Starting from Scratch

My mantra has been my countdown. It's almost like I'm Will Smith in I Am Legend and I'm keeping record of my days in this craphole of a city that was once so beloved and so familiar and is now so desolate. I see the remnants of the life I once had while I stoically hold onto the hope and knowledge that I will be able to put it right again. I am tormented by the awareness that this was all my own doing, the choices I have made, the songs I have sung, the poems I have written.


As I walk past a mirror I do not recognize the woman who passes.


She is beautiful and confused. She is happy and swirling. She is confident and self-conscious. She is scared and alone and filled with love and friends. She is one woman with so many contradictory thoughts and longings. She is the old Jessica, the one who was married and heavy and insecure and was living an after-school-special. She is the modern Jessica, the lady who was in love and athletic and living a fairytale. She is Jessie, the little girl who the grown-ups said "doesn't have a mean bone in her body." She is Jess, the fiercely loyal friend who takes on her friends' battles on their behalves. And she is a new person. A woman.


In a crux.


A new identity on the verge of blossom. A cicada nymph ready and yearning to shed her skin, depart from her borough and emerge in the daylight. After years as a chrysalis, I am screaming to be relieved of my cocoon!


I daydream of a circadian rhythm. I daydream. I can feel the sun on my face as the romance of my life-past dances across my closed eyelids. I can feel my body emerge from my bed, well rested and happy. I can smell my Madagascar vanilla red tea brewing in the morning as I lie in the dark of my living room before the sun has risen. I can hear the waves, the guitar and the melodic voice of the pilates instructor whispering from my television as I begin my workday before the world has risen. My lungs shudder in the piercing cold of the dawn as I run down the street to greet the sun, a song in my heart and a playlist in my mind. My eyes can see the pavement change from sidewalk, to gravel, to street, to gutter, to overpass, to my front step. My intelligence can remember its freedom of thought during those morning runs when it could run-wild. My derrière can feel the sofa underneath as I sit and snuggle while watching a movie or reading a book. My hands find the idle time used to chop vegetables and experiment with dinner. My teeth chew slowly and my mouth savors my meal. My lips smile as they laugh with friends because they know that there is no agenda for the next day or month and they can just relax and smile. My body is easy in its sway because it knows that its own agenda is to heal and love.


My soul lights like a candle.


And so I count the months, weeks and days.


And I hope and I pray that I don't disappoint myself.


But the difference,


the one small thing,


the tiny, minute, variance


of this new woman whose arms can feel that finish line and whose fingernails are prying through the opening in her shell,


is that her lungs fill with the cool, refreshing, hope-filled air of confidence in the Holy Spirit.


THIS WOMAN is assured.


This woman sings of His love for her with every step she takes because it is His hand which has held her up when she has felt like crumpling into the carpet. It is His shoulder she has cried upon when school and work have found her weary to the bone. It is the heartbeat in His chest that she has listened to when she has laid alone in her bed, lonely and longing. It is His words of comfort that she has read when she just needed someone to understand, looked around, and found no one to empathize. It is in Him that she finds the courage to press forward when the enemy glamorizes the ease of giving up and giving in. It is through His eyes she sees herself in the mirror when the enemy reminds her of the weight she's gained during these years in school, work, and motherhood. It is His value of her worth that she fights for, not the enemy's lies which place her worth in her waistline or the opinions of men.


This woman, this Jess, Jessie, Jessica, Jessiepalooza, Reindeer Love, this daughter, mother, sister, aunt, friend, student, employee, coworker, princess, child of God,


this woman is not going to stop,


she will not give up.


Remember, she is a lioness, she is in the grasses of the prairie chasing her change and embracing it.


She is connected to her feelings subjectively and objectively. She is dualism incarnate. A woman and a child, the past, present and future of her own making guided by the careful hands of God. Quietly listening for his direction, trusting in Him.


I am ready to love and to live, and this countdown is excruciating. But my-oh-my, will these lungs fill clean, fresh and true the evening of December 20th, 2008.

***after posting this I started listening to a sermon podcast, I arbitrarily chose one on apostleship. Five minutes in, the pastor says this:

There are two main ways to know what you're supposed to be doing with your life. The first one is, what do you love? … What you are passionate for you were born to do. And the second way that you know what to do with your life is, what are you afraid of?

How many of you know that the dogs of doom stand at the door to your destiny? The children of Israel were supposed to go into where? The Promised Land. How many of you know what they were afraid to do? Go into The Promised Land. What you're supposed to do with your life you'll be scared to death to do.

How many of you know that the dogs of doom stand at the door to your destiny? Many of us never enter into our destiny because the devil put the dogs of doom there? Whenever you get close to these barking dogs you know your destiny lies on the other side of that. What you're supposed to be doing, you'll be scared to death to do.

Jesus said, "he who wants to save his life will lose it." …

-----Welp, I don't know if you see where I'm going with this, but if you've been reading what I've written these past couple of years then you're having an a-ha moment with me. The dogs are barking! They're yelping! So then, I know that I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing, and I gave up my life to save it.

Clean, fresh breaths fill my lungs! I will fill my lungs with words of invitation to God.

...sometimes moms have a way...

Most of you remember last September when my mom had her plane ticket, days off work and was going to fly up to see Aidan and me... except that she didn't actually have the ticket or the days off, so she didn't come. That was pretty disappointing, and I will admit that I got the little-girl lump in my throat and my eyes got a little bit wet. Then I got so frustrated with myself for allowing myself that hope.

I'm actually over that. You know how much therapy they make you get when you're going into the field of therapy?!?! They don't want you bringing your baggage to the table when you have a client sitting in front of you. But tonight I read a blog that brought some of that up. It a good, healthy, sustainable sort of way. So when I read my friend's blog I felt compelled to send him a message. Then I remembered that I have a couple of you who can completely relate. So I thought I'd share... enjoy!

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Just don't let the crazy people in your life harden your heart to the good and loving ones out there. Just think to yourself that they are diseased. They may not have a tangible cancer, but their mind is black and that is not a reflection on your worth. Nor is it an example of the others in this world who claim to love you- or those in the future who will love you.

Nowadays, we have a tendency toward self-protection and it creeps up on us. It creeps so that we never see it coming. And sometimes some people never even realize it's there. Remember that. Hold onto whatever naiveté you might still have. Cultivate it and grow it. Love it like your lover. Let it grow as you think about how all those people passed you except that one van. Think about how he was probably going somewhere and stopped to go out of his way for a struggling stranger. Pay it forward.

Love for the sake of it.

Love because your mother doesn't know how.

Love because there's extra in this world, since she's so full of hate.

Let her have yours. Your hate. Shrug it off, don't own it, let her have it because you refuse to give into it. Let her have the sorrow of losing a wonderful man from her life. Because as you grow your love, you will be rich and she will be poor, and she will envy your riches.

My mom is similar to yours, but worse. Mine loves me. No. Mine pretends she loves me. She tells me she loves me. Then moves to Texas when I'm 19, unwed and pregnant. Mine loves me. She calls and tells me so. She calls and tells my son how much she loves him. Then she tells him how I ran away from home when I was a teenager and that if he ever needs to leave she will be there. My son was 7 when she said that. But my mom loves me. She tells me so. She sends me Hallmark cards with flowers and poems and sappy crap. That means she really, super loves me. My mom loves me so much that she was never here when I was despairing and needing a mother, rather I had a sofa, an empty apartment and my arms wrapped around my knees because I just needed a hug. But she loves me, and because she tells me she loves me so profusely, I forget not to believe her. I forget until I'm crying again.

Sometimes I get angry and I wish she would disown me. Because I grow my love goshdarnit. I grow it because I refuse to let her have it. I choose to love her. I'm better than her. When I tell her I love her, I mean it. When I cry in a disappointment in only tears she can elicit at the ripe ol' age of thirty, I mean every tear. I feel each one. You know why?

Because I love.

Because I choose to love.

Because I am hopeful.

I am not hopeful she will change. She is diseased. You can't cure that, only mask the symptoms. But I am hopeful. I am hopeful that I will raise my son to know how to love and to know how to hurt. I will raise my son to know that hurting is human and because it's SO WONDERFUL to love, you have to accept that sometimes the consequence is pain. But to cut off the pain is to dull the love.

And why dull something so joyous? Love like you're a little kid and your mom loves you and the sun is shining and the bluebirds are singing. Love her like that through your anger and pain and frustration. Just don't let her know it. Don't let her exploit it. Don't let her abuse your love. It's YOUR love.

Reflecting

I am cleaning and listening to podcasts from services I missed (like my bday & fresno dome trip), and one thing the pastor said was that Jesus said "if you have not left everything then you cannot be my disciple."

Do you remember, two years ago when I wasn't going to church regularly? It was Thursday, November 16th 2006 that I left Adam. It was two weeks later that I got that email from Lindsey that made me decide to cut her and the rest of that group from my life. So it was the first of December that I left it all. Mid-December I went to church with Matt & Anna and then in January I start going every week to The Stirring. February I applied for National and March I started school. I left my dreams of moving up in business banking. In October I had that near-death experience, and it was that day that I feel I died. I did. I died that day. The me who I used to be, the me who I had always known. I still think back to that day and get a lump in my throat and praise God because as scary as it was, it was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that was His work.

I had been talking on the phone about Matt & Anna, and Billy & Heather's relationships and how someday that's what I wanted. I had never been around people my age who were in a relationship and it was God centered. I didn't have friends like that before, my mom didn't model it, and I was so excited talking about how all the ideas I'd had of my future partner were dead because THIS is what I wanted someday.

It wasn't the house or the handsome, tall man. It wasn't the stability of our joint income. It was the love of God. It was the compatibility of each other and the mutual desire to make God the center of the relationship; rather than focusing on each other or ourselves, focusing on climbing the social ladder and being better than the Jone's. It wasn't a narcissistic love, but a whole one! It was the best kind of love triangle! I don't think anyone in that group of friends I once had knows how to do that or what that looks like, and so I didn't either. How would you be able to see that you were missing out on something so great if you had never witnessed it before?

So I left it all.

I left the only man I had ever loved. I left the only friends I had ever loved. I left my sense of belonging. I left my dreams of career. I turned my back on all of it. And without purposely connecting it, I turned toward church and toward God.

I answered the longing I had in my heart my whole life. I went back to the 15 year old crying after youth group because she wanted to know God more, and didn't know how. I went back to the little girl who loved church and hated to be late. I went back to the innocense I had before I "grew up."

I didn't know what I was doing back then. I didn't see it (although the whole church did as I sat alone in the back and cried every Sunday for a year). Isn't hindsight so 20/20? It's so true.

And so I keep growing in God. As I told you the other day, I am so thirsty! It's not even like the blogs I've done about the fire in my veins, it's a thirst or a hunger. It's different. It doesn't spark when I'm in church, it's just ever-present and it's growing. Heck, I'm listening to sermons on podcast while I get all OCD cleaning the top of my fridge (which you KNOW is looooong overdue). I am counting down the days until I'm done with school (69 days!) and I can start practicum. Because then I will no longer be on standby.

I really see that everything is happening in His time. If I had not left my friends and my love, I would not know the feeling of isolation or abandonment (you still feel abandoned even when you are the one who leaves). If I had not loved, I would not know that I know how to love and how wonderful it is to risk. If I had not left my life I would not know to appreciate my life. If I had not done all that I have done with work/school/mom over these two years, I would not know my strength and stamina. If I had not struggled I would not know my cheerleaders! And I have so many, and I am SO GRATEFUL! If I had not struggled, I would not know gratitude.

And I am learning every day how to let go and put my life in His hands through faith because He has already been so faithful. Even when I'm in self-pity over my exhausting schedule He gives me teachers who see the burn-out and cut me slack!

Looking back, I have gone through some scary and difficult times and transitions, but I see that they were all necessary. A coworker told me yesterday, "Jessica, you are the most patient person I know." And the old Jessica would have scoffed at that comment because it would have been an outright lie! I have learned patience. And fortitude.
And I learned this because I left everything.

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Hey, do you have any favorite sermons that especially touch you? Something I can download and listen to? Jamie told me her favorite from Bethel, but there are so many to choose from on my church's and hers that it would sure be helpful to hear about others so I don't have to listen to every single one!

Ok, I'd better get back to cleaning! I've created a bigger mess than there was to start out with! I'm sure that can be used toward an analogy of some sort. Happy Saturday!

J

I am Jessie

...i post this again...

...to serve as a reminder to myself...


Something inside me is burning. It's welling up and it's forcing its way out. Out of my heart, out of my mind, out of my soul; it consumes me. Through my fingers and from my tongue it spills. It is toxic. It is killing me. It is killing the self-defeating me. It is inspiring me. It is working itself around in my veins. It is lovingly purging the ghetto of my mind, it is repainting and repairing. There is no where to run; no where to hide. But in all its glory it pulls me from the shadows and allows me to bask in its truth. In all its love it burns me from the inside-out. It seeps from my skin, smelling sweetly. It is not me... and yet... it is the essence of who I am. And I am Jessie.

Ode to My Friends

I've always loved God and was a Christian. But I never felt this passion or fire for my faith as I have this past year. I never would have talked about it openly, and now I feel that when you just look at me it's written all over my face and it pours from my lips. I feel like honey is the trail I leave behind when I walk because I am so blessed.

I feel like the Exodus. I feel like I have journied far and wide, and I feel like I have sand in my toes. I feel like I have been accompanied by wise friends, lost souls, merrymakers and dissenters. I feel like I am finally confident and free and able and willing to tell someone no, and I am finally vulnerable and loving and understanding to tell someone yes. I feel like in this last two years I have learned the true meaning of unconditional love.

There's a fire and I'm burning.

In three months I'll be set free. I'll burn my village and build a new one. I'll climb to the mountain top and ignite my love into all the stars, because I don't know where else to put it. I will slowly control it, and learn to love through the melody which is my love. I will learn to harmonize my fire and my flame.

No rain can cause this to smolder and die; no onslaught, no barrage, no tumult is too great! When I fear that His "love spreading agenda" is too powerful for me, and I am too small; my flame is fanned by my friends and their love.

Out of the woodwork they come, one at a time... filling me with their encouraging words and faith.

When I feel lonely or disheartened or overwhelmed, they stand up and shine a light on my path so I don't lose my way. When I fear my road is too arduous, they take my hand and walk with me so that I don't look too deeply in the woods, losing myself or my goal. When I feel like this task is too monumental or I am unqualified to be who God has designed me to be (us all to be), He has His gentle way of reaching into my heart and showing me my posture. He has His way of filling my heart with His love. He fans my flame.

And I am so blessed.

And I am so loved.

I am unworthy.

I am humble.

I love God.

I burn.

Beautiful Struggle

That is true, no one is perfect. The beauty is in our struggle. Our struggle to do what is right and to be true to ourselves and our higher power. To be true to our intuition and to our gut. Our struggle to fall and then to face the music. Our struggle to repent and to stay that way the best we can... and if needed, repent again...

The beauty is that we are imperfect, and that we don't have to be perfect to be good and loved and loveable.

The beauty is that we try.

The beauty is that we keep going.

The beauty is that we are beautiful

and we are beautiful because we struggle so beautifully...

... and it is only by grace...

and

...I need all the grace I can get because my beautiful struggle is sometimes so ugly.

An Abundance of Blessings!

So two months ago, I was so stressed with school, work, little league, etc. that I was on the verge of a breakdown. It had all just accumulated to a point where I just couldn't do it. I physically could not understand the words on the page. I was a zombie. I think it was the most difficult time in my life so far...

And then I got to have a month off school to start practicum. And now I've had these two easy classes. And remember, I said the next four classes are going to be really hard (equivalent to the last ones that had me in pieces). I just got that email saying it's going to be on independent study and I'll only meet three times for the whole month and that will end at 7pm.

HOLY JESUS!

He just keeps blessing me and blessing me and blessing me!!!

Aidan will still be at his dad's til 10pm. So I'll have that time to do homework, clean, work out, find a practicum site, whatever. Then I'll only have three classes left of the hard stuff. After all these months of recovery, I'll TOTALLY be able to do those three classes just fine!!!


I have just recently learned out to give it to God and then forget about it. Is that 'true faith'? So then I've just come to a place where I've really learned to be truly faithful? I don't know, but He is sure showing me what that means and how awesome he is when I do it! I have totally just given my schooling up to Him because I know this is His plan for me. I have to stop 'leaning on my own understanding' (the topic tonight at church), and LOOK! LOOK!!!!!!! NO CLASS NEXT MONTH- mostly... YEAY!!!!

Jenn House told me a while back that when she thinks of me, she thinks of a little girl in a party dress with her heart in her hand and no matter what comes along I just don't give up or give in. I keep standing there unphased in my party dress with my heart. She said that she aspires to have that sort of innocense and determination (I wonder if it's more of a naivite), and that it's just that which God favors and blesses. I don't really know... but I sure feel blessed right now!

It's like, my heart is happy!

And a person doesn't really have control over the happiness of his heart. You can talk yourself out of feeling bad, and you can feel better. But you cannot force a happy heart!

and it's like, I know that He is blessing me, and I know that it's not ME, and I want to pay it forward or pay it back or share the love, and I just don't know how. So then it feels all bottled up and waiting to explode, but it's a joyous explosion! Confetti of the heart! Spiritual radiation- hiroshima of happy! And how odd and awkward to have that inside me, and not know what to do with it.

Do I skip?

Do I leap?

Do I sing terribly offkey, and yet beautifully to His ear while I spin in circles with my arms outstreched?

Do I jumprope til I fall?

Do I find a trampoline?

Do I run and run and run and run?

What do you do with it?

Do I sit in thankful prayer? Do I sing His praises to my friends and contemporaries?

Do I accept His blessings with thanks and keep Him in my mind, heart and works as I go throughout my day representing Him?

Wooo hoooo!