily angst.

Gratitude and humor are companions of joy. My grandmother could always find the positive side of things, something to be grateful for. When she wasn’t feeling well, or was reminded of her age by the reflection in the mirror, she would smile and say, “It’s better than the alternative!” She had a great sense of humor, and was frequently the instigator of practical jokes. There is a story that is legend with my family. One day my cousin, Jill, was helping Grandma Joy in the kitchen. Grandmother was holding an egg in her hand and pretended to crack it over Jill’s head. My cousin said, “I bet you wouldn’t dare really crack that on my head.” Without blinking an eye, that egg was all over Jill’s head and dripping down her face. My grandmother never took a situation more seriously than was warranted.

I have tried to remember the things I learned from my grandmother. I know that I am doing well when I can find joy in the details. When I can stop stressing about the bills that need to be paid and the dishes that need to be washed, and find joy in watching how my children interact with each other, I know that I still have some of my grandmother in me. When I can see past the homework that is due and the pile of assignments on my desk at work, and I notice the color of the sunset, hearing my grandmother’s voice saying, “Red skies at night, sailors delight. Red skies in the morning, sailors take warning,” I feel deep, sublime, enduring joy.