I Choose Joy - May
I Choose Joy
- Johanna Stamps
Abundant Fruit
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2-4)
Being Pruned
I was 13 weeks pregnant when my husband left me. By all accounts, this should be the opening line of a horrific story about to unfold, but it didn’t. In many respects, it was in the midst of this crisis and turmoil that I learned how to say “yes” to God and find immeasurably more joy than I ever thought possible. This is a story of God’s insatiable power to bring joy where we allow him.
For the years prior, I had been unintentionally gearing up to be the ultimate jet-setting trophy wife. I had been working in Southern Africa with entrepreneurs for about 8 years when I met my husband. I was certain my purpose in life was to help visionary people reach their dreams. So, it wasn’t any surprise to me when I met my husband — a high-flying executive with big dreams for Africa — that this was the man for me. God was going to use us to change the world.
What I hadn’t bargained for is what happens when the rubber hits the road in marriage. I had married the dream and had closed my eyes to so many of the red flags along the way. This realisation coincided with the happy news that I was pregnant.
I found out I was pregnant when I experienced first trimester nausea. No, not morning sickness — all-the-time-nausea. This type of illness in a comfortable environment is bad enough, but I was trying to navigate this in the context of a relentless West African mega city. I had almost no support system, I was spending hours in traffic each day, and I was trying my hand at a leadership role in a software company for the first time.
Needless to say, I was not managing. When I shared my struggles, the response I got was to “stick it out.” Granted, this is what people in West African cultures do. They experience all kinds of daily trials that would make many people in the West run screaming for the hills. I liked to think that I was worldly and cultured, but instead, I was just very ill, tired, alone, and afraid.
I tried every day to put on a smiling face, but everything came to a head when, one day, when I got off a plane, exited the terminal building, and found myself wandering into oncoming traffic. I had never consciously considered suicide, but it was as if my brain had taken over and decided there were very few reasons left to live.
I’m still impressed with how God intervened on that day. The driver who I had requested found me that day in the middle of the airport traffic. He had been able to find me based on my photo. It’s not hard to pick out the blonde white woman in a crowd in most of Africa. He got me in the car and started to ask if I was okay. I wasn’t, and it was in this environment I finally felt safe enough to shed my first tears. He told me quickly that he was a licensed Christian therapist — AKA my angel. He spoke truth into me and talked me off my ledge that day.
When my husband told me the next day he was moving into another flat across town, the truth from the cab driver was still in my ears: “You are in a fragile time in your life. Do what you need to do to get the care you need.” It was in that moment of clarity I went online and got a ticket back to the US. I had no idea what I would do when I got there, but I knew, with all certainty, I wouldn’t survive the pregnancy alone in an unforgiving city.
Just 24 hours later, I left a message with my parents: “I’ll be landing in DC in 16 hours. You can meet me at the airport, or I’ll take a train. I’ll figure things out when I get there.”
And 16 hours later, I was finally embraced.
UPROOTED
For weeks, I found myself in the motions of life but not really participating. It was a month later that I finally started looking to the future and fell into my old rut of high-flying big dreams. My eyes were set on an international management consulting organisation. I knew I could offer a huge amount of value consulting on translating between American and African businesses. I began the conversations and started creating the budget to have my newborn shuttled around the world with me, nanny in tow. I can’t help but laugh now at the idea, but at the time, I was certain I was going to make this work. I was going to lean in and be successful in both business and motherhood.
For years during my childhood, we moved every three to five years, and I had grown accustomed to the feeling of being uprooted. In many ways, it made my national and international moves almost seamless. I had developed a false sense of freedom that propelled me from one adventure to the next. I had become so used to bouncing from place to place, starting over, and creating new relationships that the thought of moving constantly with a baby seemed quite normal.
My family and birthing team were patient with me as they listened to my ideas for the future. To my shock, in retrospect, no one tried to talk me out of it.
As the months went on, I started to connect more and more with the little one growing inside of me. For the first time, I was faced with the thought that I knew I needed to think of him first. When I saw the first 3D images, my dreams faded, and his started to come to life. He was a person. He already exhibited a personality in the womb. This was a little one with his own uniqueness, and I was his guide, teacher, coach, and friend in this unfamiliar world.
REGRAFTED
Three S’s became paramount at this time: Safety, Security, and Stability. It was as if my little one was calling out for this with each sweet movement in my belly and then with each stirring sound once he was placed in my arms.
As I embraced my little one, my friends and family embraced me. It was as if there was no hesitation even after I had exiled myself for almost 20 years.
As I began my life with my little boy, I saw I needed to be regrafted into the family, both my own and into the family of God. My life had been so busy I had neglected to look up and see my parents were, most likely, in the final decade of their lives. In my mind, they were eternally youthful, but now, life had started to take its toll.
For years, I had been living for me and me alone, but now, there was a family around me that I could love and serve. It wasn’t too surprising that when I presented my laundry list of requests to God (home, work, etc.), in return, I received a peaceful request: “Johanna, love those around you really well.” “Okay, but God, I need to have a career, remember? I need to continue ‘leaning in’ and all that! How am I going to support my little one?” And again, “Johanna, just spend time with me and love those around you.”
As I began with my little yeses, his yeses became more clear. I learned how to trust God for the first time. Instead of adding things to my life, God seemed to take more and more away until there was almost nothing left, and yet, there was more abundant fruit than I had ever experienced.
Each day, the little one and I took long walks next to the river and connected with the people in the community. While we had been looking for a new home, we were thrown into a global pandemic and suddenly living small and close with family was a tremendous idea. We were being loved and supported and showing that love and support in return. Suddenly, I had more space to just be a present and peaceful mother.
In the midst of this countercultural peaceful setting, I began to write and study while the baby slept, and I also found time to coach others. Progress just started to happen without much pushing.
My years of aimless growth had left no harvest, but it seemed all I needed was to be regrafted to create abundant fruit.