This Psalm is a guide line for the kind of person I want to be: thankful to God for his many blessings; and for His everlasting mercy. I want to live my life to praise God with a joyful heart and a cheerful spirit.
In Sunday School, as a little girl of eight years old, I memorized the 100th Psalm. When I stood in front of our class to recite the words, “Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands…” I felt proud. In return, I received a framed copy of the verses, decorated with little flowers. It still hangs in my kitchen, where I can read it often. And yes, on a good day, I can still recite most of it without looking!
According to family lore, I was named “Joy,” because my mother’s pregnancy was considered perilous. The year was 1938. My mother’s health was precarious, and carrying a second baby to full term was a risk.
I arrived safely on February 1. I was healthy, except for a twitchy tummy diagnosed as pyloric stenosis. I am told mother would feed me, patiently, lovingly. Yet, no sooner was the bottle empty, than I suffered from projectile vomiting. Thanks to the astute pediatrician and paregoric, I survived. Decades later, I have no trouble enjoying good meals, although at times, maybe too much!
Being named Joy has always carried a certain responsibility. More, I believe, than if I were named Kathy or Jane. Since early childhood, my mother would tell me whenever I started to frown, or seemed upset, “There will be no pouting. Your name is Joy and you are meant to be a happy girl.” Even as an almost old lady, that cautionary comment is ingrained in my brain.
Deep in my heart, I know that there is only one thing in this life I can truly control. And that is my attitude. Last year, after surgery for my shattered right ankle, I spent nine weeks in our Cedarfield rehab facility. With much time to contemplate life, new realizations crystalized.
Mobility, as I had enjoyed it, would change. No longer could I enjoy spontaneous freedom to take walks unaided by a device. I hoped I would only need a cane. But alas, a walker is safer, especially since my right knee is bone on bone arthritic.
In rehab, I decided not to succumb to old age and become a disgruntled dependent. Life is too precious to waste. I have always enjoyed reaching out to family and friends. Such utter joy in being with loved ones. Just this past weekend, my oldest grandson, Liam, his wife Natalie, and their precious eight-year old daughter Evie (my only great granddaughter) visited from Boston.
It was the first time the four of us have ever enjoyed a solo weekend together. What a marvelous opportunity to know each other better. We had the best conversations. What fun to know dear Natalie, a native of the Czech Republic and learn about her family. How delighted I was that Liam, our magna cum laude graduate of Syracuse U’s Cy Newhouse school of Journalism, and writer for NYTimes Wire Cutter, critiqued my last essay. Interesting how some of his comments paralleled those heard in this class.
I loved every single minute of every waking hour with them. We enjoyed Put-Put golf, the Science Museum, seeing our first real sloth in action, playing Charades, lots of good food. Saturday night Evie and I shared a delightful candlelight dinner in my kitchen while her mommy and daddy enjoyed a “date night” dinner at Chez Max. Guess who loved having bright little Evie all to herself!
Consider me a very Joyful person today. With the grace of God, I hope to stay that way for all my days left on this earth. And thanks be to my parents for naming me Joy. Apparently, my father wanted to name me Josephine after his mother. Uh oh. No way.
Top Shiutterstock photo by ja-aljona
