Apr 3, 2026 3 min read The Joy Diaries

Follow me down, there might be joy at the end

Jesus was crucified, died and was buried;
he descended into hell, on the third day he rose again from the dead;
he ascended into heaven (Apostle's Creed)

What does “he ascended” mean except that he also descended to the lower, earthly regions? 10 He who descended is the very one who ascended higher than all the heavens, in order to fill the whole universe. (Ephesians 4:9-10)

Good Friday, 2026

I have been thinking a lot about descents into the underworld. Paul is not really clear about this journey in Ephesians, and I suppose it doesn't matter in the long run. There are other underworld descents recorded throughout history in multiple cultures and traditions.

This monthly epistle is a bit different. I want to thank you, dear reader, for continuing to enjoy the Joy Diaries as they have been coming out (mostly) monthly for some time now. I intend to continue exploring and amplifying joy in our lives, but I must admit that, to expose where it lives, I must also share the perilous descent happening in my life right now.

I still find joy, or I should more appropriately say, it finds me. I pay attention to the small things. I agree that experiencing joy today is an act of resistance, and some may call it revolutionary. Perhaps. I use it as personal resuscitation when I am feeling at my wits' end.

Yesterday, the tiny mint plant on my windowsill showed tiny new leaves, and it made me smile. A sign that life marches forward. I was also giddy watching the launch of Artemis II. As someone alive for two shuttles exploding and ending the lives of brilliant astronauts, I was on the edge of my seat (not driving as safely as I should have been!), praying these four brave souls and the rocket would be successful. And, when it was clear they had made it, I was overwhelmed with joy. I am awestruck by the audacity of humans to make those courageous leaps into the unknown. Willingly.

That astronauts are ascending gives me hope that I will eventually ascend out of the underworld that I am descending into over the last four years. I am not alone in this descent, but the journey my husband faces is different than mine. It's a parallel adventure, and I am there to help him, but at this point, he cannot help me. I guess I am Virgil to his Dante. Except Dante and I get to come back for a time. He doesn't.

The Nervy Ten

I stay sane in these difficult times through one small practice. Personal time is increasingly hard to come by, but I still find/make time for ten minutes of writing per day. Ten minutes of scribbling across paper with a pen is saving my life. The writing has been raw and fresh. I have made space on this site to save these new ramblings that are helping me process this grief, this long goodbye. It's called The Nervy Ten and will be a collection of my ten-minute writings.

I look forward to sharing them with you soon.

The photo below is my favorite picture of Carlos. He is the guy on the right with a calm devil-may-care expression.There is happiness there. Salamanca was his happy place. The one time in his early life where he felt free to be himself.