September 14, 2025 · 12:52 PM

Honoring a Legacy: Remembering Charlie Kirk’s Impact

A senseless act boggles the mind. My heart is heavy. Words fail me.

Someone so eloquently said: A horrible monster robbed this world of someone who inspired so many.

I did not know him personally, but I grieved just the same. Charlie Kirk was a devoted husband, loving father, and man of faith. He was a light in the darkness, a bold voice yet with compassion. He spoke with such conviction, piercing the hearts of all who would hear. In every debate, he pointed to God’s written word. He spoke the truth, and he was martyred for his faith. I do not doubt that his legacy will continue.

It still rings true: we don’t know what tomorrow holds or how much time is left. Let’s strive to make each day count. Share our faith. Point others to Jesus. Love on others, and hold true to God’s word.

Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. ~ Psalms 116:15

“Time is fleeting. But the impact we make within that time is eternal.” ~ Orly Wahba

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September 6, 2025 · 5:00 AM

Understanding Co-dependency: A Path to Healing

Co-dependent. Such a complex word.

Have you ever realized how wrong you were in trying to do right?

My former husband was in love with himself. His needs, desires, and wants came before all else. I thought I’d make him happy if I did everything he wanted. I believed I needed to agree with his every comment. I thought fulfilling his every wish was the only way to gain some measure of sanity. I tried making peace by letting him have his way with me. I hoped this would make him show me tenderness. Then, he’d show me love. Surely, he’d prefer me over his need for others—hobbies, friends, or conquests.

But I was merely fooling myself.

I received no respect, and he continued his ill-treatment toward me. Silently, I resented what he was doing to me, but not enough to do anything different. I was allowing the offenses. This meant I was giving him permission to continue doing me wrong. It was as if I had signed away all my rights and life. I was slowly dying inside. I felt undone and unloved, with low self-esteem and zero self-worth. I felt lonelier with him than without him. Yet I still wanted him around. I yearned for his approval and acceptance. I lived in constant fear of him. I also feared losing him.

We think we will find peace and tranquility if we can control our environment. But in reality, serenity is often miles away. You have a false sense of peace, and trust me when I say it isn’t lasting. And oh, the price it comes with!

I’m no psychologist, nor am I a psychiatrist. But, I also believe there is another side to this spectrum. Sometimes, a person can love deeply. They’ll do everything for the other. This behavior often stagnates and handicaps the loved one from taking care of themselves. That person then becomes dependent on you for their needs and outlook. They are hindered from growth and maturity in making wise decisions or choices.  They are emotionally immature and can stay psychologically traumatized.

For example, in the situation with my mom. From her childhood, Mama was an introvert and extremely shy. Grandma loved her so much that she felt sorry for her. She tended to overcompensate in trying to help Mama by doing everything for her. Mama naturally depended on others to do things for her throughout her years. Then, in my early childhood days, I looked out for Mama. I did everything I knew to do to protect her. Most of the time, my help was unwarranted. She sought and relied on her significant others to fulfill that need.

Co-dependency can be a vicious circle. If left untreated, it can fester like a chronic wound in a relationship. This is especially true in a relationship that refuses to heal. Both individuals struggle with low self-worth. They have difficulty setting boundaries, and the relationship involves control and manipulation.

dysfunctional-Glue

Here are some examples of what it means to be co-dependent:

• The need to be needed
• People pleasing
• Trying to control others (aggressively or passively)
• Focusing on helping others before working on your own issues
• Being consumed with other people’s problems
• Rescuing
• Self-doubt
• Unclear boundaries in friendships and relationships
• The tendency to date (or marry) alcoholics or addicts
• Perfectionism
• Workaholism (or always being busy)
• Exhaustion

Let’s break the cycle!

Your turn. What does co-dependency mean to you?

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August 23, 2025 · 5:27 AM

Life. Time. Aging.

As I approach another birthday, I reflect on the fleeting nature of life. I consider the urgency of time and the grace of aging. Through scripture, memories, and personal growth, I’m reminded that our best days may still lie ahead.

LIFE:

~ has many twists and turns. It is fleeting and fragile. In an instant, it can be gone! We don’t know what tomorrow holds.

  • Hurricanes
  • Flooding
  • Earthquakes
  • Riots/Shootings
  • Tragedies
  • Sickness

Are we seizing the day?

So many times, I feel aimless, inadequate, and inept.  Yet, I know I have a purpose and a calling. Think about what your own Desires, Goals, and Plans are. 

We can all ask ourselves: What is my purpose? What is my destiny in life? Are they obtainable, worthy, and healthy? Are they Your plans, Lord?

God gave us the gift of LIFE; it is up to us to give ourselves the gift of giving.

To succeed in LIFE, you need three things: a wishbone, a backbone, and a funny bone.

Now the Bible says:  But do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.

Matt 6:24 “So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

TIME:

~ In my younger years, I felt invincible – TIME was my friend.

Now TIME feels like a constant reminder that it’s running out! In the wink of an eye, it can be taken away. Looking back, I regretted those times when I foolishly vacillated from doing what I knew was right. Next thing I knew, it was too late to:

  • Undo a wrong; never got the chance to say I’m sorry
  • Undo a hurt; left with regrets
  • Tell someone that I love and appreciate them

My husband says: It’s never too early, it’s always too late.

Don’t you wish you had forgiven quickly? Made peace with another sooner? Loved harder?  I. Sure. Do.

We must use TIME as a tool, not as a crutch.

Know the true value of TIME; snatch, seize, and enjoy every moment of it. No idleness, no laziness, no procrastination: never put off till tomorrow what you can do today.     

AGING:

~ As a senior myself now, I can’t help but reflect on the aging process …

I muse about my earlier years in having to grow up so fast. I wasn’t given a choice. Then, in my teens and young adulthood, I struggled in a painful, unrequited marriage, raising four children.

Next thing I knew, my twenties were gone, and my 15-year marriage was deteriorating. Separated and divorced in my thirties, I felt like a failure. But you know what? The world did not end. Thank God for new beginnings! By my mid-thirties, I found true love and remarried; Mark and I are presently in our 31st year.

In my early forties, the season changed again, and I welcomed the joys of grand parenting. They’ve brought such delight to my heart and kept me on the go!

In my fifties, I experienced the notorious body aches and pains. During this time, we cared for a dear little centenarian around the clock. She taught me about living one day at a time: in having a 90% attitude and 10% circumstance.

In my sixties, like a leaf in the wind, I had to let go. I sadly said so long to my mama. You never feel ready. You can’t help but think about the “should’ve,” “could’ve,” and “would’ve! And wouldn’t you know, within three months after that, I embraced the wonders of great-grand parenting. And she is GREAT.

As I reflect on this aging process, I realize I still don’t have all the answers. However, I believe I’ve learned a thing or two about what life has dealt me. Someone said, “Accept what is, let go of what was, and have faith in what will be.”

The body has a way of reminding me about “aging” whenever I throw my back out or pop my knee. And yes, that dreaded mirror cannot tell a lie. I’ll notice a line here and another wrinkle there. I gaze upon certain areas of my physique and wonder: How can this be? Who are you? What in the world is that? Where did “it” go? Why is this happening? And when did that change?

I’m especially saddened when I think about loved ones as they became frail and aged …

  • A dear aunt from New York prayed and believed in my writing project from the start. She had prayed that it would come to fruition. Sadly, she became ill and never got the chance to read my memoir after it was published.
  • I could go to my grandparents about anything. They were my backbone. They loved me unconditionally. How I miss them!
  • After observing Mama’s lack of mobility, she came to live with us. After about 5 years, she needed surgery, becoming bedridden afterwards. Then, a few months later, she sadly passed.
  • Daddy, who lives in Florida, recently turned 92. I feel I don’t get to see him enough. He is in the beginning stages of dementia. I pray he never forgets me.

Truthfully, some of my dreams have reached their expiration date. Realistically, I can’t go back there. However, this passage speaks to me and tells me to make each day count: Psalms 90:12 So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom

I heard someone share about his fears. He felt his best days were behind him. He feared he had not achieved what he set out to do. He worried about being a middle-aged person, wondering if he added up to anything.

So naturally, I be thinking: What legacy will I leave behind when I’m finished with this race? What I do today, will it count for something worthwhile tomorrow? When I am long gone, will I merely be a faded memory, or will I burn in someone’s heart? Will my deeds be forgotten? Buried? Or lost?

We must remember to live in the present,

not in the yesteryears or in the tomorrow.

We must laugh often, love deeply, pray sincerely,

and believe that our best days are before us.

Yesterday’s the past, tomorrow’s the future, but today is a gift. That’s why it’s called the present. Do not regret growing older; it is a privilege denied by many.

Let’s live our lives with integrity and purpose. This life can beat us down with trials, sorrows, and debilitating worries. When it seems hopeless, let God’s messages about our future for the believer bring hope, which can deeply encourage us.

 1 Corinthians 2:9 

“Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”

Our heart’s desire is to hear the Lord say one day: “Well done, good and faithful servant; you were faithful over a few things, I will make you ruler over many things. Enter into the joy of your Lord.”

And one more thing: Know that God’s timing is perfect. He’s never early, and He’s never late!

As I continue this journey, I’m working to bring my memoir to life in Spanish. I aim to honor my heritage and reach hearts across cultures. If you feel led to support this vision, I invite you to visit the Translation Project and help make it a reality: 👉 👉 >>> GoFundMe <<<

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August 16, 2025 · 5:17 AM

“I No Spic Inglish!”

As a young girl, I knew I had the best Daddy in the world. Although my parents were divorced, he’d come for me throughout the years.

I loved it when he took me to the parks. My daddy may have been short, but he was a big kid at heart and loads of fun. He had a knack for mimicking different sounds. Children laughed whenever he cried out like Tarzan on the jungle gym. He wouldn’t hesitate to push me high on the swing. I squealed with delight when he ran in front and scrambled away right in time before I could kick him. He’d twirl me on the merry-go-round until we couldn’t go anymore and tumbled on the ground from exhaustion. Me from laughing hard; he from running in circles.

Daddy worked as the produce manager in a huge grocery chain store. He was a hard worker and a model employee. A friendly and robust people person, he never grew tired of chatting with his customers and telling them jokes. His dark eyes twinkled with glee. The mirth in his thick Puerto Rican accent, mixed with his animated personality, charmed all.

Sometimes Daddy caused havoc, but always in fun. He often mimicked the sound of a kitten near the produce stand at work to see the children’s reactions. Once, an elderly woman hunted everywhere for the pobrecito. Then another time, while whistling like a bird, he had customers looking up for one. He even imitated a newborn’s cry.

“Excuse me, sir, but don’t you hear a baby crying somewhere?” a worried customer asked.

“A baby? No, no,” he answered. “No baby over here.” Daddy chuckled as he related to me how he watched the mystified customer walk away, shaking her head.

Daddy told me another story about a little boy in a shopping cart. The boy kept staring at him the whole time. His mother was across the aisle, weighing her vegetables.

“I smiled at da boy and asket his name, but he dun say noteen,” Daddy explained. “He just keep lookin’ and lookin’ at me, like I’m ugly or somethin’.”

“Then what did you do?” I asked and chuckled.

“I dun do noteen . . .” Daddy’s eyes twinkled.

“Go on,” I persisted, knowing of his pranks.

“I just smiled big and stuck out my bottom dentures at da boy.”

“No, Daddy, you didn’t!” I laughed, remembering him doing that very thing before, enough to startle anyone.

“Yeah, but then da boy started cryin’, so I got outta there fast,” Daddy said guiltily. “I dunno where I get these jokes. You got a funny papi, eh?”

“Yeah.” I giggled. “Muy loco, all right. Tell me the story about the goat sucker in Puerto Rico,” I said, wiping my eyes.

“¡Oh, si!” Daddy exclaimed, slapping his thigh. “¡El Chupacabra! Dis thin’ dat went round to all the animales suckin’ their blood dry.”

“Yep, that’s the one,” I said.

“Man, da people get so scared and say it’s some kind of diablo. They say, ‘sierra la puerta’, close your door, El Chupacabra is goin’ to suck your blood!”

“Ya ever see one, Daddy?”

“No, no, I never see dat thin’ in my life.” He chuckled and added, “I dunno if I believe it.”

“Well, it’s sure an awful, scary story.” I shuddered at the possibilities.

Yes, my daddy has always been a natural-born storyteller. I could sit and listen to him for hours. “Tell me again about the first time you left Puerto Rico on the plane.”

“When I left my hometown Utuado in 1952?” His eyes flickered miles away, as he mused. “Flyin’ in dat two-engine airplane made me so scared. I needed to go to el baño so bad. The stewardess want to tell me somteen. Pues, I dunno what she say; I dunno any Inglish then. She talk louder but I dun understand; I just wanna go. I try to make her understand me, so I jell to her, ‘I no spic inglish! I no spic inglish!’” 

As I listened to his broken English, I laughed until my sides ached and my eyes watered.

Papi
My Papi, Benjamin Pérez

“Daddy, you didn’t know how to speak English when you were nineteen?”

“No hija, I didn’. Later, my cousin in New York explained to me that da stewardess just wanted me to put my seatbelt on. Ay bendito nene,” Daddy laughed. “I didn’ understand noteen.”

“Hey Papi,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Ya know what?”

“¿Que mi vida?”

“Ya still have an accent.”

“Ju tellin’ me, man.” He laughed.

This is a story about my father (who recently turned 92 years old). His character is one part of the tapestry of Running in Heels: a Memoir of Grit and Grace. Now, I’m translating the memoir into Spanish to honor my Puerto Rican roots and reach hearts that need this story. I can’t do it without you! Help me bring grit and grace to new readers.
👉 Support the Translation Project >>> GoFundMe <<<

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August 8, 2025 · 8:41 AM

Damn the Torpedoes! Full Speed Ahead!

Have you ever been excited about something and had somebody you love and admire shoot it down? Let me tell you, it stings. It bites. It deflates you, doesn’t it? Yeah, but don’t allow anyone to steal your dream!

They may have meant well, but they couldn’t see what you envisioned. They didn’t grasp your concept or idea. Then what? Your resolve wavers, and your hard work and steadfastness quake.

So what do you do? Do you throw in the towel and just give up? No, for crying out loud! Perseverance is a virtue. Where’s your stick-to-it-iveness? You have it. Haven’t you burned the midnight oil long enough to come this far? Okay, so maybe they didn’t get it. Time to regroup; dig a little deeper. Re-examine your goal and ask yourself what it is that you feel. What is the message that you’re trying to convey?

I tend to say a prayer. I ask God to continue guiding me. I want to express the message closest to my heart and share it with others. Listen, I’ve come too far to give up! And so have you! Sure, it may be a little scary, but so what? Acronym of FEAR: Face Everything and  Run, or Face Everything and Rise. I chose the latter.

I know this is not always the case. At times, it does a body good to cry and let out emotions. Yes, I, too, have meltdowns on occasion. But if you can stick to your goal, do all you know to do with unmatched determination. When oppositions come (and they usually will), you won’t easily break. Time to reflect is all. Plant where you’re rooted. Bend like a palm tree, change directions if you must. If you feel you are to do a thing, whether people get you or not, stay the course. Don’t let others defeat you with their words or the looks on their faces! What am I saying? Face your giant! (But don’t forget your slingshot.)

BE encouraged.

“Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!”

“Count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.” ~ James 1:2-4 KJV

How determined are you?

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Support the Translation Project >>> GoFundMe <<<

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August 2, 2025 · 5:42 PM

Translating Hope

Hola family, friends, and fellow bloggers! I wanted to share the latest news with you! I’ve been dedicating my time to translating my memoir into Spanish. It has been one of the most challenging and tedious tasks I’ve faced. I could not have done it without relying on the help of others, thus the slow process. Initially, I sought professional translators, but their prices were sky-high, far beyond my means. That was my reality check. I then turned to family and friends. Although they initially agreed to help, their busy schedules made it difficult to commit.

Then, unexpectedly, my son’s new girlfriend took an interest in my story and dove right into the translation. The tedious work began. However, after about a year, life took another turn — their relationship ended, and the translation remained unfinished.

Finally, knowing my story, a kindhearted translator from Puerto Rico reached out to me. We began working together and committed to finishing the task. A year and a half later, the translation was completed! Now, I’m in the final stage — professional proofreading.

Revisiting the sentences, paragraphs, chapters, and dialogue throughout the pages of my memoir, the written words became alive again. I found myself feeling and reliving almost every word. Tears rolled down my face. You see, it reminded me—I’ve survived so much! Indeed, God has been good to me, a constant steadfastness in my unstable life. He is the God of miracles.

“¡Contéstame!”  Me pegó con la parte de atrás de la mano. Vi las estrellas.

“Answer me!” He backhanded me. I saw stars.

The above quote is just a tiny glimpse of what once was. My wish now is to share my story with the Latino community. That others might learn hope and know about the God of second chances and new beginnings. If God can do it for me, He can certainly do it for anyone!

Yet, the journey isn’t over. Writing my memoir was only the first hurdle. Along came the translation into Spanish. Then came the editing and proofreading. Lastly, the final publishing will bring it to life in another language. But it all comes with many challenges. And funds. This is why my daughter is launching a GoFundMe campaign for this project. If you believe in the power of storytelling, resilience, and second chances, come join us in this final stage. This project is not just about printing pages. This is about bringing hope and reaching those who may feel hopeless and alone in their personal struggles.

With another birthday soon approaching, I invite you to walk alongside me. If you have read my memoir, and my story resonated with you, then you also believe in the God of impossible situations. Every bit of support brings me one step closer to achieving my goal—sharing this memoir with the Latino community. ¡Wepa!

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July 25, 2025 · 7:38 AM

Weekend Celebration

Happy birthday blessings to the birthday boy – my favorite partner in crime!

You are the bolt to my nut.

You are the spark to my plug.

You are the key to my starter.

You are the piston to my cylinder.

You are the comic to my relief.

You are the key to my life!

Cheers to another year around the sun! I love you!

💞

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July 12, 2025 · 6:28 AM

Damaged Goods

Definition of damaged goods: inadequate or impaired. Products that are broken, cracked, scratched, etc.: a person considered no longer desirable or valuable because of something that has happened. This is a person whose reputation is damaged.

Are you damaged goods? Feel like you’re not worthy?

You don’t have to remain that way, regardless of your past, or present.

Was that ever me?

You betcha!

Read on …

Hollow. Pure loneliness. Dark, like a bottomless pit. Ripping in my chest. Piercing my heart. Again, he stays out all night. Overcome by torment. Abandonment accompanies me. Consumed with depression, isolation wraps itself around me. My mind races with wild imaginations of where he has gone, what he is doing, and with whom.

Instead of going to bed to sleep, I am wearing a hole in the couch. Every time a car approaches, I spring like a jack-in-the-box, peeking out the window, hoping he has returned. With every disappointment, my stomach turns into knots. My own sobs mock me until I cry myself to semi-consciousness. Hideous lies will follow after he returns and add to my anguish and emotional decline. 

Broken. Flawed. Undone.

That was me back then, dealing with my former (cheating) husband. His words, like rubbing alcohol pouring over fresh wounds, stung! No band-aids healed my emotional pain. No quick fixes. Deeper and deeper I sank into a dark abyss, crushed beyond repair. For several years, that was my pathetic frame of mind. I know now it didn’t have to be that way. So, what was the deal?

I had an overload of abuse: physical, verbal, and emotional. I had low self-esteem and zero self-worth. I believed and accepted a lie about me and my situation. I figured since this was my lot in life, might as well make the best of it. I had witnessed my mom go through a cycle of abuse, but I was obviously blind to my own. I made him mad again … Maybe I deserved it … Talk about co-dependency!

How do you perceive yourself? Have you ever been lied to, beaten down, and trodden upon? Feel like you’ll never come up for air? Are you tired of stumbling around in blindness, things so bleak you can’t even see your own self-worth? Drowning in sorrow, buried in self-pity? Or maybe you feel you’re at the point of no return in trying to please someone else. You compromise your values, your mental state, your resources, and your health!

Stop allowing someone’s negativity or ill-treatment to rob you of your joy and develop a callous heart. Realize you are worthy. You are valued and matter. There’s nothing wrong with being fragile … but let it be like beautiful, fine china. Just know you are not damaged goods, a throwaway, or a faded memory. Don’t be someone’s victim because you listened to their lies and empty promises. I’m living proof that God doesn’t discard what He’s determined to restore.

Get up! Rediscover yourself. Feel your wrist. What is that? A pulse? Then you have a purpose! Allow the Master’s hand to reach down and set you in high places. He’ll wipe the tears and dust the soot from off your heart. If God got me out of the pit, He can get you out, too. It takes a made-up mind. A determination that today is the best day of the rest of your life.

What’s in your hands? What’s in your heart? A dream? A gift? A precious child? You have something worth fighting for. Choose your battles.

 If you don’t know my pain, you’ll never understand my praise.

https://gofund.me/3f5e598b

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June 28, 2025 · 6:33 AM

How Misunderstanding Love Can Impact Relationships

Gary Chapman is a well-known author, counselor, and radio talk show host on human relationships. According to him, there are 5 Love Languages. Each love language describes how we receive love from others. They are:

Words of Affirmation – Saying supportive things to your partner

Acts of Service – Doing helpful things for your partner

Receiving Gifts – Giving your partner gifts that tell them you were thinking about them

Quality Time – Spending meaningful time with your partner

Physical Touch – Being close to and caressed by your partner

While reading “The 5 Love Languages” by Gary Chapman, he explains how the concept of love can be very confusing. We love activities, objects, animals, nature, and people. We even fall in love with love. He points out that we use love to explain behavior. “‘I did it because I love her,’ says a man who is involved in an adulterous relationship. God calls it sin, but he calls it love. The wife of an alcoholic picks up the pieces after her husband’s latest episode. The psychologist calls it co-dependency, but she calls it love. The parent indulges all the child’s wishes. The family therapist calls it irresponsible parenthood, but the parent calls it love.”

Now I’m not by any means of the imagination, a psychologist, a professor, a clergywoman, or a counselor. I am just an ordinary woman. I’m a wife, mother, daughter, sister, cousin, grandma, aunt, friend, neighbor, coworker, and recently a great-grandma. But, like many, I think we often speak the wrong love language. I definitely have.

In my youth, I did some stupid things out of “love” for a guy. And because I loved him, I thought, surely he will come to my way of thinking. He would love me in return, enough to change his behavior and better himself. After all, hadn’t I bent over backward for him? Worshiped the ground he walked on? Become his doormat? In order to gain his undivided attention, I forgot who I was.

In my teens, I covered my former husband’s transgressions. I hid his secret, sin, and shame. My way of thinking was: This is why I exist, right? It’s my job, isn’t it? His wish was my command. Barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen – if only I knew how to cook then! My smile hid the pain in my heart, and makeup hid the bruises on my face. I hid the grocery money and emptied the liquor bottles, refilling half with water, hoping he’d never notice. I’d called his boss to say he was sick in bed after another blackout episode. I told myself: I protect my interests. I do it all in the name of “love.”

I was tired. Burned out. But because I loved my children, I eventually allowed them the freedom of choice. They started listening to the “hip” music their friends were listening to and watching certain types of movies. Oh, sure, I just knew they were old enough and wise enough not to repeat negative behaviors. And yes, I was inconsistent, worn-out, and haggard. I even practiced tough love. I attended church activities and adhered to rules and schedules. Then I lost the victory in my own personal life. I tossed responsibility to the wind. I got lazy. It became every person for himself. I started doing my own thing. I felt defeated. Cold-hearted. Bitter. I had lost the battle as a wife. For a moment, I forgot there was still a war to fight. That war was called MOTHERHOOD.

That was many moons ago. I have moved on—my children are adults, and I am in my second marriage, 31 years now. I continue to strive to communicate this language in a healthy manner. It is far from perfect, but I continue to improve. I aim for a method that allows me to love, if even from a distance, without being overly legalistic.

These are my rambling thoughts as I reflect on Gary Chapman’s perspective on the language of love.

What are your thoughts?

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June 21, 2025 · 8:37 AM

Finding Strength in Joy Amid Life’s Trials

What exactly is joy?

I’ve heard it said, “The world didn’t give it to you and the world can’t take it away.”

Joy: a feeling of great pleasure and happiness. At least that’s what I read online. Sounds good to me, but I know from experience that pleasure and happiness don’t last. Let’s face it, most of us look to others to please us. We often look to others to make us happy. We also look for things to bring us pleasure and happiness. But if we’re honest, that in itself is fleeting, isn’t it? Before you know it, we’re needing another fix!

So, how is “joy” different?

The Bible teaches that the joy of the Lord is our strength. (Nehemiah 8:10b); I love that! But can one experience joy while going through everyday life with its many toils, twists, and turns? To be honest, during times of trauma, the thought of joy escapes me. I mean, I’m not necessarily thinking about joy during these times. Matter of fact, I may even kick and scream (inwardly), and even have actual meltdown periods, or panic attacks.

When I read my Bible, I am reminded that the joy of the Lord is my strength. This is what it means to me: it’s a joy unspeakable and full of glory!

I may not be able to explain it, put my finger on it, or even see it. But I know it’s there – I know it in my knower. (Bear with me, please, I’m fully aware this isn’t “correct” English.) But I just know that I know. It’s not an “in your face” kind of thing. It’s not necessarily giddiness. It’s not even a denial of difficulties. For me, it’s a reassurance that everything will be all right. I may not understand some things, even while having a breakdown, feeling sad, or grieving.

The pain is real. The battle is real. But so is the joy real. This joy is indescribable. Come hell or high water, I feel safe and secure in my Heavenly Father’s arms. It feels just like when I was a child in my earthly daddy’s arms. Even in the midst of pain and sorrow, here is where there’s strength and comfort. This joy floods the heart; it brings inner peace and strength, even though everything else around may be chaotic.

I didn’t always know this or believe this. But through my experiences, I’ve learned a few things. Learn to be still. Quiet. Wait on God’s perfect timing. Life happens. Happiness is fleeting. Pleasure is temporary. But the joy of the Lord remains constant regardless of circumstances and situations.

Joy is the best makeup – Anne Lamott

Excuse me while I put on some makeup.

Have you experienced this joy?

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