Some moments in life can be captured—sunsets melting into gold, a flower trembling in the morning breeze, even Bacchus rolling shamelessly in the poo (his idea of spa day). And then there are moments that burst so brightly they simply refuse to stay inside the frame. This week, my word is JOY. Last week, I wrote about the shadow of depression—the weight that often lingers, sometimes for a lifetime. But today I write from the other side of the lens, where light comes flooding in, dazzling and insistent, like Mister reminding me at 5 a.m. that breakfast should never be delayed.
"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." ~Psalms 30:5
The Miracle of Joy Arriving
JOY showed up on my doorstep this week in the most beautiful way: the news of my daughter’s remission. Even typing those words feels like a prayer answered, a melody of relief and thanksgiving. As if that weren’t enough, she’s traveling here to visit—a gift wrapped in hugs, laughter, and the kind of conversations that spill late into the night.
Of course, JOY doesn’t arrive quietly. Suitcases will explode across the floor. Mister will stalk around as if he’s been betrayed by my hospitality. Bacchus will rehearse his “neglected child” routine, sighing dramatically until someone scratches his ears. And I’ll stand in the middle of it all, smiling, because these are the snapshots that matter—the messy, ordinary miracles that no camera can fully contain.
This radiant tulip photograph captures the beauty of new beginnings and the miracle of joy arriving. Its petals, kissed by sunlight, open in warm tones of orange and gold, symbolizing hope, resilience, and the quiet triumph of life. A poetic reminder that even after shadows, joy unfolds in its own time.
When Joy Refuses to Stay in the Frame
As a photographer, I’ve tried to capture JOY countless times. But here’s the truth: some moments defy megapixels. The sound of my daughter’s laugh. The relief in her eyes when she says the word remission. The lump in my throat that not even Photoshop can retouch.
So instead, I look for symbols. Sometimes they’re elegant—like a flower in bloom or a sunrise whispering “new beginnings.” And sometimes, they’re more… inventive. Like discovering that my green tomato had decided to offer free housing to some unexpected guests. Apparently, my vegetable patch has turned into a real estate developer, providing “starter homes” to the tiniest of tenants. It’s not exactly what I had in mind when planting tomatoes, but it has brought me more than one smile—and reminded me that JOY often pops up in the most surprising (and slightly chewed) places.
Who knew a green tomato could double as free housing? A tiny reminder that JOY often shows up in the most surprising places.
“You make known to me the path of life; in Your presence there is fullness of joy.”
Three Small Ways I’m Learning to Let Joy Spill Over
Take the imperfect shot. Blurry laughter, heads cut off, Bacchus photobombing—sometimes the chaos tells the truest story.
Look for joy symbols. A coffee mug steaming in morning light. A pair of shoes at the door, proof that family has arrived. Mister glaring from the corner (his silent protest).
Put the camera down. Because sometimes JOY doesn’t want to be recorded. It wants to be lived—loud, messy, and unfiltered.🍵
A Gallery of Joy
If JOY were to hang in frames on my wall this week, here’s what it would look like:
The last photographs sliding into my photobook Poetry of Tulips, each image a hymn of color and tenderness. Every tulip, in its own quiet way, teaches me how beauty can linger long after the petals fall.
The wide skies of the Karoo, where I walked hand in hand with my beloved Patrick, silence so vast it felt like a prayer. The desert has a way of stripping life down to what matters most—love, stillness, and the joy of simply being together.
The never-ending competition between Mister and Bacchus for the “Most Loved Pet Award.” Bacchus, with his soulful eyes and dramatic sighs, versus Mister, who insists that I replenish his catballs on schedule or face his feline wrath. 🐕🐈
The bathroom renovation that—miracle of miracles—is finally complete. No more stepping around tools or debating tile colors. Just one tiny detail left: the door handles. (Because apparently JOY likes to leave me one unfinished punch line to keep me humble.)
JOY isn’t always loud or flashy. Sometimes it whispers in tulip petals, settles into quiet road trips, complains in meows, or hides in the small triumphs of everyday life. And that, I think, is its most beautiful trick—it turns the ordinary into extraordinary.
"Find joy in the ordinary." ~Unknown
🌸 Note: These tulip photographs are part of my upcoming portfolio, Poetry of Tulips, which will soon be available for purchase. My hope is that this collection of images will bring the same joy and quiet wonder into your home that they have brought into mine.
Choosing Joy
What I’ve learned is that JOY doesn’t erase the shadows—it simply shines brighter than them. It rushes in like laughter through an open window. It lingers like the smell of bread in the oven. And it reminds me that even in seasons of darkness, the heart can bloom again.
So this week, I choose JOY as my focus word. I choose it in remission, in family laughter, in the small, beautiful disruptions of everyday life.
And maybe that’s the secret: JOY is less about capturing the perfect picture and more about living a life too radiant to stay contained.
