tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79383379814628528462024-03-13T06:36:01.821-07:00Life Served With LaughterJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-20149126646412219302018-02-26T07:34:00.002-08:002018-02-26T07:34:48.275-08:00Hiding In The Car<div style="color: #454545; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
I have too many thoughts about the school drop off/pick up process. I have dreamed up fun videos I want to star in to show people how crazy they really look when cutting me off. I have debated keeping mini wine bottles in my car for those “just in case” afternoons. I have considered the cost of just having an Uber pick my kids up for me while I wait down the road for them. It’s a serious struggle y’all.</div>
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But the thing about it is, I get to see all my mom friends during this time. We get to catch up while we wait for the kids. We make plans to ride together to upcoming field trips, talk about class projects, and catch up on life in the few minutes of passing each other daily. </div>
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So that makes up for the chaos of actually navigating the car lines. But I have started to realize something about myself. I can gauge how well I am doing by whether or not I get out of the car to get my kids or if I use the pick up line. Some people may realize they are struggling when they are having too many drinks at night, or eating too many treats, but for me- it’s the car line. </div>
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And lately, I have been in the car line. I am totally hiding. Trying my hardest to disengage. Putting as much distance between me and other women as I possibly can. Why? Because women are brutal sometimes. </div>
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About 2 years ago we got chickens for the first time. I raised them from days old and watched them every day as they grew. I was fascinated with the pecking order of hens. They are terrifying and fascinating animals. If you have never been around them, there is a reason they call it a pecking order. The hen wanting to be the leader will peck the others until they submit. She will peck them to death if necessary. If a hen ever sees a weak spot in another hen, they will all gang up on her until she becomes an outsider, or they kill her, whichever works out first. It’s the craziest thing. Hens are “pack animals” so they are not to be alone, yet they destroy each other when together sometimes. </div>
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After several months of watching this I realized that everything I ever needed to know about Women’s Ministry, I could have learned from watching my chickens. We too are terrifying and fascinating creatures. We sense weakness, and we attack. We fight for position. We want connection, but we too can destroy each other when together. </div>
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Lately, I have been in positions of being with more women. Specifically more moms. And man, if there is anyone who can attack on command- it’s other mothers. </div>
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As women, we want to present the perfect life, perfect marriage, perfect kids. I certainly don’t pick the picture where I look older or overweight to put online, do you? I try to post about how crazy my life can be, but I know it’s not the norm. But it doesn’t help anyone to pretend we are perfect. Because messy is real. It’s the stuff we need to know other people go through too, so we don’t feel like we are on our own isolated planet of crazy. </div>
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So here is the truth- My kids act up and I yell at them. Like legit yell. To the point where I have had to go and ask them for forgiveness for losing it. My marriage isn’t perfect. Tony and I fight. Sometimes over stupid stuff like what to eat for dinner, and sometimes over big things like how to run our business, or how to raise our kids. And I am not perfect. I have to pull myself out of general discontentment on a DAILY basis. I wake up and tell myself “you have a great life. It’s not perfect, but it is great.” Because if I don’t remind myself, I go into serious battles with depression, anxiety, and unhappiness. </div>
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And when I feel like that, when I feel like I am not doing as well as I think I should be, or as good as others appear to be doing, my words become a weapon. </div>
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I have said things to other women so they can feel less than, and I can feel better. I have pretended I can’t relate to their struggles, so that I feel like I have the upper hand. And I have had that done to me. And it hurts. You know the saying “hurt people, hurt people.” And right now, I am dealing with the hurt by hiding in my car. I know, super healthy. </div>
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But the thing is- those women’s words don’t define me., and sometimes I forget that. Those women are hurting just like I have been when I say hurtful things. And although I want to, I can’t take it personal. My role may be to extend a friendly response to a hurt person. Or an invite to someone being rude because really they just feel left out and need a friend. </div>
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I say that to encourage myself right now. And I say that to encourage the women reading this. Those of you who have given up on trying to make new friendships or build a community because other women have attacked you. Those who have been hurt and they too are hiding.</div>
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I think more so now than ever, we live in a world pushing women to have it all and do it all. Be a mom, a professional, make every dinner Pinterest worthy, every birthday party perfection, every day a good hair day. And whatever you do- never ask for help. Because help makes you weak. And weak women get pecked. </div>
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But I’m saying let’s go against what the world says. Let’s be kind. Let’s ask for help. Let’s ask for advice. Lets offer help even when we are not asked, because we know someone needs it. Let’s forgive even when someone doesn’t deserve it. Let’s share our mess and our fears and our sadness. Let’s extend empathy. Let’s celebrate with moms who are winning and cry with the ones who are hurting. Let’s not fight for the top position but hold hands and lead together. But we have to put ourselves out there. We have to show up and be vulnerable ourselves. We have to be willing to hold our own tongue when we are hurt. </div>
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AND at some point, we have to stop hiding and get out of the car. </div>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-14616639484476290212018-01-25T08:13:00.000-08:002018-01-25T09:48:56.478-08:00Community <div style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I am an extrovert. I am sure this is super hard to believe if you have ever met me or read any of my FB posts. I love to have my house filled with people, kids running everywhere and thrive in a bit of chaos. AND, on the flip side, I like to do many things alone. I like to make decisions alone, take only my own advice and believe I know what’s best in every situation. I like to disregard other people’s emotions and once I have made a decision, there is no changing it. It’s worked out really well for me as you can imagine. (I also speak fluent sarcasm so if you don’t, it’s probably best to stop reading.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">As I have gotten older, or maybe it’s my kids getting older, I realize that I am not actually the expert on every situation. It took a few beers and lots of tears to even admit to that. “Other people might know a better way of doing things?” Man, what a hard sentence to get out. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">But at this point in my life, I am so thankful I can see that.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I am more grateful for community than I have ever been before. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">When you are younger and life is far less difficult, community is fun. It is people who you like to grab a bite with, or watch a movie with. But now, into my mid 30’s community is necessary. Something about this stage of life is difficult. Most of my friends have been married for over a decade, some going on 2. The excitement of dating, engagements and dream weddings are long gone. The anticipation of babies and growing families is behind us, as we all mostly have several children now. And this is where life starts to really be lived. The day to day grind of sustaining marriages, raising children, and growing up yourself. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">As someone who could do so many things alone, and sometimes prefers to, I was shocked at how much I really do need others.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">This village of people that I am surrounded with have saved me.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">They have shaped me. They have helped me to become a better wife, mom and friend.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">They have believed in me, when I don’t believe in myself.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">They have loved my kids when I think they are wild and out of control and don’t know how they will grow up to be kind people.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">They support my marriage and always see the good in it, even when I struggle.</span><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It really does take a village to raise a child, and in so many ways, to raise an adult.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I am so glad that when I can’t see good in a day I can call Michelle and she is guaranteed to see the bright side of something.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Or when Beck is crying at drop off I can call Mallory and she can give me comfort in knowing that she has been there, and it really will be ok.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">For Zelia who forces me to remember that I am not JUST a mom, and gets me out of the house for late night dinner dates or past my bedtime Karaoke.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I am so glad I have my friend Lindsay who has taught me much about motherhood, especially with girls. I have learned boatloads about gratitude and seeing children raised well from my friend Melinda, and about moving the fine line of friendship to family from Amy.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Some friends have walked with me through years of life, and others I have been fortunate enough to meet more recently.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Some I get to talk to all the time, and some less often.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">And there are so many more in my circle of beautiful friends who influence me and push me to be better that I would have to write a whole book to include them all. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">So for this moment, I am sitting in a place of gratitude for them all. And I invite you to take a minute and do that too. Think about your village and all you have to be thankful for. Tell them. Give them a hug if you are into that weird kind of thing. Send them an actual letter in the mail that requires handwriting and a stamp. And remember that even those of us who think we can, really can’t live this life alone. Plus having a drink solo just makes you look sad. Nobody wants to be that guy. </span></div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-83054741732069778102018-01-09T06:18:00.000-08:002018-01-09T06:21:52.661-08:00Generosity <div style="color: #454545; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
Every time our kids ask us about things we did when we were younger, Tony and I laugh. “Did y’all play x-box? Watch YouTube? Get big gifts at Christmas?” They can barely comprehend life without videos where we are watching other people open toys <insert eye roll>, much less trying to get them to understand a life with a whole lot less stuff. We have tried to explain to them that we both grew up without a lot of money. We both had single moms who struggled to make ends meet financially. We were thankful for the things we did have as they were treasures to us in a time where we had very little. </div>
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Growing up this way has given me a deep gratefulness for the things I have now. A home. Plenty of food in the fridge. The ability to go on vacations. Getting to occasionally enjoy a pedicure. (And I do mean occasional. I like to see how long I can make that nail polish last.). And I am so glad it did. But it also created a place in me that is filled with fear. Fear of not having enough. Fear of it being taken away. Fear that one day there won’t be a home, or plenty of food. </div>
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My cousin Caitlin always calls it a poverty mentality. And that is so accurate. My mind says something like “I grew up poor, I could one day be poor again, and I need to hold on to everything so tightly so that won’t happen.” It’s terrible. It has caused me to be very selfish at times. Not wanting to give, out of fear I will “run out.” </div>
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Unfortunately, my poverty mentality goes past finances. It can consume almost every area of my life. Not wanting to give because I perceive myself as only having enough for me. I have withheld parenting guidance because I feel like I’m just getting by sometimes as a mom. I have withheld marriage advice in seasons where Tony and I have struggled through. I have withheld grace, love, kindness, my time, and my finances. It’s embarrassing to admit how much this mentality has affected my life. But there is freedom in truth, right? So here is to flexing my freedom muscles. </div>
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This past weekend I was taking my kids to a trampoline park. I was stuck at a traffic light realizing I was in the wrong lane, when I looked over to see a homeless man outside my window. My car was in the “holiday hangover” phase, filled with things to keep kids entertained as we ran around over the break. My front seat had a bunch of unopened snack packs in it for when we leave a restaurant and 4 minutes later my kids tell me they are hungry. I grabbed a handful of bags, rolled my window down and asked the man if he would like them. He took them and thanked me. Then he said “i have some clothes in a bag that are too small for me. Can I give them to you for this food?” </div>
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I could barely get my words out. My eyes immediately were filled with tears as I said, “thank you, but I don’t need anything.” My entire world was disrupted by his offer. This man. Begging for food. No place to live. Everything he had packed in one plastic trash bag. He still found something to offer me. Out of his little, he still offered much. </div>
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As I watched my kids play on the trampolines a few minutes later, I was flooded with memories where I have felt most loved. When a friend who has a jam packed schedule sets aside time to spend with me. No phones. No rushing. Generosity. When someone who is financially struggling offers an open home and cooking a meal for me even though I know that meal was not factored into their budget. Generosity. When my husband has had a hard day but comes home and offers kindness and joy. Generosity. It is the antidote to my poverty mentality. </div>
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I know so often I feel like I’m not where I “should be” in life. So I hold back. Scrape by. Live life with my hands clinched tight. And maybe I am the only one who does this. Maybe i am just writing this blog for myself and giving public permission for at least one person to say “hey, snap out of it. You have plenty to offer” when I’m trying to hide in a shell. But my guess is, you may feel this way too. Oh, maybe you didn’t grow up like me, so you don’t see it as poverty, but you don’t offer all of you for fear you will be truly seen. Or you don’t get too close because you don’t want to be hurt. Or you don’t fully trust because in the past it has been broken. But living life with a death grip on anything you can lose, is no life at all. </div>
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So I am challenging myself to continue to pursue generosity. To look for opportunities to give even when I don’t feel like it. Especially when i don’t feel like it. Taking the phone call. Serving in kids ministry. Offering a hand. Opening our home. When I feel I am crushing life or when I feel like I am stumbling through it. Even then- I want to live generously. I am truly thankful for how directionally challenged I am somedays. So I could end up in the wrong lane, at the right time, to receive an abundance of unexpected generosity. </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-62396353989126862992018-01-01T12:28:00.001-08:002018-01-01T12:42:01.822-08:00Think Before We Speak<div style="color: #454545; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
Parenting. Something that will shatter you into a million pieces on any given day. Lately-two million. </div>
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My middle kiddo is a feeler. He is very verbal and his emotional intelligence is high. When he was really little he would say “I think I’m crying because I am hungry,” or “I feel upset and think I should take a nap.” Honestly, I barely know that stuff in my mid 30’s. Just this week I caught a stomach bug that took me out for 3 days. It wasn’t until I started to feel light headed that I realized I had not had any fluids for several days and was super dehydrated. So he clearly did not get this from his mother. </div>
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I admire him for how in tune he is with himself. And at the same time, it undoes me. I want him to stuff his feelings, pretend he doesn’t know what’s wrong, or at least pretend he is fine. Because that is what seems easier. And that’s what’s comfortable. But, God is always growing me up- and with Beck he is teaching me lots about emotions and sharing. </div>
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Over the last 6 months, our talks have been hard. Much growing has happened. For those who have never met him, he is in the 3rd percentile for his height. He was my biggest baby, but just hasn’t grown fast. My oldest is in the 90th percentile so it accentuates his size even more. But the thing is- Beck never knew that. He never saw himself as different from anyone else. But with school starting and other adults thinking he is too young to be in school, things have gotten harder. People just say the dumbest stuff sometimes. </div>
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By the second week of school he was coming home and saying things like “I can’t do that mom because I’m small.” Or “did you know I am the smallest kid in my class?” And I thought- what the hell?!? Where is this coming from? These words were often said in frustration and through tears. </div>
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It’s gotten harder. Being “small” has started to translate to “not as good.” Just last week we had friends over and we were going to play a game. He had a total melt down because he was worried he was going to lose. We had not even started playing. But he said he “loses at everything.” Everything in me wanted him to just suck it up. To just not embarrass me. But at this point in my life I realize being vulnerable in front of people is really the best way to live life. Pretending is way too exhausting. And *spoiler alert* I don’t have my shit together. And my kids are not perfect. And I am not a perfect mom. So it’s best to just get that out of the way if we are going to be friends anyway. </div>
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So, with Beck looking at me, in front of all the kids running around the house and my friend next to us, we said what is true about him. “You are good. And kind. And you are not a loser. And we want you to play the game with us.” He calmed down and he played. And he won. And it was fun and ended well. But it’s so flipping hard to hear your kids say this stuff about themselves. Allowing the world to say who you are or what you are capable of. Letting them put limitations on you. I hate it. </div>
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And I realize I am not the only one who experiences this. Last night I was talking with my best friend of over 25 years. We grew up together and our kids are growing up together. She was calling to tell me her daughter was asking her if they “were all black.” My friend never discusses skin color so she didn’t know where that was coming from. Her daughter continued to share “because other people are white.” She was shocked. “Who is saying this in front of you?!?” she thought. My friend asked her daughter if she meant someone like “Mrs. Jessica’s kids,” to which her daughter with no hesitation said “oh no Mama. They are the same as us.” </div>
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Kids that young, they don’t see a difference. We are all the same. But adults- we do. And we have this super bad habit of saying it in front of our kids. Do you think as mothers we don’t know our kids are small? Tall? Over wheight? Struggling with speech? Or what their skin color is? Do you know you may be the 7th person they have overheard that day saying they are too rough? too loud? too sensitive? Do you think a child who looks different from the parents needs to hear someone say AGAIN “oh, are they adopted?” </div>
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Do you know your words are powerful in the ears and hearts and minds of kids listening? Those kids who turn into adults that are insecure and feel they never fit in. </div>
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There are times for discussions. Times to talk about speech delays or height or behavior. But can’t that wait until kids are not listening? Can’t we choose as adults to instead highlight the goodness in each other’s kids? Or at the very least- can we just stop for one moment and think, is this something I need to say in front of them? Am I adding any value by saying this? And if this answer is no, well then, shut your pie hole. </div>
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If you have never held a child who is crying because of words spoken over them that hurt, then count your blessings. Because it sucks. In those moments I want to both throat punch the adult who knows better, and also thank them. Because it leads to conversations where I can tell my son who he is. How height doesn’t limit his abilities or make him scale back his dreams. That he is made perfectly and everyone who knows him, loves him! Exactly how he is. </div>
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I am determined to be a better example to my kids, and my friends kids. To add life and value and build each other up. And I am thankful for those in my life who do that as well. We have amazing teachers and great friends and wonderful family. And I know we can’t shelter our kiddos from the world, but I think we can all do a better job of being shelters for them and for each other. </div>
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So let this year be filled with overflowing kindness for one another. Words that edify and build up. That our children may overhear all the goodness they bring to this world and how capable they are to achieve great things. </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-57856651371899308502017-03-09T07:37:00.000-08:002017-03-09T07:37:13.746-08:00Zooming Out <span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">While browsing through Facebook one day, I found this really cool article about famous landmarks. They took 15 places and showed what they looked like zoomed out. It was amazing to see Mt. Rushmore, Santorini and Central Park from a different perspective. But the one place that drew me in was the Taj Mahal.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Look at this beauty. Perfect landscaping, incredible architecture, pretty much perfection. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Then came the zoomed out photo.This unbelievably gorgeous site is in the middle of all this filth. Trash everywhere. I was shocked. So much so that I decided to do a little more research to see if it was really that dirty there. (I know, I know. Everything the internet says is true so I should have just left it.) But apparently, this is correct. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Now I don’t have any plans to visit India so that isn’t why this caught my eye. The picture was just so reflective of what I see all the time. This perfect life that we portray. We are living in a world of cropping and filters. And not just on our social media feed. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">A selfie posted on Instagram where we are in full make-up, hair is perfect and we are smiling from ear to ear. But if we zoomed out we would see a house filled with laundry and dishes and bills to pay. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">We snapshot our vacations and tell everyone how fun it is. But if we took the filter off it would reveal the tension of reigning in toddlers, traveling with babies and stressing over the money it costs for us to take this vacation. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">We buy beautiful houses and keep them in immaculate condition in hopes that everyone will focus their attention on it and not on the fact that we live a separate life from our spouse and haven’t been happy in years. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">We take up causes that may very well be good and noble, but we throw ourselves into them so that we can avoid our own life problems. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">And guess what- we are not doing anyone favors here. Especially ourselves. Has anyone out there ever had a situation change by denying that it exists? Zooming in on the Taj Mahal doesn’t actually take away the garbage all around it. Just like getting another promotion or more money doesn’t take away or fix the fact that you have broken relationships and turmoil around you. You might look good close up, but zoom out a bit and there it is. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">But the thing is, we all have that garbage. We all have places of brokenness and mess. We all have the toys thrown around the house, or the kids that misbehave, or relationships that need healing. We all have something. And it’s when we acknowledge it in ourselves and in others that we can start to clean up some of it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">I have some of the dearest friends a person could ever hope for. Friends who really share a life with us. We didn’t get there by pretending to have all of our shit together. We grew close in the mess. In the times that I have been so broken and spent and they graciously allowed me to be unfiltered and completely exposed. And in those times they offered me grace and love and hope. And when the time came, I did the same for them. Their mess didn’t scare me. Because slowly, over the years, we had already started zooming out from the perfection. We were not trying to pretend we were something we were not. And it has allowed for beautiful relationships and growth. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">The other day I was playing outside with my son. He said “Mom, let me take your picture.” I did one smiling and it actually wasn’t too bad. But he said “no, that doesn’t work. Do a funny one.” So I did and he said it was PERFECT. I have no make up on (which is 98% of my life), the dog is judging me, the lawn needs mowing, on and on. It has no filter, no cropping, just as it is. And to be honest, I am this weird all the time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">So today I am determined to be a little more open, a little more zoomed out, a little more me with those I am around. It might be messy. And uncomfortable. But for those who love me most, they say it’s perfect. </span></span></div>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-21308842806341177792016-10-17T04:34:00.000-07:002016-10-17T04:34:05.529-07:00Internal Dialogue <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Let me start this blog with a question- What do you say to yourself when you mess up? You knock the glass off the counter and it shatters everywhere. Or you hit the car in front of you at the stop sign. Or maybe you yell at your kid when you are frustrated. What is the internal dialogue that you have when something like this happens? </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Mine goes like this, “well, you screwed that up. Like you always do. Why do you always mess everything up?” </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I know. Internal dialogue me is pretty mean. Occasionally external dialogue me can be just as bad. But I am being honest with you here. Its almost always my first thought. And I am going to bet I am not the only one who does this. Maybe its not those exact words, but I bet it is something that is just as harsh, and also </span><span style="font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;">untrue</span><span style="font-kerning: none;">! </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I have been saying this to myself for as long as I can remember. It’s been the background dialogue every time I feel inadequate. It’s the whisper in the garden of Eden from the snake to Eve asking “can you really trust the heart of God?” My whisper is “You sure mess things up a lot. How could God love someone like you? How could anyone love someone like you?” And let me tell you, it feels so true. It feels like I screw up all the time. It feels like things could be so much better if I wasn’t around. It feels so true. And yet- it’s not. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The last several years I have become more aware of these words and thoughts that pass through my head when things go wrong. And they bother me now. I also have friends and a husband who can call it out quickly and say “hold on, you didn’t do anything wrong here. This isn’t your fault.” And now the words feel less true most of the time. Their power feels to be weakening. But there are days that are harder than others. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Last week, I was mowing the lawn. One of my favorite activities. I sit on the mower listening to podcasts or music and ride for a couple hours at a time. It is very relaxing for me. I was riding along enjoying a beautiful fall day and I came too close to the pool we had bought the kids over the summer and I cut it with the mower. This is one of those inflatable pools that are pretty big. Not the flimsy $20 plastic pools. So it felt like a big deal. My first thought was “F@&K!!!!” (I would love to pretend it was “well shucks. thats a bummer,” but it wasn’t.) I texted Tony to tell him about it and how I could not believe I did that. What the hell is wrong with me?!? He was kind enough to offer words to bring me back to reality. Catch my breath. And see this wasn’t that big of a deal. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I got it together, got back on the mower and started listening to worship music. As I was riding along I hear Jesus say to me “You are worth more than the pool.” It took a minute. or 2. or 10. But as I rode along my land I finally let those words sink into my heart. “I AM worth more than the pool.” I never even realized that the words that I kept saying to myself had become a self worth issue. Does it suck that the pool is ruined? Sure. Is it hard when we make mistakes? Yes.. But it doesn’t devalue my worth. Not to myself. Not to my husband. Certainly not to my God. I AM WORTH MORE THAN THE POOL. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I know there are lots of scriptures in the Bible about how we much we are worth to God. And I want to believe all of them. I want to say I am worth more than jewels and believe it. And one day I have hope I will. But today-I am worth more than the pool. And guess what?? So are you!</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">We are worth more than our mistakes, our failures, our shortcomings, our inadequacies. We are worth more than dreams that didn’t pan out and hope that has been diverted. We are worth more than the house, the car, the clothes, the makeup, the stuff. And certainly more than the stupid blow up pool. </span></div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-44463797403515928262016-09-22T15:01:00.000-07:002016-09-22T16:36:21.036-07:00Quality over Quantity <div style="line-height: normal;">
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About a month ago I decided I wanted to host some get togethers with moms at Rafi’s school. I figured most of our kids will be together for a long time (her school goes K-12) so it would be a great thing to get to know some of the other women. </div>
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I put out an open invitation (because I’m insane) to any mom who wanted to join me for happy hour. I got a pretty good response at first and then the usual- I can’t do evenings, I can’t do Thursdays, I can only do lunch for 23 minutes starting at 11:42. Y'all know how this works. </div>
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So I encouraged those moms who could only do daytime to start their own group. Invite anyone and everyone from school. Let’s catch as many moms as we can and build community. And guess what?? They did! It was awesome. They had a great turn out for their daytime coffee. </div>
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And guess what else?? My happy hour didn’t. It worked better for most moms to go to the morning group. And if I am just going to be totally honest, I was disappointed. “I am the one who had this idea. Why is someone else getting all the credit for this?? Why can’t my event be just as big?” </div>
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And I realized there are so many places in my life where quantity outweighs quality. Growing up in American Christianity most of what seems to be success is driven by numbers. The more people at the event, the more successful. And that is just not always true. </div>
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I can recall a church when I was a young adult that everyone would say “I love going there. You can always find a date. There is no holy spirit, but lots of single people.” It was even dubbed “The Meat Market.” Really? Is that success? I guess if you are running a speed dating event the answer would be yes, but trying to connect people to Jesus, well I’m going out on a limb and saying no. </div>
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And the problem with this mentality is that is spills over into other areas of my life. I may be present with my children hours upon hours of a day, yet spending no quality time. I’m consumed with cleaning, cooking, organizing, drop off, pick up… the list goes on. And me being around them is great, but stopping and looking at them and having a conversation about whatever they want- that does way more good. Today I spent 1 hour pretending a gigantic stuffed animal was wrestling my son. He asked me what round we were on and I said “8 gazillion,” because it sure felt like it. But he was so happy. He told me later in the day “You are the best mom I could ever hope for.” That didn’t come from me washing his clothes while he sat in front of the TV. Quality over quantity.</div>
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Or in my marriage. Tony and I have spent many nights with a few hours to ourselves after the kids go to bed. And there have been many times we are sitting in the same room and not engaged with each other at all. But lately we have been actively fighting for time together. Going over chapters in a book, telling each other about our day, planning upcoming events together. And there is such a great connection that comes from nights like this. Because what it says is “you are worth my time. You are important.” Quality over quantity. </div>
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The happy hour came and there were 6 of us there. And you know what- it was amazing. Because when you have a small group of people- you can have quality conversations. I got to know some of the other moms on a much deeper level than I ever would have with 20 people around. It’s just how it works. We got to sit out on the patio of a beautiful vineyard and dive a little deeper into each others stories. And I am so incredibly thankful for that. </div>
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Isn’t that one of the things our hearts want most? To have deep relationships with people we love and in return love us. I am realizing those relationships are cultivated over much time and in much smaller groups. Popularity is fun. Big crowds can be cool. Surface level conversations are easy. But digging into each others mess and coming out friends- that is where Jesus is. Showing love always. So I am fighting for quality. With a small tribe of people. Who must be just as crazy as me. </div>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-55300128497248428932016-08-22T08:18:00.002-07:002016-08-22T08:37:07.435-07:00Mom Treaty For a New School Year <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
It’s back to school time. All the feelings of excitement, nervousness, anticipation. It’s here. We are buzzing around the house (and stores) getting ready. Our last couple days have been filled with talks of who will be in class? What will the new teacher be like? Will we make any friends? And when I say WE, I mean ME! not Rafi. </div>
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Honestly, Rafi is way more laid back when it comes to this. She is secure in knowing she will have a couple kids from last year in class and will make new friends. She is certain she will love her new teacher. I on the other hand, am having an internal struggle. I love Rafi’s kinder teacher and she has become my friend. Now I am starting over with a new one. And most of the mom’s I have gotten to know will be in other classes. I have to go through another year of trying to explain my weird humor, sarcasm, and the fact that I wear work out clothes even though I am not working out. And then I have to hope that someone else gets me. At least 1 person. (fingers crossed) </div>
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The problem is that you know as moms, we can be super judgmental of other moms. “Why is she always late? Why is her kid’s hair always messy? Why does she let her kid eat non-organic food?” Like putting someone else down is ever really going to make you feel better?!? </div>
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And it’s hard to walk into that. All the anxiety of having to live up to the cool moms. The moms who have older kids and “know everything” about the school because they have been there for years. The moms who send their kids with perfect clothes and hair. It’s exhausting. And ridiculous. And doesn’t bring life or joy to anyone. (Side note- If you have not seen Bad Mom you should. I wish they were exaggerating on moms being like this but they are not) </div>
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So I say we pinky promise to not be shitty to one another. Let’s just try it. For a whole year. Let’s not judge the mom who is running late because maybe she works night shift as a nurse and is trying her hardest to get there. Let’s not assume someone doesn’t care how they look because they are in sweat pants and no make up. Maybe they have a parent in the hospital and have been stressing over if they will be able to make it through the illness or not. Maybe someone does want to feed their kid organic food, but right now they are just trying to make ends meet. </div>
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Finding out someone else’s situation and story will help each of us to not make assumptions and judgements. But this will require us to be friendly and invest in each other. When you go to drop off your kids are they all in school? Why don’t you invite a mom out to coffee who has 2 or 3 more little ones at home still. Trust me, she can use the company. Have you been at the school for a while and know the ins and outs of sports, field trips, etc? Well why don’t you offer some advice to those who may be new or struggling instead of just trying to be in some weird, exclusive club. </div>
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Let’s just do it as a social experiment. If it doesn’t help, well we can go back to being “Mean Girls” and wearing pink on Wednesdays. But my guess is you will be happier by not judging, and not being judged. We are all so different and can learn so much from one another if we would just break the walls down. So cheers to you all who are in full make-up and dresses at drop off. To those who are in no makeup and stretchy pants. To those who work outside of the home and those who work inside the home. To those who count macros and those who eat donuts in the morning. We are all doing the best we can.</div>
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Here is to a great school year.</div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-55936059675695520982016-07-21T08:04:00.001-07:002016-07-21T08:04:19.950-07:00Embrace <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
At the beginning of each year I pray and ask God what my “word” for the year is. This is a practice that I have done over the last few years and it has proven to be extremely helpful in navigating through the year. (You can read about my <a href="http://lifeservedwithlaughter.blogspot.com/2015_07_01_archive.html" target="_blank">Journey for Joy </a> from 2015)</div>
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This year’s word threw me off from the start. EMBRACE. Well, that doesn’t sound like fun. I immediately thought of a physical embrace and for anyone that has known me some time- you can recall that I am certainly not a hugger. Or I used to not be. I am getting a bit better as God softens my heart. I usually only like to hug if I am the initiator, and I know the person pretty well. But just last week I saw my friend Dana and we hugged and we had a great laugh about how it wasn’t even that awkward for me. I didn’t go in with my mouth half open like an uncomfortable first date kiss. We were both pretty impressed with my growth. </div>
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However, as this year has progressed I realize that is not what God had in mind. As I mentioned in a previous blog it has been a difficult year of loss. We lost both Tony’s dad and my grandma in just 2 weeks. We finally felt like we could take a breath for a day after my grandma’s funeral and the kids and I were out playing in the yard one morning. They saw my neighbor and went running over to say hello and her cat had died, who of course my kids adored. (Because we won't let them have one) And it hasn’t just been through death that loss has happened. We inherited 3 chicks who all turned out to be roosters. Seriously, what are the chances?!? So between all the death we also had to get rid of 2 chickens. My kids were once again crushed. I am sure chickens may not be a hard loss for some, but when you are 6 & 4 its a pretty big deal. </div>
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And then, yesterday, my friend moved across the world. My friend that has lived life alongside me, almost daily, for over 7 years. When we met she had 2 kids and I wasn’t even pregnant with Rafi yet. Since then we have added 4 kids to the crew between us. We have seen birth. Experienced the loss of parents and grandparents. Have served endless hours in ministry. Have seen many women be healed and freed. And have experienced so much of that for ourselves. Job changes. House moves. Celebrated joys. Cried from sorrows. Ran a million miles (I should be skinnier). Sent zillions of texts. Hours of phone calls. You get it. We are friends. Really great friends. And she has moved to Singapore. Just for a couple years, but still, way too far and too much change than I am comfortable with. </div>
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Now, back to my word for the year. What does embrace have to do with any of this? Well, let me tell you what starts to happen internally to me after all this loss. My dialogue goes something like: "Why bother loving people or investing in relationship when eventually they won't be here? Don't get too close because this is going to end up hurting. Life is just so much easier when you trust little, love little and do everything on your own." (Am I the only one that occasionally has these thoughts?!?). I know deep down this isn't true, but sometimes it feels like this is the safest path to travel. </div>
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But I have clung to that word and God has reminded me often this year that I must embrace change. That I should love people well while I still have them. That his plans are always better than mine, and embracing his love, grace and mercy will always lead to goodness. </div>
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So life looks different a little over half way through the year than it did at the beginning. We have had some loss, but we have gained much. Since January we have moved to a new house and added a joyful baby to the family. We are now the proud owners of 3 chickens (2 of which are not roosters-hooray). We have made new friends, gained great neighbors and grown closer to our families. We have had a deeper understanding of God's love, provision, and plans for our lives. </div>
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And the bonus that I didn't ever see coming was how much Tony and I would grow together through all this change. Learning to lean on one another through the pain, joy, and adventure. After ten years of marriage we may finally be getting this thing down! </div>
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What does your 2016 look like so far? It's a good time to do a check and make the most out of the rest of the year. Join me in embracing goodness, kindness, joy, Jesus- and when it's not too awkward- each other. </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-87923386639357331742016-07-11T19:03:00.002-07:002016-07-11T19:03:48.767-07:00#KindnessMatters<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;">
Lately when I hop on Facebook I find myself channeling Dory and singing “Just keep scrolling, just keep scrolling.” There is so much anger, arguing, and pure ridiculousness. I have seen so many debates lately from the recent killings, to the presidential candidates, to church and the afterlife. It’s insanity. And at a time in our country where we need to come together, we spend every moment fighting about who is right and who is wrong with EVERY…SINGLE…THING. </div>
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After getting myself worked up over some of these discussions in my own head, I had a couple thoughts I wanted to share.</div>
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First- Facebook is not the place to hash out life altering theological debates or really anything of substance. If anyone finds a discussion thread that ends with someone saying "wow! You have totally changed my opinion through this back and forth Facebook conversation." Please screen shot it and send to me. In the meantime I will be riding my unicorn over to fairyland. </div>
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Second- since Facebook isn't the place for this- how do we have these discussion??? I'm glad you asked. Back before social media, people did this crazy shit called "face to face conversations." I know. Sounds like a myth. It's actually not. You know my husband and I still invite people over to our home regularly for dinner? (Gasp) And a lot of times controversial things come up. (Double gasp) It is so much better to discuss with someone when you can see their face and hear their tone. I encourage everyone to give this dying practice another shot. It really helps. </div>
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Third-what I think the world needs most right now is kindness. And I don't mean fake kindness. Not where we are saying hateful things but using a preface of "I am saying this in love." No you are not! You are saying it to prove a point without wanting to be an asshole. It's like in the south when we say "bless her heart.” It gives us the right to say anything: "bless her heart, she is just so fat." Really?!? Is that a blessing??? </div>
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So what's the best way to show kindness in these tense situations where our world is falling apart, people are being murdered, and hatred is running rampant? How do we love each other well? I think one of the best possible things you can do is just shut the f**** up. Some of you are holding your breath right now after that word just popped into your brain. (by the way I said Frank- what are you thinking?) Keep holding it. Every time you want to talk over someone. Every time you want to drill your point in and not let them speak. Every time you think you know how someone else is feeling. Every time you want to reply back to someones status on Facebook for the sake of arguing. Think of that word and shut your mouth. </div>
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I am not saying we shouldn’t discuss things. It is the only way we can start to make a better world. But in order for us to really have these discussions, someone has to talk and someone has to listen. We need to know each others stories. If you knew mine, you would know why I care so deeply about community, living out of the truest parts of who you are, and the deep desire to bring joy into every day. If I knew yours I would understand why you have the opinions you do, believe in the things you do, celebrate the things you do. But you wont know about me if you are always blabbing. And I won’t know about you if I am. So let’s all do each other a favor and give someone a turn to talk. And let’s listen to them. Really listen. Not sit and wait for your chance to tell them (or type out) why they are wrong. </div>
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Finally- it is occasionally better to be kind, than to prove you’re right. </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-61697788054395674572016-07-01T19:56:00.003-07:002016-07-01T19:56:13.758-07:00Goodness <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
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Tony: “Hey, what movie do you want to fall asleep to?” (Because I NEVER stay awake) </div>
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Me: “Whatever, as long as it is funny.”</div>
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Seriously, every.single.time. </div>
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If there is some depth to it, I am normally out. Hurt, pain, death… nope. Not me. I would just as soon throw on an episode of Modern Family I have seen a dozen times and laugh. Who wants to watch people crying on the screen. Blah. I am getting ill thinking about it. </div>
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We were with friends last weekend and it was really comical to talk this out. Me explaining my serious desire to laugh and being so turned off by the thought of watching any kind of drama. </div>
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So much so that I can barely relate to other people with movies because unless it is funny or a kids movie, I probably have not seen it. </div>
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But here is the deal. We live in a world that is soooooo f-ing depressing. You turn the news on (which FYI- I try not to EVER do that) it is all horrible. Radio- depressing. Facebook- OH my Lord. Every single thing that can go wrong, its trending. The other night I couldn’t sleep and in a matter of 5 minutes on Facebook I saw- A man was killed by a bear riding his bike, the Texas and Florida beaches are filled with flesh eating bacteria, and a mom in Texas shot her 2 girls in the front yard and killed them in front of their dad. </div>
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What thaaaaa haaaeelllll… Y’all. It’s just so hard out there. BUT- I think it’s always been this hard. It’s just that all news is reported now and so everything is in our face. And it feels overwhelming. And occasionally, I don’t want to shock anyone, but sometimes things are a bit exaggerated. </div>
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Think about the last month. Kid falls in Gorilla Enclosure and everyone is an expert on gorillas and parenting. A child dies at Disney and everyone is an expert on alligators, proper signage at theme parks, and again- parenting. I read about the man who was killed by a bear and you guessed it- everyone was an expert on bears- and mountain biking. In all of these scenarios, through traditional and social media, everyone just seemed really angry on all sides. And what gives? People lost their lives. Do we not just feel sadness for them? For their families? </div>
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It just seems that we are so inundated with negative information we have become cold to the fact that people matter. Their lives matter. And we have truly lost the fact that there is still so much good in this world. </div>
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Our last month has been a complete shit fest. My father in law became ill after a surgery and after 2 weeks of fighting off multiple infections he ended up passing away. The following week as we prepared for his celebration which would be at our house, my dad called to tell me my grandma was in the hospital and not expected to make it. She passed the following week. </div>
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BUT, here is what else happened over the last month. We had so many calls, cards, text messages and visits from people letting us know they were thinking of us and praying for us. We had friends come and help me clean the house so it would be ready for my father in laws celebration. We had people bring tables, chairs, and shade structures so we could accommodate 50 people at our house with 6 days notice. I had friends take my kids for the day so I could go grocery shopping and to the gym for 1 hour of sanity in all of this. We had people come and serve our guests and clean up after so that we didn’t have to worry about anything. At my grandma’s funeral I got to see all my aunts and uncles pull together to support one another. There were tears but there was lots of laughter. There were great stories told. So many hugs that even I gave in and handed a few out. And so much joy. Joy to be with family. Joy to be connected to others. Joy to stop for a moment and reminisce and laugh. Joy in knowing that life does not end here, but that their stories are just beginning. </div>
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There is much good in the world because there are lots of good people in the world. I have seen it over the last month in my friends and family. I know there are times it can be hard to spot. Sometimes the world does seem all bad. But we have to make a choice in those times to find the goodness. Look at the faces of your children and you will see it. </div>
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So occasionally skip over the drama and action films and pick Anchorman, Old School or Pitch Perfect. Set yourself up for a successful day of laughter and then go tackle the world. It looks like a much better place after you have laughed for 2 hours. And then share all that joy with others. I am still on a naive path of believing that laughter, kindness and joy can change the world- one person at a time. </div>
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Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-60464606054906738612016-04-07T11:44:00.003-07:002016-04-07T16:16:47.756-07:00The Beauty of Inclusion <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">
“My friends list is full right now so unless someone drops off- I can’t take anyone else on.” - Me</div>
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Yes. I just quoted myself. I just quoted myself sounding like a complete douche bag. Seriously. This is a real quote. I used to say this… ALL THE TIME. </div>
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I believed if I had a couple of friends then I was doing good. And I made sure I didn’t really include anybody else in anything I was doing for fear that they would get the idea we could be friends. Really? I am not even that cool. I want to hit myself for even thinking I had that kind of influence. </div>
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All of this to say- I learned the art of excluding women. I could have taught a class in it. I could walk into a room and specifically pick out who I wanted to talk to and make every effort to not talk to anyone else. I am typing this while laughing and rolling my eyes at my old patterns of life. “Oh my gosh. You were such a bitch.” </div>
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Was my fear that I didn’t have time for other people? That I couldn’t keep up with the demands of knowing everyone’s birthday, favorite food, kid’s names?? I wish. That would have maybe been a good reason.</div>
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But the truth is, I was scared. I was scared that people would want to get close to me and expose all the areas I am a mess in. I was scared that they may have better gifting or better talents than me and I would not be needed in the circle of friends any longer. I was scared that the more people in your life, the less control you have over your relationships. And we all know that there is no better friend than one that controls you, right?!? </div>
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You see the world has given women this weird view of how we should treat each other in a group setting. We are always on the mission to be “exclusive”. The popular ones. We like to circle up with a few friends and then fight for our life to keep everyone else out. While at the same time letting everyone in the world know through FB, Instagram and every other social media site, that we do everything together! </div>
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I would love to say it was just me that used to do that, but years into women’s ministry I hear it all the time. I hear the struggle and hurt of women who have been the product of being left out. I see it everywhere from the little girls in kindergarten at my daughters school to the moms at the gym. We can be great at excluding people where we want and when we want. </div>
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And I HATE it! I am sad and embarrassed to admit this is how I operated for many many years of my life. But God has been working on me in so many areas and this is just one.</div>
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What I now know to be true is that the most beautiful women I know are the most inclusive. If they see someone off to the side they make sure to befriend them. They are inviting. They are loving. They are not selfish in friendships. They are secure in who they are and have no reason to think they would ever be replaced. They know their value. And that they have great worth. They are the face of Jesus to many who feel unloved, unwanted and devalued. And I have realized that if we all gave up the act of trying to be cooler than we think we are, we can find treasure in each woman we meet. </div>
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So friends, let’s shake off the exclusive mentality and embrace a culture of inclusiveness. The world is hard on women, so let’s make sure we are not adding to that pain. We owe that to our middle school selves when fitting in was hard. We owe it to our stage of being a first time mom when we felt judged by others. And we owe it to our daughters who are watching us and taking note. Let’s be as kind to one another as we want others to be to us. </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-20677624576796887292015-12-14T15:39:00.000-08:002015-12-14T15:39:03.337-08:00My Really Bad Botox PhaseI am going through something right now. I wish we were all sitting in a room together and I was playing the song Confessions by Usher in the background while I told you this story. (Side note- I have considered downloading this song and playing it every time someone starts to confess about anything. I think it would be such a fun way to just air out some stuff)<br />
I realize that as I grow in my walk with Jesus I can't just say all the things that pop into my brain. To be more specific I can't respond with sarcasm, rude comments, or just flat out eye rolls when someone says something....well... stupid. And y'all, do you know how often this happens??<br />
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"Are you having twins?"<br />
"Why do you not speak Spanish if your last name is Perez?"<br />
"When you want something sweet you should eat a piece of fruit instead of candy."<br />
Or anytime anyone even mentions the term Obamacare. Ever.<br />
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The list could go on forever. But that's not the point. The point is, that I have to grow up and I can't just retaliate with some rude comment when things like this come up. And I have such sweet friends that have matured in Jesus and handle these things with such grace. They smile or somehow maneuver the conversation to a healthy and less ridiculous place. And I want to be just like them when it comes to this.<br />
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But that's not what is happening. As I slowly start to close my mouth and stop myself from spewing out verbal diarrhea, what has happened is what I am calling my really bad botox phase. (And let's face it, good botox rarely makes headlines.) The only way to explain this to you is by showing you. So when someone makes one of the above comments or the other 4 million I don't like, this is what happens:<br />
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I know. Could I look any hotter? It's like- did she just burn herself or possibly have an accident in her pants? And it ages me like 15 years. And makes me look like I have 6 chins. But I can't stop it. My face automatically goes to this place and is frozen there. It is absolutely terrible. And eventually (like after an awkward 5 minutes) I just start talking about something totally different- like the weather. </div>
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I assume this frozen face will last less time as I grow more. Eventually not happening at all and stepping into such a beautiful graceful place like so many women who I admire and respect. But for now, this is all I got. </div>
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So now you know. I am not perfect. If I make this face, slap me and tell me to grow up and that my opinion is not the only one. And pray for me that one day I will just have the good botox that makes me look 21 and always slightly giddy, in a non creepy kind of way. </div>
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<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-56932896774988622992015-07-17T15:55:00.002-07:002015-07-17T15:56:39.993-07:00The Journey for Joy<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
I have tried to make a habit of asking Jesus what my theme is for the year, or sometimes for a season. This practice has really helped me to keep focus on what is really going on in my world and what God may be revealing about himself, or about me in that time. So in May I prayed about this summer and asked God what the theme was. “Joy. Make an adventure of finding Joy.” Joy! What a great word. Joy felt good. This is going to be a great season. And it was that word in May that started this journey…</div>
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We had just come out of a fabulous women’s retreat and Mother’s Day weekend. We put our house on the market and got a full offer the first weekend. We were moving right along with what we believed God’s plan was. I could see joy all around me. This was an “easy” word. </div>
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Then the first week of June the offer fell through. Rats. ok. Set back. Not defeated, but bummed. So I decided for the sake of my sanity I would clean the house, pack everyone up and head to my moms for the weekend so we were not having to run in and out and keep the house spotless while it was showing. We are making the usual drive to Bastrop on the back highway when someone pulls out 10 feet in front of me leaving me no time to stop. We hit him at 65 miles an hour. Every air bag deployed, (did you know some cars have air bags at your feet??! Thank God!) windows shattered, smoke everywhere, car completely smashed in. After the car stopped spinning we stopped just short of a ditch and I flung myself from the car. The kids were screaming so I knew they were alive. The dog was moving so I knew she was alive. There was blood and tears and complete panic as I grabbed my children from the car. We were transported to Dell Children immediately to undergo every test that you can have since we were considered “trauma” at the speed we hit. </div>
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Let me assure you I didn’t feel joy in that moment. Yes, I was thankful we were alive, but I was in complete fear. I was 8 weeks pregnant and just slammed into multiple air bags and a seat belt. My kids were frightened as they were having x-rays and CT scans done. My family was worried as they received the news of the car accident. But I look at that day- 6 weeks later and can see the face of Jesus in so many moments through so many people. The car traveling directly behind us was a Bastrop Country Sheriff. She witnessed the entire thing and had help there within minutes. The accident happened in front of a tire store where the workers were hanging out in front. They were helping us right away and even kept the dog for us so she wasn’t taken to animal control and could get to the emergency vet clinic. We had family at the hospital before we ever even got off the ambulance. A friend went to buy us new car seats while tests were being ran and brought them to the hospital so we could go home when we were released. The workers at Dell treated me there so that I would not have to be separated from the kids. The doctor assigned to me told me his wife was in a car accident one year earlier. Their toddler was in the car and she was 8 weeks pregnant. Talk about someone who could relate. We had meals brought to us and checked up on regularly. Jesus was there in every moment and every detail. And we were all ok. We all had bumps and bruises but the air bags and seat belts spared us all. My little fighter baby is now 14 weeks along. Even the dog made it out with just a busted eye from an air bag.</div>
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But I have struggled to find the joy many times. You see even though I can look back and see the goodness, in the middle of the chaos I found myself asking over and over, “where is the joy in this Jesus?” </div>
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After the accident I never felt like we were supposed to get a new car yet. In fact I really wanted to be disobedient in those feelings and just go get one. I NEED a car. Why would Jesus not want me to have one? See I know there is this whole belief that we should do what we want because Jesus will bless it, and what is in our hearts he put there, and there is grace, and there is some truth in all of that- but let me assure you there are many, many things I WANT to do, that I should not. I would like to drink a case of beer when I am stressed out instead of dealing with it. I would like to tell people off when they make me mad instead of being kind. I would like to beat my kids when they are acting crazy. So for me, I try to ask what Jesus wants for me. Not what I want for me. (Because the answer to that is to be a professional air guitar champion) So no clearance for a car. Ok. </div>
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We ended up getting another offer on the house, and it was moving fast. We are dealing with all the insurance stuff from wreck, borrowing a car from a friend for a bit and moving from our house. Stress. That is what I felt. Not joy, stress. And so my heart moved from asking “where is the joy?” to “why did you let this happen?” I knew God told us to sell the house. And now I am about to have no car, and no home (we are building a house that will not be done for a couple of months). Why in the world would he let this happen?? And I realized in questioning God’s goodness- that my joy comes from the comfort of the world I have created, and the happiness of things going my way. The materialistic items that make me happy. They give me fabricated joy.My life working out as I plan it. That makes me happy. I like the comfort of not having to ask for help. And when you don’t have a car and have to ask for a ride, your comfort zone is gone. We moved to my mom’s for the summer. And although I love it here (because it is literally like a resort) it is not my home. And all the comfort you have with having your own things- they are gone. </div>
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So the false joy that I have from my stuff is all gone right now. And I have found joy in so many, many REAL things. In the stillness of the morning and letting my heart once again connect with Jesus. I have found joy in the beautiful land that has emerged out of the fires in Bastrop. That in devastation and destruction God has raised up beauty once again. I have found joy in sitting with my kids and laughing so hard I cry. I have found joy in the strength of my husband who is constant and always good. I have found joy in being with my mom and aunt and cooking them dinner before they come home from work. I have found joy in friendships that are so raw and real and authentic. I have found joy in watching my dog shake in fear from a 6 lb cat, but run full speed at a huge deer like its a stuffed animal. </div>
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God is after real joy in me. And he is pursing my heart to find it. Through the accident. Through the sell of our house (which closed Wednesday by the way!). Through stripping away my comfort. Through life not working out exactly how I have planned, but how He has planned. The scripture I say over and over is “The joy of the Lord is my strength.” And I want nothing more than to be stronger with each day. </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-87925113376879128352015-05-21T10:18:00.005-07:002015-05-21T10:18:46.972-07:00Women (INSERT EYE ROLL)<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Seriously though. Don’t you do that?? Is it just me? Often times in my life when I think about a gathering of women my eyes roll and I think “this is sure to be a nightmare.” <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Let me give you an example of why. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Last month I was in body pump (which just an FYI is a class created by people who hate themselves- yet I love it and go twice a week) when a lady came charging in across a class of 50+ people. We are all mid squat track, carrying massively heavy weights (super exaggeration for me. It was like 4 lbs but felt like 1,000) when this lady interrupts the instructor to ask her to turn the music down. Whaaa?!? Yea. For real. She was working out upstairs and didn’t like how loud the music was from the group fitness class. My instructor stopped her class and tried to turn it down a bit. The lady apparently thought she intentionally turned it up and flipped out. I mean screaming at the top of her lungs, hands flying through the air, face red, edge of a stroke flipping out. And because I have done women’s ministry for years now you know what my thought was? “Seems like a regular f%#$ing Tuesday around here.” Come on. It didn’t even phase me. No shock value. Not even a pause. Nothing.</span></div>
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Why do you think that is? Well, amongst women there seems to be an overwhelming drama factor. Women just come with a baggage of emotion. So much crying, hormones, feelings, ups and downs, its sooooo hard to keep up with. Hell, I am a woman and I am scared of my own hormonal swings at times. I look around and think “was that me that just screamed at my kids? What happened?!? 4 seconds ago I was dying laughing.” Scary. </div>
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But the truth is, that is not even the real drama that I avoid. I have actually started to embrace the changing landscape of emotions that comes with being in community with other women. And because Jesus has given me a view of the world that most often times looks comical- I have just started to look at those things and say “I live in the longest episode of SNL of all time.” Ever changing clips of really crazy people, doing really funny things. It’s actually become- dare I say- enjoyable. </div>
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Let me tell you what does make my eyes roll though. The striving to be each other. Which in itself is insane since normally the person we are trying to be like, we don’t even actually like. I know it’s something that women have done forever (comparing yourself to someone else) but this age of false lives , AKA Social Media, has escalated everything. I catch myself doing it all the time. </div>
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“Oh my gosh, look at those pics of her kids. They are always hugging and getting along. My kids are always fighting. I want to be like her. She is a better mom than me”</div>
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“Her and her husband are checked in on another date night!?! Gosh, Tony and I rarely go out on dates. I really need to step it up. He probably thinks I’m really boring”</div>
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“Look at how many miles she ran today. I should really put this tub of ice cream down and go run.”</div>
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“She built a whole business on her free time today. All I did was change a 3 year olds shitty diaper” (yea, you read that right. 3. Get over it perfect parent)</div>
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Seriously, you go there. You start this whole deal up where you beat yourself up comparing your life to someone else and then striving to be them. Its exhausting. And INSANE. </div>
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We have all read the articles about how these online lives are false and we know someone can drive their car to the top of the mountain, take a selfie and say they ran up it. We get it. </div>
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But that false self and need to be better than each other is making its way passed the keyboards of our computers and screens on our phones and becoming who we are in our actual life. </div>
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I hear so many conversations and have experienced them myself when someone says “We are moving to a new house.” And immediately the response from another woman is- “oh really, we are going to be moving too, and we are getting even more for our house.” </div>
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Or “we are going to go out on a date Friday” and the response is “we go out every Friday and this week we are going out Saturday too.” </div>
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Come on ladies. We are not happy for anyone who may be perceived as doing something “better” than us. And all that happens is, we ruin their joy, and our own. Why is it so hard to be happy for each other? </div>
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James 4:1-2 (MSG) “Where do you think all these appalling wars and quarrels come from? Do you think they just happen? Think again. They come about because you want your own way, and fight for it deep inside yourselves. You lust for what you don’t have and are willing to kill to get it. You want what isn’t yours and will risk violence to get your hands on it.” </div>
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I know you are not out there trying to physically kill anyone, (if you are, I pray this blog in no way offends you. I meant it for someone else) but we are killing each others joy. We are killing each others confidence. Trust. Hope. And most of all, we are killing our relationships. Women are really good at tearing each other down in order to build themselves up. We want your dream crushed, if ours is not coming true. </div>
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Well guess what?!? We also have the power to encourage one another. To build each other up. To call out the best in each of us as mothers, wives, friends, and women!</div>
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So, let’s take off the false personality and get rid of the strife. I will start with me. </div>
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- I like my house clean, but I have 2 kids and a dog so it is rarely that</div>
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The list can go on forever. I am not perfect. Thank God. So much pressure. Neither are you. AND neither is anyone else you are comparing yourself to. Be encouraged today that you are who you are, (in all your drama, mood swings, changing hormones, joy, life, love, mess) and that is a VERY VERY good thing.</div>
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Where are you trying to be something you are not? It is a great thing to want to be better, as long as that is a better you, not a lesser version of someone else. </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-76475067607865187142014-12-30T12:36:00.000-08:002014-12-30T18:32:48.986-08:00Church on the Trail <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Two and a half years ago my friend Amy was getting ready for her 40th birthday. She announced that to celebrate the big day she would be running a half marathon. She then shared that she had never run more than a couple miles. Wow. Bold move. Well, always up for a fun running partner, I told her I would do long runs with her to get ready. </div>
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Amy and I had been friends for several years by the time we started running together. We had served in all kinds of roles together at church- MOPS, Kids Ministry, herding camels while I was 5 months pregnant for a live nativity scene. You name it, we had done it. </div>
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But training for a half marathon was very different. There was minimal distractions on long runs. Except for those coyotes we avoid in early morning, foul skunk encounters, rattle snake crossing in the summer, well ok, there are some distractions. But compared to large events, or the rush of children’s ministry on a Sunday morning, really it was just us, on a trail, for hours. </div>
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Something you should know about me is that when I run, I talk the entire time. It is actually how I have learned to breath. When I run alone it is terrible. If I ever have to do it, I put on podcasts and talk to the people on it. Like I might say “oh my gosh Brandon Hatmaker. That is such a great point. I totally agree.” While I am running around Pflugerville Lake…alone. I know, very normal. But I can’t regulate my breathing while I run if I am not talking. </div>
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So when you train with someone to run 13.1 miles, there is a lot to talk about. How to get kids to sleep, funny grocery store mishaps, movie reviews, book reviews, restaurant reviews. You know- super important life stuff. And although we did talk about those things, we started to use our time to talk about<i> slightly </i>deeper things like what God was doing in our life, our families life, and what God was asking of each of us. Our runs became more about Jesus, then it ever did about training or losing my baby weight. </div>
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And here we are, a couple years later, still running together almost every weekend. Sometimes we are training for a race, and sometimes we are not, but still we meet very early each weekend to get in some miles. </div>
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Through all of this, one of the huge changes that happened in my life was that I stopped attending a church regularly. (I know, all of you die hard church people are about to lose your </div>
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$%&# on me right about now. Take a deep breath and get a death grip on your panties so they don’t get in a bunch.) I shared in a previous blog that I had started questioning the organized church setting and seeking Jesus for answers. My goal is always to press into Jesus, to know him more, and to know who he created me to be. I did not find that attending church, or even serving there, was helping me with this. (Note- this is just me personally, I am not saying everyone does or should feel like this. Nobody try to send your hate mail to my inbox)</div>
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People would always ask me “so what church do you go to now?” and I always just said awkwardly “uhh…nowhere?!?” (that was in my Best Ron Burgendy voice) They looked very concerned and I think they make a mental note to pray for my salvation, light a candle for me, and vow they will bring holy water with them next time we may see each other. But the truth is, I do have a church. I call it Church on the Trail. What does that look like? Well, I would LOVE to share.</div>
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This church does not have a tax exempt status or a building. There is no leader except the Holy Spirit. It doesn’t take up tithes (unless you run with me- then you must bring me gummy bears or jolly ranchers). There is no membership class, but there is a strong allegiance to each other and a commitment to grow together and be discipled by Jesus. Sometimes it is 2 of us, and sometimes there are 15 of us. It is nights of prayer, really fun dinners where peeing your pants is highly likely, bible studies, and cleaning houses for single moms. Sometimes it is my husband and I praying with another couple or teaching our kids about God’s love, or spending time with our family discussing all that God is doing. </div>
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You see, I didn’t know when we started all this running that it was church. (Like I said before, church was always a building I went to) It started as a safe place for us to discuss thoughts about God, our calling, our lives. And we were able to do this without judgement, without pressure, without rules being imposed on what that should look like. Nobody telling us we HAD to do something, but discerning God’s gentle voice, <b>leading</b> us to do something. I learned how to walk with God in a deeper way and because of it, have been able to share that with others. But church on the trail is open to everyone. It doesn’t just happen when we are running for 2 hours together, just as we are not meant to only be Christians the 2 hours we attend church on Sunday. </div>
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<b>We are the church. All the time. Everywhere.</b> How we express that, well that depends on you. Is your church (meaning YOU) welcoming? Is it encouraging others to dig deeper into God, even if that looks different than the exact way you believe? Church for me is a group of people, seeking God and praising him in all they do. Maybe you go to a church building that does just that. YEAAA!!! And maybe you don’t. It seems the more people I meet fall into that category. They have been burned by church, or just burned out. For those people, church in all that God created it to be, still exists. In people who love him. Who seek him. Who want you to find all that he has for you and all the freedom he died to give. If this is you, I pray that you find like hearted people to join together with. Whether that be on Brushy Creek Trail on the weekend (don’t try to stalk me now), a disc golf course, a living room, wherever. We were never meant to walk this life out alone. God will provide. </div>
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If you are serving Jesus in a unique way, what does that look like for you? Would love to hear how God is building his church all over the place. </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-36183926339486872032014-12-02T18:32:00.000-08:002014-12-02T18:32:45.184-08:00Adopted In Love<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
My son Beck is 2 1/2 years old. Beck never had the chance to meet my step dad Rodger. The very last time I saw Rodger was when I was hugging him to tell him I was in labor and headed to the hospital to have Beck. Sweet Rodg was pretty sick by that point. Each day I would walk in to see him he would look at my stomach and sigh, anxiously awaiting Beck’s arrival. I sent pictures from the hospital when Beck was born and Rodger was able to see him. By morning the next day Rodger had slipped into a sleep that he would never come out of. He sure did hang on to make sure he saw Beck on this side of heaven though. </div>
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And what is so interesting about all of this is that Beck LOVES his Papa. His Papa he has only seen in pictures. He always tells me how much he misses him. He will even wake in the morning and tell me funny things Rodger tells him. I will ask where he saw him and he says “I saw him in Heaven, where he lives.” Maybe his dreams are of him, I don’t know. As my friend Dana says “I can’t begin to understand all of the wonderful mysteries of God.” Me neither.</div>
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What I do know is that Beck has a love for the outdoors, an addiction to music, and an obsession with 4-wheelers. Pretty much his Papa in a small, M<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">exican body.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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Rodger was always my step dad. Meaning, he never adopted me legally. There was no reason for him to. I have a dad who is and always has been very present in my life. He is one of the greatest men I know. So I just got an extra Dad. I know- some people really are just that lucky. </div>
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So I was not Rodger’s daughter “on paper” nor was I his daughter by blood. But in love he adopted me as his own. And because of that I grew to be more like him. I grew a love for the mountains that remains deep in my heart today, just like him. I fell in love with the country and the desire to live off the land like he did. I learned how to be more encouraging, more understanding and more kind, because of him. Some of it I learned by things he said to me. But a lot of it I learned by spending time with him. Lots and lots of time. We would sit in his workshop for hours upon hours talking when I was younger. And it is those moments that I cherish most. It is those moments my heart grew, learned, changed. I never had to do anything. I just had to be there. </div>
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I was thinking about Rodger this morning as we near Christmas and I miss him terribly. I was thinking about how his adopting me in love not only changed me, but changed my kids. Beck has similar desires and characteristics of Rodger who has no blood relation to him what so ever. He never even met him. But love transcends all those lines. And then I realized how blessed I was to experience that twice in my life. </div>
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Jesus adopted me as his daughter. And because of it, my life is forever changed. My kids are forever changed. The more time I spend with him, the more I become like him. The more my kids become like him. His desires become my desires. I see characteristics of him in my son and daughter. The lineage of my family goes straight to Jesus and his love that rescued me. And just like Rodger my heart changes and grows from what he tells me in his word, and from hours and hours together with him. </div>
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Praising Jesus tonight as I look at my life, sometimes filled with tragedy and pain and yet undeniable, breathtaking, healing beauty in the middle of all of it. </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-40328123816894116892014-05-26T13:17:00.000-07:002014-05-26T13:17:11.362-07:00Authenticity <div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>“There should be a consistency that runs through us all. For Jesus doesn’t change-- yesterday, today, tomorrow, he’s always totally himself.” - Hebrews 13: 8 (MSG)</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This scripture. It has turned me into the scene in Zoolander where Derrick is looking in the puddle on the street at his reflection and says “Who am I?” Is there a consistency that runs through me? Am I the same person behind closed doors that I am in public when people are watching? Who am I really? And is that who God wants me to be?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There are times when I am almost too consistent in who I am. Meaning I have no filter. A good example of this is if I don’t like something or I don’t really love being around someone, I don’t know how to be anything but consistent with my feelings (AKA rude). Most of the time I like to say it’s because I don’t like to be fake, and that is true, but I also like for people to know I don’t like it. It is my safe place and makes me feel like I have some power over a situation. Yes, obviously wrong, and nothing like who Jesus is, but I am just being honest. It is something that I have to constantly work on and occasionally master- but not always. I also don’t think that is the kind of consistency the scripture is referring to. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Then there are times that I am not being consistent with who I am because I am comparing myself to other people. I went for a playdate at the pool a couple weeks ago with my friend Dana. Dana has 4 kids and has the body of a swimsuit model. I generally feel ok in my full piece swimsuit, (except when it is my speedo, because those were clearly made in hell) but then Dana stands next to me looking like a hottie in her bikini. Suddenly I don’t feel ok. Actually I start to think- If I go on a cigarette and coffee diet for the next 7 weeks I too could look like this. I am neither a smoker or a daily coffee drinker, but I was willing to become one. And it’s not just comparing my body to other people. Sometimes I am with other moms and their kids are behaving so well and I think- WOW! I bet their kids never fight. I bet she never raises her voice. I need to be more like her. My thoughts are immediately interrupted by the sound of Rafi screaming because Beck is pulling her hair out, and I am in full yelling mode. I can start to strive to be like others who I think have a better marriage, better house, better spiritual life than me. I am sure I am the only one who does this, but just in case I am not, let me tell you- It is really hard to be me, when I am trying to be someone else. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So how can I truly, consistently be me? I think the first step is embracing the unique and special person that God has made me to be. From my physical appearance to my personality. He is, after all, the one that gave me my love of nature, food and humor. He set the need for adventure, beauty and laughter into my heart. Those things are good things. And it’s ok to like the things I like, even if someone else doesn’t. I don’t have to be ashamed of that. Even my no filter is a good thing. He made me that way to have strong conversations with people when it is needed. I just have to do it in love and not out of my own human desire to be right.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I also believe that I become a little more me when I pursue the desires that God has placed in my heart. I deeply desire true friendships. I desire to see women’s hearts restored and find true freedom in Jesus. I truly desire to be the mom that God has called ME to be. Not the mom he has called someone else to be. My kids are also uniquely created for something special in God’s kingdom. If I raise them to be like someone else’s kids, how in the world will they ever be free to be themselves?!? I desire to have a marriage that reflects God’s love to my kids, my family and to people who don’t even know us. The more I chase after those things, the more comfortable I am with letting go of the things God didn’t place in my heart. Like becoming a chain smoking caffein addict. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And finally, constantly asking God “Who am I?” and listening for the answer. There have been seasons where I have to be heroic. Seasons where he is asking me to be bold. Times where he is asking me to rest or wait or GO! No matter what the answer is, it is always leading me deeper into who Jesus really is and that is what I want more than anything. To find my true self in Him. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Where are you on this journey? Have you found ways to be consistently like Jesus? If so- please share. I am on a life long mission to be ME!</span></div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-70030273009556484802014-04-02T20:44:00.000-07:002014-04-02T20:44:24.335-07:00The Art of FriendshipAs I finally begin to wrap up my birthday celebrations, I can’t help but sit in complete gratitude for all that God has blessed me with. I have spent over a week celebrating with my amazing family and wonderful friends. Yea a week. I know. I party hard. <br /><br />During this time God has really urged me to look at the friendships that I have and reflect on what a beautiful and wonderful gift it is. I suppose that is because I have never really been grateful for my friendships- I mean if I am just being honest. I may have liked hanging out with certain people or even talking to them on the phone every once in a while. But the truth is my relationships were very shallow. I mean I had a shirt that I made with some friends one time that said:<br /><b><br /></b><b> “I am the most shallow person I know.” </b><br />
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Oh- did you get caught up in the fact that we used to make our own shirts?!? I know- Mall kiosks were hot spots back then. Don’t judge.<br />
<br />The shirt was actually pretty accurate though. I was shallow. I didn’t really want to open myself up to other people because that could potentially lead to getting hurt. I wasn’t willing to risk that. So I played it off by keeping conversations light and fun. And I will tell you- I became an expert at shallow friendships. <br /><br />It has taken years of prayer and asking God to bring women into my life that could show me what real friendship looks like. Some women have been in my life for years I had just never opened myself up to a deeper relationship, then Jesus opened a door for that. Some God brought me more recently, but it feels like we have known each other forever. I can look at my life now and see an answered prayer when I think of the incredible women God has surrounded me with. <br /><br />Women who get the honor of having a front row seat to my uncut, and unfiltered crazyness. Friends that I have to call and say “meet me at the park later today because if I don’t get out of the house with these kids of mine, you are going to see me on the evening news.” Friends I can have a melt down with, be sarcastic with, be quiet with--yea right. Never happens. But if I wanted to, they would let me. Sharing hopes, dreams, fears, and desires. Asking for advice on walking out my relationship with Jesus, my kids, my husband. Women who I can call and say “hello” and the tone of my voice says to them “something is off. What’s going on with you today?” <br />And women who will go to battle spiritually for me. Praying when I really don’t have the energy to do it for myself. In a million years I never thought this would be my life. <br /><br />Friendships seem harder and harder to come by these days. A Facebook friend does not actually equal a real friend. A public tweet to someone doesn’t take the place of a phone call or visit. Friendships take more than liking someones picture or as my nephew says giving someone a “double tap” on Instagram. Deep friendships take big investments. They must be fought for, prayed over, and nourished. <br /><br />Has God blessed you with these types of relationships? If so, give thanks. And call your friends and tell them how grateful you are for them. If this is something your heart desires, I know exactly how you feel. I have been there. And I urge you to pray and ask God to bring those relationships into your life. He will. I am living proof that He will. You just need an open heart to receive them when He does bring them. <br /><br />So thank you to all of my friends who put up with me. Who listen to me rant for hours about nothing that I think is something. Who invite me to a surprise party at Alamo Drafthouse for a Zoolander Quote A Long. Who allow me to then volunteer myself for a traditional Runway Walk Off in front of a room of total strangers. You are the absolute best and worst all at the same time.<br />
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Note: If you have never seen Zoolander- do yourself a favor and get it today. You can thank me later. So you know- a traditional walk off means someone does a move and the next person duplicates then adds on. That is what you are seeing here. *no one was injured in the making of this film*Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-16012326414425682742014-03-18T20:57:00.002-07:002014-03-18T21:10:09.662-07:00A Blog About A DogLet me let you in on a little secret. I like dogs. Truth be told, I may actually like dogs more than I like people. They don’t back talk, they never share your secrets, they don’t even judge you for having a lions mane for hair when you wake up in the morning. In fact, they seem to love you more<br />
because you are clearly embracing the animal kingdom on a new level. Seriously- how can you not love them?!?<br />
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And I had a dog I loved very much. Her name was Izzy. When we thought we were moving out of the country we gave her to a family that was looking for a dog. They grew very attached to her and so did their kids so we knew we could never ask for her back. My daughter would cry for her almost every day and finally at thanksgiving, my husband gave in and gave us both what we wanted- another dog. <br />
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This is Nala the week we got her. <br />
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I know- she is so adorable. Our last dog was a boxer so when we got Nala we thought we knew exactly what we were in for. And oh my freakin goodness were we wrong. When I say this dog is terrible, I am not even scratching the surface. </div>
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the pan with paint she needed to dart through it and then circle full speed through our room so she could track the paint all over our carpet. I know- sweet isn’t she?</div>
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On Christmas she “helped” the kids open all of their presents. See exhibit A<br />
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Exhibit A</div>
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One day my sister in law had to put her outside and she was very reluctant. Finally Nala followed her out, waited until she stopped and then stood above her foot and peed on her. I didn’t even know this was a thing dogs did. I guess ours is special. <br />
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We have a fence with slats in it and she figured out how to squeeze herself through and eventually broke free one day. She ran full speed 4 doors down, went into our neighbors yard, through their doggy door and was running through their house. No we didn’t know them- but we do now. I’m sure she was just trying to help us meet new people. <br />
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So yea- she is seriously the worst.<br />
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In an effort to gain some control over the madness in this house (because in case anyone forgot I also have an almost 4 year old and almost 2 year old who bring all kinds of other crazyness to the table) I figured Nala and I would learn to walk together. She is terrible on a leash. SHOCKER. But somewhere deep down in my pre kids brain I remember a very wise man saying you needed to be the pack leader for a dog to respect you. (thank you Cesar Milan) So I did something I never thought I would do- I bought a gentle lead collar. This is the one that looks terribly cruel because it goes around their mouth. It forces her to keep her eyes on me so she can see which way I am going, and she can never get too far ahead of me without being jerked back. <br />
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This is Nala on our walk tonight. </div>
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She looks thrilled doesn’t she? It has been a week of us working on this. At first she wouldn’t even walk because she was too busy trying to rip it off her face. After 3 days I found it in the backyard where she had tried to bury it. But I pushed through and kept working with her. She is now finally starting to listen. I can give her commands while on our walk and she actually does them. And she is rewarded greatly for listening. <br />
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Tonight as we were able to make it a whole mile in the neighborhood without her even pulling me, I let her do what she loves most- run free. She barreled through the open field by our house without a care in the world. And when I called her- she came. WOHOO.<br />
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I was instantly reminded of the scripture that says “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.” John 10:27. And I realized that Nala in her gentle lead collar is me with Jesus. Learning to keep my eyes on him, not getting ahead, and learning to listen for his voice. Slowly it is getting easier. I am finally starting to understand that it will hurt if I rush ahead. I will get lost if I don’t know his voice. And how greatly I am rewarded when I follow His commands. <br />
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Thankful tonight that God can and will use anything to speak to me. Even this dog. Who may be up for adoption soon if anyone is looking for a great gift for your Easter Basket. <br />
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<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-91477761611322493102014-03-03T12:38:00.000-08:002014-03-03T12:38:06.516-08:00Perspective Several years ago we found Ransomed Heart Ministries. Our family has experienced so much growth, healing and restoration through their books, events and podcasts. One of the simple truths that I have personally learned over the last several years of studying their material is this: “God is for you!” So easy right? And I am sure I have heard it in different ways over the years, but something shifted for me when I started to actually believe it. To really believe that God is for me in the good, in the bad, in the big decisions, and in the every day life. What happened is that my perspective changed. How I interpreted the events of my life changed. And my love for God and trust for him deepened. <br /><br />About 2 1/2 years ago, Tony and I felt like God was calling us to Australia to help some friends plant a church. We had no idea how it would all play out, but what we did know is that we would follow Him and trust He would lead every step of the way. After several months of prayer- we knew God wanted us to sell all we owned to prepare for the move over seas. The only thing he didn’t ask us to sell was our home. Which made absolutely no sense since we didn’t think we would move back and if we did- for sure not to this small house of ours. But we did what he asked and within about 3 weeks sold everything and had leased our house out. <br /><br />So here we are, 5 boxes to our name and I am 7 months pregnant with Beck. At this point we still had no visa to leave, no job offer to go- nothing. And on top of it, we now have no place to live. It just so happened that after 14 years of living in Bastrop my mom was moving to a rental home just 5 miles from us. My step dad was sick and needed to be closer in town for doctor appointments. And just like that- we had a place to live. <b>God was for us</b>. <br /><br />Little did we know that from when we moved in with my mom and Rodger it would be the last 2 months of Rodger’s life and we got to spend each of those precious last days with him. Rafi got to make him laugh and he got to teach her to play the harmonica. <b>God was for us</b>. <br /><br />Beck was born just in the middle of the chaos and it made no sense to me why all of this would be happening at once. My mom was off work for a year after Rodger went to heaven and she woke every day to a very sweet and cuddly new born and a witty and hilarious 2 year old. What a gift God sent us in Beck during that very hard season. <b>God was for us</b>. <br /><br />After realizing that God’s plan was more about the process than the actual move, we knew we were to stay here. And oh my goodness were we thankful that he told us to lease this house out. We had a place to move back to after a year and suddenly the house didn’t look small but instead like a great opportunity to be creative with our space. <b>God was for us</b>. <br /><br />And it’s not just in the big life changes. It is in the small. Last night I was going to visit a church with a friend. We clearly did not do our research just assuming all churches meet every sunday- but this specific church doesn’t have corporate gatherings the first Sunday. I could have said “God didn’t have anything for me there.” or “Wow- what a waste of my time getting ready” and gone home. But instead we decided to go have dinner. A dinner without kids is coveted time in this season of my life. I have had a hard week of very sick kids and lots to get done. What my heart needed was 2 hours with my friend that I rarely ever get. We were able to share all that God is doing in our lives and stories of his love, grace and mercy. <b>God was for me</b>. <br /><br />This morning I woke to a picture of my best friends baby girl who was born just moments earlier. She has suffered through 2 miscarriages, but we prayed that God would give her the desires of her heart. And as of today- she is a mommy of 2. <b>God is for her</b>. <br /><br />I say all of this as a reminder to myself and to anyone else who may need it today. God loves you. He is for you. And he does want the absolute best for you! <br /><br />(To learn more about Ransomed Heart ministries you can visit their website at www.ransomedheart.com )Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-39921988107348895692014-02-08T22:24:00.000-08:002014-02-08T22:24:03.700-08:00Surrender <div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I woke this morning with sadness in my heart. I have become so unnerved by where we are as Christians. It seems that with each passing day there is more and more division between one another. I read this article that was going around the other day called “5 Bad Reasons To Leave Your Church.” It was immediately followed up with someone writing “6 Good Reasons To Leave Your Church.” Then someone else writes a blog about how “They Don’t go to Church Every Sunday.” And now someone else has written a blog with how “They Will Never Be Like That Guy and Leave the Church.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!! Make it stop. Please for all that is Holy. What is happening to us?!? I know that I am nobody. I am not a pastor, I didn’t go to seminary. I have no paper that says you should listen to me. BUT- I have had a REAL encounter with Jesus. Many of them. And I have to tell you- none of them have ever turned me off to him. Every single time I am in the presence of Jesus there is LIFE. There is an endless amount of FREEDOM, LOVE, GRACE, JOY, PEACE, WISDOM, HEALING, and RESTORATION. And that is what we should be sharing. That is what we should be taking to people. That is what the world needs. We don’t need to be fighting amongst one another. Telling each other who is less holy than another because they don’t do things exactly the same as you. The people who are misrepresenting Jesus- that is what is turning people off. Jesus loved us while we were sinners and we can’t even love one another once we are saved. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In walking with Jesus I have found my deepest wounds have not come from those living in “the world”, but by my fellow believers. Over the last 6 months I finally took Jesus out of a box. I have taken limits off of how and where he can speak to me. How he can use me. How he can love me. And how I can serve him. In sharing this with people that I have held dear to my heart- I have not only been told I was wrong- but that I am in fact being deceived. UGH. Talk about pain. People that I have looked up to, that I expected to hug me and say “I am so proud of you for running toward Jesus so freely,” instead took my heart and crushed it. And it hurt. But the real pain came in the revelation that I have done this so often with people in the past. If you don’t think like me- you are wrong. So- my word actually trumps what Jesus is saying to you. Oh how broken I am because of that.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> No longer will I allow this kind of hate to be spoken into my life- nor will I do it to others. I have learned that love wins every time. So for now- I am throwing up the white flag and surrendering my title of Christian. I’ll call myself a Jesus follower or Jesus freak or whatever else my creative free loving Jesus people like to call themselves. What I won’t do is box myself into some category of people who claim love but speak hate. Who claim unity but cause division. I will chose the road less traveled where I don’t have time to judge you for being wrong because I am way to busy showing God’s love- which is always right. </span></div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-47345849061720222002014-01-03T21:32:00.000-08:002014-01-03T21:32:16.681-08:00A Letter To My Christian FriendsFor those of you who don’t know, I have spent the majority of my life in church. Whenever someone used to ask me how long I had been in church I always used to tell them I was born in church. As in my mom was pregnant with me when she started attending so it was all I have ever known. However, my loving husband asked me to stop saying that because it sounded like my mom gave birth to me in the 3rd row pew right before offering was taken up. So now I say “I have been in church since the womb” because I feel like that makes it a little better. <br /><br />Just to give you a little background, I grew up Pentecostal. Oh, you don’t know what that is? The girls that could only wear skirts, couldn’t wear makeup and had very long hair (because it could not be cut) which is most often worn in what I refer to as “bundage.” Yea, that was me. I know. Looking back in my 30 year old body, several tattoos, hair cut, and big hoop earrings on, it is hard for me to believe too. Church was what we did on Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, and Wednesday nights, first Monday nights, special Friday nights... you get it- we kicked it there... a lot. Most of the earliest memories I have involve sleeping under a pew and listening to my pastor’s wife sing old hymns. Still today those are some of the sweetest memories I have. <br /><br />Several months ago I was talking with some people about their church where they serve. Honestly I don’t even know how we got to the subject but they told me they have actually seen church members yell at volunteers in the coffee shop when they don’t have their coffee out and ready when they arrive on Sunday morning. Confused I said “because they have paid for this coffee so they expect it to be there?” No, this coffee is free. “And the people attending the church are mad because their free coffee isnt out?” Yes. “ummmm... what??!!” As I was processing why this would even be happening, Jesus asked me a question “What does any of this have to do with me?” <br /><br />Completely caught off guard, I sat quietly not really knowing what He was asking. In the days that followed I sought out the Lord needing to know what this question was all about only to have more questions come from Him. If there wasn’t free coffee, would the people still come? If there wasn’t all the flashing lights, beautiful building, great singers- would people still know me? Love me? Seek me? “Uhhh.... what??!! How am I supposed to know Jesus. I don’t even go to their church!” But that wasn’t what God was asking. He was after something more in my heart. He was asking “Do people know me outside of the 4 walls of the church?” <br /><br />I know for me personally I have often boxed God in. Allowing him to move in the designated time between 9-10:30 AM on Sunday morning, while I was at church, because that is the time slot I picked for him. Anything outside of that was my time and God asking for any of it was invasive and just flat out rude. I mean- I gave him an hour and a half already right? Why didn’t he use that time wisely. Church in my mind has always been a PLACE. Of course it was. I went to it all the time as a kid and as an adult. So when Jesus decided to wreck my world with all of his crazy questions, there was a shift. I started moving from this idea of “going to church” and instead started realizing “I am the church.” I am not set apart mid morning on Sunday- I am set apart every moment of every day of my life. I am not in communion with Jesus JUST when I am in a building with other believers, but also when I am in my house with my husband and kids and we are praying together and worshipping. <br /><br />I have spent so much of my life believing that I had to have someone else usher me into the presence of the Lord because they were “anointed as a worshiper” instead of realizing that Jesus is alive and accessible even to me who has the worst singing voice on the planet (although I am certain I sound like an angel to the Lord) while I am sitting in traffic in my mini van.<br /><br />Oh how I wish this would have been shared with me early on in my walk with Jesus. I have so often thought “If I could just get so and so to church they would be better.” Trying to force them in with an incentive to buy them lunch after instead of knowing that I am just as capable of showing Christ’s love at any moment of any day to someone and that encounter could change their life. <br /><br />So what does all of this mean? Why do I care enough to write about it? Why do you care enough to keep reading? Well, here is the deal- I meet people on a daily basis (And so do you) that are going to hell and for a long time I didn’t do shit about it. Oh- that language offended you? But the fact that people are going to hell didn’t? Moving on. If we are the body of Christ then we better not be waiting until Easter service comes around to invite someone to know Jesus. It may be too late. We should be showing God’s love daily, and not the creepy love like spewing scriptures down someones throat. No- I mean just letting Jesus live in us and through us. Helping a neighbor. Praying for a friend. Feeding the homeless. Doing the things Jesus did. If Jesus is in you, people will see the difference. They will want to be around you. Want to know what it is about you that is different from anyone else they have met. I’ve tried it. It works. <br /><br />In all of this I am NOT saying don’t go to a church building, so please please please don’t read it like that. What I am saying is, don’t meet Jesus there and then leave him there.<br /><br />How thankful I am for the conversation I had about coffee and even more that God would pursue me and have me question more. So much more I can and will say but for now- I pray that you Go. Be the church. The Bride of Christ. Beautiful and Glorious. <br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-85020329099542236422013-07-20T18:34:00.002-07:002013-07-20T18:34:40.217-07:00Dressing Room DramaI leave for Elementary Camp on Wednesday- YEAAA!!! So I am about to spend 4 days in 101 degrees doing outdoor activities. Right up my alley. Since we are going to be getting filthy I decided instead of taking a bunch of my running clothes that I actually like- I would go get some t- shirts at Salvation Army. I would just rather pay $1.00 for a t-shirt that I can just throw away after I am done. I know- super cheapo.<br />
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Well, I went on Wednesday which is 50% off day there (yea, shirts for $.50 even better) which means it is extra crazy. I went into a dressing room to make sure I didn't spend a couple quarters on a shirt that didn't fit and while in there I hear a knock on the door. I hear a girl say "Excuse me, is there a person in there?" I say "yes" and then hear "Is it brown?"<br />
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I am not really sure how to answer. I look at my skin, look at myself in the mirror and then say "Well, I guess I am half brown?!? " (I mean, what color does a person call a Mexican these days?) <br />
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By this point I am opening the door to see a young white girl standing there. She is bright red and says " I am so sorry! I said is there a PURSE in there?"<br />
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Right... could happen to anyone. Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7938337981462852846.post-30728766183569755972012-08-06T11:46:00.001-07:002012-08-06T11:46:45.911-07:00Potty Training ProblemsSince Rafi turned 2 we have really been serious about the potty training situation. It didn't take her long to catch on, but I realized it is all about being consistent and communicating with her. What I mean by that is, all we ever talked about for a while was going potty and when we were not talking about it- we were actually going to the potty-about every 20 minutes. (Any of my friends who have been through this I am sure feel my pain)<br />
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Well, last month heading home from Dallas (after the flea market situation) we stopped off to get a bite to eat and let Rafi have a potty break. I took her into the empty restroom and she went to the bathroom. Then I asked her to wait while I had a turn. Of course, at that moment someone else comes into the bathroom. As loud as she possibly could she says "OH MY GOSH MOMMY- YOU POOPED IN YOUR BIG GIRL UNDIES!" After about 5 minutes I finally caught my breath from laughing and said "no I didn't honey." She rubs my arm and kindly says "oh I see, you only tinkled, its ok!"<br />
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As I came out of the bathroom to wash my hands, the other person was standing there looking at me. I felt like I needed to explain that we talk about going potty a lot since my daughter is 2, I felt that I needed to tell her I in fact did not poop or tinkle in my "big girl undies." but instead- I just avoided eye contact, washed my hands and did a walk of shame back to our table.<br />
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Potty Training:<br />
Rafi- 1<br />
Mommy- 0<br />
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<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08361859263508212963noreply@blogger.com0