Lyfting Me Up

Joy is not the same thing as happiness. Last week was full of both.

We had the privilege of driving our twenty-two-year-old grandson from Colorado back to Stephenville, Texas, home of Tarleton State University. We were there for his graduation, which took place in a brand-new arena filled to the brim with family and friends. I have never seen such a collection of white cowboy hats and ball caps. Matias graduated from the School of Music with a degree in music composition and saxophone performance.

Having a handicapped parking pass and a rollator provides a few privileges. We got the best two seats in the house. We were on the front row, right behind the more than six hundred graduates, seated on the corner. That meant every person wearing academic regalia walked right by us, both coming and going. To our left sat an entire family celebrating the graduation of a fifty-year-old father.

I have never been to a more efficient—or more interesting—graduation. The music was wonderful (the School of Music is the reason Matias chose Tarleton). The one commencement speech was brief and courageous. Yes, it is a bit tedious to listen to hundreds of names as the president greets and shakes hands with every graduate. But when the dad-graduate’s name was called, his entire row of family—about ten of them—jumped to their feet and cheered. As the graduates marched out, he came right by us with a smile as big as Texas.

Then Matias came by. We were close enough to give him a high five. It was one of those moments you tuck away forever.

I have never seen Matias so fully engaged in an experience. He was, quite simply, a joyful soul.

Let’s talk a bit about joy.

I opened this conversation by saying that joy is not the same as happiness, at least in my lexicon. Joy is accompanied by an awareness of grace. It touches the holy, the eternal, the mystery—yes, the very heart. Happiness is often tied to circumstances. Joy seems to arrive as a gift.

Our whole family was certainly happy that Matias graduated. We have all witnessed both his struggles and his triumphs. Matias is on the autism spectrum. He is keenly aware of that reality and understands both the blessings and the challenges of the way he experiences the world.

Yesterday he moved to be closer to Colorado State University in Fort Collins. His girlfriend, who also graduated last week, hopes to attend veterinary school after establishing Colorado residency. Yesterday, too, Matias accepted a job working with children with special needs, especially those on the autism spectrum.

I have watched him his entire life with children who need extra support and understanding. He is a natural. The thought of him building relationships with those children and their families makes perfect sense to me. And in my imagination, there will come a day when he carries his saxophone to work and plays for one of those children.

The very thought fills my heart with joy.

Onward and Upward,

Mark