Was that Joy?

Joy may be like a fountain,
but it has no on/off switch.
We can’t manufacture joy
or produce it on demand.
Running after joy is
like running after the wind;
you can’t catch it.
Joy is wild and treasured,
like a rare shy bird
that suddenly appears.
It can be fleeting,
or its presence can rest with you,
like a benediction,
for days and months.
It shows up in the strangest places,
and just as quickly disappears.
The moment you try to hold it,
it flees away.
I held the hand of a dying man
all morning
and spent the afternoon
visiting a newborn baby.
Holding that little one’s hand,
my tears kept coming and coming.
Was that joy, or something like it?
In our Good Friday world,
where death is our constant companion,
God holds out a hand
with surprisingly little fingers.
God with us.