My name is...

My  middle name is Joy.
Drove me nuts.  I was not always a joyful person. I hated being reminded that Joy was my name and I needed to start acting like that.
I hated Joy.
I had no idea what Joy was. Joy was unattainable. Joy was irritating.  and Joy had to go.

I tried changing my name.   Did not go over well.  Clearly.

It was suggested that maybe I should figure out what true Joy was.  So I did some studying.
Joy did not mean that I was happy all the time.
Joy did not mean that I was ok with things happening in my day.
Joy did not mean that there was something wrong with me if I was not happy all day every day.

To me, Joy is the underlying factor.  Like that crazy strong carpenters glue.   It holds it all together.

I used to have a lot of very dark days.  I still have the occasional one.  But when I feel them start I have a choice.

1. Have a very bad day.
2. Address what is causing the "dark" day.  Why are you depressed?
3. What can you do to change this?  Have I been eating right? Drinking liquids other than coffee? Exercising?
4. Am I going to let this ruin the rest of my day.

You gotta pick one and commit to it. The day will end and you will not get it back. So how are you going to handle it?

Do you know that eventually the situation will work out? Yes
Do you know that Jesus still loves you?  Yes
Can you do anything to fix this now? Yes or No  If so, do it.  If not, move on.

Look for the positive and the humorous.  There is something funny in every situation.  You have to look for it. Sometimes for a long time.  Sometimes its a sarcastic humor.

But Joy is a choice.  and a trusting and relying and knowing that God's got your back.
And tomorrow will be another day.

And hey, in a couple years this will be a really great story.

Hello, Please to meet you.  My name is Rebecca Joy.

fighting like hell

Seeing as we are surrounded by so high a witness let us set aside every weight and every sin and run with patience the race that is set before us.

Every notice when someone runs a race they train for it, get ready, psych up, get pumped, go through all these motions to train for....the race.

Life is like a race.
 We are surrounded by our cheerleaders, heavenly, spiritual, and physical.
We face hurdles. We face challenges .
Sometimes the training session does not go well.  We don't get the right frame of mind for the race.  
The shoes don't fit right.  We ate a bad sandwich and its totally affecting the metabolic process.
But does the race stop?
Or do you keep going.

And fight like hell to stay in the race?

I'm in the fighting like hell stage.  I've rounded that bend,you know the bad one where you get a cramp and you just can't go on.  You see all your cheerleaders on the side cheering and yelling you on, and you pull on every ounce of your being to pick up your feet and keep going.


Fight Becky Fight.

Your worth it.

you deserve to win

you deserve the best

FIGHT!!!!

now what

So some thoughts from today.

Boys are crazy!  Ever sat and watched a group of boys? It's like watching a bunch of wiggling worms. Or newborn puppies.  They never stop moving.

So.
 In my quest for divaness I think I need to set ground rules.
 How far is too far?
What should I demand respect on?
What are my limits?

My Inner Diva

So recently I've been doing a lot of thinking. 

Lots of changes in my crazy life and I've been evaluating what makes me make the decisions I've made. 

I don't regret a lot in my life. Some decisions were good some bad but all led me to learn things and meet some amazing people along the way. 

And learn a lot about myself. 

And some things I could have handled differently. 

I've ranted a few times about my difficulty with being a "woman". And I've come to some conclusions. About being a woman. 

Its unavoidable. So I may as well deal with it. 
Here's my story. 

I like the background. Its safe, no one notices you there. 

You can work quietly and no one bothers you. See that's also the problem. Its lonely. And well....sigh....I'm a closet diva. Through my own actions of hiding and putting myself in a box I've given people permission to pass me over, look down on me, take me for granted and take advantage of me. I used to think any attention was positive attention. At least someone noticed me. 

Well. 

Not any more. 

I'm worth so much more. 

I'm not saying I'm going to start marching around demanding attention, but I think I'm getting this whole woman thing figured out. And I may be a bit of a girly girl drama queen. I'm still figuring it out. But I won't take crap. I will be treated with respect. I'm not a maid. I'm not a pushover. I'm valuable. And I'm not taking the garbage out anymore. It wrecks my nails.