Have you ever been so sad you didn’t know whether to cry, scream, or eat an entire bag of chips in silence?
Have you ever celebrated a birthday without the person you love most and pretended you were totally fine while your heart quietly cracked?
Have you ever laughed at something inappropriate because if you didn’t laugh, you might completely fall apart?
Yeah. Me too.
Today is Stephen’s birthday. He turned 39 years old today. And no, before you ask, he did not want a gift. Not books. Not Amazon packages. Not even a sentimental prison-approved card. He looked at me and said, “I want you to roast me.”
That is the most Stephen thing Stephen has ever said.
I just finished taking a roasting class, which already tells you how unserious our marriage is, and I said yes immediately. Because if your husband is in prison and asks you to roast him for his birthday, you do not hesitate. You grab the microphone and you swing.
Of course, I wish I was with my husband today. I wish we were eating cake together, laughing too loud in public, and embarrassing whoever was sitting near us. I wish I could hug him and whisper something inappropriate in his ear and pretend we were normal for a moment.
But we are not normal. And this season is not easy.
So instead of letting the pain win, we chose laughter.
And that choice matters more than people realize.
Laughter is not denial. Laughter is survival. Laughter is medicine when nothing else works. Laughter brings joy when joy feels illegal. Laughter can lift depression. Laughter has been shown to help your immune system, your mental health, and your ability to keep going when everything in you wants to quit.
Laughter is how we breathe when the air feels thin.
Stephen has always been a goofball. And I do not mean a casual, light chuckle kind of guy. I mean a full-body, from-the-gut, can-be-heard-from-another-zip-code kind of laugh. The kind of laugh that makes strangers turn their heads and either smile or move seats.
From the day I met him, he was a prankster. Not a harmless whoopee cushion prankster. A committed, creative, borderline-diabolical prankster.
We met in Bible college. Yes. Bible college. The place where you expect holiness, worship music, and quiet reflection. Stephen’s roommate did not get that memo.
His roommate would blast loud pornography. In Bible college. At full volume. Like the devil himself had control of the speakers.
Stephen, instead of confronting him like a normal person, chose chaos.
He would go on Craigslist and post ads under his roommate’s name. Ads like “Selling car for $1” or “Looking for hairy men to have fun with.” Stephen was relentless. Craigslist was his ministry.
Life annoyed him, so he laughed back at it.
His roommate had a name very similar to mine, just more masculine. Years later, when I entered the adult industry as a webcam model and needed a stage name, I said, “Why don’t I just use your roommates name since we have the prank email, then we don’t have to create an email?”And just like that, an innocent college prank turned into the name Christy Love.
If you ever wondered how I got my stage name, now you know. It was born out of Bible college chaos, Craigslist mischief, and a man who refuses to take life too seriously.
Stephen has always understood something I had to learn the hard way. Laughter is not optional. It is essential.
I am naturally more serious. Analytical. Thoughtful. Sometimes painfully introspective. We would go to the movies and Stephen would be laughing so loud people thought he was part of the soundtrack. Meanwhile, I would be sitting there stone-faced, emotionally evaluating the plot.
He would turn to me and say, “That was hilarious. Why are you not laughing?”
And I would think, “Because I am processing.”
But over the years, I learned. I learned that laughter is not a betrayal of pain. It is a rebellion against it.
When I told Stephen I wanted to do stand-up comedy, his response was immediate. “Yes. You need laughter in your life.”
Not fame. Not applause. Laughter.
And he was right.
Because when life strips things away, laughter is often the last thing you still have control over. You may not control your circumstances. You may not control outcomes. You may not control the timing of breakthrough. But you can choose to laugh.
Even now. Especially now.
So today, instead of gifts, we roast. We laugh. We make jokes that are probably inappropriate. We find joy in the middle of a hard season. We refuse to let heaviness be the loudest voice in the room.
Laughter keeps us pressing forward when times are tough. Laughter helps us enjoy life when giving up feels tempting. Laughter reminds us that pain does not get the final word.
Stephen’s laugh has brought joy to so many people. Even in prison. Even in places where joy feels scarce. Even surrounded by pain and brokenness, he finds a way to laugh.
And that laugh still carries me.
I am learning to laugh. I am learning to make others laugh. I am learning that humor can be holy, healing, and deeply human. I am learning that sometimes the bravest thing you can do is smile when life gives you every reason not to.
So whatever you are going through right now, I want to tell you this. Choose laughter. Not because things are easy. But because you are strong. Because laughter may be the very thing that gives you the strength to keep going through a hard season.
Pain does not disqualify joy. And joy does not minimize pain. They can coexist.
Today, I roast my husband because I love him. I laugh because I need to breathe. And I trust that joy will carry us forward one laugh at a time.
Remember you are my lovers, whether you love me or love to hate me you are still my lover!
Don’t forget Jesus loves you and so do I!