Little Brown Girl In The Sun

Posted on August 5, 2020 by Joy

I’ve never spoken about this.
I started to…many times.
The pain of the “what-if’s” was paralyzing, preventing my fingers from typing the words.

Every year when I see the social media posts with the red X’s I think,
“This is the year to talk about this. It’s time. Just sit down and write!”
And once again the fear of the potential tragedy and grief overwhelm me, leaving me unable to form the words.

A few days ago, the hashtag #savethechildren popped up in my feed. As I scrolled through the posts, there I was, back in the same headspace I’ve been for the last 4 years.

“Tell the story.
Her story.
Harper Rain…and Tuda…
That awful day…
Can I even remember the details correctly?
It’s too hard.
I can’t.
. . . . .
Someone needs this.
Someone needs to know they’re not alone.
Shine a light in the darkness.
Bring awareness.
Grieve openly with those who are personally affected.
Share the story.”

It took a few days, but here I am, fingertips to keys, words on paper.
Breaking my years-long silence with this story of how a beautiful, playful, unremarkable day could have ended in life-altering tragedy.

I was taking pictures of Harper as I’ve done since the day she was born.
My sister drove up, we had a wonderful day shooting.

She planned to stop at a large retail store on her way out of town, for a quick shopping trip.

The crowds were thicker than usual causing my sister to hold on to Harper a little tighter. As they were headed towards the exit, a well-dressed man moving swiftly through the crowd, grabbed Harper’s arm, pulling her from my sister’s grasp. Within seconds, Tuda was watching the stranger carry Harper towards the elevators leading to the parking deck.

She began screaming and running towards the man as Harper looked back at her, over the shoulder of the stranger.

Just before advancing through the open doors of the elevator, the man tripped, dropping Harper to the ground. An onlooker swept her up as the perpetrator slid through the now closing doors of the elevator. He was gone.

All of this happened in less than 60 seconds.

Out of breath, my sister approached the good Samaritan now holding her daughter, he quickly placed Harper in her mama’s arms.

Relief, adrenaline, horror, outrage, unconditional love, all swirled together in her mind and heart. “Thank you, God!”

The police arrived quickly to take statements and file a report.

The officer informed Tuda of a ring of human traffickers working the area in Atlanta. He had no doubt the man was headed for the elevator leading down to a running vehicle waiting to make a quick exit from the garage and onto the freeway.
“If he had made it to the car with her, the chances of you ever seeing your daughter again would have been slim to none,” he told her.

By this time the onlookers had mostly dispersed. The man who stuck his foot out tripping the predator, and scooping up our Harper, was nowhere to be found.

My sister, too shaken up to drive the 2-1/2 hours home, booked a hotel room. I arrived shortly after her call, alerting me to what had just taken place.

We watched Harper run around the room, playing in beams of light from the setting sun shining through the window…oblivious to the life-altering danger she was in a short time ago.

My sister and I said very little.

We sat in gratitude, with tears running down our cheeks and the sun’s warmth on our faces.

“Do you believe in angels?” You ask.
“Why, yes…without a doubt, I believe in angels.”

Below is a poem I wrote after leaving the hotel room that night while thanking God for sparing us from the living hell of what could have been.

“Little brown girl in the sun,
Little girl of only one,
Reaching higher for the light,
Don’t you know you burn so bright
Dancing in their golden hue
Don’t you know it’s all for you
Beams of love, protection, & grace
Swirl around and kiss your face
The Angels knew you at first sight
Precious one, adorned in light.”

– Joy Cannis
July 2, 2016
For Harper Rain

For more information on human trafficking visit one or all of these organizations.

When You Wanna Quit…Everything

Posted on January 4, 2019 by Joy

Ever have a day where you wanted to run away with only the clothes on your back?

It just feels like too much.
Too much noise.
Too much stuff.
Too much maintenance.
Too much drama.
Too much responsibility.
It’s tooooooooo dang much!
(Notice no one ever says, “Too much money.”)

I said to a plumber the other day, who came to fix the mystery leak in our ceiling, (refer to picture), as he was breaking down the cost to explore the issue, “It suuuuuuuucks being an adult today.”

He looked at me and 1/2 chuckled as to say, “I have no idea how to respond? We just met and I think you might be crazy.”

He looked back at Chris who was now looking at me grinning, as I continued,
“No, for real. Do you feel it? The suckage of adulthood right now, in this moment, cause I sure do!”

I then made my dramatic exit, walked up the stairs and pretended there wasn’t a large green bucket in the foyer catching dripping water and the occasional piece of soaked sheetrock falling from the ceiling.

I’m ignoring the fact that the water is off in the house so I cannot wash my hands and I’m a tad OCD about germ control. And HELLO we all know the best way to prevent illness is through proper handwashing!

Anywho… by this point, I’m sitting on the fluffy bathroom floor mat. Feet against one wall, back against the other. The fan is on (sound control people) and the door is locked (no interruptions). Eyes closed. (I distract easily)

Have you ever looked around and blamed your circumstances?
Your husband? Your children? That extra pudge around my middle from the holiday indulgences?

I get it!
I’m right there with you!

And when I’m in these moments (that, I’m not gonna lie, sometimes stretch into days), I want to remember what I’ve experienced to be true every day of my life… (it’s important when you’re freaking out to speak truth to your destructive thoughts)

Feelings are temporary. Making permanent decisions based on temporary emotions always produces a negative outcome.
Mama’s need a lot more grace than we give ourselves.
Sometimes all the demands we feel the world placing on us are coming more from us than anyone/where else. (Ouch, right? The truth hurts)
Don’t underestimate the power of saying, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” Especially with children. They are so much more forgiving than we give them credit for.
Maybe you just need to reconnect with your partner. (wink, wink)
It’s okay to stop mid-sentence and admit to being overly dramatic. It has been my experience that my husband never makes me feel bad about pausing to laugh at the energy I’m bringing to any given situation.

When I calm down enough to admit that I’m being ridiculous, I’m able to think through what running away would actually look like… my coffee habit alone is enough to deter me.

So whadda ya say?
This year, today, right now, can we I practice gratitude?
Better yet, am I willing to be grateful even when the ceiling’s falling in (literally)?

Good news on the mystery leak that stumped a Plumber, a Roofer, and a General Contractor.
After being manly and cutting away a bigger part of the ceiling, Chris found the source of the problem. (Isn’t that just like him?!)
View the video to see what happened.

As you may have expected, his hotness skyrocketed after defusing my bomb of emotions and worry and a leaky copper pipe in the ceiling that professionals couldn’t figure out. Turns out, Chris is consistently defusing potential explosions of all sorts every day.

The next time I wanna run away, I’ll come here instead. I have a whole new appreciation for my husband. Thanks, Y’all!

It feels good to be back. I’ve missed this space.
Here’s to more time writing in 2019!

I Have An Eating Disorder…What Should I Do?

Posted on July 29, 2017 by Joy

I have the privilege of sharing my story with women from all walks of life. To watch someone’s eyes change as they hear and embrace hope… well… there’s nothing else like it.
So when Emily invited me to be a part of her series, “Questions Everyone Is Asking But No One Wants To Answer” I gladly accepted. Em is the Founder of BecomingMe.tv and is making it her life’s mission to help women find their voice through the power of sharing their story. And friends, this is only the beginning.
My prayer is that something in this video will resonate with you and move you to positive action. May ours eyes be opened to the truth of what we are… a masterpiece in the making.

If you or someone you love is struggling with an eating disorder, please get help. It is serious and in many cases, a matter of life and death. You can start by visiting the National Eating Disorders Association.

If you are, like I was, broken & without hope, I beg you to reach out to someone at one of the resources listed below. As long as you are breathing, there is still hope.
People of the Second Chance
Central Christian Church: Las Vegas
To Write Love on Her Arms

13 Reasons Why I Don’t Look Like An Alcoholic

Posted on October 25, 2015 by Joy

Joy On October 19th, 2015, by the grace of God, I welcomed in 13 years of freedom from the dependence on that which once enslaved me, alcohol.

When given the opportunity to share my story I always hear the same statement from at least one listener with a confused look on their face, “…But…you don’t look like an alcoholic.”
My response remains the same, “What does an alcoholic look like?”

Knowing full well that I have my own mental image of what an alcoholic looks like and it’s motivation for me to never go back to the life I once knew.

Her hair is matted and her clothes unkempt.
There are deep creases in her face from years of neglect.
She wears her wounds, making no attempt to hide them.
All forms of dignity have been stripped away.
She appears to be around 60 years old when in reality she’s 42.
She looks…well…tired. And she is.

Her children, if any, have long since given up on her and moved on with their lives.
The family she once knew has disowned her.
The church has overlooked her.
Society has pitied her.
Friends have deserted her. (They had no choice really. She stopped trying years ago.)
She’s an inconvenience, with bad teeth, no concern for personal hygiene, flammable breath, and a reputation that precedes her.

People say things without regard for her humanity, like, “Why haven’t her foolish ways killed her yet? She’d be better off dead and so would everyone else.”
Or, “She probably drinks mouthwash or rubbing alcohol. What a waste of space.”

Is my description harsh?
Have you ever seen an alcoholic in the grips of their disease?
To say it’s ugly is an understatement.

Throughout these years of recovery, I have visited treatment centers, held the shaking hands of the one in detox, claimed my seat in the rooms of A.A., accompanied a scared mother to a court hearing, listened to teary family members nightmares of living with an active alcoholic, and attended too many funerals for the seemingly hopeless one who never saw their 30th birthday.
I have seen what my future could look like if I allow my disease to dictate the direction of my life. Quite frankly, it scares the hell out of me. I hope it continues to scare me enough that I never pick up that first drink. That’s where the stronghold begins. The very first drink.

It’s a bummer. I don’t want to be an alcoholic. I didn’t grow from a little girl to a young adult dreaming of one day being a blackout drinker. I never aspired to be dependent on alcohol.

Not once did my parents say to me, “Now Joy, strive to be the best alcoholic you can be.” But I definitely gave it my all for several years.

The reason I don’t look like your stereotypical alcoholic is because;
1.) I’m not homeless
2.) I’m a wife, mother, and productive member of society, and most days I’m pretty dang good at it.
3.) I have all my teeth (some natural ones and some designed by a dental artist).
4.) I’m obsessive about hygiene.
5.) My family is still speaking to me. Some of them actually like me.
6.) I have incredible friends who know me and aren’t embarrassed to be seen with me in public.
7.) I love and care for my children.
8.) My children love me, except when I’m driving them crazy.
9.) I don’t willingly participate in self-destructive behavior.
10.) I pay my bills…on time.
11.) I am of service to others and I love it! It’s one of my favorite things to do.
12.) I’m not a liar.
13.) I have a relationship with my Creator that everything else in my life centers around.

Most of the things listed above were not true of me 13 years ago. It has been a journey of faith with unpredictable twists and turns. Trust, especially in close personal relationships, has been earned and restored over time. I know and embrace the meaning of “Amazing Grace.”

We all have something in our lives that wants to destroy us. Mine happens to be alcohol. Maybe yours is food or sex, compulsive shopping or depression? No matter what it is, you know that the moment you become complacent in this particular area, you’re in trouble. There is a solution.

Do you know what the best defense against complacency is?
Gratitude.
I call it my complacency repellant?

I am more aware (than ever), going into this 13th year that I better be thanking God in the first few moments my eyes open and my lungs draw a sober breath. Before my feet hit the floor, praise must already be on my lips. It will be the first thing on my tongue in the morning and the last thing I taste at night.

Here’s the big takeaway… Beginning the first few moments of your day with a grateful heart has the potential to change everything. Guaranteed. If it works for me, it can work for anyone, anywhere, no matter what.

Do you believe that?

Need a place of refuge? Visit my friends over at People of the Second Chance. Get connected. Whether you struggle with addiction or you love someone who does, you don’t ever have to be alone again.

Think you have a problem with alcohol? AA is a group of individuals from all walks of life, who share the same ism. It’s a program to which I owe my life. Learn more in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous

5 Things Not to Say When Talking With a Child About Death

Posted on September 25, 2015 by Joy

How does one go about choosing an outfit to wear to the funeral of someone they love knowing that going forward it will be thought of as, “The outfit I wore to the funeral.”?

While staring blankly into my closet full of more than enough clothes to wear, a little voice from behind me said, ”Mommy, what are you doing?”
“I’m trying to decide what to wear to the service for Uncle Buddy tomorrow.”
“Oh...” [long pause] “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes…right now, in this moment…I’m okay.” I replied.
“Alright. I’m going to play in the fort. Call me if you need me.” he said, skipping out of the room.

“Call him if I need him…” I said to myself smiling.
He’s 9 and I’m convinced he has a better grasp on everything than I do.

As I turn back to the plethora of clothing, the silence falls heavily.

I take some options from the hangers and fold them into my suitcase, careful to lay a few things out so that I can slip into them as quietly as possible after my 4:00 a.m. alarm alerts me to the beginning of this journey into grief.

Two days ago, after receiving the call that my uncle had laid his head back to rest, falling asleep one last time, it began a slew of conversations. The kind that take time and intentional thought. The ones that include long pauses and deep sighs. Are you familiar with these kinds of conversations?

I’m going to skip a ton of detail and get to the point as quickly as possible.

Sometimes we don’t understand why we are in certain seasons of life and why we are walking through things that seem far from what we had planned. And then one day, if we pay attention, we get a glimpse of the answer.

I have learned so much from the families who have welcomed me alongside them while they are experiencing loss. Being a witness to someone else’s pain is difficult to describe. To say that it puts things into perspective is much too basic. It has reshaped the way I see the world and now feel the reality that everyone lives and will one day die.

I am being taught how to navigate difficult conversations with my own children about death without being afraid. Out of all the many words and spoken thoughts we have shared, here are words and phrases I’ve learned not to use.

“He passed away.” Children are literal. We adults have a hard time saying the words, “He died.” We want to cushion the news. Don’t. This only confuses a child. When Jesus said that we need to become like little children to enter the kingdom of heaven, I’m beginning to understand what he meant. Their eyes have not been clouded. They are still able to see things as they truly are.

“We lost him.” Again, children are literal and will question, “If we lost him, we will be able to find him.”

“He’s in a better place.” They will want to know why they can’t be there too if it’s a better place. And why would we be left behind instead of going with him?

“It’s okay.” It’s not okay. It’s sad and the grieving process may not have even begun due to the shock of losing someone suddenly. It will be okay, but for now, it’s sad and we should experience the sadness and grieve the loss. Remember that grief is unpredictable. It comes at the most inopportune times. Be prepared to react to things much differently for a time.

“We aren’t going to talk about it.” They want to talk about it. They want to share memories and tell stories. It is counterproductive not to let them express their emotions and thoughts. Of the many people I have talked with after the loss of someone close to them, the thing I hear repeatedly is, “I wish people weren’t afraid to talk about him. I want to keep his memory alive and the best way to do that is by sharing stories about him.”

I don’t know this for sure, but maybe children intuitively know how to process grief much better than we adults do? I want to be open to change and continually learning. Who knew that some of my best teachers would be the smallest people in my home?

2 Corinthians 4:16-18¹⁶So we have no reason to despair. Despite the fact that our outer humanity is falling apart and decaying, our inner humanity is breathing in new life every day. ¹⁷You see, the short-lived pains of this life are creating for us an eternal glory that does not compare to anything we know here. ¹⁸So we do not set our sights on the things we can see with our eyes. All of that is fleeting; it will eventually fade away. Instead, we focus on the things we cannot see, which live on and on.

I’m sure you have many things to add to my five. What are they? Let’s ease each other’s burdens, even if only through the comments on this page. You never know how far your hope is reaching.

3 Reasons Why I Won’t Give Up

Posted on March 22, 2015 by Joy

There is a girl, who I love very much, on a path of self-destruction. I have been feeling, in the last few days that she may be successful in her attempts to end her own life.

It feels helpless.

She struggles with some of the same things I struggled with so if anyone should know that nothing can be done, it is I. But that doesn’t stop me from trying, does it? It’s our human nature to come to the rescue of the ones we love and fight for their existence when they no longer seem to care about existing.

I remember once describing my circumstances as feeling like a glass box, encompassing me. I was naked and everyone could see me, but no one could hear me…and I couldn’t hear them. Some of the onlookers were laughing while others were weeping. Some of the people closest to me were pounding on the glass, yelling at me. I couldn’t understand their words, but the emotion in their face communicated such pain.

I am no longer on the inside of the box. I now stand in the crowd, looking in at this beautiful woman, full of potential and light. She, like I, doesn’t see herself accurately. Her appearance, her worth, it’s all skewed. I say things from the outside, but she doesn’t hear me. Her mother, aunt, grandmother, grandfather and friends, weep at the thought of her life ending before it has really even begun. She doesn’t hear them either. She sees them, but their feelings can’t get through the glass she surrounds herself in.

She closes her eyes and is completely alone. In darkness…with only the noise of her own thoughts in her head. If only she would open her eyes, grab the closest thing and shatter the glass. Anyone of us would gladly do it for her, but the only thing that will break this glass is inside the box, with her.

She is teaching me that when we live for others or rely on others for our happiness or discontentment, our reasons for existing are always changing. So I’ve taken a long hard look at why I don’t give up on life when the feelings start telling me to.

Here’s why…

1. A better day always comes. Without fail! Life gets better. It’s just the way it works. Some days are going to suck. Nothing will go as planned. There is always a better day in the future. I know this to be true! I’ve seen it happen more than once in my life. It is guaranteed.

2. Life is incredibly short. It feels really long some days, but the truth is, we blink and our childhood is over, our early adulthood has been lived and we are looking back thinking what our parents always told us they thought, “Where has the time gone?” I want to look back and see a life well lived. In order to do that, I can’t be finished yet.

3. My life, my story, can be used to teach others about perseverance, courage, loving beyond my ability, dreaming BIG dreams and watching them come to fruition. It’s about raw recovery. My life is the epitome of amazing grace.

I know, with all of my heart and experience that the clock is ticking and time is running out. I know that she will die unless she decides to live. I know because there was a day when I was given a choice and I chose life.

Here is our last text exchange.
If you or someone you love is suffering, please don’t wait until it’s too late. There is hope and it starts with you.

National Suicide Prevention Helpline 1-800-273-8255 (1-800-273-TALK)
http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/find-help-support
Eating Disorders Awareness and Prevention 1-800-931-2237
Eating Disorders Center 1-888-236-1188
National Association of Anorexia Nervosa and Associated Disorders 1-847-831-3438
Crisis Intervention 1-888-596-4447
1-800-273-TALK (8255) or TTY 1-800-799-4TTY (4889)
Red Nacional de Prevencion del Suicidio 1-888-628-9454
Veterans Suicide Prevention: 1-800-273-TALK (8255) and press 1

Why it’s not time to give up… yet.

Posted on January 9, 2015 by Joy

Every time I sit down to write something, I stare at the blank page, with the cursor pulsing as if to say, “Well, what are you going to say?! Don’t just sit there!”

So I close the page and think to myself, “Maybe tomorrow?”
And tomorrow comes and goes… without so much as a keystroke.

Today, while staring at the cursor, I began typing just to interrupt it’s rhythm.
I started writing to spite my cursor.

As the thoughts keep coming, it’s difficult to move my fingers quickly enough. Words are skipped and thoughts are gone before they can be noted, but there is always another one to take the last ones place.

looking back, I’m really glad Chris took this pic.

Last week, I gave up hope.
I was sicker than I have ever been in my life.

An infection that started in one area of my body quickly spread to my throat and sinus’, making it difficult to breathe and threatening to grow new abscess’, pushing on the two large arteries in the sides of my neck. My words were muffled and I couldn’t speak above a whisper. My mind hurt as my head throbbed and the sound of my heart beating in my ears was a constant companion.

My eyes cried tears of grief on and off for 7 days even though my body had given up.

I thought I was going to die.
I decided it was okay to die.
I processed everything that would happen to my children… the celebrations and milestones I would miss.
I would never again laugh with Chris or kiss his mouth…
My niece would grow up only hearing stories about me, never knowing me…

It was, by far, one of the deepest, darkest, pits I have ever fallen into and the more I lay with my face against the cold ground, the deeper I sank into the abyss.

As I type, the logical part of my brain (which is small and rarely speaks up) is telling me to shut up. The more I type, the louder it gets. This is deeply personal and one of you needs to read this today… in this moment. You are contemplating giving up hope and what you do not realize is that your miracle is only a few breaths away.

I began to understand and embrace the meaning of the phrase, “My soul aches.”

It’s as if, with one long exhale, my desire to exist was extinguished and I released my children, my lover, my best friends, my family, my memories, my future plans… everything went dark and the world became still.

I didn’t beg God for life, bargain for more time, or recount any regrets.
I simply closed my eyes and went to sleep with the thought that if I didn’t wake up on that bed in the ER, that’s what was supposed to happen and I didn’t have the strength or desire to fight it.

For several months now, I have been praying this prayer,
“God, break my heart for what breaks yours. Stretch me far from my place of comfort and lead me to the cross… into the center of other people’s pain. Teach me how to trust you, sitting quietly in your presence, even when it’s uncomfortable..”

I want to know Christ in a deeply personal way. As I began asking God what exactly that meant, the prayer above is what came into my spirit as clear as if someone spoke it audibly to me in conversation. I don’t know why I thought intimacy with my Savior could ever be attained without suffering.

So to sum this up…
I had to sit in the moments of desolation.
I had to trust that God still held me closely in His will.
I had to believe that He wouldn’t leave me where He had led me.
I had to call out the hollow, hopeless feeling for what it was… a feeling, that no matter how “real” it felt, would eventually pass.
I had to claim life.

I receive the gifts that came from a season of dwelling in the darkness.
One might argue that a couple of weeks does not a season make. I would have to disagree.

My Friend, if you are learning how to walk in the dark, without fear of being swallowed up, keep going, the other side is well worth the journey.

Even A Girl Like Me

A Preacher's Kid… Prodigal Daughter… Sinner Saved by Grace… Redeemed…Recovered…Renewed

Category Archives: Family

13 Reasons Why I Don’t Look Like An Alcoholic

5 Things Not to Say When Talking With a Child About Death

3 Reasons Why I Won’t Give Up

Why it’s not time to give up… yet.

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