when i hate the journey.

I just want to get there. I don't want to be delayed. I don't want to stop for gas, in fact I actually hate pumping gas, and I just really want to go. If I have have to pee, which I probably will because I'm six months pregnant, I'll hold it. I don't have time for bathroom stops. Quite frankly I don't have time for wrong turns either. I only have time to go the right way, to do the right thing, and to make the right choices. So please let's just get on with it.

Oh... if only life allowed for people like me to have our way. But no. 

This week is reminding me that it doesn't.

Over the course of the last few weeks I have been working on a project that I had been dreaming of doing for a very long time. The initial idea of the project was fun and in the beginning, hopeful. I had shared the idea with some specific encouraging friends and their enthusiasm made the prospect of doing it all the more exciting. Eventually after much praying and brainstorming, I was able to round up the tools I needed in order to make the dream happen. My plan was that when I arrived here to Spain I would begin the long-awaited work of turning my idea something tangible. 

The idea couldn't stay in my head anymore, it was time to take shape.

But it's been exactly that shape-taking process that is currently sending me for a loop.

 I have made several attempts at getting this thing underway. My first efforts were exciting but ultimately didn't work for various reasons. In faith, I tried not to be bothered by the delays. My second full day of working on it proved to be less effective than the first, with literally everything I had planned to do falling through. This time it was harder to ignore the delays. 

 I tried again and after more hours of failed attempts, I still had nothing to show for any of it. 

My great idea was still just a great idea.

Days went by and I continued to direct my energy towards this once sparkly dream in my mind... Each day leaving me more and more discouraged. Which brings me to this day. The one I'm in right now. See, I thought I finally had breakthrough this week and managed to create something I loved, but when I revisited it this morning I decided I didn't love it at all. In fact I hated it. What I saw was not what I had pictured. It was so different. Too different. So, once again, I am back at the beginning, determining whether to give up on it or start again.

(( Big sigh.... ))

I'll start again. 

Not because I am remarkably resilient, because I don't actually think I am, but because I am convinced in my heart that this dream is about more than me. Also because my husband is convinced of it too, which means even if I tried to quit he actually, seriously, wouldn't let me. 

I'm thankful for that.

Starting again means facing that yucky impatient part of my heart that really hates the journey. I'd much rather get there than go through this process of finding my way. But I'm learning that the process is necessary. Because it's the process that opens our eyes to things we never would have seen before. 

Being here in Barcelona is helping me to understand how important a journey is, because I really really love to walk. I still hardly know my way around this city but that little detail hasn't stopped me from walking most places. Sometimes I go the right way and end up where I planned, and a lot of times I go the wrong way, still eventually getting where I meant to go, but accidentally discovering a whole new world along the way.

That's how the journeying thing goes. God knows it. So while He could allow us to just get places and do stuff and achieve things. He doesn't. He invites us to join Him in a journey, one that is messily comprised of both successes and let downs, peppered with right ways and wrong ways and a whole array of scenic routes, all ultimately leading us into becoming everything He created us to be.

All that to say, I will keep working on my project today. And as much as I wish I could just finish it and arrive at the end goal, I've committed to changing my perspective on this whole idea of "the journey". My goal won't be to simply get it done. My goal will be open eyes and open ears and an open mind to learn everything I can during this necessary and currently really annoying process.

I believe that one day I'll fulfill the dream on my heart. But even when I do I know this journey won't be over. It never is. There's always a new dream to pursue, with new wrong turns to take and new wonders to encounter along the way.

I don't know what kind of annoying journey you might be on today, but as a fellow traveler my humble advice it this: Go ahead and embrace the delays. Bathroom breaks are healthy. Pumping gas is necessary. And unexpected scenic routes actually end up being a pretty good time. 

God bless you friends. 

a successful life.

This morning I remembered that I’m not going to live forever. Sounds funny right? But it really did happen like that. I was just getting ready, right in the middle of putting on my handy dandy maternity jeans, and the thought crossed my mind… I don’t know how long I’ll be on this earth. It wasn’t a morbid thought or even a depressing one, it actually felt light and kind of hopeful, as if some heaviness was being lifted off of me that I had’t realized was there.

I think sometimes it’s healthy to think about death. It reminds us that our days are precious. I also think that when we don’t remember it, we start to feel all tied up like knots, focusing mostly on temporary things, and stressing over stuff that in the long run probably isn’t all that stressful.

Reflecting on the shortness of this life on earth reminds me not to waste my time with shallow meaningless living. It reminds me that there’s a whole world of hearty and delicious living out there and I only have a limited amount of time to experience it. It's like a big huge feast. As if there’s an enormous assortment of food and drinks in front me, everything from basic stuff like the peanuts and pretzels they serve on airplanes, to the elaborate stuff like fresh sushi and sweet Spanish wine. Now say I’m given just one hour to enjoy as much or as little of the food that I want... obviously you wouldn't find me wasting my time on the pretzels, I’d be heading straight for the sushi bar with a glass of wine already in hand. Right? Because when I know that time is short, I use it wisely. 

((Also... Can you tell I’m pregnant?
The only two foods I just listed eating are the ones I can’t have for at least 9 months… hmmmm)) 

All I really want to do is live a successful life. Not necessarily successful in the eyes of people, because peoples' opinions are so fickle, but successful in the sight of God. This means that my success is not measured by my accumulation of wealth or my ability to get a rock-hard bod, it’s not about achieving some sort of fame or even about preserving my own personal happiness. I believe that a deliciously successful life, a sushi and red wine type life, is simply a life lived faithfully. Faithful to God. Faithful to the people He has placed in front of us. Faithful to the work He has given us to do. 

Success can look different for all of us, because unlike the type of success that’s determined by dollar amounts or the number of followers on our Instagram feeds, God determines our success based on our faithfulness to the unique calling He has given to each of us. 

For my friend Hillary in Colorado, success means staying committed to her sweet growing family, which currently consists of things like diaper changing and toddler chasing. Success also means being diligent in maintaining her blog, because she knows that God has called her to display His love through her social media. 

Then there's my friend Bobby Bo. Bobby is from Chicago and has a big red beard and lots of tattoos. About 7 years ago he moved to Thailand as a missionary and committed his life to demonstrating the love of Christ to the Thai people. He married an adorable Thai girl and they made an extra adorable little boy named Ezra. Success for Bobby means loving and supporting his wife and son and it also means adopting the Thai culture as his own in order to make a lasting impact there.  

These are two faithful friends living vastly different lives from one another, but both are richly successful. They aren’t wasting their days here on earth, they’re soaking them up, drinking them in, and savoring the yummy goodness God has for each of them.

That’s how I want to be. That’s what I remembered today. 

I remembered that my time on earth is short. 

And I remembered that I am only as successful as I am faithful. 

thoughts on skinny and beauty and good and bad... and pregnant. #bodyimage

Lately I have been thinking a lot about body image. Probably because I am watching my own body change and grow and I’m having to believe it is good while living in a culture that celebrates skinny. Pregnant ladies aren’t skinny. Pregnant ladies are pregnant. I think pregnant is beautiful but the trouble is this stage in between being my pre-pregnant self and my fully pregnant self, where I look more like I’ve been eating an extra helping of carbs at every meal instead of growing a full on human. Each morning I look in the mirror and the questions start brewing, “Is this normal?... Does this look pretty?... Do I look fat?... Is my weight gain healthy?... Will I look like a whale in a few months and wish I would have done things differently earlier in my pregnancy?... and....and...and...?” It’s no secret that trusting God with my body has been a struggle. I try to be open about that because as I’m learning how to love my own shape I hope I can somehow help others to love theirs as well. I feel like I’ve made a lot of progress over the last 5 years, embracing the way I look and accepting it as good, even if it looks different from what I see in magazines and media. But this whole pregnancy thing has brought me back to a type of insecurity that I haven’t felt since high school. It’s not fun. It’s not easy to talk about. And as much as I’d like to ignore it I am choosing instead to feel it with everything in me, because unlike the high school version of me, this Jessica knows God now, and I know He wouldn’t allow me to experience these feelings if He didn’t plan to use them for my good and for the good of those around me. 

I find that much of my struggle is centered around deciding whether or not what I see in the mirror is “good” or “bad”. That’s the part that reminds me of high school. When we are children we are unaware that our body could be good or bad. To us, a body is just a body, and if anything, all bodies are good bodies because they are what we use to hug and play and run. As we get older we become aware of the possibility that a body can be “bad” based on its appearance and the opinions of others. So we quietly start to wonder where our own body falls. We look around to friends at school and girls on TV to see what is “good”. We learn things like... skinny is good.... tall is good... pimples are bad... boobs are good... and then based on what we find around us we start to compare our bodies to this template of “good” that has been created in our minds. As if this process isn’t painful enough, our bodies are actually still developing so we don’t even know what the grown up versions of ourselves will look like. One day we are shapeless toothpicks of girls and the next we wake up having hips and boobs and a complex about how we got so “big”. It’s hard to know whether the body we are wearing is good or bad when we aren’t even familiar with its curves and we are still learning how to dress in a way that is most flattering to our figure. I remember a time when I was going through this process, not that I realized it was happening, and how even meaningless comments from friends began to dictate how I viewed my body. One friend said in dance class, “I hate it when girls try to hide that their thighs touch.” I never knew girls hid the fact that their thighs touched. I never knew that thighs touching was a thing. But in that moment I learned that thighs touching was a problem, something that people want to hide and that’s when I realized how my own thighs touched, and that’s when I learned it was a problem.  “Thighs that touch is bad.” 

  

The same process is happening with me right now. I look in the mirror and I wonder if I am wearing my pregnancy in a good way or a bad way. I wonder if I’m gaining weight in a good way or a bad way. I wonder if I’m beautiful or if I’m just a vessel growing a child, which somehow makes me exempt from the whole needing to be beautiful thing. 

But this week I had a thought. What if I got to decide what was good? What if I stopped waking up hoping that beauty would somehow happen to me, and I decided to define good before looking in the mirror. Because it seems like good and bad in beauty is mostly based on magazines and media, at least that’s how it is in my world, but I happen to be personal friends with a handful of girls who I am certain everyone one else in my life would call “good” for being absolutely perfect physically, and even those girls confess to me how inadequate and unattractive they feel. We all feel “bad”. We all feel like we have missed it and that beauty is a thing only attained by some other girl with some other body. 

What if I stopped basing my definition of “good” or “bad” on what the world says about beauty and what if I chose to let God define it for me? What if I believed that I was “fearfully and wonderfully made” the way the Bible says I am? What if I chose to agree with the reality that the beautiful God who made me, the same beautiful God who made oceans and sunsets and twinkly stars, actually made me to resemble Him, which means that I am beautiful simply because He was beautiful first? What if I decided that my pregnancy was good, that my pregnant body looked good, because it was performing a miracle that it has never ever done before? What if we decided that all bodies were good? Perhaps if we stopped chasing skinny and stopped chasing beauty then we could start celebrating our bodies and rewarding them for all of the good they do. Even if we are overweight. Even if we are out of shape. Those don’t need to be reasons to punish our bodies. If we began to view our bodies as good, right now, exactly as they are, then we could start to treat them tenderly and nourish them accordingly. Good bodies deserve health. Bad bodies deserve to be strained, starved, and neglected. Bad bodies aren’t worth our best. Good bodies deserve to be loved. 

Whether we are a 16 year old in a high school hallway, or a 26 year old in her first pair of maternity shorts, the desire to be beautiful is real and the way we think about our bodies is a choice. The more we develop patterns in our hearts of thanking God for forming us and pursuing health in these figures He has given us, the easier it will become to love the way we look. That process looks differently for each of us but for me it means guarding my heart from spending too much time online or in magazines, it means not weighing myself unless I’m at the doctor’s office, and it means not being critical of myself in my thoughts or in my speech. This body I am in is a gift. Your body is a gift. Good gifts from a good God. Let’s learn to trust His goodness and embrace the beauty that is already ours. 

You have a good body. A really good one. I pray you see it. 

Amen. 

Some Christmas time photos from Michigan. Just because I love them. 

I found out I was pregnant in Panera Bread.

photo by @sarahgrunderphotography

     I found out I was pregnant in a Panera Bread bathroom stall. We were in Huntington Beach staying with our family there and Shaun was out skating with some friends. I had felt a whirlwind of emotions in the week prior to that point, which led me to believe that one of two things was definitely true, either I needed to make an urgent appointment to see a counselor... or I was pregnant. I hadn’t intended to take a pregnancy test that evening but as I approached the Albertson’s and Panera shopping center the opportunity presented itself all too readily. I knew this Panera was classy and clean, like most other places in Orange County, so peeing on a stick in their bathroom seemed perfectly normal. I casually popped into Albertson’s to buy the test, trying my best not to look like I was anxious about whether or not my life was about to be changed forever. My strategy was to grab the test and then stroll through some other aisles of the store nonchalantly to convince any on-lookers that this test was for some time in the distant far-away future, and not to be taken in the next 5 minutes at the restaurant next door.  Once I made it through the self check-out I b-lined it to Panera and straight for their restroom. 

  I was the only one in the bathroom when it happened, which ended up being a really good thing because the moment that little plus sign appeared I burst out laughing and genuinely couldn’t stop. I remember laughing like that when Shaun first said “I love you” to me on a swing-set in Barcelona almost 7 years ago. I also laughed like crazy on Splash Mountain at Disneyland. I don’t know what all of those things say about me other than maybe with exactly the right combination of shock, joy and adrenaline, I can’t help but laugh like mad woman. Anyway after I pulled myself together and managed to leave the bathroom I was at a loss for what to do next. What do people do after they find out they are pregnant? I sat in a chair and tried to read the Bible, because that seemed like a pretty solid thing to do, but it didn’t work, all I could do was think about my new secret. So after a few minutes of pretending to read the Bible I left Panera and started to walk home. 

I had high hopes of finding some adorable Pinteresty way of telling Shaun he was going to be a Dad. Like one of my best friends who wrote it in on the bottom of a Starbucks cup, or two of my other friends who bought their men “world’s best dad” coffee mugs, (...is it becoming obvious that my people are coffee people?...) but plans didn’t quite go as I’d hoped. As I walked home the sun was setting and the beach sky was turning gloriously pink, I decided it was a good time to call Shaun and find out when he would be home, so that I could tell him the good news in person and in my oh-so-delightfully-extra-special way. As soon as I heard his voice, however, I blew it, which really shouldn’t be a surprise for the girl who took her test in a Panera bathroom. I think cute Pinterest girls always take their tests in the comfort of their own homes. Not me. So he answers the phone and I immediately squeal, “Baby! The craziest thing just happened! ... I just took a pregnancy test! ... And it was positive!” There it was. The big secret spilled. Shaun was of course thrilled about it and came home right away so we could celebrate. He has been ready to be a dad since the day we got married. He has never put pressure on me to have kids, but has always made it very clear that whenever I felt ready, he was ready too. At the end of August I nervously told him that I thought.... maybe.... I felt ready, and on November 1st we found out our babe was on the way. My husband makes quick work.

I haven’t dreamed of being a mom. I didn’t long for it as a young girl and I’ve never really been all that into children. I know kids are incredibly special and I love when people love them, but I personally have never felt particularly comfortable being around little ones. In fact people closest to me know that I’ve prayed a lot about this over the last few years because I have had some serious fears about becoming a mother. I can tell you more about that in a different post, but basically what I am getting at is that this whole thing feels new, and scary, and yet somehow exactly right. I know that life is a gift and that the Giver of life is the One I have placed my trust in. I trust Him to care for me and now I trust Him to care for my growing little one. 

I’m almost 15 weeks along (3 and a half months) and I haven’t known what I’m doing pretty much this entire time. I think that’s okay. Because I’m not the one in charge of forming this little treasure in my womb. My God is doing just fine with that. So I just sit here and continue to do what I always do when I don’t know what to do... I pray. I pray when I’m excited. I pray when I’m scared. I pray when I’m anxious and can’t tell if I’m overeating and it’s a bad thing, or just pregnant-lady eating, which doesn’t seem to be a problem. I pray when my eating leads to nausea and I pray again when my nausea leads to bathrooms. I pray when I don’t know if we’ll be delivering the babe in Barcelona or LA and I pray to say thanks again for my awesome new set of pregnant boobs. When I don’t know what to do, I just pray. Because I'm convinced that the One who hears my prayers is faithful to meet my needs, just like He did before I was pregnant, and just like He will again after. 

Special thanks to Panera Bread for providing a clean stall to change my world in. You’ll forever hold a special place in our hearts. Also, I’m sorry I didn’t buy anything that day. I promise I have made up for it since then. 

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of Heavenly lights, who does not change like the shifting shadows." James 1:17

"Always be joyful. Never stop praying, for this is God's will for you who belong to Christ Jesus." 

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 (NLT)

"Children are a gift from the Lord, they are a reward from Him, children born to a young man are like arrows in a warrior's hands. How joyful is the man who's quiver is full of them!" 

Psalm 127:3-4, 5a

PS. Let's celebrate my baby's Daddy becoming pro 

for Untitled Skateboards! Woohoo! 

Watch his "Welcome to pro" video below & visit 

Untitledskate.com to order his first ever official pro model board! 

some ramblings about a marching band and unity.

This morning I woke Shaun up by shaking him and excitedly squealing, "Wake up, wake up! It's almost a month until Christmas!" He laughed and called me a crazy lady and there is really no reason for me to tell you this other than just my sheer excitement about my favorite time of year. Don't worry for all of you Thanksgiving folks out there who think I'm moving too fast, I love Thanksgiving too and plan to thoroughly enjoy it, but for me Thanksgiving is just another thing to love about Christmas time. Ho Ho Ho. (Insert Santa emoji.)

Meredith and I are going to be spending Thanksgiving in Korea with our Dad this year. Crazy right? Thanksgiving in Korea! We only just found out about it earlier this month and couldn't be happier about our very own sisterly adventure to visit our good old Dad at his house. (PS. Dad, I know you read this blog and I don't really think you are old. Just good. :) ) Anyway my Dad has lived in Korea for years but I haven't gotten the opportunity to visit him yet, until now. I think there is something extra special about understanding what someone's life looks like close up. Especially someone you love with your whole heart. Shaun and David are going to be holding things down here in L.A. while we are gone. Shaun pretends he is sad about me leaving, and I know he really is, but I also know that he and his new brother-in-law (aka. one of his favorite friends ever) are going to have an awesome time eating way too much food and skating day and night with our jolly Calling All Skaters family. I threw "jolly" in there in an effort to start making things sound a little more merry because like I said before, Christmas is almost a month away already and there's no time to spare. 

On my way to the coffee shop today I walked by a high school marching band practicing outside their school. It was wild and squeaky and I literally burst out laughing when I heard the sound because it was so... eclectic. The sound wasn't pretty, not even a little, and I tried to imagine what they were doing. Maybe they were warming up? Or maybe they were instructed to make an ugly sound as loudly as possibly and they just happened to be following directions when I walked by? Maybe they were deaf? Am I even allowed to wonder that? ... So after I scolded myself for the whole deaf thing, I tried to listen more closely to see if I could figure out what was happening.

They were each playing a different sound. Some were playing songs, others just repetitive notes, and if I could focus in on one player at a time then it was actually really nice noise, though it was hard to separate the good sound from the chaos of every other sound. They were all playing their own song which made for one really bad symphony. but I could see that these band students were actually talented, which almost surprised me because of how awful they sounded at first. They obviously  knew how to play and the sounds they were making as individuals were really pleasant, but despite their personal gifts and abilities, their overall sound was a bad one. I'll even say more honestly that their sound was a repulsive and obnoxious one, one that made a normally kind-hearted person like me laugh out loud and rush away quickly before my poor ears started bleeding.

However when I got a little distance from the school and could hear myself think again, I realized something really valuable and it made me want to run back and hug each of those squeaky little band students. (I didn't, just in case you got nervous for them.) "Life! It is just like that marching band!" That's what I exclaimed excitedly in my heart. We are all talented and gifted and we all have the potential to make beautiful noise! But without relationships and unity and learning to collaborate with one another, we just end up being a crowd of sounds, an ugly herd of individuals attempting to play something lovely while those around us are feeling repulsed by the lack of solidarity in our efforts. We need each other! That's what the marching band reminded me. We function best with each other! When we remain disjointed individuals seeking our own gain and pursuing our own end, we miss out on the gift of relationship and ultimately other people miss out on the gifts we can give through our dynamic unity.

Not only do we need each other but we need a song! That was the other part of what I realized. We need a song to play, a rhythm to align our lives to, and oh how exciting it is to realize that we have been given one! We've been given clarity from heaven about what each of us is here to do! We have been given the song and it's the gospel itself! Our job here as believers is to magnify our God. We are to be little Christs on the earth, examples to the watching world of what it looks like to follow Jesus. We are to be healers and lovers and peace-makers, we are to be givers and encourages and hope-bringers. We are to live the Kingdom of God right here on the earth. That is our song and every single one of us has a role to play, we are not to do it alone, but together! Like how those band members played different instruments, we have different gifts, but the design is that we would use our gifts to make the song better!

Excuse the multitudes of exclamation points in this post but there has been some genuine excitement as I have realized again the importance of unity. Disunity is repulsive, like the sound coming from the out of sync marching band, but unity is attractive and wonderful, like the sound of the N'Sync Christmas album. Right? Anybody?

Anyway I'll finish with this. In 1 Corinthians chapter 12 God likens believers to a human body and states that each of has an important part to play. Scripture shows that God even knows we will be tempted to want to play someone else's role but He reminds us that our role is our own and it is desperately needed. He reminds us that no role is to be separate and disconnected from the rest, but they are to function together, working in one accord to accomplish the same goal.

God is so smart and His design is a good one.
We work together. We honor each other. We embrace our place. We make unity a priority.
And we buy the N'Sync Christmas album. Just because it's awesome.

And now for the trusty Bible...
"The human body has many parts, but the many parts make up one whole body. So it is with the body of Christ... Yes, the body has many different parts, not just one part. 15 If the foot says, “I am not a part of the body because I am not a hand,” that does not make it any less a part of the body. 16 And if the ear says, “I am not part of the body because I am not an eye,” would that make it any less a part of the body? 17 If the whole body were an eye, how would you hear? Or if your whole body were an ear, how would you smell anything? 18 But our bodies have many parts, and God has put each part just where he wants it. 19 How strange a body would be if it had only one part! 20 Yes, there are many parts, but only one body. 21 The eye can never say to the hand, “I don’t need you.” The head can’t say to the feet, “I don’t need you.” 22 In fact, some parts of the body that seem weakest and least important are actually the most necessary. 23 And the parts we regard as less honorable are those we clothe with the greatest care. So we carefully protect those parts that should not be seen, 24 while the more honorable parts do not require this special care. So God has put the body together such that extra honor and care are given to those parts that have less dignity. 25 This makes for harmony among the members, so that all the members care for each other. 26 If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it, and if one part is honored, all the parts are glad." 27 All of you together are Christ’s body, and each of you is a part of it." 

1 Corinthian 12:14-27

And some photos from our recent trip to NYC & Connecticut! 

"hungryangrylonelytired." a word on contentment.

Every week I look forward to "Writing Day Friday". I think because it feels like an opportunity to make something beautiful, and after an especially strenuous week I find myself extra hungry for beauty. This week I am coming off of a Fashion Week outreach which, as always, is a glorious combination of total excitement and complete exhaustion. In Alcoholics Anonymous they have this thing called "H.A.L.T." which stands for "Hungry. Angry. Lonely. Tired." AA warns that if you find yourself feeling any of those things then you need to halt and use caution, because you will be more likely to be tempted towards bad decisions... which for the alcoholic is obviously drinking.

Shaun and I use "HALT" too. Whenever I am in the type of mood where my mind and emotions feel mushy like oatmeal and all I want to do is dissolve into the floor and stay there until next year, Shaun usually asks me if I'm feeling "Hungryangrylonelytired". Because for us it has become a one word thing. Sometimes we say it jokingly, sometimes for real, and this week has been a "Hungyangrylonelytired" week... for real.

I have this thing where every night I lay in bed and daydream about escaping. I don't know if that is right or wrong but I appreciate the comfort it brings me as I drift into sleep. I picture myself living in a home instead of a church. I picture shiny white walls and vases of lush pink flowers.  There are pretty paintings and a big chandelier and happy photos on the walls. I imagine a fun family and fun guests coming for dinner and I imagine that after dinner we all go for a walk. Some nights we walk to the beach, other nights we walk to an ice cream shop. I imagine having a tidy home in a beautiful location that smells good and feels good and looks good in photos.

Unfortunately waking up from sleep is slightly less comforting. When my eyes open I still live in a room at a church. My walls aren't white and my vases are empty most of the time because we travel too often for flowers to fully be enjoyed. The family in my home is made up of me and Shaun and anyone else who happens to be residing on the church floor at the time. Our meals are typically eaten on the go or at the Youth With a Mission campus and we don't go for walks after dinner because my skater husband would rather roll than walk, and because if I'm honest I'm usually lacking the motivation to face the traffic near our church. I think it's safe to walk where we live, but I prefer to do it when there aren't speeding LA drivers racing to get home from work. My room is rarely tidy and if we were birds then our room would be less like a nest and more like a branch that we stand on in the evenings to relieve us from the wing-flapping of everyday life.

Most days I really do like our home in the church and I really do like our life. I normally genuinely enjoy being the gypsy couple who travels often and has the gift of way too many friends. I also feel sincerely proud to have mastered the art of packing light because I remember how grueling that process used to be for me and it's not grueling anymore. But about once a month (hormones anyone?) I forget what I love about my life and all I can see are its apparent flaws. I want to see my wonderfully-hilarious-and-so-gorgeous husband but all I can smell are his yucky skate shoes. I want to see the adorable creativity in our almost entirely thrifted home decor, but all I can see is how cute my friend's houses are and how much I long for a space of our own. I want to see how cool is it that we have experienced so much of the world, but all I can feel is the chaos of not knowing whether I'll be spending next week in LA or somewhere else... or what country we will be in next year.

If you are rolling your eyes at me I understand. Why would I complain when I have so much to be grateful for? But it's always like that, isn't it? Other people are always longing for the things we take for granted.

The thing is that I know too much about God to wallow in my discontentment for too long. I know too much about His mountain moving power and about His "I-called-you-by-name" personal love and about the way He left Heaven to meet us in the depths of our brokenness to offer us a way out. Even though I am somebody who is quick to talk about God... which may also have something to do with the fact that I am somebody who is quick to talk in general... when I am going through my "hungryangrylonelytired" weeks I find myself doing less talking and more listening. My mouth glues shut, my ears perk up and my weary eyes look to Heaven pleading silently for some resolve.

"Remind me of Truth Lord. Remind me of Joy. Remind me You are near. Remind me that the God who saved me from the weight of my sin, can also save me from the weight of this week's burdens. Remind me what I love about this life. Remind me what I love about you. Remind of me everything beautiful around me. "

I don't speak the words, but my heart aches them, and I know He hears.

Faith that is detached from everyday life has never been interesting to me. Having a relationship with a powerless God who only cares about my church attendance and whether or not I stay married is not interesting either. I have already let myself down enough in this life and I would prefer not to acknowledge that I'm letting the Maker of the universe down too. But "hungryangrylonelytired" weeks remind me that the God I follow is better and nearer and more interesting and powerful than I even have the capacity to understand. The posture of my heart this week has been a bent over one. Like I'm a little child trying to carry something heavy and I'm falling down under the weight of it. But just as a mother rushes to the aid of her little one in pain, Jesus, the God called "Emmanuel" meaning "God with us", desires to be our ever present help in time of need. (Psalm 46:1)

All I really probably needed this week was a nap, or a day to rest and regroup, but it's comforting to realize that even before that happens, I serve a God who can handle my funk. He understands me. The Bible says He even knows the number of hairs on my head. He knows my dreams and my desires and though they may not all come true exactly as I imagine, I can be certain that His plans for me are good and my future with Him is full of hope.

My life is not my own. I was handcrafted by a Maker who calls me to contentment. He calls me to it regardless of my circumstances because He has made a way for it in Himself. Last night I asked my younger sister if she had advice for a "hypothetical person" struggling with "hypothetical discontentment" and without hesitation she gave me great advice broken down into 4 steps. Better even was that she spoke them compassionately, as a fellow struggler, which is my favorite type of advice-giver.

She said that her first step and last step are the same, be Grateful. She said it is most important to be thankful because usually being discontent is tangled up in being ungrateful, and God says in the Psalms that "we enter His gates with thanksgiving," which means gratitude is a sure way to enter the presence of God.

Next she said we need to assess why we are feeling discontent. Are we "Hungryangrylonelytired"? Are we being lazy? Are we heartbroken and need someone to talk to about it? Are we doing something that we know is disappointing the heart of God (aka sin) that we need to turn from (aka repent of)? Meredith said it helps to reflect on how we are feeling because processing it helps us to see the real need and be able to meet that need specifically.

Thirdly she said we need to do everything we can practically do to make the situation better. She suggested things like talking to a friend, stopping the cycle of envy we may have developed when we look at other peoples' lives, getting offline for a week... or longer, going for a jog, changing up our diet, getting plugged into a church, and disconnecting from the people or places that are making the discontentment worse.

Finally she ended where she started. "I think we need to be grateful again," she said matter-of-factly after going through steps 1-3. "Gratitude is the opposite of discontentment. Gratitude invites contentment."

What a smart little sister. So now I am taking my smart little sister's advice and turning this "Hungryangrylonelytired week" into a week of "Everything is okay." I still dream of living in a home one day, but for now our sweet little room at the church is perfect and cute and I love it. I still dream of lots of other things too, but today I choose to focus on making what I already have better and more beautiful. Envy won't get the best of me. Neither will stress. I'll probably still take a nap, and I'll probably use tomorrow to rest and recover, but I hope more than anything that I will choose contentment over escape. Being right here is good, even if right here is not exactly how I wanted it, because everything I need is here and His grace is sufficient for me.

May we have eyes to see the beauty that is all around us.

"Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me." Philippians 4:12

some free relationship advice.

Last week was fashion week LA so my days were full and my "Writing Day Friday" was postponed. However in light of some recent conversations I have been having with some wonderful friends I want to share some free relationship advice. My advice is short and less than profound, but it's important and so I think it is worth sharing.

Be the type of person you want to date. 

Seems obvious right? If we want a person who is faithful then we ought to stop being the type of lady who flirts with everything that breathes, because a faithful man is looking for a faithful lady too. If we want a person who prioritizes family and has good morals then it's very likely he isn't the drunk guy hanging out at the club, which means we can go ahead and stop being the tipsy girl at the club, because "family & good morals guy" is looking for "family & good morals girl" and he knows she isn't the girl twerking in the club.

I am not encouraging us to base our lifestyles around looking for a significant other. Not even a little. But I am saying that singleness gives us an opportunity to become the very best versions of ourselves. We can take the time to develop our gifts, look for opportunities to serve others and pursue God like crazy. We can take risks that require great faith and we can jog and write letters and go to school. We can tell great stories and make gorgeous dinners for no reason and invite too many friends over for a girly movie and Thai food. We can do all kinds of wonderfully satisfying things that don't involve a special someone at all as we are being intentional about becoming the type of person we would want to date.

Anyway I'll finish with this... the idea of being the type of person you want to date doesn't stop at marriage. As a wife for over five years now, I am still trying to be the type of spouse that I would want to have. I want to have a husband who listens to me, prays for me, helps me fulfill the vision God has given me, reminds me of truth when my mind is bombarded with chaos, helps me with mundane life stuff, makes me laugh, and affirms me regularly... so instead of sitting around waiting for Shaun to do this to me... I do it for him first... because I still want to be the type of person I would want to date.

So that's my free advice on this Thursday. I hope it blesses you.

"Writing Day Friday" will commence tomorrow. I can't wait!

trusting beyond chapter 2.

Ever since I learned to read I have loved to do it. I was the first one in my first grade class to read an entire chapter book and get my name on the wall. Remember that girl? Yep, it was me. Before I tried out for the volleyball team in 7th grade I went to the Colorado Springs library and checked out a book on volleyball. That's where I learned that the term, "shag your balls" wasn't actually sexual and didn't have anything to do with Austin Powers. When I was going to audition for Kathryn Grant's Dance Company at 15 years old, I went back to the same library and got a book about dance. Since it helped so much with my middle school and high school volleyball career, I was certain it would help with dance too. I ended up making the dance company before I finished reading chapter one, which was convenient because it started going into the history of ballet and I'm sorry to the historians and ballerinas... but it was completely boring. When I was 19 and wanted to learn about Jesus, I read books about Him. When I wanted to learn about marriage and leadership, more books. Today my preferred reading materials have expanded to include both books and blogs and I read more now than ever. I read for fun and I read for the sake of learning new things. I love it.

I am a particular kind of reader. I'm what you call a "read-the-last-chapter-of-the-book-if-it-gets-too-intense-to-make-sure-I-can-handle-this-part-of-the-book" type of girl. Did you get that? It goes like this, if I am on chapter 2 and the story is getting all twisty and my emotions are getting all twisty with it, I skip ahead to the end and read the last chapter, then if I like what I find back there, I return to twisty chapter 2, but if I don't like it, I set the book down and go look for another. Horrible right? A little bit. But it's my favorite way to do it. I think its because I am a deep feeler so the words on the page quickly become my reality, and if I am going to give myself over to experiencing something really intense, I need to know it will be worth it in the end.

There is something interesting I observed about myself recently though. I've found that its easier to not jump ahead to the end of the book if I trust the author. Take Shauna Niequist for instance. I think she is so great. Everything I have read of hers has blessed me like crazy. So now I am at a point where I am not even tempted to rush to the end of her stories because I am confident that she will not leave me hanging as a reader. If she introduces me to sadness or those twisty feeling I told you about, I know very soon she will also lead me to a place of hope, because that's what she always does and I like it very much.

Anyway I've noticed that my reading style is not so different from my lifestyle. I am extra good at enduring tough stuff when I can see the ending and understand why it will be worth it, but I'm prone to giving up if I can't see a promise of hope in what I'm going through. When I face something hard, all I want is to read the last chapter and know if the struggle I'm experiencing will lead to something redemptive and beautiful. The problem with life though is that most of the time the end of the story feels beyond reach, and when that happens I end up wanting to just close the book and start another, different, better story altogether.

I know that our favorite stories always involve struggle. The struggle makes the celebration at the end all the more exciting. We find ourselves rejoicing tearfully as the couple finally gets to be together, or the underdog finally wins the game, or the bad guy finally gets the justice he deserves. We endure those twisty feelings of chapter 2 when we believe that the ending will be a good one.

As I find myself walking through my own struggles without access to the last chapter of my story, I begin to consider my Author. Do I trust Him?  Enough to endure this? Because if I don't trust Him then my only alternative is to attempt to take his job, I move from being a character in the story to acting as the author of it. "My life, my story." Right? This mentality works for a little while until life inevitably reminds me that control is an illusion and at the end of the day I don't have the power to decide if my health will remain or my loved ones will live or even if the economy will be on my side. And if an "author" can't even control the variables in her own story, then she is not a very good author anyway. Which brings me back to determining whether or not I believe that the Author of my story is trustworthy.

The way I learned to trust Shauna Niequist was by reading her work. So naturally if I am going to decide if I trust my own Author, I am going to need to get familiar with His work.

His work. Genesis. The woman who endured decades of infertility finally had a baby. She was over 90 years old. The brother who was wrongly sold into slavery and unfairly spent years in prison, was eventually set free and made the leader of a nation. Exodus. Slaves miraculously set free from slavery. Their enemies defeated. Psalms. The pure-hearted man who is being attacked by a crazy, jealous, insecure leader finds peace, protection and promise. Isaiah. The people who disobey their Maker over and over and over again, are offered forgiveness and a new beginning. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. New beginnings. Always, always new beginnings. The dead girl miraculously restored to life. The slutty girl, given respect and dignity. The sick woman healed. The hopeless woman prone to hiding is given purpose and brings life to her community. Acts. Sick people healed. Dead people raised. Ephesians. Identity. Broken people restored. Poor people experience the riches of a meaningful life. Rich people experience the joy of generosity. Revelation. Every tear wiped away. No more sickness. No more heartache. New beginnings. Again.

All of that and I didn't even mention the part about sending His Son as Savior of the world.

His work invites me to trust. When I am tempted to close the book and start again, or when I wonder whether there is even really an Author at all, I remember His work and I choose trust. I choose to trust that nothing is wasted. I choose to trust that new beginnings are everywhere. I trust redemption is coming. I trust that struggle and heartache are opportunities for glory. My Author writes meaning into the mundane and purpose into the chaos and I trust Him. My Author writes peace into storms and life into barren places and I trust Him.

When I am tempted to give up and start again I remind my soul, or perhaps the Author reminds my soul, "Stay with it Jess. The page will turn. The twisty feelings in chapter 2 will be worth it. Trust."

Our Author promises hope. Always hope.

So we keep on keepin' on and believe together for an ending that will make the middle worthwhile.

In the words of everybody's favorite fish,
"Just keep swimming."

"Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Hebrews 12:1-2

(Photos by Sarah Grunder Photography.) 

poison & the f word.

Last week I Face-timed with one of my very best friends who is living across the ocean in a culture that is very different from my own. In updating me about her life and marriage and the various challenges she is facing in adapting to this new place, she said something adorable. I thought it was extra cute because English is not her first language and so she was trying to explain something very common but with her limited English vocabulary it came out like this, "Jess, I feel like there is poison in my heart. It came in there because people have let me down. They keep making promises to do things and then not following through on them. I know I need to get rid of the poison, but it is so painful."

poi·son

ˈpoiz(ə)n/

noun

1.

a substance that is capable of causing the illness or death of a living organism when introduced or absorbed.

I never want to be someone who communicates ideas without living out what I say, which I happen to think is a very nice value and I respect others who share the sentiment, however I would have been just fine talking about the "poison" this week without having to experience it in my own life. But God doesn't work like that does He? He knows that real authority in anything comes not through talking about it, but in actually walking it out, and so this week the "poison" and I have been doing some walking together. Oh the joy.

The "poison" as my friend so sweetly put it, is the experience that happens when we have been hurt or offended. Whether the one who harmed us was intentionally malicious, or accidentally insensitive, it stings our hearts and we want to retaliate or hide.

That's what happened to me this week.

It wasn't just one venomous situation, but a series of almost unnoticeable ones working together like a slow drip IV leaking toxic ugliness into my system. The poison invited a mean skeptic to rise up in me. When they would say something nice to me I would question their sincerity. When they would say something insensitive I would take it personally and relive the moment in my mind over and over again, making up fake comebacks to put them in their place. Even their attempts to love me felt irritating and painful, like when your shoulders are sunburned and someone gives you a hug.

I've experienced the poison lots of times before this week too. Like when my exboyfriend made out with another girl during our relationship. Poison. Or when I overheard a family I loved talking badly about my little sister. Poison. Or when I found out a "best friend" was gossiping about me and spreading rumors. Poison. Or when I heard people making fun of my husband and accusing us of being dishonest. Poison.

There are worse ones too but you get the idea. The point is that when we get hurt by somebody the poison invades our hearts. Did you see that? It invades OUR hearts. Meaning the poison does not access the heart of the person who hurt us, but it most definitely gets inside our own.

It's the resentment that tempts us to stay silently offended, adding little tally marks to the secret sheet in our mind keeping record of everything they do wrong. Its the bitterness that causes us judge their motives and character, making us quick to assume the worst about them. It's the insecurity we feel, the hopelessness of "this always happens" and "people always treat me like this." Its the loneliness of being let down by someone we love and admire. Its the temptation to leave or hide, to give up on the relationship without an explanation of our pain. Its the desire to retaliate, to gossip, to slander, to yell at or seek revenge. That's the poison my friend across the ocean feels. That's the poison I have felt. But the trouble with poison is that it only destroys the one who has ingested it. Which means that as long as I am the one with the poison in my heart, I am the one who will be destroyed by it.

So how do we get rid of this horrible thing that is capable of causing death in us? The answer is....
the F word.

No.

The other F word.

Forgiveness.

Forgiveness is not saying that what they did to hurt you was okay. Because in many cases it was absolutely not okay. Rather, to forgive is to release them from something they owe you. Essentially it is saying that you are no longer going to take responsibility for the justice of the situation. Shaun and I talk about forgiveness as something you are giving over to a higher authority, trusting that the authority will take care of it and you no longer need to ensure they get the penalty of their messed up actions. As believers in Christ we recognize that God cares about everything we go through and is passionate about justice. Therefore we can trust that when we surrender a situation to Him in our hearts, and practice forgiveness towards those who have hurt us, He will be faithful to work everything out.

Forgiveness is the only way to free us from the poison.

That's probably not new information for you. It wasn't for me either. But it was a reminder I needed. You have heard the quote, "Unforgiveness is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die." You have also seen what happens to the person who holds a grudge against someone else: It consumes them. They talk about it. They think about it. They wonder what the other person is going to think about their latest instagram post or facebook status. They gossip. They slander. They secretly stalk the person's social media feeds and then try to live a cooler more photogenic life as a form of revenge. I have even seen it happen where the two people haven't spoken to each other in almost a decade but one of them is still convinced that the other is doing everything possible to destroy her life. Poison. Absolute poison.

But Jesus calls us to forgive. More than that, He commands us to forgive. I think He takes forgiveness so seriously because of the lavish, mind-boggling, absolutely crazy forgiveness He extended to humanity by dying for our sins. I also think it is because He is passionate about life. All throughout scripture, anywhere He went, life happened. Blind eyes opened. Dead bodies raised. Lonely people loved. Shamed women given dignity. Children valued. It's everywhere. He even said, "I have come to give you abundant life." It's no wonder then that he calls us to be people who forgive. If unforgiveness is like a poison that causes death, then forgiveness must bring life, because Jesus only commands us to do things that bring life.

Sometimes forgiveness requires us to go directly to the person who offended us and talk it through with them. Other times, when things like abuse are involved, it is safest to stay away from the offender but to extend forgiveness in our hearts through prayer and with the help of loved ones. Often for me, forgiveness involves lots of journaling so I can make sense of my scrambled thoughts and sort out whether or not the person actually did something harmful to me or if I was just being insecure and easily offended. In those cases I may still need to forgive them in my heart but it may not be necessary to talk with them about it because they didn't actually do anything wrong.

Let's do everything we can to be free from the poison. Let's love extravagantly, forgive quickly, and seek to understand each other. May people see Heaven in the way we do relationships. May we be people who assume the best and protect each other's reputations, and when we don't understand what they meant when they said that thing that hurt our feelings.... let's ask them instead of judging them for it.

Okay?

And how about another couple of F words??

Here's to fun & family! 

A couple great photos from the #batesweddingbash.

The bottom one is gold.