Bundle of Joy

I can fully appreciate now why people refer to babies as bundles of joy. Rachel Marie is filled with the stuff. I mean, the only thing she oozes out more than spit-up is pure, unadulterated joy. I smile at her; she vibrates with excitement and starts squealing. She catches a glance of her reflection in the mirror and she loses it – in a good way – and starts kicking with all her might, wiggling and screaming happily. Dave says, “Hi, Baby Rae,” and you’d think life as well as her daddy were nothing short of sensational by the way her face lights up (she's right about her daddy and life's pretty amazing, too). Madeline hops around, swinging her arms like a crazed monkey and Rachel Marie becomes hysterical, laughing so hard her eyes begin to water and she starts to hiccup.

All babies are wonderful, but I have to say, as do most people who have the pleasure of Rae's company, that this bambino’s disposition is incredible.

It’s also encouraging. When I’m feeling on edge or frazzled as I sort the piles of gifts we received (aren't we blessed?), catch up on laundry, work on thank you notes and think about tackling two writing assignments I put off until after the holidays, all I have to do is stop and take a look at Rachel Marie, see her bliss and be reminded that, for me, joy is more than a feeling. It’s a choice, a way of life. I can choose to live joyfully, or I can choose to fret, to stress and to fuss over the unfairness or busyness or occasional dreariness of life.

Today, as I continue to celebrate the birth of Jesus, I choose joy.