Joy can be a trembling wonder.

It’s like the
trembling of a dog who wags his tail so hard that his whole body shakes when
you come into the door at the end of a long day.
It’s like the little
girl who quivers with excitement on Christmas Eve.  The days and weeks of waiting are almost over.  She can’t wait to fly into the living room, land
under the tree, and dive into brightly wrapped gifts.  
It’s what a sixteen
year-old feels when he finally gets the courage to call her on the phone. His hands get sweaty and his throat goes dry, but
he somehow manages to ask her anyway if she’d like to go see a movie with him,
and she says “yes!”  
It’s what a bride feels just as the words “I do” whisper from her lips,
and what a groom hears feels when he hears her say them. 
It is, I think, what a woman feels when hard labor has ended, and she
cradles her newborn to her breast.    
It’s what mom and dad feel just before the dean of students calls their
child’s  name to walk across the stage
and receive a college diploma. 
It’s what you feel on the first day of a new job or when the realtor
hands you the keys to your first house. 
It’s what you feel when your son, who has struggled to get his bat on
the ball, finally gets his first hit in a little league game; or when your
daughter, who hasn’t played much this year, gets in the match and scores the
winning goal for her soccer team.
It’s what you experience when the doctor says, “you’re in remission.”
It’s the astonishing exhilaration
the followers of Jesus felt on Easter, when they realized that he was alive
after all.  Fear drained away. Joy
radiated through their entire beings, and overflowed
into the world. 
We tremble with joy when anticipation becoming delight, yearning
becoming fulfillment, and the long search becoming sudden surprise.
“Joy is,” Teilhard de Chardin
said, “the most infallible sign of the presence of God.”