I hold it in my hand, readying it for display. A photograph from a Christmas eons ago. Here we are, us kids back in the late fifties, minus one who must be taking the picture. Horseshoed around our father, our hands clasped in pleading prayer, one brother on knees supplicating like the rest of us. Our dad stands with hands on his hips, a grin pasted on his face and all we wanted was to open up one more present, please, please, please. Ineffable joy sprinkled all over our clasped hands, leaving prints of happy on the floor.
These were simpler times, of life before cellphones, texting, social media, oh such hurried lives. We are like these young kids, winging our prayers up to the One in control, pleading, begging, always hoping for an answer. Even though we might not like the answer. Yearning that the world tilts right side up, that Congress will behave, that very sick people are healed right quick. Prayer is a gift, an eternal promise of answer. Joy tucks itself inside the prayer. I hear you. I'm not going anywhere. I've got you no matter what.
C.S.Lewis wrote, "We may ignore, but we can nowhere evade the presence of God. The world is crowded with Him. He walks everywhere incognito." He is here now, this invisible friend. We can catch glimpses of Him all around us every day. Maybe not disguised in dark sunglasses and a stocking cap pulled low. But splashes of blazing orange sunsets, a ruby-throated hummingbird taking its fill, a meal prepared for someone in need. Joy digging a well deep inside. Or an elderly couple strolling down the street, hands clasped tight, a snapshot of possibility.
I will keep displaying this small memento every year at Christmas as long as I can recall where its stored. God's sticky note, a reminder to keep looking up, hunt for joy, steal it if needed, cherish it like a favorite super soft sweater. And pray for reservoirs of inexpressible joy, to drink from when life gets tough. When all seems lost, and hope is wearing thin, joy softly, silently caulks the cracks.
For this I know to be true. Love took its first breath at Christmas. An offering of inexhaustible joy invaded the earth. And if you find a pair of Ray Bans on a park bench, look up! Hope cloaks itself in wonder, a promise for you and me.