Jaded?

Am I too jaded? Am I getting old? (well, yes, but not in that way.) Am I just worn out? If I had my pick, I'd rather just be worn out.

As I was putting Matthew to sleep tonight, I got to thinking about true joy. When was the last time I had seen true joy -- not even experienced it myself, but simply seen it. (Dang, that sounds pretty jaded.) But as I tried to recall a time from my worn out brain, I realized I've seen it often, most every day lately. I see it when Matthew lights up at seeing his brother, Tom. When Matt hears Kallene calling him. When Jack crams his face in so close to Matt that it looks like he's being smothered. It was this morning, when he was sitting on our bed with Daddy and I peeked around the corner. He looked up, caught me looking at him and broke out in this huge, toothless smile. Those baby smiles that brighten their whole face and stretch those chubby little cheeks. His body came alive too -- his back stiffened and his arms shot down between his fat little legs and then he was reduced to "baby wiggles." Those I-see-something-I-want, gotta have it little wiggles they have.

I see it at Christmases when the kids open something they've truly wanted. When we put up the Christmas tree. Or when we start spying Christmas items making appearances on store shelves. I see that giddy anticipation for birthdays. I saw joy, along with awe, when we were in DisneyWorld a couple years ago and the kids just couldn't believe we were there and were seeing all the things they were seeing.

As I'm recalling all these time I see joy, I realize I experience it too -- through my kids, during these moments. I mean I'd like to say I felt true joy at the births of each of my kids, but let's face it, I was exhausted, overwhelmed and, quite frankly, in some degree of pain. Joy would just have to come later. And thank God, it has.