Author Archives: Joy

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About Joy

I am a writer, photog, mother of 3, wife to the love of my life and a seeker of Christ. I talk about this journey as a recovering narcissistic, self loathing, hypocrite. The goal is to start a conversation through either words or moments captured through the lens. Most importantly, it has to be authentic. Otherwise, what's the point?

The Ultimate Exchange

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As human beings, we want to be heard, noticed and affirmed. We want to know that we matter. There are multiple opportunities throughout the day to connect with strangers in a way that says, “I understand.” without using words.

At times I am blind to those right in front me… within arms reach. When I begin to view myself through the distorted lens of my ego, I will quickly think myself “better than.” I must thoroughly and swiftly diffuse this misconception.

When I come to the end of myself is when my eyes are opened and I can readily relate to the pain of another. “God, open my eyes to see what you see.”

By asking God to direct my thinking, the simple, seemingly mundane, happenings throughout the day take on new form. Instead of judgement, I can see myself…

~ In the eyes of the elderly lady in the check out line trying to separate her coupons one by one with shaking hands, as the line behind her grows longer and the faces appear more agitated while the exaggerated sighs confirm disapproval.
~ In the little boy on the corner awkwardly waiting alone for his bus.
~ In the driver with aggravated hands in the air and a marred expression on her face, showing her disdain for the fact that the person in front of her is turning left when she needs to go straight.
~ In the expression of the little girl, just scolded by her mother, with tears running down her cheeks.
~ In the suit walking across the street falsely exuding the confidence that he so desperately wishes he had.
~ In the cashier at the deli with diamond earrings too big to be real, red fingernails and enough makeup to think she’s hiding how desperately she wants someone to see her for who she really is.
~ In the lady pumping $4.39 worth of gas into her car, praying that it’s enough to last at least a couple of days.

Throughout my day, I am capable of relating, encouraging and projecting light onto others. Isn’t that what God called me to do as a follower of Christ? After all, it wasn’t that long ago when I was the one sending silent screams of desperation to anyone who would notice.

I assess my day on the drive home. What could I have done better? Where could I have chosen compassion? How will I live tomorrow differently?

On this particular day, my heart is heavy and my thoughts are many. I pull into the garage, walk into the house, slip my shoes off at the door and head up the stairs.

There it is.

I pick it up and run my finger along the intricate work in the beautiful silver adorning the wood. I can remember when I saved enough money to buy this cross. I had been eyeing it for weeks.

Today, I see myself in it as well.

This cross was bought with a price. I cherish it. It is strategically placed in a part of our room where I see it multiple times a day. A visual reminder of the beautiful gift that Christ gave, in giving His life for mine all those years ago and then saving me again not so very long ago.

It all comes back to the cross.

As I rest the beautiful symbol back in it’s place, I smile, exhale, and bask in the eternal security of the ultimate sacrifice of my Savior. His crucifixion on a cross (made from a tree that His Father created), stained with His blood (that sanctifies my sin), displaying His body (naked and vulnerable), beaten beyond recognition… for me… and for all of those I see throughout the day, coming and going.

We were all bought with a price, much too high for my earthly mind to comprehend. Imagine the possibilities if we were able to fully absorb and then exemplify to others the meaning of the cross.

It changes everything.

Flannel vs. Lace

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Grab your favorite beverage and get comfortable because we are going to talk about sex.

Yep, I said it. S-E-X.

I cannot keep quiet about this any longer! Married people, you are missing it. You’re missing out on one of the main ingredients that makes a marriage solid.

If your upbringing was anything like mine, “the talk” involved a book with cartoon illustrations, words I couldn’t say without laughing and a very nervous parent who had never been more eager to get through a conversation.

Very little was said about it in our home and that made it all the more intriguing to me.

Yet somehow, when it came to this subject, I learned the formula;
Sex = Dirty, Unclean, Shame. It’s going to be incredibly uncomfortable and you should, “Save it for the one you love.” Huh?

I have talked to multiple women over the last few months. All of them have been married less than nine years. Eight out of ten of them are not having sex with their husband. And by not having sex, I mean one time or less per month.

There are lot’s of excuses, some are really good, valid reasons. When you have young children, especially a baby, the last thing that most women are thinking about is the thing that got them pregnant in the first place.

SO, have you gotten off track? Don’t know where to start?

Ladies…

  • Find a time in the day that works for you. It doesn’t have to be evening and it doesn’t have to be in your bed.
  • If you have a baby and it has been 6 months or more since giving birth, you should no longer be wearing maternity panties.
  • Have at least three pieces of lingerie that you actually put on for your man from time to time. Victoria figured out the secret and she has stores all over the place. I don’t care what your budget, your hubs will find the money. Go. Buy. Wear. Men are visual. Give your man something to think about the next day in his budget meeting. (Men are not looking at that one place on your thigh that is all you see when you look in the mirror. So, DON’T POINT IT OUT TO HIM!) One of the most unattractive things a woman can do is discuss her physical flaws with the man who thinks she’s a hottie. Work what you have! Everything looks better in lace.
  • Send him suggestive text messages every now and then. You may have spit-up on your shoulder and be in major need of a shower. That’s why you’re not going to FaceTime. You’re going to TEXT.
  • Praise him in front of others.
  • Be specific when you compliment his efforts and achievements. He wants to make you proud.

Guys…
You are not off the hook here.

  • Woo her.
  • Adore her.
  • Just because you said you loved her on your wedding day, doesn’t mean you never have to say it again.
  • Be affectionate with her without expecting to get it on. You might be surprised.
  • Leave a note on the steering wheel that you’re thinking about her.
  • Tell her she’s beautiful.
  • Look at her. Listen to her. Affirm her.
  • Be intentional about setting a date night. It doesn’t have to be flowers and candles, just some time set aside for building and growing your relationship.

When we marry, God gives us a license to explore, enjoy and play.

For some of us, we didn’t wait for the license. We didn’t do anything in the order that it was intended.

Right or wrong, here is my take on that…

I think the reason God doesn’t want us sleeping around and getting knocked up and/or contracting something that we can’t wash off, is because He knows how much it will hurt us. It’s a hurt not easily healed. He knows that we will carry the weight of shame and guilt with us, sometimes for a lifetime. He is protecting our heart.

The way He designed this whole crazy, beautiful, mysterious act is, well… kind of perfect. He knew what He was doing.

Please hear me when I say that, I wasn’t wearing white on my wedding day. I have felt damaged and broken for years and then something that can only be explained as a “spiritual awakening” happened.

This man, who I believe God chose and designed for me and me for him. He didn’t look at me with shame or disgust. He didn’t talk to me like a worthless whore. In fact, he treated me like his queen and now all that I know and have ever known… is him. When I close my eyes, he is the only one I see. He is the only one I want to see.

Ladies, some of you are shaking your head as tears run down your cheeks and saying, “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

You’re right. However, I know what I’ve done. I know what I’ve thought in my mind about doing, which Jesus said is one in the same. And I am here to testify that nothing, NO ONE, is beyond redemption.

Right now you’re saying in your mind, “BUT…”

There are no buts in forgiveness, Darling. Strike that from your vocabulary where needed.

Some of you reading this have given your body away in hopes of filling up the emptiness that you feel. Others make a living by taking your clothes off and spinning on a pole. Some of you are helping them make a living by going and watching them spin on a pole. Though I do not condone this (just as I do not condone past behaviors of my own), I have known some “professional dancers” who have a bigger heart and purer motives than many Christians. I am confident that there is no condemnation in Christ. Nothing will fill a void like His grace, mercy and love. Nothing.

Some of you had someone force themselves on you. Whether you were a child when it happened or an adult, it’s not your fault. Regardless, you feel stained. I am here to tell you that the blood of Christ is better than any bleach out there and He will make you new. Brand new. He is in the business of restoration. He makes beautiful things out of our pain. If we let Him…

I was talking with a friend not long ago who was an exotic dancer and professional escort for several years. She now has a hard time even thinking about being intimate with anyone, let alone her husband. Her exact comment was, “I’ve done everything and it was dirty and wrong. I have no desire to do those things with my husband. It just reminds me of who I was and what I used to be.”

“Let it go.” Sound too simple? Well that’s because it is simple. Not to be confused with easy.

This man, who is being punished for something in the past that he was not even a part of, loves you and wants you, just the way you are.

I encouraged her and will encourage you, that every time she closes her eyes and sees things that seem to be tattooed in her memory, to picture it going through a shredder. Find something to replace it. It doesn’t have to be sexual. You may have to repeat the shredding over and over and over again. Eventually your mind will be transformed.

When those visions and memories creep in and give you that sick feeling, know that it is not from God. It is not from the One who created you with great purpose. The One who designed you from scratch. The Master’s hands formed you from the beginning and they are on you still.

None of us are beyond the reach of our Savior.

Now, I know I am opening myself up to some major criticism, judgement and misinterpretation… I’m okay with that. I’m not an expert. I do think that we should feel the freedom to talk with our spouse about sex, intimacy and our body without acting like it’s a four letter word.

Can we do that? Can we stop projecting shame onto others? Can we who are married, make an effort to remind our spouse why they would never want to look anywhere else for sexual intimacy? Can we see ourselves, our bodies and our marriage through the eyes of the One who created it all in the first place?

Can those of you who are not with someone right now, look ahead with great anticipation, eager to experience sexual intimacy and all that comes with it, the way God intended it to be?

Try it… I dare ya!

Snakes, snails and puppy dog’s tails

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Four years ago, today, our youngest son was born.

The pregnancy started with tears and confusion, wondering how I could possibly be in that small percentage of women who actually get pregnant while on birth control. After all, less than a year before, God had blessed us with a beautiful son.

I wanted this baby. I just wasn’t sure about God’s timing. What would it mean for the baby that I was on birth control for the first 2-3 months after conception?

“Lord, how am I going to do this?” was my first thought.

The very next thought, “I feel like I just got my body back! I don’t want to get fat again!”

It never fails, I turn into the rebellious teen, throwing a tantrum. Because after all, it’s all about me. Isn’t it?

Here’s the deal. I am selfish.

When left to my own devices, I am self absorbed, egotistical, self-centered, opportunistic, self-serving, inconsiderate….and the list doesn’t stop there! It could go on and on and on.

However, all of that can change, IF, before my feet hit the floor in the morning, I will say these seven words “God, I invite you into my day.”

You may be thinking, “One doesn’t invite God into their day. He is already there.” Well friend, not for me. I mean, yes, of course He’s there. But if I am not intentional about requesting His input in even the smallest of daily details, I won’t notice His presence and I’ll screw it all up.

His ways are not my ways. The process He uses to bring things to fruition is far beyond anything that I am capable of doing.

Just when I thought I had been broken and repaired more times than necessary, the One creating the masterpiece, gently led me into another season of silence. 

This pregnancy would bring with it more challenges than I, as an individual and Chris and I, as a couple have ever had to face. I had several health issues surface that led to surgery, preterm labor, bed rest and the high risk wing of the hospital. We became part of the unemployed and uninsured when the economy tanked. Our daughter and oldest son became seriously ill (at different times) and were hospitalized during the span of about 6 months. 

“Where was God?“

He was there.

In the midst of all the uncertainties, He was there, He had a plan and He was not surprised by any of the outcomes.

At times, in His silence, His presence is unmistakable. 
 
Our adored baby boy arrived almost 4 weeks early, weighing in at a whopping 7 lbs 15 oz. He was the biggest preemie in the NICU

I now have this beautiful scar on my belly. A constant reminder that God’s plan is perfect. If it had been left up to me, nothing would have happened the way it did and I would have forfeited the blessings.

It would take thousands of words to adequately explain what I have learned, the ways I have grown, the changes in perspective and priorities, the multitude of blessings and the beauty of the everyday, that have come with my youngest son’s birth.

I cannot imagine my life without this remarkable child.

It’s easy to say now that;
I wish I had enjoyed each moment and not worried so much. 
I wish I had trusted the maker of the universe.
I wish I had listened more to the Father’s assurance and inquired less about “why?”
I wish I had been a much better example of “faith in action” to others.
However, I am so, so grateful for others who were the hands of feet of Christ for our family.

My baby boy is 4 years old today. It goes by fast. Much like blinking, really. Old people used to say things like that when I was quite a bit younger. I thought they were silly. Now I see the wisdom in their words, while realizing that they weren’t so old after all.

Happy Birthday to my Precious One, whom I love and am so incredibly proud of. He is the perfect example of an undeserved gift. The kind that only God, in His amazing grace and mercy, can give. I am so grateful. And though completely undeserving, we are beyond blessed.

Cinda-who? A different kind of Princess.

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Ask any child who Cinderella is and they will most assuredly know.

When asking my 3 yr. old son if he knew who Cinderella was, he said, “Ewwwww. I don’t like Cinderella.” I would say that’s right on track with where he needs to be. Like her or not, he knows who she is.

The other day on my drive home, the song “Cinderella” by Steven Curtis Chapman came on. I have heard this song many times with goosebumps covering my arms, while envisioning a little girl standing on her daddy’s feet as he dances her around.

This time was different. The tears began streaming down my face. I literally said out loud, “What is wrong with me?! This is ridiculous! Dry it up!”

I have been thinking about it ever since. Singing the lyrics over and over in my mind. “I will dance with Cinderella, while she is here in my arms, ‘Cause I know something the prince never knew…” Each time, I feel the lump well up in my throat.

When I finally took the time to sit down and start writing, clarity was found.

How many of us aspired to be a princess? Not just any princess. THE Princess. Cinderella. Nothing sounded better than being rescued from a life of chores and mean sisters. Throw in a personal fairy godmother, a makeover, a prince, a happily ever after and most of all, being able to say, “Shove it!” to the wicked stepmother and we have ourselves a fairytale.

And then something went wrong.

It wasn’t that we had brown hair instead of blond or that we didn’t have a stepmother or stepsisters to fit the story. It was that some of us took a different path. We thought that after enjoying adventure and having more “fun” we could come back and cross the finish line of life, as a Cinderella.

I haven’t read the story of Cinderella in quite some time, but from all the times I have read it in the past, I don’t recall the part where she cusses out the bartender when he yells “last call.” Or cuts marks on her body as a painful reminder that she’s real. Or where she sticks her fingers down her throat until she pukes everything that she had just binged so that she can eat more and keep stuffing those feelings down while maintaining the illusion of control. I don’t remember where she gives herself away to those who’s name she can’t even remember? Or where she stands before the full length mirror, a skin cloaked skeleton, scrutinizing every inch of her body.

Those pages must have been missing from the book.

For many of us, they are the most prevalent. Those descriptions mark a part in our story where everything changed. Shame became a constant companion. The reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable.

The realization came that there would be no horse-drawn carriage to take us to the ball. There was no army frantically searching the land to find the foot that fit the glass slipper (our foot), while the prince pines away back at the castle awaiting the return of his true love.

“Who’s ever heard of glass shoes anyway?!”

None of us dreamed of being addicts or alcoholics, prostitutes or strippers, a teenage mother or a 20-something divorcee.

We all had similar dreams. So what happened?

Well, when I was 12…
When he…
When she…
We all have our _____________ to fill.
Our story to tell.

It doesn’t matter the details of destruction. All that matters is from today… from this moment… how the story ends.

May I paint a mental picture for you, Beautiful One?
We aren’t waiting for the prince.
There is no clock to strike midnight and strip us of our dreams.

The King Himself prepares a place for us. The Creator of the heavens, waits for us. He beckons us. He eagerly awaits eternity with us. I don’t know how your story reads up to now, but I know how it can end.

You are a Precious Treasure, Favored, Adored by the Creator of heaven and earth.
Don’t give up, Darling.
Keep going.
It is in those times of weariness that we must listen for His whisper and embrace the anticipation of one day being His bride.

There is no better “ever after.”

*Photos taken from google

I have a confession to make

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I am a believer and follower of Christ.
I have never exercised the discipline of giving up an indulgence in 
recognition of the days leading up to my Saviors last days on earth (Lent).
When praying about my character defects and having the willingness to relinquish them, 
the following came to me rather quickly.
1. I indulge myself in the approval of others. 
2. I don’t pray very well. and 
3. I want to see beauty in my physical imperfections, 
accepting that there is no such thing as perfection on this earth.
So, here it is. 
My simple prayer asking my Savior to strip me of ego 
as I meet Him in the stillness that only He can provide.
My youngest at 2 years old
“Father, please teach me how to pray.
Please forgive me when I insult the work of Your hands.
Please forgive my foolish pride that longs for the approval of others.
That which does not satisfy and is quickly fleeting.
May all that I am and all that I know come from You, my Creator.I want to see the masterpiece.
Please show me, in a tangible way, what I am to You.

May I rest in Your arms, like a child with his mother, safe, peaceful and at one.
May I trust that what You say in Your word is true
and Father, when I doubt,
please quickly redirect my thinking.

I am but a weak and feeble version of Your splendor.
Help me remember that I am a child of the King

and one day I will shed this earthly suit.
That which will replace it is something that my mind cannot comprehend,
but I know that it will be my first encounter with perfection.Lord, while on this earth,

please use me up for Your glory
and may all of the credit be Yours as an example of
Your unwavering faithfulness, mercy and love.”
In Your name I pray…
Amen

What If…this could change your life?

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I hear this phrase, sometimes several times a day, usually followed by something catastrophic. I can’t help but wonder how these two little words got such a bad rap?

“What if” we shifted our thinking and instead of harping on the negative aspect of “What if?” We dwell in the positive? Instead of this phrase being said in the context of what we might lose, why not use it in the context of what we could gain?

What If…
I stopped focusing on changing the world and instead opened my eyes to the needs right in front of me?

What If…
I stopped complaining long enough to recognize all of the blessings around me. Especially the ones that don’t come neatly wrapped with a beautiful bow?

What If…
I started praying for the person who evokes anger at the mere mention of their name?

What If…
I started looking at the parts of my body I have always unjustly scrutinized and began appreciating their function everyday.

What If…
Instead of marinating in negative self talk (that no one hears but me), I meditated on 4 words, “I Am God’s Masterpiece.”

What If…
I started taking responsibility for how I deliver my words and letting go of how it is received?

What If…
I looked in the mirror every day, completely naked and said (out loud) “I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking! Body and soul, I am marvelously made! I worship in adoration—what a creation!” Psalm 139

What If…
I stopped asking “why” (things are the way they are) and instead asked “how” (am I going to make a positive impact with what I’ve been given?)

What If…
I stopped calling my gossip circle a “prayer group”?

What If…
I asked God what He thinks of me and embraced it, instead of craving the approval of strangers?

What If…
Instead of cluttering our house with more “stuff” we sponsored a family less fortunate than we?

What If…
I didn’t worry?

What If…
I trusted God as much as I say I do?

What If…
I stopped criticizing the people and things that I don’t understand?

What If…
I was fully present in the moment?

What If…
I believed that all scripture was pertinent to my life and stopped focusing only on the verses that made me feel good and promised a happy ending?

What If…
I thought the best before believing the worst?

What If…
I embraced God’s plan for my life instead of blazing my own trail?

What If…
I looked forward to heaven instead of investing so much time and energy into the temporary pleasures of this world?

Are you feelin’ me on this? ‘Cause I could go on and on.

It’s all about transforming the mind. Before we take one step, it starts between our ears. Yes?

Are you a “What If-er”? What’s your biggest “What if” that’s holding you back?

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Hurry up and Wait…

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As I sit in this waiting room of only women, In a sea of blue cotton robes, with the “opening in the front” (of course), I cannot help but look around, observe and judge.

Yes, I said it, JUDGE.

“But I didn’t think Christians were supposed to do that?” you say.

When one becomes a follower of Christ, one does not cease being human.

With each name called that isn’t mine I want to charge up to the front desk and say, “I can’t wait any longer! I have things to do today! (Like sitting around in my pajamas. It’s my day off! My ‘Nobody tell me what to do’ day.)”

Of course I don’t do that, do I?

Nope! This appointment has been on the calendar for 6 months. I’m not just going to walk out now! No way. I’ll show them and stay another hour if I have too!

Wait…what?

My inner monologue is suddenly interrupted by the familiar sound of a chip bag opening. “Oh, I’m so hungry. Why didn’t I bring a snack?!” “Duh, because they are going to weigh me!” (Clearly still deceived by the notion that I will weigh less having not eaten today. I don’t mean a few ounces less, I mean 10 lbs.)

So…here I am…waiting. As I have been for the last 82 minutes.

I can’t tell if the woman beside me has an issue with her jaw or is popping gum. It’s really loud. Really. Loud.

Oh good, now she’s taking a call on her cell. The popping is replaced by her inquiries about dry cleaning and whether or not her dog has been walked and if it had pooped or peed on the walk because, that’s important.  (What part of the sign “NO CELLPHONES” does she not understand?!)

The nurse emerges and calls her back. “Thank the Lord in heaven!” (is my extremely loud thought.)

As I continue an inner monologue about how I would never be as obnoxious as this woman, a word in a conversation to my right catches my attention.

Metastasized.

That’s the word. The one word that snapped me out of my self righteous, internal ranting.

There were 5 ladies, strangers from what I could tell, sharing their stories. For the young woman who had just been diagnosed, she was asking the other woman who had been cancer free since 2009, what to expect.

“What kind of pajamas do they allow in the hospital?”
“Will I lose my hair?”
“How long does chemo take?”
“Does everyone throw up after?”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“What stage was yours?”
“Did you have radiation?”
“Do you drink regular milk or organic?”

The older woman was compassionate in her answers.

I don’t have cancer.

I don’t know the answer to any of her questions. I am here, as I will be every 6 months for the rest of my life because I am “high risk.” Female cancer dominates both sides of my family. I am no stranger to the word metastasized, as that word alone awakens many feelings that have been silent until several months ago when it became a reality again with the news of my beautiful friend, now fighting for her life against a relentless form of ovarian cancer.

I actually made it a priority to schedule my annual appointment with my gyno because of her. He insisted that I have the genetic testing done to see if I carried the cancer gene. He called with the results. All tests were negative. I do not carry the gene.

So why am I sitting here. Why will I spend half of my day off, sitting here with strangers, when I could be with my boys?

Fear?

Prevention?

Is there really a difference between the two?

Regardless, here I am. Waiting…

I’m guessing that the young girl asking all the questions is in the fear stage. I can’t say that for sure and now I’m judging again. (Why am I acting so priggish?!) If anything I should be falling down before the Father in praise several times a day that I emerged from the darkness in which I was living, relatively unscathed.

However, here I sit. Annoyed by the smallest of things. Remember my motto…”Progress not Perfection.” Some days (like today), progress is even a stretch.

The lady beside me takes out her emory board to file her nails. (Insert inner scream here). Noooooooooooo! Forget the sound! What makes her think I want to breathe in her fingernail dust? And there’s no escaping it! Its flying everywhere.

The door opens, here comes the nurse, she’s calling my name.

Clarification: There are few things in this life that I can say with all of the passion I can muster that I detest. Cancer is one of those things. It is a devil of sorts. Often times it is silent in its deadly pursuit until its victim is left ravaged and face to face with death. I am in no way trying to make light of this disease in this post. I am simply giving you, the reader, a glimpse in to my perception, warped as it may be at times. Usually, for me, this all points back to fear. Thankfully I have been given the tools to face it and move on. I feel beyond blessed to only be going in for rechecks. I am on the maintenance plan while many are fighting for their life.