JOYN INDIA: Using Fashion to Create Better Lives


What is JOYN?

JOYN takes artisans living in poverty and crashes them together with the thriving fashion world. Each step of our process is done by hand, creating more jobs — creating more joy and connecting more artisans with YOU.

The Story: 

JOYN was birthed in the hearts of Melody and David Murray over 13 years ago. (Read Melody’s recent ‘Mother of Pearl’ post for more about her.) Since they met in 1998, they both had a growing passion to live and work among individuals living in poverty. After spending a summer working in an orphanage in Uganda in 1999, the Murrays’ dreams became more clear. The orphans had a home, had food, had clothing, but they had no future. They lacked hope. They lacked purpose. They lacked opportunity. After that experience, the Murrays set out to find sustainable solutions to the needs of those living in the majority world. They spent 10 years obtaining degrees, certifications and experience in order to go back to those in poverty with real solutions.

In June 2010, an opportunity arose to work with a small needy community in the Himalayas, so David and Melody and their 2 young boys packed their bags and moved to Rajpur, North India. David has followed his dreams of creating sustainable livelihood and being an agent of change in the lives of young men(www.dehradunguitars.com). Mel has grown JOYN, fulfilling her passion to connect artisans with western markets. They now have a diverse and growing team of Americans, Australians, Indians, Tibetans and Nepalis working together to create a community that strives to take care of each other and bring opportunity to as many as they can.

How YOU can help spread the story:

Homeshows – Throw a JOYN party in your home. If you are interested please get in touch with us.
Internships – JOYN is always looking to add the write individuals to our team. Again, if you are seriously interested in what JOYN is doing and have skills to add to our efforts, please get in touch with us.
Campus Reps – Would you be willing to represent JOYN on your high school or college campus? We’d love to tell you more.
Follow our Blog – Stay near to our story as we grow and learn of other opportunities to get involved here.
JOYNers – We currently have a team of JOYN reps throughout the US that share our story with local Retail partners. We are always looking to expand.

If you are interested in any of the above, please contact JOYN

Find out more about JOYN on their website and shop online

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Redeeming Pizza

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We had a rough day yesterday. With the end of the school year rapidly nearing, deadlines pile up, for students and teachers alike. There are tests to take, grades to give, meetings to attend, summers to plan and, in short, too much to get done in any given day. So this is the time of year when fuses and short and patience levels low. After a day of battling with my class more than usual, bothered by the behaviour difficulties I’ve been blessed to not struggle with up to this point, I came to the end of the day wondering what good had come of it. And what bothered me most was that I felt I had failed my students, reacting poorly and responding impatiently in ways that only worsened matters.

In the closing moments of the day, I began my usual winding down activity, in which I write my catch phrase on the board and have the students think about it, then come up and add their own reactions. Instead of my usually cheery alliteration, however, I wrote that it was “Making-Up Monday.” I explained that we all had work to do, and that I wanted them to think about people they may need to “make up” with. I, in turn, wanted to make up with them. I apologized for being impatient with them. And I added that I would like to promise that I would never again lose my temper . . . but that I knew I couldn’t truthfully promise such a thing. Instead, I wanted them to know that I would try to do a better job in the future or reacting well.

Then along came a Tuesday. It was a better day, in many ways, but still a bit of a rough road. I still was not as patient as I had hoped to be. But at least today we had some of our usual bright, goofy moments in the midst of it. So at the end of the day I announced that it was a “Tuesday Tries” day. I then asked them what, knowing their proper grammar, was wrong with what I had written. One of them noticed that “tries” should have been a plural “trys” and not the verb. I said that he was right, but that I had actually intended to write it in that “incorrect” way. See, instead of meaning that it was the noun form of the word “try,” I had in my mind that, as a whole, Tuesday was trying. Trying to be a better day. The students had been trying to listen better. I had been trying to be more patient. We had work to do yet, but we were trying. As they came up to add their thoughts to the whiteboard, I announced that we had one more activity to go in the day.

During math that morning, the hands on activity for our fractions lesson had been a set of puzzle-like pizza pieces, each labeled with the fraction represented, and each with a different realistic pizza variety design. They had been clearly enamored with the set, excited about the types of pizza and eagerly talking about which was their favorite. We had not had time for each of them to play with the pieces that morning, though—only enough for me to use them as demonstrations in front of the whole class.

Now, as our closing activity, I told them they could each come to the back table and make their own pizza: whatever they felt like, in the mood they were in. As I watched them create, and I gave each one a name: “Ah, Celine, I see that you are ‘pepper-shroom-oliv-eroni’ today” and similar affirmations, I realized that I had just stumbled into an oddly meaningful activity. Somehow, in letting their creative juices run free, in such a mundane way, the students were able to wind down from the day in a redeeming, and affirming way. And no less than these youngsters, I was uplifted and encouraged by the moment.

How to Dissolve a Worrywart

IMG_5473Have you ever been secretly scared that if you stop worrying, the very thing you’re afraid might happen most definitely will? That somehow the energy generated from your fretting is the force field keeping the dreaded outcome at bay, and if you lower the force field for even one minute . . . Blam. Annihilation. Devastation. The end of the world as you know it.

If you’re like me and the majority of women, I’ll bet you’re picking up exactly what I’m putting down right now.

Yep, worry makes the average woman’s world go round. We’ve watched our mothers and grandmothers worry themselves into a tizzy, and we’ve learned to do the very same. Fretting and stewing and fussing seem perfectly normal because we’re so used to it. We’ve fooled ourselves into thinking we’re doing the responsible thing by agonizing over our dilemmas. Worry is a type of fear that loves to masquerade as responsibility. By dwelling on our troubles, we think we’ll somehow become enlightened with magical answers that will change inevitable outcomes.

Is there any other way to intimately care about our family and friends besides obsessing over their problems?

Well, actually there is. “Don’t worry about anything. Instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done,” Phil. 4:6 (NLT).

Check out these simple-to-implement solutions for dissolving worrywarts:

  • Postpone worry. Set aside 15 minutes a day as your Designated Worry Time (DWT). Then, whenever a niggling fret tries to worm into your brain during the day or night, jot it down. Then forget about it until your DWT.
  • Morph worry into prayer. Fretting is not productive. Prayer is. Prayer is the nerve that innervates the hand of God. When you do get to your DWT, turn each problem into a prayer request and turn it over to the One who can actually do something about it.
  • Become a busybody. When you realize you’re beginning to worry about something, redirect your thoughts by giving your brain – and body – something else to do. Action defuses anxiety. Get your hands busy and your mind will follow.
  • Go to your happy place. Another gem for worry-redirection, especially late at night when your whirling mind won’t let you relax. Imagine that you’re in the special place that brings you calmness and happiness . . . maybe the warm surf of a favorite beach, or a lovely mountain trail. Ahh. Feel the anxiety melt away.
  • Rest in the Word. Another great worry-buster for restless nights when you’re more uptight than a twisted thong. Reflecting on a favorite scripture brings peace to your soul. Say it aloud then let it roll through your mind over and over until you can think of nothing else.
  • Perform emotional triage. Sort your nagging concerns into two piles: those with outcomes over which you have no control, and those that are potentially solvable. Give the first pile to the Lord, turn your back on it, and focus on the solvable problems. Once you come up with an action plan and begin seeing results, your worry will diminish.

You know, worry is the result of putting our faith in the wrong place – in ourselves (instead of Papa God) to figure it all out, maintain control, and provide protection from what might harm us.

We don’t have to be worrywarts. Our loving Father really will take care of us if we just let go of our worries and trust Him. Things may not always turn out the way we want, but they’ll always turn out the way He wants.

More about defeating fear in Debora’s new book, Fear, Faith, and a Fistful of Chocolate (Barbour Books). Excerpts, reviews, and more at www.DeboraCoty.com

What the Water Heater Taught Me About Love

Light the pilot.

The water runs stone cold from the faucet. My daughter can’t fill the bathtub. I can’t do the dishes. (A disappointment for one—a cause of celebration for the other.)

Matt says, I bet the pilot light is out.

He’s lying down on the cement by the hot water heater. Yup. The pilot’s out.

He tells me to go try turning on the gas stove.

It works! I yell, and he says the gas supply isn’t the problem, then.

So I bring the matches, and he follows the steps to light the pilot. Soon we hear the crackling sound of water heating.

I ask why the hot water heater would be working fine for months and then all of a sudden the pilot light would go out. He tells me sometimes there’s a strong backdraft of air that puts it out.

Sometimes we’re going along in marriage just fine, and then that man of our says something that hits in a tender spot, or he’s been too busy to listen, or financial stress causes a blow-up disagreement . . .

Backdraft.

Lighting the fire again requires getting down on the knees and asking God to strike a match to my heart. There’s nothing wrong with the source of love. I just need the flame. I can’t maintain the heat of love by myself.

“We know and rely on the love God has for us.  God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.”  (1 John 4:16)

We rely on the love of God to keep the heat in our marriage.

Has your love toward your husband grown stone cold? Has some backdraft of annoyance or hurtful words or failure to keep a promise swept in and put out the flame?

Get down low on your knees and check the pilot light.

Time Began in a Garden

Then God said, “Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds.” And it was so. The land produced vegetation: plants bearing seed according to their kinds and trees bearing fruit with seed in it according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good (Genesis 2:11-12).

Spring is here! Watching the brown of winter suddenly turn pastel fills me a longing to be outside. The pale green of tree buds and the many hues of blossoms take my breath away. Watching tulips and hyacinth burst forth from the dormant garden spurs me on to begin planning my own garden. It’s especially poignant this year with the late spring in Minnesota, with snow banks still melting!

IMG_0312I have a small kitchen garden with raised beds on the south side of the house. Each spring I carefully plan what herbs, vegetables, and flowers will be planted. Many are old standbys, green beans, peas, carrots, and tomatoes. Each year I choose a few new varieties of seeds and plants. The problems of the world melt away when I’m digging in the dirt, watering plants, and harvesting vegetables.

My boys used to spend a lot of time with me in the garden. They each had their own raised bed to grow whatever they chose. Their excitement was contagious as tiny seeds would send up shoots, grow flowers, and then fruit. Our time in the garden was sweet. As teenagers, they still help me but are much more interested in the final product on the table! The best thing grown in the garden has been the memories, washing little muddy hands, eating tomatoes warmed by the sun, picking sweet strawberries.

The old adage, “Time began in a garden” is perhaps why so many of us, young and old alike, are drawn to gardens. Part of us longs for the perfection of God’s creation prior to the Fall. I wonder too, if many of us are not gardening enthusiasts because this was the first ever job description for humans. Adam was placed in the Garden of Eden to tend it. (Genesis 2:8,15)

I cannot wait to spend time in my little garden, planting, pruning, and even weeding. Do you like to dig in the dirt? If so, what will you be planting this spring and what memories would you like to make?

The Gift of Prayer

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http://www.freedigitalphotos.net

This Mother’s Day marks the one year anniversary of my breast cancer diagnosis or as I call it “my unexpected lump in the road”. With my surgery and radiation treatments behind me, I am so grateful to leave the past behind me and embrace each day ahead. Thank you for your prayers during this time. God heard and healed.

What a delightful blessing to continue to see how God is growing the community of Pearl Girls to connect us in our grit and encourage us with His grace. Thank you for being a special part of this community. As you know, all the proceeds from the Pearl Girls books go in full to help fund a safe house in the Chicago suburbs for Wings www.wingsprogram.com and to build wells for school children in Africa through Hands of Hope www.handsofhopeonline.org

As many of you celebrate Mother’s Day, I want to encourage you. Even though some days feel impossible, God will give you the strength to parent. As you rush from one place to another, remember to take the time to pray. Prayer is one of the most effective ways to parent. My mother was such an inspirational prayer warrior. Engraved on her tombstone is “Pray without ceasing” 1 Thessalonians 5:17. In my latest book Aftermath: Growing in Grace through Grief, I write about the amazing ways in which God ultimately answered my mother’s prayers for my brother Randy who struggled for decades with addiction.

This Mother’s Day, I encourage everyone to give the gift of prayer! Take a moment to thank God for the blessings in life and ask him to guide you. Also pray for others — that is called intercessory prayer. My mother describes this so beautifully in one of her poems:

The Invisible Seesaw

I felt someone prayed for me,
For there came an inner awareness
That someone cared enough to send through God
Remembrance of my heavy burden and special need of Him.
It was as if God’s mercy
Transformed that prayer into an invisible seesaw
Which lifted me while the weight of my burden
Rested briefly on the other end.
And with the lightened load, my tenseness thawed in the warm therapy of love and care
And new strength came now that I was more relaxed and trusting.
I knew that somewhere someone had prayed for me.*

Today you can make a difference in your life and in someone else ‘s life by just praying. What a wonderful gift to give. Share a prayer!

How has God answered prayers in your life?

*Carolyn Rhea, My Heart Kneels Too (New York:Grosset & Dunlap, 1965), 86. (Reverted rights to Carolyn Rhea)

Sometimes I Don’t Get Mothers

Photo credit: John&Fish / Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND

Sometimes I don’t get mothers. And yes, that includes me too. We are a complex bunch and sometimes we confuse me.

My oldest is graduating high school on May 30th. I’m so proud of her. She’ll be commuting for her first year. Part of me wants to drive her there everyday. I mean that way I can make sure she’s not late and quiz her about being ready for class and if she has a test and if she studied for it. Plus I’ve been driving longer and won’t take risks she might with driving so she’s more likely to get there in one piece. Less worrying for me.

But that’s illogical for several reasons. First, I despise being the chauffeur. I am looking forward to not having to drive her places all the time. I can get some time back in my schedule. Second, she’ll be in college. If she was going away this year I’d not be escorting her to class. Why should that change just because she’ll still be living just down the hall? And an accident can happen whether I’m driving or she’s driving. Aren’t I supposed to entrust her into Gods hands? She does belong to Him after all.

My youngest got herself a job. When she gets her paycheck, it’s hers. She has her own ideas about what she wants to do with it. Well, there are some parental limitations, but for the most part, she makes the decisions about her money. Part of me wants to write down what should be done with the money and demand she follow that plan. After all, I’m older and wiser. I’ve already made many money mistakes and I can help her avoid doing that same.

This too is illogical. First, I can write down whatever plan I want but at the end of the day she worked for the money. I’ve got some influence but I don’t think it’s okay for me to just run roughshod over her about her hard-earned money. And even though I’ve made some mistakes, that doesn’t mean she’ll make the same ones. Or any for that matter. Anyway, one of the best way to learn is from mistakes.

I wonder if momma birds struggle with wanting an empty nest but not wanting to see the babies leave? Because it is this precise thing that makes me not get mothers sometimes! As a mom I want to still protect and shield my girls. I’ve talked to other moms who feel the same way. We want them to grow up and be wonderful people but we also want to keep them with us, “safe and sound”. But isn’t one of the purposes in parenting to raise young adults who can think through a situation, weigh options and consequences and then make a choice? Shouldn’t one of our goals be to raise young adults who can be responsible, intelligent and independent. Aren’t I, aren’t we, like the momma birds whose job is to nurture their baby birds and then teach them to fly, leave her nest and then have faith they’ll succeed at making their own?

As I watch my teenage girls begin to spread their wings to fly, I hope I can focus on being thankful they actually paid attention to some of their flight lessons. I hope I see them applying those lessons and beginning to soar. As much as the fear of not knowing exactly what their future holds scares me, I just refuse to let it drive me to holding on too tight and too long. After all, they can’t be independent if they’re never allowed to test their wings. I have adopted following verse to help me through this season in motherhood. Feel free to do the same. “Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.” (Proverbs 22:6 NIV)

Grateful Life Doesn’t Always Go as Planned | Deborah Raney

Untitled1Oh, how grateful I am that life doesn’t always go as I planned it. I’m a very creative person, but I could never have come up with the things God has brought about in my life. Never. God’s plans are always infinitely better than my own.

For starters, I wanted twelve kids. What was I thinking? God gave us three, and most days, three seemed like 12. Then when those three were 14, 10 and 8, God gave us a baby. We call her our “oops baby” but we know better. There’s nothing “oopsy” about her. And she’s been the joy of our lives—as have her sister and brothers.

The biggest plan of mine that God thwarted was my plan that my sweet husband would work at his job until a ripe, ripe old age and that we would always have his nice salary and a decent savings account to rely on. Just over four years ago—just as that oops baby was headed to college—my husband came home from work at ten o’clock one morning (never a good thing) and informed me that he’d been laid off from his job after 25 faithful years with the company. Ken took me in his arms and said, “God’s been taking care of us for 35 years of marriage. . .there’s no reason to think He’s going to stop now.” I believed that. What I didn’t believe was that my husband would have the audacity to tell me he didn’t plan to look for another job, but instead he thought God was leading him to create the job of his dreams by starting his own business. Was he crazy? And how come God didn’t tell ME?

We struggled mightily with this disagreement. Biggest struggle of our marriage in 35 years. Finally I decided I couldn’t fight my husband, let alone God and my husband in tandem. So I said, “whatever, Lord.” (And yes, I mean that snarky teenage version of “whatever.”) The story is too long to tell in a blog, but let me just skip over the part where I was a whiny, unsupportive brat of a wife, and tell you the ending. . .or the ending so far. Who knows what else God has up His sleeve!

Ken’s graphic design business, Clash Creative, has so much work he can barely keep up. We have managed to pay every bill on time and in full. In the meantime, because we both work from home now, and make our own hours, Ken is free to travel with me. He’s even started teaching workshops at several writers conferences, so we now go on 5 or 6 most-expenses-paid “vacations” every year and enjoy our time together immensely. Yes, they are working vacations, but still. . .

Just after Christmas last year, God’s plan unfolded with a move for us. We sold our home (in a bidding war!) and bought a house in the city that’s perfect for us—and closer to our kids and extended family; closer to the airport (and four minutes from Starbucks!) This farmer’s daughter small-town girl never would have planned to be a city girl. And yet, I love it!

But beyond those plans, God had some even better ones. That I would, through the angst of these life-changing events, come to trust in Him with a depth I never could have plumbed on my own. That Ken and I would have found a new intimacy in our marriage for having gone through these tough times. That I would have grown more sensitive to the needs of others who are walking where we’ve walked. That our story would serve as an encouragement to others. That I would learn to be content with far, far less—and even then, we live in luxury compared to most of the world.

I know my heart well enough to know that I’ll probably fail to trust God’s plans again, probably sooner than I even dream. But I’ve grown in Him so that even when I fail, I’ve learned to come running back to His arms far quicker than I used to. And His arms are a wonderful place to be.

DEBORAH RANEY’s first novel, A Vow to Cherish, inspired the World Wide Pictures film of the same title and launched her writing career after 20 happy years as a stay-at-home mom. Her books have won numerous awards including the RITA, National Readers Choice Award, HOLT Medallion, the Carol Award, and have twice been Christy Award finalists. Deb and her husband, Ken Raney, enjoy life in Kansas, but also love traveling together to teach at conferences, and to visit four children and four small grandchildren who all live much too far away. Visit Deb on the Web at www.deborahraney.comTwitter, Facebook, Blog

Who Is Your Ray of Light? | Shelley Shepard Gray

Years ago, long before I published my first novel, I went to the Romance Writers of America Conference. I didn’t know much about the publishing industry or about writing. All I knew was that I really wanted to be a published writer one day. I had scheduled some agent and editor appointments. I had circled all the workshops I planned to go to. But I was still there by myself, and didn‘t know anyone. So I volunteered to help at the workshop desk every day.

I didn’t know it at the time, but this was the absolutely right thing to do. I met other volunteers, kept busy with all kinds of tasks, and basically got to see how the conference was run-the workshop desk was right in the middle of it all. I also met everyone who stopped by and asked for help or directions.

For a long-time reader-want-to-be-writer, this was amazing. I met all kinds of famous authors as they stepped forward to get their packets for workshops they were presenting.

And then, on the fourth day, I met Mary Balogh. The Mary Balogh, aka, my favorite author. Mary is from Wales, lives in Canada, and has a very proper British accent. Years ago she wrote Signet Regency Romances, and I fell in love with the settings and stories she created. Since then I think I’ve bought every book she’s written. Anyway, Ms. Balogh stopped by the workshop desk to ask where the bathroom was. I took one look at her nametag and became star struck.
Instead of answering her question and letting her go on her way, I began to tell her about how much I loved her books. She looked delighted, said thank you, and handed me a bookmark.

That was my cue to leave her alone, right?

Oh, no. I proceeded to tell her how I’d combed used bookstores looking for her books that were out of print. I told her which of her books were my favorites, and then decided to tell her all about my favorite characters in those books. Because, well, why wouldn’t she want to hear about that?

Once again, she very sweetly thanked me, dug in her tote bag, and gave me a pen.
And still I gushed. By the time she finally left the workshop desk, I had a leather bookmark too…one that she signed right in front of me. I was grinning like a fool. Poor Ms. Balogh was probably making a mental note to Avoid Shelley At All Costs for the rest of the week!

I’ve saved those bookmarks all this time, just like I’ve cherished that memory. What’s funny is I probably remember more about that conference than the 10 or 12 conferences I’ve attended since. It was such an exciting and scary time for me. I had a hope and a dream and absolutely no idea if it was ever going to come true. All I knew was that I had to try.

I thought about that chance meeting with Mary (yes, in my mind we’re on a first name basis now) a lot when I was writing Ray of Light, the second book in my Days of Redemption series. In the novel, the characters realize that there are many rays of hope and promise in their lives. Some come from the Lord. Others? From family members…and yes, even the kindness of a stranger. Meeting Mary Balogh made a huge impression on me. She was thankful that I liked her books. She was patient while I took up her time. And most of all, she made me think that maybe-just maybe-one day I, too, could be a published author.

So, I guess my hope is that we each realize that a kind smile or a little bit of patience will always be remembered…and sometimes it might make all the difference in the world to someone. For whom are you a Ray of Light? Who has been a Ray of Light for you?

With my blessings to you.
Shelley Shepard Gray

Shelley Shepard Gray is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the “Sisters of the Heart”, “Seasons of Sugarcreek”, “Secrets of Crittenden County”, and Families of Honor series. She lives in southern Ohio, where she writes full-time, bakes too much, and can often be found walking her dachshunds on her town’s bike trail.

Get A Life!

image001I’m often tempted to say that!

• When things aren’t going my way I think, “Wow, if I could just get a life!”
• When frustrated, I sometimes say, “This is life?”
• As a young mom changing diapers I’d catch myself thinking, “This is not what I thought children were going to be all about. I wonder when I’ll get a life.”
• When our son wasn’t developing on schedule and we’d be doing the same therapy for the trillionth time, I’d sometimes say, “I just wish someday he’d get this, and get a life.”
• When others don’t get in line with our wishes we sometime say, “I wish they would get a life!”

I guess it’s true that the grass is greener in someone else’s yard, but do you ever feel stuck in yours?

It would be such fun to be able to pick up and take off – to the other side of town for dinner – without calling on someone to care for our 29 year old with special needs. It’s not an easy task to find someone to “fill that bill.” A teenage (boy or girl) would not be appropriate to watch our grown son. A “service” to bring a stranger to care for our son (who would not be able to tell us if anything went wrong), is not a comfortable option.

I’d love to be able to travel with my husband like we had dreamed when we were younger. But if a night out is hard to accomplish, a week is not much easier. And it would be such a treat to say “yes” to friends who are going to see a movie or go to a play – last minute!

Oh…If I could just “Get a LIFE!”

But, while the grass is often greener on the other side, I face the fact that life is different for us than for some of those around us and that we have choices to make. And for us (and you) choosing what we feel is right means choosing what we value. It’s that simple and it’s that complicated.

In our society we want to fix things so life is not interrupted or inconvenienced. If we could take a pill to make everything perfect, we would. Because no pill can cure us from challenges and struggles, we have to decide what we value because that’s how we’ll decide what we’ll do. For us the reality and choice was valuing and caring for our son, and the knowledge that doing so would last a lifetime-either his or ours!

So how does that look today? As a woman who now has grown children and one grandchild, I thought I’d have outgrown this saying, but sometimes I find myself seeing others in retirement doing what we’d hoped, and hear myself saying, “I wish I could get a life!” But on good days – and most of them are, I realize that all of us have times when things don’t go our way, and we all have to “grow up” and learn to go with the flow. I occasionally get frustrated, or feel sorry for myself, but see many of my friends do too – their frustrations are just a different flavor. And, we all look back on those mundane days of child rearing – doing the same thing over and over again with much fondness, and sometimes with a secret wish to return to or re-do a few of them!

I realize I do have a life. It’s one that includes caring for our son who has brought so much to our marriage, family, and life. It’s about being tethered to home more than we thought we would, but being able to look out over our beautiful wooded back yard and say, “I’m pretending to be on vacation today,” while reading a book and sipping my Café Vienna, or actually traveling somewhere but keeping in mind the pace will be very slow with Joey at our side. It’s about being thankful for a sweet handful of family and friends who stand in the gap to care for our son when we have opportunities to speak at conferences or for ministry. It’s about recognizing we’ve met wonderful people that we wouldn’t have, had Joey not been given to us. It’s a romantic dinner for 3 which still means I don’t have to cook!

Yes, I’ve come to realize that while we all want to “get a life,” we wind up finding that the phrase just needs to be reworked: “This IS our life!”And it’s really pretty special.