Joy To Everyone

No one can tell you how you should feel. And no one can tell you what you should do. Much of life is a chessboard…

Every move matters — in both chess and life, the decisions you make — big or small — shape what happens next. A single choice can open new opportunities or close off others.

You must think ahead. Success in both requires foresight and planning. You can’t just react to the present; you need to anticipate what’s coming.

You start with the same pieces — but not the same game. Everyone begins life (and a chess match) with the same basic set of tools, but how you use them makes all the difference.

You can lose a piece, but not the game. Setbacks happen. Losing a job, a relationship, or a plan doesn’t mean you’ve lost everything — just as losing a knight doesn’t mean checkmate. Failure is not fatal!

Every piece has value and purpose. Just as pawns, rooks, and queens each serve a distinct role, every person (and every stage of life) brings something important to the table.

Patience is key. You can’t rush to victory. Both chess and life reward calm, strategic, long-term thinking over impulsive moves.

Adapting to change is essential. The board — like life — constantly shifts. The best players learn to pivot when circumstances change.

Endings are inevitable — but what you build along the way matters. Every chess game ends, win or lose. What counts is how skillfully, thoughtfully, and courageously you played.

When I think of my life, I see that chessboard. One move brought me to a new position, and with every move, I learned something new. Today, as I reflect, I think about my youngest — Ruby’s 4th birthday. She entered this world late Saturday afternoon on November 6th. 

Earlier that day, I remember snapping a photo of the three of us — my husband, my son, and myself. Smiling, I said, “This might be our last photo of just the three of us!” I wasn’t taking those words seriously — I still had four days until my due date, and there had been no signs that labor was near.

With that in mind, we headed to the recreation center to play basketball. While on the court, I watched as my son and husband played. I wondered what life would look like once my daughter arrived. Just then, the ball came toward me. I moved quickly to one side, grabbed it, and tossed it back. In just one move, I realized something had happened.

I scurried to the restroom and called my mom. Within minutes of hanging up — after she suggested I call my midwife — the familiar pressure of labor began to build in my lower abdomen. “She’s coming!” I thought with equal parts anticipation and hesitation. I was ready… but was I ready right now? Either way, the choice was not mine. My body knew what it needed to do, and it took over.

A few hours later — makeup still on — Ruby was placed in my arms. “The fight is over, Joy,” I told myself. In that moment, I finally felt like I could exhale. When I think back to Ruby’s beginning, I realize I had been holding my breath from the moment I knew I was pregnant.

Just a few months prior, I had conceived and was blissfully naive, thinking no complications would come my way. I saw that baby on the monitor. I heard its heartbeat — and then, it was gone. My heart felt as if it had been played by a cruel trick. I felt like a fool, and somehow, I tied that loss to my own flaws. Did I mention our minds are like a chessboard?

Four years ago I wrote the following- “This morning I took some time to reflect on the past year. A year ago I walked away from a work position that was, for a lack of better words, toxic. I knew at the time I was newly pregnant. I was so hopeful. Hopeful for this life change not only for myself, but for my family. A new life would enter our world! 

But life doesn’t always go according to our plans. This pregnancy mentioned ended right after Thanksgiving. A few days prior I was praising God for this life only to have it taken away from me. My tears today run just as they did when I think back. 

As I write this I feel such an odd mix of emotions; sad for what was lost, but happy for what is to come. Almost a year ago I said goodbye to someone I never held in my arms. This November, God willing, I will hold my daughter in my arms and say “hello!” I’ll finally take her home! 

What a journey it has been. Through it all, the highs and lows, I remain grateful. Grateful for it all because it has birthed a new perspective in me. It has helped me grow up. It has humbled and opened my eyes to things I don’t think I would see today if it weren’t for it. More importantly, it has strengthened my faith. And this faith is what will carry me through when I face my next challenge. 

“The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man perfected without trials.” Chinese Proverb. 9 more days until Ruby’s due date!”

When I saw the two lines on the pregnancy test with Ruby, my heart was cautiously optimistic. I told my husband that if this pregnancy ended in loss again, I didn’t want to try anymore. Mentally and physically, I couldn’t handle it.

But today, my daughter is vibrant — full of excitement and anticipation. When I see her, I see life itself. She brought life back into my life. She comforted me in one of my hardest seasons. She reminds me that life will always find a way — that through the storm, through the struggle, we can still find the light.

Pain is not pleasant. Failure is not final. But if you can see hardship for what it is — a blip in the grand scheme of life — you’ll realize you are more resilient and wiser than you ever thought possible. I always tell myself this, and I want to share it with you now:

“You are more than what you have become.”

Your journey isn’t over, and your growth isn’t either. Just like that chessboard we’re all on, riding the waves of change is essential. The board — like life — constantly shifts. The best players learn to adapt when circumstances change.

Happy 4th Birthday, Ruby!

Your beautiful story is already so inspiring. You remind me to see life through a lens of anticipation — to take what comes with excitement and faith that it will make me better. You’re not shy about trying something new, and you see every child on the playground as a friend.

The way you love your brother fills my heart with more joy than you know. The way you wrap your arms around your dad’s neck when you hug him reminds me you are safe. And the way you encourage yourself before doing something hard — taking a deep breath, exhaling, and saying, “I got this!” — reminds me that I should do the same.

Today, we celebrate you and everything you are.

I love you,

Mom