“And the Lord said, Go forth…” – 1 Kings 19:11
Sometimes life will pull everything out from under you—and call it grace.
That’s exactly what happened to me.
In the span of a few years, I lost two of my sisters and then my job. Not just any job, but a role I had given years of my life to—serving as an Executive Assistant, the steady hand behind other people’s success.
I was left with grief I couldn’t name and a silence that felt like punishment. But it wasn’t.
It was invitation. So I listened.
In August 2020, I packed up my car with no real plan—just prayer, paint, scissors, glue, and the open road. Over the course of 5 months, I drove more than 9,000 miles across the rolling hills of Oklahoma, through the backroads of North Carolina, and across the quiet spaces where cell service fades but Spirit speaks loud.
And oh, how She spoke.
I wasn't just driving—I was shedding.
Every mile became a release.
Every rest stop, a place to breathe.
Every unfamiliar road reminded me that I didn’t need a map—I needed to trust the One guiding me.
I visited churches with unlocked doors and sang to empty pews. I stood by rivers and cried without shame. I let the wind teach me how to exhale again. This wasn’t a vacation. It was a sacred detour.
At some point—between grief and grace—I picked up my scissors and started cutting paper again. It wasn’t to sell. It was to feel. To heal. To remember who I was before the world asked me to perform.
And in that sacred mess, ˈSāKrədJoi Art was born.
Not from profit plans or platforms—but from paper scraps, prayer, and the promise that joy could live inside sorrow. That handmade could be holy. That color could be a language of worship.
I began creating cards that felt like soul letters. Teaching workshops that felt like ministry. And slowly, I started to live again.
That journey taught me that healing isn’t linear—and neither is purpose.
Sometimes you find it when you finally let go of the blueprint.
Now, every piece I create carries the residue of those 9,000 miles.
Of the tears I shed.
Of the prayers I whispered.
Of the joy I found in the in-between.
So if you’re in a season of unraveling…
If the map you were following has suddenly gone blank…
Let me say this:
You are not lost.
You’re being re-routed—by Spirit, by grace, and maybe by glue.
And joy?
Joy is waiting for you, right where the road bends.
With sacred color and deep peace,
Efunsade, The Joy Priestess
✨ Founder of ˈSāKrədJoi Art | Host of Chronicles of a Preacher’s Daughter ✨
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