On Joy, Self-Love & Getting Older

It is a beautiful spring morning. Outside, the sun beckons to be seen, the birds chirp their hello and the sounds of Maverick City Worship’s Most Beautiful/So In Love fills my suburban New Jersey home office. My heart is full, my mind is clear and I feel ready to conquer the world. I revel in the peace and quiet of stillness. At times, even crave it. Every morning my routine is the same. I wake up, make coffee, and spend the first hour of my day praying, meditating and journaling. For the past 3 years I have been intentional about maintaining this routine.

I have learned how to find peace amidst the chaos and experience joy in the moments of sorrow. This is a practice I have been intentional about nurturing because life is a series of moments filled with happiness and sadness. And it’s how we navigate those moments of sadness, grief, disappointment, pain and uncertainty where we see what we’re truly made of.

I wasn’t always like this though. As a young girl, I struggled with conflict. I battled anxiety and would retreat whenever anyone argued or things seemed to spiral out of control. There was a coat closet in the kitchen of my childhood apartment I’d burrow myself in every time my parents argued. I grew up in Williamsburg, Brooklyn in the 1980s, a dilapidated urban ghetto neighborhood made up mostly of Puerto Rican, Dominican and Hasidic Jewish families…