I was born on a Sunday.
The old poem says, “Sunday’s child is full of grace.” I believe that’s true — but grace doesn’t arrive in a vacuum.

I was a Sunday child who learned early about loss.
About poverty that makes you grow up faster than your age.
About grief that shows up uninvited and stays too long.
About loneliness that teaches you how to be self-sufficient
and insecurities that whisper you’d better be useful if you want to be loved.

So I learned to protect myself.

I learned how to make people laugh and have them sing along.
How to lighten rooms before they noticed the weight I was carrying.
How to read emotions faster than words.
How to bring joy without asking for much in return.

What I didn’t know then was that God was watching all of it —
not with disappointment,
but with intention.

Scripture says:
“But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise;
God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.”
— 1 Corinthians 1:27

From that place of self-protection, something holy was being formed.

My ministry didn’t begin in confidence.
It began in clown shoes —
joy worn on holy ground,
humor used as armor,
Melodies offered as a bridge when I didn’t yet have language for my own pain.

For a long time, I thought joy meant I hadn’t been hurt enough.
That if I laughed, my grief must not be legitimate.
That holiness required heaviness.

But holy ground taught me otherwise.

Holy ground can handle pride that cracks, not joy.
God was never offended by my antics.
He was present in it.

Somewhere along the way, God redeemed my survival skills.
What I once used to protect myself,
He began using to comfort others.

I didn’t stop carrying sacred things —
I just learned how to carry them without pretending they weren’t holy.

I still wear the clown shoes.
Not because I don’t know sorrow,
but because I do.

Joy is not denial.
Joy is defiance.
Joy is faith that has survived the night
and still shows up in the morning.

So if you see me smiling, laughing, singing,  softening the room —know this:

I am standing on holy ground.
I am carrying sacred things.
And God has always been in the business
of using what the world dismisses
to do His most meaningful work.

Clown shoes and all.