tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51462318212886282162024-03-13T10:41:41.751-07:00JENNA BENTONCoach - Author - WandererJennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12055293588647496258noreply@blogger.comBlogger268125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-4481001754925144412021-06-27T05:47:00.002-07:002021-06-27T05:49:03.834-07:00To be loved<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ygBdkGgslz8/YNhtbeWyr_I/AAAAAAAAmYk/0ZQNRaJNGggiWtcN2cbof4zH5pPC9YjoQCPcBGAsYHg/s1727/FB_IMG_1620967884370.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1727" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ygBdkGgslz8/YNhtbeWyr_I/AAAAAAAAmYk/0ZQNRaJNGggiWtcN2cbof4zH5pPC9YjoQCPcBGAsYHg/w267-h320/FB_IMG_1620967884370.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At this point in my life, I'm always missing someone. With grandchildren on opposite coasts, my heart is constantly longing. It's so strange when you become a grandparent, isn't it? You look into the faces of these new little humans, and you see traces of people you've loved - tiny wisps of familiarity and home in the corners of their eyes or dimples on chins and cheeks. I often wonder how my own mother was so great at balancing her needs with mine when I started having children. At times there is a part of me that desperately wants a do-over when it comes to parenting. I made so many mistakes. Missed opportunities and failures threaten to squeeze my chest until I can hardly breathe, even as I type this. But there is also beauty in seeing my children parent their own little ones. My role as Mimi still feels new to me, and I remind myself that I carry the lessons I've learned into this new season. My job is to delight and pour my love into the next generation, hoping that my influence will help them know how amazing they are. And isn't that what all of us want, really? To be loved like that?</div></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>JennaBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08424287768320636761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-10710412491588659642021-06-25T07:22:00.003-07:002021-06-25T07:22:33.975-07:00New Normal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wKexqLL_Pxg/YNXmkG09uxI/AAAAAAAAmUQ/WRx_X8MiK30CfGWtnnK_CswNxEl-xIgMwCPcBGAsYHg/s4032/PXL_20210410_200520520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wKexqLL_Pxg/YNXmkG09uxI/AAAAAAAAmUQ/WRx_X8MiK30CfGWtnnK_CswNxEl-xIgMwCPcBGAsYHg/s320/PXL_20210410_200520520.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I had questions about yesterday's post, so I thought I'd just clarify it here! Yes? Yes!<div>So here's our sad little story...We sold our house before Covid hit. Our thought was to find a house with a little bit of property, and we were excited to find something that checked all of our boxes. After saving up for several months, we had a chunky downpayment and began our search. We sensed the market in Southern Oregon was going up, but I told myself it was just temporary and things would get back to normal soon (ha!). We looked at house after house, putting in bids and hoping for the best. Every time we thought we'd found it, someone from out of state would come in with a higher offer without even walking through the property. And then... the Rogue Valley was hit with a horrific fire. More than 6000 families in our county heartbreakingly lost their homes. Inventory went down, and housing prices soared. We finally found a house that I KNEW was exactly perfect for us. It was a fixer-upper in Shady Cove, and it was at the top of our limit, but we decided to go all in. We offered $21,000 over the asking price and I began dreaming about drinking coffee and playing with grandbabies and eating from our very own garden. And then, we were outbid.<div>At that moment it was clear to us we weren't going to find what we were looking for. As much as I didn't want to move away, I knew that it was our best option. So.....Long story short, we decided to move to Florida to help our son Ellis plant a church. We don't plan on staying here forever, but we are here for now. <b><i>Sort of.</i></b></div><div>I found out that moving across the country takes time and planning! Who knew? (Well you probably did, but I'm still learning how many moving pieces there are...LOL) David loves his job in Medford, and he is still trying to figure out when he will make the move. 3 out of our 4 grandkids are in the Rogue Valley, so there has been some back and forth as I travel for work and pop in for snuggles with the boys. We purchased a cute little place, and hope to both be settled in here in Florida by the end of the year. Our plan is to travel around on the weekends and eventually find our permanent home. All of our stuff is in storage in Medford, Oregon, and we are technically still Oregon residents until the end of 2021. We are looking forward to visiting friends in different states and getting a lay of the land. I'm excited to explore.</div><div>For now, Florida is a good place to rest and reconnect. I'm learning to embrace my "new normal" for now, trusting that the path will come in to focus as we walk it.</div><div>In the meantime, I'll be posting some pictures of our little place and taking you along on my journey of making it a home. I'll be taking you along on our roadtrips. Here is where I'll dump some of my writing and the things I'm processing. I'm thankful for a small tribe of readers again. Thanks, friend. </div></div>JennaBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08424287768320636761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-2941000797526724452021-06-24T07:45:00.004-07:002021-06-24T07:46:20.451-07:00Back to Beauty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uXPmLGmFBcU/YNSadxVEohI/AAAAAAAAmS4/_uUknXOmI_ID3cmSDyeJbswqdxemFtOGgCPcBGAsYHg/s4032/PXL_20210615_185440037.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uXPmLGmFBcU/YNSadxVEohI/AAAAAAAAmS4/_uUknXOmI_ID3cmSDyeJbswqdxemFtOGgCPcBGAsYHg/w300-h400/PXL_20210615_185440037.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p>When I started blogging 12+ (?) years ago, my life looked drastically different. I still had kids at home, we owned our own business, and we'd settled into our filled-to-the-brim life in beautiful Southern Oregon. Looking back, I feel like I don't even know the person I was back then. I didn't know what real grief felt like. I didn't know what it felt like to have my boys half a world away in hostile territory. I didn't understand how losing our business would fracture us so deeply as a couple and as a family. I also didn't know that someday I would be a published author, or that my heart would quadruple in size with the arrival of 4 grandchildren. I also couldn't have wrapped my brain around the circumstances that would lead me to transition to the East coast from the West - a landscape I have known for 51 years, a part of my heart and my identity, and a place I know I've been called to leave - for now.</p><p>As David and I slowly transition from Oregon to Florida for the rest of 2021, I want to chronicle our journey, but I also just want a place to dump my thoughts and ... dare I say it? My feelings. </p><p>I've missed the days of just sharing whatever was on my mind. I miss my little blog. It's not fancy and it's not for everyone, but it is full of milestones and hints of the person I used to be. I liked her, and I think she would like this woman I am now. Hopefully within these electronic pages, I'll rediscover some of the beauty I used to know. </p><p>And maybe, just maybe, something new will begin to grow. </p>JennaBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08424287768320636761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-14585165641656611522020-03-22T18:29:00.001-07:002020-03-22T18:32:07.963-07:00Love Trails<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JmC4jieociA/XngOLLSsf1I/AAAAAAAAavA/orqLj-UkTIwlbDlB6VI6HhiBhGHVRpj3ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200322_123855_MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JmC4jieociA/XngOLLSsf1I/AAAAAAAAavA/orqLj-UkTIwlbDlB6VI6HhiBhGHVRpj3ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20200322_123855_MP.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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I went on a walk today. The sun was warm, the sky the brightest of blues, the breeze cool on my neck. I walked with my sister and my sweet daughter-in-law (don't worry, they're all sweet). We took our time just enjoying the fresh air and being together, even if we were careful to stay far apart from each other as we walked. We took the mile loop around South Medford High School, breathing in the scents of trees and flowers in bloom. I found myself longing to hear the crack of baseball bats and the soft thud of baseballs hitting leather. But the neighborhoods around the school are relatively quiet, and school has been cancelled until the end of April, maybe longer. I think about the high school Seniors who will not get to go to prom, or walk in a graduation ceremony, or savor the last days of school with their friends. I think about the empty classrooms and echoing halls of this beautiful school, and I'm sad.<br />
The three of us nod and smile and say hello as we pass fellow walkers, all of us making eye contact, all of us polite and silently grateful. We continue around the loop and talk about everything and nothing and just enjoy the moment.<br />
Someone had left chalk messages on the sidewalk all around the school. "BE JOY" and "You are a blessing" and this one, "You are loved" and it brought tears to my eyes. Messages from someone who longs to connect and encourage, writing notes to those who may be walking and feeling sad.<br />
It's easy to get caught up in the wretched stories of people hoarding supplies, and tempers flaring in the midst of long lines, and of people being generally unkind. But I am careful to remind myself that for every one of those stories, there are dozens of the other kinds of stories - you know the ones. The stories about people setting up community supply tables in their neighborhoods and offering what they have to their neighbors. The stories of people singing together, and being kind to strangers, and rallying behind their little neighborhood shopkeepers.<br />
They say there is a difference between loneliness and solitude, and I hope to discover ways to be good company for myself in the coming days. But for today, for a little while, I was encouraged by my fellow walkers - those who walked beside me and those who came before me. May we all leave a little love trailing behind us.JennaBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08424287768320636761noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-13243910009161091782019-07-22T10:44:00.001-07:002019-07-22T10:45:21.493-07:00Get Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PEDFuNwU2w4/XTX1h1bD4lI/AAAAAAAATC8/9b1mvLa4Hs8Ooh9qAXtr8X0Ex_OzLJk8ACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_1074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PEDFuNwU2w4/XTX1h1bD4lI/AAAAAAAATC8/9b1mvLa4Hs8Ooh9qAXtr8X0Ex_OzLJk8ACLcBGAs/s320/IMG_1074.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photo courtesy of The Wild Woman Magazine & Gabriel Ramirez</span></div>
<br />
In his book about brainstorming called "Hatch!" C. McNair Wilson tells a story about a little girl and her father. They had spent an afternoon on the ice rink together, but the little girl was discouraged. She was still learning how to skate, and she kept falling down. She was exhausted.<br />
"Daddy," she said through tears. "I keep falling down!"<br />
"That's not how I see you," he said, reaching out his hand to help her up. "I see you as someone who keeps getting back up."<br />
<br />
Risk is hard. Trying to learn something new can be discouraging. Putting yourself out there with the possibility of rejection is exhausting. Dreaming and planning and launching is terrifying.<br />
<br />
Do it anyway.<br />
<br />
This life, this one precious life, shouldn't be spent playing it safe. It shouldn't be spent being comfortable 100% of the time. Who we were meant to be is often on the other side of struggle and grit. If it's been a while since you've risked, maybe it's time.<br />
If you're in the middle of a fall, take heart. It isn't about the falling. It's about the getting up.JennaBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08424287768320636761noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-36705053790442851512018-05-25T10:31:00.001-07:002018-05-25T10:31:31.505-07:00Dear Mom of the Graduate
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear friend,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was you once. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was that mom standing in the doorway of an empty nest,
trying to figure out a way to keep my chicks from flying away and taking the
heart of me with them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let’s be honest, we know our chicks have to fly. They were
born to fly. They must. We are reasonable, strong, capable mothers. But
something deep down inside us whispers, “Not today, kid. Stop. Sit down. Be my
child. Be home. Just one more day.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh my darling, today is the day. I’m not going to lie to
you. The pain you are feeling in your chest will be your close companion for a
while. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He poses for prom pictures and all you can see is the way he carried that giant backpack on his first day of Kindergarten. She is gripping
her diploma and all you can feel is her tiny hand in yours while the rest of
the world slept. A million little everyday details, scattered through the
pages of your mothering journey.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And yes, those desperate, messy, infuriating, exhausting
moments of motherhood are back there somewhere too; on the tear-stained pages
you’ve already turned. They’re tucked in next to the sentences about dirty
dishes and dirty laundry and dirty bathrooms. But even the stinky parts make
you smile now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Tell me,” you plead, “Tell me I need to turn the page. Tell
me the next chapter will fill this empty place.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will tell you, but you already know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The truth is, I have navigated these waters and you will learn to do the
same. You will find a way to turn this page and the next one and the one after
that. Sometimes you will go back to your favorite dog-eared pages and read them and remember, and it will fill you up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Life keeps moving, and the current carries us.
It carries us forward, even when we try to swim upstream. It curves and pitches
and flows towards the sunset, where our own moms and their moms are waiting for us behind the sun.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So take a deep breath, my friend. Your babies will leave
now, and your heart will crack wide open. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Around the bend are beautiful moments to be lived. But for
now, take a moment and breathe. Find a slow spot in the river and turn your
face to the sun. Savor every word.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And when you come to the next bend in the river, lean in and lean forward.
It’s going to be a glorious ride.<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br /><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ce1pjd_CQOE/WwhIZAhzkbI/AAAAAAAAHy0/UGtkXe06ypgD0Vvo7LGmUwU6k9ZUPIthwCLcBGAs/s1600/calendar%2Bicecreamsmile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ce1pjd_CQOE/WwhIZAhzkbI/AAAAAAAAHy0/UGtkXe06ypgD0Vvo7LGmUwU6k9ZUPIthwCLcBGAs/s320/calendar%2Bicecreamsmile.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />JennaBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08424287768320636761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-17363322752132378632017-08-08T07:47:00.002-07:002017-08-09T06:13:12.844-07:00My CanvasLately my life feels a little like watching one of those cool artists who paints during seminars and conferences. The guy sets this huge canvas up on the stage and puts on cool music and starts throwing paint up there. It's a mess. But he is working so dramatically, and the colors are so vibrant, you keep watching. And at some point it begins to take shape. And then all at once you realize...there was a plan all along, and the scattered spots and swipes of paint take shape to make a beautiful image. And everyone gasps and begins cheering and we all ask each other: why couldn't we see it earlier? Here's an example if you've never seen it before:<br />
<br />
<script src="https://www.godtube.com/embed/source/wwy7kwnx.js?w=728&h=408&ap=true&sl=true" type="text/javascript"></script><br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; width: 728px;">
<a href="http://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=WWY7KWNX">Powerful Speed Painting of Jesus Will Leave You in Awe </a> from <a href="http://www.godtube.com/inspiredfaith">inspiredfaith</a> on <a href="http://www.godtube.com/">GodTube</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "tinos";">I'm not gonna lie; the last couple of years have been rough. I've struggled with clinical depression and worked through some tough personal things. I couldn't really see where God was going with all of it. It felt messy, and pointless, and a little scary. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "tinos";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "tinos";">But I hung on. Not because of who I am, but because of who I believe God is.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "tinos";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "tinos";">My dots seemed disconnected and random and really ugly. And today I can see how God is connecting them and there is a really beautiful image emerging. Life can be like that, don't you think? Those things we think are so painful and scary they can never really be worth anything; sometimes those things lead you to the most beautiful places.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "tinos";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "tinos";">I hope this makes sense. I hope you can hear me when I say...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "tinos";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "tinos";">hold on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "tinos";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "tinos";">The dots will eventually connect. A pattern will emerge. You will be changed, and you will be stronger, and something beautiful will be revealed when all is said and done.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "tinos";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "tinos";">Because God is God, and He is good. He will never let your canvas be worthless.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "tinos";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "tinos";">And I am grateful for that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "tinos";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "tinos";"><br /></span>
<br />
<br /></div>
JennaBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08424287768320636761noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-35740060726631362262017-06-19T09:03:00.000-07:002017-06-19T13:11:33.606-07:00Renee's Heart<br>
My friend Renee suffered an excruciating and sudden tragedy last week. Those of us who know her are painfully aware this isn't her first time swimming through crashing waves of heartache and loss. I sat down this morning to write her something that would bring her comfort; something to soothe the cracks in her heart. I can't. That's the god-awful truth of the thing. We all know it.<br>
<br>
You see, nothing is going to make this okay.<br>
<br>
Doug and Renee's teenage daughter went to bed --- and woke up in heaven. No warning. Just like that. Gone.<br>
<br>
Who am I to offer any kind of comfort to a family who is starting a new week without their girl? Let's be honest; even if God himself came down and gave them an explanation, it wouldn't be good enough. Lindsey is gone, and they didn't get to tell her goodbye or whisper love into her ear before she slipped away. It's not fair.<br>
<br>
But here's the thing; even in the midst of her suffering, Renee sees light. Even in the dark crawlspace of her grief, she is fixing her eyes on Love. There's just something that compels her arms to open wide to her babies and her husband and she breathes, just breathes. She keeps the light close and her little ones closer.<br>
<br>
She is in shock, she is withering, she is drowning slowly, but she continues to kick. Her heart continues to beat to the rhythm of her faith.<br>
<br>
Renee is a safe place for many, because she has walked the dark path and survived it. I hate that this is true, but it is. She is beautiful and authentic and I have found breathtaking comfort in her presence. And today, as her friend, I will watch as she swims and struggles and kicks through wave after wave. I will be changed by it.<br>
<br>
Hers is a heart that is scarred and beautiful. Love does that to us, you know. We live in a world that isn't fair. We live in a world that will cut us deeply if we choose to give our hearts away. The more we love, the more we are vulnerable to the scarring.<br>
<br>
Complete Love always leaves scars. There is proof of this in Renee and in her children and in Doug and in the lives of others who have walked this path.<br>
<br>
And there is proof in the wrists of God himself.<br>
<br>
Love tells us to keep swimming, Love tells us to kick and breathe, Love tell us to keep the light close. And this morning I pray for Renee and Doug.<br>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EnWnWPVqAh4/WUf1UmsGw_I/AAAAAAAAAns/wJlAfPqkl2go-WaaYiOALcvwkC2Mn14IgCLcBGAs/s1600/20170619_085740.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="897" data-original-width="1600" height="178" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EnWnWPVqAh4/WUf1UmsGw_I/AAAAAAAAAns/wJlAfPqkl2go-WaaYiOALcvwkC2Mn14IgCLcBGAs/s320/20170619_085740.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
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<br>JennaBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08424287768320636761noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-29516859795938700572016-11-22T09:15:00.001-08:002016-11-22T11:34:42.400-08:00Embrace Your HikeIn May of 2016, my friend Alicia and I drove to the bay area for an Anne Lamott writing workshop. Listening to Anne Lamott speak is like eating a giant platter of noodles. Some are undercooked, some are mushy, some are all tangled up. But underneath piles of noodles are the most amazing meatballs I've ever tasted. And when I get a bite of perfectly cooked pasta with a savory, mouthwatering meatball...I just close my eyes and fall backwards straight into bliss.<br>
<br>
Anne dished up a few meatballs during the workshop. Many of her words were about writing. But some of them were about life. A quote I wrote down in my journal was this:<br>
<br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>"If you have a phone in your pocket, it's a whole different kind of hike."</b></span></div>
<br>
Stop.<br>
<br>
It reminded me of this picture. Just take 30 seconds and stare at it. Don't keep scrolling.<br>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KFd10CX9PDk/WDRkbC1iIwI/AAAAAAAAAf0/Wny65qoEsWoKH3avXLDd7t8A4-3v9cuLwCLcB/s1600/no%2Bphone.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KFd10CX9PDk/WDRkbC1iIwI/AAAAAAAAAf0/Wny65qoEsWoKH3avXLDd7t8A4-3v9cuLwCLcB/s400/no%2Bphone.jpeg" width="400"></a></div>
<br>
<br>
My phone keeps me connected with everyone I love and issues I care about. Some of my favorite memories are recorded in my phone. My parents are skilled in the emoji arts. My brother can wield a .gif like a superstar. Every morning I scroll through Facebook headlines to see what people are up to. Instagram inspires me. Pinterest tortures me.<br>
<br>
But I must admit, I've been wondering lately about the effects of always having a phone in my pocket. Am I so busy capturing moments electronically that I miss the essence of the moment itself? Is my live tweet somehow diminishing my live experience?<br>
<br>
I don't know.<br>
<br>
A friend recently posted a selfie from her front porch that said, "Enjoying a quiet evening with my love, watching the sunset and focusing on each other".<br>
<br>
Hmm.<br>
<br>
Are we all so connected that we somehow become disconnected?<br>
<br>
Maybe.<br>
<br>
We live in an extraordinary time in history. Technology enables us to do things we could barely dream of when I was growing up. But sometimes I long for lazy conversations without a phone on the table.<br>
<br>
I want to become as skilled at saving memories in my heart as I am at saving memories in my cloud.<br>
<br>
We overload our senses by multitasking our experiences.<br>
<br>
Some moments were meant to only be savored once, to live in the deepest parts of our hearts and minds. Sometimes what is seen with our eyes and heard with our ears is meant just for us. It's okay to lean up against the fence and drink in a moment that will never be seen again. It's really okay. Our human hearts were built to store these little gems.<br>
<br>
On my deathbed I probably won't say, "Hurry honey, bring me my phone. I want to remember all the good times." <div><br></div><div>I hope the good stuff I have buried in my heart will be enough to carry me through to the other side.<br>
<br>
When we take our phones out of our pockets, when we silence them and put them away, we let the moment shape us in a different way. Our senses wake up. Our hearts make room for beauty.<br>
<br>
In other words, it's a different kind of hike.<br>
<br>
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<br></div>JennaBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08424287768320636761noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-49780089898101337472015-01-20T12:50:00.002-08:002015-01-20T12:50:53.233-08:00Just get your caboose out there<br />
I started training for a 5k. WHAT?!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-65bVWPgUf6k/VLaEZ5Nvi1I/AAAAAAAABi0/DfuwqYsRLpE/s1600/mel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-65bVWPgUf6k/VLaEZ5Nvi1I/AAAAAAAABi0/DfuwqYsRLpE/s1600/mel.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
YEP.<br />
<br />
One dark, rainy night I downloaded an app on my phone and followed the optimistic, slightly grating female computer voice who told me when to briskly walk and when to jog. For 31 excruciating minutes. I didn't stop, and I didn't die.<br />
<br />
Huh.That's weird.<br />
<br />
You see, I've told myself my whole life:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>I'm just not athletic.</li>
<li>I hate running.</li>
<li>Runners are crazy.</li>
<li>I look ridiculous when I run.</li>
<li>I'm going to hurt myself and then die a slow, painful death. </li>
</ul>
<br />
But the truth is, I thought I couldn't do it. So I made fun of running. <i>I made fun of myself.</i><br />
<br />
A couple of weeks back, the Lumberjack and I sat down to plan our year. I said I wanted to do some tough things. I wanted to set some goals that have a small chance of being met; I didn't want to just pick things I KNEW I could do. I wanted to write down some things I probably wouldn't be able to do, but chasing them would make me grow.<br />
<br />
When I said I wanted to be healthier, I tried to think of one measurable goal that, if met, would mean I was healthier. When I said "5k" out loud I laughed my head off. Because...well...RUNNING. The last time I ran was P.E. class---oh wait. I probably cut class that day.<br />
<br />
But then I wrote it down on my list - Run a 5k.<br />
<br />
As I got dressed for my first run, I realized something.<br />
<br />
I didn't have everything I needed: new clothes, reflective gear, something to hold my phone while I ran, a cool playlist, fast running shoes, new socks, a new beanie, one of those cool headbands that hold your bangs out of your face, those blinky light thingies you clip to your shoes, new lipbalm...you get the idea.<br />
<br />
Honestly, at this point, I was thinking I should just go shopping instead of running.<br />
<br />
I mean, come on! I would be more successful if I had everything BEFORE I began, right?<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue;"><b>The truth is, I could spend most of my life waiting for everything to be perfect before I accomplished anything.</b></span></div>
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So instead of waiting until I had everything I needed, instead of waiting until conditions were perfect, I set out on my run in 24 degree weather with sweatpants that were missing the string to hold them up. You can imagine. Wait...don't. Sorry about that.<br />
<br />
But here's my point: I've learned to stop making excuses, and instead just get my caboose in gear. <br />
<br />
Just write the book.<br />
Just plan the menu.<br />
Just make the call.<br />
Just buy the ticket.<br />
Just get my caboose moving.<br />
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So I did.<br />
<br />
And it felt gooooood.<br />
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Will I actually run a 5k? I hope so. I'm training for it. But the point is, I'm not putting it off.<br />
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What are you waiting for? Get your caboose out there!<br />
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<br />Jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12055293588647496258noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-5218626396310627732014-05-13T07:25:00.001-07:002014-05-13T07:25:53.114-07:00SAYING NOTHINGI sit across from her in a crowded restaurant, listening, watching.<br />
<br />
There's a decision to be made today;<br />
not an earth shattering, life-altering decision, but an important decision about stepping into a new position of leadership.<br />
<br />
I listen to her recite pro's and con's, and while she lists them I imagine how every fact and detail is written carefully at home in a notebook on her kitchen counter. She gets to the end of her list and takes a sip of her water.<br />
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I say nothing. I say nothing for a really. long. time.<br />
<br />
She finally clunks her water down on the table and looks at me with tears in her eyes. I know of the grief she is walking through right now. I know that right now it's hard for her to get out of bed; hard to feel anything, hope for anything, see anything but the last few months.<br />
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Cancer is a thief, and it stole her Momma. Her young, vibrant, active Momma. 60 days from diagnosis to goodbye.<br />
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60 days.<br />
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And now my friend is desperate to stumble into something, anything, that will keep her from sitting on the couch with a remote control in her hand. She is looking for something to wake her up.<br />
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"Why can't God just tell us what to do at times like this?"<br />
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I say nothing, because that's the wrong question.<br />
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The truth is, nothing will change the fact that her Momma is gone. Nothing will change the fact that she has to walk through the grief. She can walk through it busy, or she can walk through it barely moving.<br />
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But she must walk through it.<br />
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There is no list to check through this time. There are no pro's and con's.<br />
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This is life. And it's messy and it's beautiful and it's full of color and it's broken and sometimes it sucks.<br />
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And sometimes it's our job to just sit across the table and shut our mouths and let the questions come.<br />
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Sometimes questions are just questions. And sometimes they lead to more questions.<br />
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And somewhere in the asking, we will find what we're looking for.<br />
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<br />Jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12055293588647496258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-25144177544801733972014-05-06T06:58:00.001-07:002014-05-06T06:58:26.626-07:00MY DECISIONMany times the unpublished drafts of this blog are like a private journal; I can see unfinished thoughts and words and lists scattered throughout the past several years and it's like a timeline of my life. <br />
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I came across an unpublished draft today that stopped me in my tracks. It was from November of 2012.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><u><b>My Decision</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>I will not let awkwardness or fear drive my decisions. I will learn how to love urgently, extravagantly and invisibly.</i></b></span><br />
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That was it. I'm not sure why I wrote those words when I did, but I'm pretty sure it was after an epic failure of some sort. I'm feeling a little goosebumpy as I read them again today because somehow after I wrote them, I began to say them to myself and pray them and live them. I don't remember even writing them down, but I know I wanted to live more like Jesus and this was the best way I knew how.<br />
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Have you ever written down a goal list or a life statement or something important you wanted to accomplish? Like, really written it down and put it somewhere safe? Once about twenty years ago, the Lumberjack and I wrote down everything we wanted to accomplish by the end of the year. I found the list after the year was up and we both laughed our heads off because we were able to cross every single thing off of the list. <i>(It probably wasn't a very ambitious list, but we were young. Ha!)</i><br />
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'<i><b>My Decision</b></i>' was powerful because it summed up what I was learning at the time. <br />
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I had been letting fear get in the driver's seat. It took me places I hated.<br />
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Was it the only important decision I made at that time? Nope. Have I still found myself making bad decisions? Pssht. Of course. But I'm making them less and less. And I'm focusing on the "I will" in my life more than the "I won't". I think that's progress.<br />
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What about you? Think back over the past several months. What are some times you would love a "do over"? What is at the core of the mess? For me it was <u>fear</u>. For you it will be something else.<br />
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Write down your own <b><i>'My Decision'</i></b> today; something that you will say to yourself the next time you are faced with a choice. (P.S. I would LOVE to hear about it!) Write it down and pray it and begin to repeat it to yourself. You might just be surprised at how things will change. You might be surprised at how much it changes YOU.<br />
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<br />JennaBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08424287768320636761noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-13653848550765455912014-05-01T07:49:00.000-07:002014-05-01T15:22:43.734-07:00ROMANTIC NOTIONS AND PUKE ON MY CARPET<p dir="ltr"><br>
It was a romantic notion, really; this jumping off into a place with no borders. When I decided to follow Jesus and leave behind beige living, I pictured myself doing something in vibrant color: I would be moving to a third world country, or starting a ground breaking non-profit, or maybe even becoming a famous writer. I would learn about fair trade and I would type my manuscripts on a vintage typewriter and I would take my vacations in Iceland or Uruguay, all while saving orphans and freeing slaves from a life of suffering. Oh, and I would have awesome abs. Because duh.</p>
<p dir="ltr">So I started doing things that scared me and I called it 'Jumping Into Awkward' because I thought that sounded compelling and super cool and even a bit risky.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Awkward was a nod to my misfit self; that part of me that doesn't really like to walk into conflict or tension of any kind. I should probably tell you that I'm married to a guy who pulls on his rubber boots and strides boldly into the center of conflict. He just clomps right into stinky, gross tension and says 'I see you and that green stuff between your teeth. Let's be friends'. And I'm the wife who stands on the edge of the muck, praying no one notices me and calls me out into the swamp and asks me to bring dental floss. Because, ew, I'm not going in there. I just scored these name-brand shoes for $12.99 at Ross and hurry up we have somewhere to be in half an hour. Get the picture?</p>
<p dir="ltr">But I was determined that if I stuck to the plan and embraced Awkward, I would finally arrive. I would arrive with my world traveler's tan and my passport full of stamps and a whole crop of new, interesting friends and stories.</p>
<p dir="ltr">So how's that little plan been working for me? Welp, I'm still living in Southern Oregon, I can't find my passport, my abs are not awesome, I still get pitty when I make myself talk to strangers, I'm whiter than Bill Clinton, I'm working in a beige cubicle every day and lately I've been neglecting this little blog. Say what? Hold up! Call Oprah and Grandma and John Tesh, 'cause that's a whole lot of awesomeness going on right there.</p>
<p dir="ltr">This journey through Awkward has looked nothing like I expected. So what does it <u>really</u> look like?</p>
<p dir="ltr">It looks like a 2:00 a.m. drive to a scary neighborhood to pick up someone who's probably lying to me. It looks like having to tell someone she can't get naked or smoke pot in my living room. It looks like sitting across from someone who just lost their mom, or someone who wants to kill herself, or someone who is leaving her drunk husband, or someone who is just pissed at God. It looks like swallowing my self righteous advice and saying "What do you need and how can I help?" It looks like giving up 'me time' so my daughter-in-law can have a break, it looks like endless stacks of dirty dishes that I didn't eat from, it looks like 6 gallons of baby puke on my white carpet. It looks like new wrinkles on my face and ugh-not-so-cute toenails. It looks like shining a flashlight on a path in the deep dark woods and shouting "Come on! I found it! Walk here!" It looks like sitting in my pajamas staring at an old computer screen, hoping my words mean something to you.</p>
<p dir="ltr">There's more, but let's stop for a second. Do you see the beautiful, broken mess? In all of my dysfunction and inadequacies I am following Jesus. It never looks how I think it will look; that's how I know I'm doing something right.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Awkwardness wrecked me for any other way of living.</p>
<p dir="ltr">....aaaaand this is where some of you will stop reading and move on with your day, if you haven't already. Honestly, I don't blame you. Go forth if you must, my friend. </p>
<p dir="ltr">BUT, if you're still reading, there are a few things you need to know before you jump. <br>
I mean, if you're still reading I'm assuming it's because you've been thinking about jumping into Awkward with me. Ready? No? Good. Me neither. Or is it either? GAH!</p>
<p dir="ltr">1. CHASE THE TRUTH: In order to call out the best in people, I have to know who I am and why I'm here. I want to soak in scripture until the day I die because it reveals who I am and more importantly, <b>who God is</b>. Don't underestimate the importance of knowing God's word.</p>
<p dir="ltr">2. PUT FEAR IN THE CORNER WITH BABY: You are going to feel completely clueless and inadequate and stressed out. If you untangle it all, fear is in the center of it. Acknowledge the fear and the tension. Recognize that a healthy amount of fear and tension are needed to help you grow; just don't let them be the loudest voices in the room. <b><u>And don't ever EVER let fear steer your decision making</u></b>. (And by the way, if you grew up in the 80's, you will know that NO ONE puts Baby in a corner. So Fear will just have to sit there alone and pick his nose and sulk. See what I did there? Now go back and read #2 again because I know you were distracted by Baby being in the corner).</p>
<p dir="ltr">3. TRUST THE COUNCIL: Find a small 'council' of people you can share your journey with. My council meets once a week around a dinner table to work through life. The council speaks truth, holds me accountable and helps me dream. If that's not possible for you right now, make sure you have a few healthy friends you can count on. Honestly, I can't stress this one enough. So many of my friends are just treading water because they haven't cultivated a council. (I plan on writing more about how to do this later, because I have recognized this is a huge need around me right now).</p>
<p dir="ltr">Ok that's enough to get you started. May you find your stride today. May you walk in boldness and in all things messy and stinky and beautiful.</p>
<p dir="ltr">And may <i>the God of all things Awkward</i> delight in you today. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Which of the things above are hardest for you? Are there other things that help you live a compelling life? Please share with the class!</p><p dir="ltr"><br></p><p dir="ltr">**photo courtesy of Natalie Rose Art. Visit her Etsy store and check out her amazing work!</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Xu5clvFWW9k/U2KVZ_mL9KI/AAAAAAAAAKc/bQvZb3BdFNE/s1600/IMG_20140501_114052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Xu5clvFWW9k/U2KVZ_mL9KI/AAAAAAAAAKc/bQvZb3BdFNE/s640/IMG_20140501_114052.jpg"> </a> </div>JennaBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08424287768320636761noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-76155808536782910942014-03-15T21:13:00.001-07:002014-03-15T21:13:20.629-07:00BEAUTIFUL THINGS<br />
It's the phone call every Momma fears the most.<br />
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And I ride, shaky and sick, up the elevator to the third floor and turn the corner and stand with my back against the wall outside ICU. I stare up at the cameras and I stare at the doors and I just stand there, staring, dumb and afraid.<br />
And then that Momma, she comes slipping out of those doors carrying her phone and looking like she just swam the entire ocean and back again. And she says to me, "Hi".<br />
And what do I say? What do I say when her boy is laying in that hospital bed with tubes sucking things out and forcing things back into his broken body? Everything that's rolling around in my mouth feels meaningless and flat. I'm just dumb. Dumb and shaking and afraid.<br />
Me and this sweet Momma, we've poured our tears out over the years; when our boys were doing things they shouldn't, going places they shouldn't, smoking things they shouldn't. And we would just shake our heads at each other and smile through the tears, because no one hopes and dreams for a boy like his Momma. No one sees him like she does. No one aches and worries and prays through the night like her. And no one forgives, over and over, like a Momma. So over the years, Keri and I, we just kept hoping. Hoping and praying. Over and over.<br />
And then one night Keri gets a call that could have just as easily come my way. And now there are things that can't be undone. There will be tough days ahead. Nothing I can say will change it or make it any less brutal.<br />
Jakob's life was spared last night. He woke up today, and his body will eventually heal. Tonight, I pray over his life and his brokenness. I pray for his future. I pray for eyes that will not see just today, but a thousand and ten thousand days from now. I pray for discovery and grace. I pray for a life reborn.<br />
Because no one loves and restores and relentlessly pursues us like our God. No one pours Himself out like He does. No one.<br />
We sang in church tonight about how He makes beautiful things out of dust; about how He makes beautiful things out of us.<br />
And I will keep on singing that. Because it's true.<br />
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<br />JennaBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08424287768320636761noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-3695450398154846592014-02-07T16:39:00.001-08:002014-02-07T16:39:58.001-08:00A LEGACY OF LOVE<div dir="ltr">
Since I was a wee girl I have been a lover of words. I tend to devour a well-crafted plot like a plate of <a href="http://jumpingintoawkward.blogspot.com/2013/02/becoming-benton.html" target="_blank">Donna Benton's </a>no-bake cookies. Words have shaped me and challenged me and comforted me over the years.</div>
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As important as words are, these days I am learning what it means to speak Love with less words; wild and faithful love, without borders or expectations or rules. As I have slipped into adulthood and crept quietly towards middle age, I've been watching someone expand the boundaries of her love. Simply put, she lives a lifestyle of love.</div>
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This person is my Momma. And today is her birthday.</div>
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The day she was born, she made the local news. You see, my Momma and her Sissies were the first triplets born in Shasta County, California. </div>
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And as legend goes, every year the local paper would do a story about the Triplets and they would have to get their picture taken.</div>
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With a two year old and 3 babies in the house, I can't imagine the chaos and joy and exhaustion that echoed from those walls. We all grew up on stories of the antics of the Triplets and their big Sissie. My favorite story is when the little girls wanted some extra cash so they went door to door in their grandmother's neighborhood selling tickets to a spaghetti dinner. Unfortunately, my Great Grandmother learned of the dinner when a hungry crowd of neighbors showed up on her doorstep.<br />
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My Mom's well-worn Bible sits on the coffee table in the living room, a testament to years of soaking in Gods word and petitioning the throne for her children. The Lumberjack swears that he's alive today because she prayed through many nights when, as a young dad, he regularly pushed his limits driving a big rig through icy mountain passes.<br />
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Momma, I hope your birthday is fabulous. Thank you for your kindness and loyalty and generosity. Thank you for teaching me about love. Thank you for laughing at my jokes and always encouraging me. Thank you for loving my Dad.<br />
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Happy Birthday, Marcie Jane. I love you so much. I'm so privileged to be your daughter.<br />
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JennaBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08424287768320636761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-10656965265053496222014-01-05T09:58:00.001-08:002014-01-05T09:58:15.912-08:00THE KEYI have always had a fascination with keys. As a kid I collected old keys like rare coins, stashing them in a little drawer, turning them about in my hand, dreaming of the doors they unlocked. My great grandmother had a big black metal key; a rough heavy thing that hung from a ribbon and felt cool and heavy in my hand. I remember locking and unlocking her front door many times with this beautiful key. There was something spellbinding about hearing the click-click-thunk as I turned it. Even to this day, if you were to rummage around in my junk drawer at home, you would find random keys that I just can't bring myself to throw away. I have no idea what these keys go to. But for me, a key possesses possibilities and mystery.<br />
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I found a key last year. Not a shiny metal key or a big lumpy key on a ribbon. This key contains nine words.<br />
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This key forces me to put aside my own ideas and step through a doorway of possibilities much more wild and messy and intense than I could ever dream up. It's changing the way I live my life. It's plunged me into trust and bewilderment and awkwardness and even the very heart of God.<br />
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<a href="http://pedalsandpencils.com/2014/01/01/a-new-years-benediction/" target="_blank">My friend Alicia</a> shared this key with me last year, and now I'm going to share it with you. You can read about her story on her blog, but for now just trust me. This girl is legit.<br />
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Are you ready? Here's the key.<br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><u>WHAT DO YOU NEED AND HOW CAN I HELP?</u></span></strong></div>
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Oh, the magical doors this key will open for us. But we must be willing to use this key properly.<br />
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Using this key requires that we put aside everything we think we know. We must toss all of our expectations and 'fixes' and pride. We must abandon all judgment and cynicism and baggage. This key is full of pure humility and is marked with authentic servanthood, and when used properly it will shake foundations and cut new paths in the wilderness.<br />
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Say it with me now, <em><strong>What do you need and how can I help</strong></em>? <br />
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Doesn't that feel cool and heavy in your hand? Can you feel the possibilities and the mystery? Can you imagine the sound of it turning, and the door swinging wide?<br />
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May you travel lightly this year, and may you carry this key close to your heart. And may you never fear to use it where it is needed most.<br />
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Jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12055293588647496258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-10651353467440749092014-01-04T11:30:00.001-08:002014-01-04T11:30:18.658-08:00YOU FIRST<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><strong>YOU FIRST</strong></span></div>
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There are so many things I could talk to you about this morning</div>
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Here next to the fire</div>
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with my coffee and favorite pen</div>
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Holiday memories linger and hum with the sounds of my morning</div>
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The Lumberjack's heavy footsteps while he tinkers</div>
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The first Saturday in a long while </div>
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When I can just rest and write and talk to you</div>
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So many things to catch up on, so many words </div>
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fears</div>
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longings</div>
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hopes </div>
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dreams</div>
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frustrations</div>
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complaints</div>
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lists </div>
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ideas</div>
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notions</div>
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projects</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
But I wonder now</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
as I sit and listen </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to the silence that feels like fingers in the sand</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I wonder</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
What do you want to talk to me about?</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>YOU first.</strong></div>
<strong></strong><br />
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<strong></strong>Jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12055293588647496258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-3279766179415065682013-10-17T07:15:00.001-07:002013-10-17T07:15:19.907-07:00MILEPOSTS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2GwiQFs-AIs/Ul_wEmXAP3I/AAAAAAAABcg/256RWMrGwsk/s1600/IMG_20131017_070947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2GwiQFs-AIs/Ul_wEmXAP3I/AAAAAAAABcg/256RWMrGwsk/s400/IMG_20131017_070947.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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A couple of years ago I accepted the challenge to write a screenplay...in 30 days. I wrote like a fiend for a month and finished with characters I loved, 3 complete acts, and a brilliant twist at the end. It was such a great feeling. For the first time in my life I really felt like a writer!<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Everyone asked what was next. Honestly, I had not really thought too much about what I would do when it was finished. I found a reputable script consultant who lives in Hollywood, and I took advantage on a special he was running on his website.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I sent him the first 10 pages and an outline of the story, and a week later I was sitting in my car on a lunch break waiting for his phone call. Would he love it? Would he understand the twist at the end? Would he be blown away by my creative genius? I knew the script wasn't perfect. I told myself I could do any revisions he recommended. After all, the guy has worked with Tom Hanks. He knows his shizzy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Come on, friend, you can guess where this is going.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
After 5 minutes of answering his questions I knew my work was crap. Crap Crap Crap. Don't get me wrong; Erik was professional and kind and......right. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I had some major problems with my plot. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
For the next 25 minutes I stuttered and stammered my way through trying to explain the conflict, the beats and the twist. After making a super awkward joke, I hung up and went back to work at my grey cubicle and tried to figure out what just happened. I was embarrassed. Deflated. Frustrated.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Honestly, I was pretty hard on myself for a while. But looking back now, I see some things. </div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>I started and finished a big project. </li>
<li>I put myself out there for some constructive feedback.</li>
<li>I learned from said feedback.</li>
<li>I learned writing a compelling story is almost as hard as living one.</li>
<li>I'm more appreciative of a good story when I see one.</li>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I haven't gone back to that script. I think it's too sick to ever be made well. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But that script is a milepost for me. Sometimes it feels like my life is stuck; like I'm repeating the same day over and over and over. That script is a reminder that I'm moving forward, even if not everything works out the way I want it to. That script reminds me that sometimes we need to do hard things, even if we're not very good at them the first time.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We all need mileposts in our lives, especially if they're kind of a bummer. It's best when they make us uncomfortable and awkward. This wakes us up. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
These days I try to create mileposts for myself, so I can look back and see I'm moving in the right direction. And if it's been too long since the last one, or if I'm not moving, I create a new one. These mileposts aren't to show me where I've failed. They are to remind me where I've been and what I've learned. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And I'm thankful for them.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What about you? Can you think of some mileposts in your own life? Is it time to create a new one?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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Jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12055293588647496258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-2912386566639334532013-10-02T20:29:00.001-07:002013-10-02T20:29:51.461-07:00HERE WE GO: 'THE BOOK' <div style="text-align: center;">
Ok, I have officially started<b><i> 'the book'</i></b>. AAAAaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!! Hotdawg! </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Here's a peek at the concept. Will you help? I'm building a little community of people to be my first readers.<br />
I'll need cheerleaders, proofreaders, networkers, lovers of the written word, and awkward people of all ages. :)<br />
I'll be sending out the first draft of the INTRODUCTION by the end of the week.<br />
If you're IN, please let me know. Dang, this is scary. And awkward.<br />
But I'm embracing it!</div>
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<br />Jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12055293588647496258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-67714778276391206492013-09-23T22:43:00.000-07:002013-09-23T22:45:25.725-07:00HELP WANTEDI'm learning life is busy. It doesn't matter if you're raising toddlers or sending kids off to college. We all tend to fill the time we have, don't we?<br />
I'm trying to fill my days with things that matter. I want to do a better job at loving people. I want live a better story. I want to do a better job just <i>living</i>.<br />
<br />
SOMEDAY is a myth.<br />
I'm tired of living in 'someday'. I'm sick of it.<br />
Someday is today.<br />
<br />
I'm excited to share something with you.<br />
I've been wanting to write a book for a while, and now I've officially started writing it.<br />
I've really started it.<br />
Yikes.<br />
A little scary. But mostly cool.<br />
<br />
So...<br />
This blog is where I'll be throwing my ideas out there to see what sticks. This is where it will brew and simmer and eventually come to life. Will you help me?<br />
<br />
I don't work well alone. I work best in 'community'. I like to talk things out, figure them out, try the words out and rework them and try them again. I need a tribe of friends who will support me. I'm still working out what that interaction will look like, but I'm asking....will you help?<br />
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<br />Jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12055293588647496258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-390080036022708382013-09-11T11:53:00.000-07:002013-09-11T11:53:25.282-07:00EMPTY NEST<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
If my life is like a book, I'm starting a new chapter. Who am I kidding? I feel like I'm starting a whole new book.<br />
<br />
This week I'm experiencing what they call 'an empty nest'. Honestly, that term really annoys me. I've tried to think of a better way to describe it. I've really tried. It sounds like a term used to describe old people who obsess over their pets and talk about their bowel habits and grandkids. It gives off a vibe of loneliness and loss of purpose. A few weeks ago, in preparation for the big 'last kid exodus', I set out to find a better title.<br />
<br />
But there isn't one.<br />
<br />
My nest feels empty. I have no eggs to sit on. I have no squawking little mouths to feed. No feathery messes to clean up. It's quiet. Sometimes I'm sad, but other times I feel like I'm on vacation. I suppose there isn't really one perfect way to describe it.<br />
<br />
I'm realizing I don't really know who Jenna is when she isn't worrying about someone, or taking care of someone, or cleaning up after someone. Actually, I'm excited to get to know her.<br />
<br />
So here's to EMPTY NESTS. Here's to quiet mornings and little projects and new books. Here's to hot coffee and good music and new dreams. Here's to a new book, with new characters and new plot twists. Here's to life. May we live each chapter well.<br />
<br />Jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12055293588647496258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-61227708930653945962013-09-06T07:49:00.005-07:002013-09-06T07:50:38.878-07:00ADVENTURES<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Yesterday he carried guns in his belts, wore masks and sought out </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
new adventures around the next corner.</div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
This morning he is packing up his room and rounding the next corner, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
his eye on a new adventure.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I miss the little boy he was.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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I love the man he is.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Goodbye, Ellis. This will be a very good adventure.</div>
Jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12055293588647496258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-21050541685880417112013-08-28T09:22:00.004-07:002013-08-28T11:13:44.626-07:00CLAIMING MY TICKET<br />
<br />
It all started with a little Facebook post.<br />
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That week had been a crazy one for me. The <a href="http://www.redemptionridge.com/thank-you-sponsors">Redemption Run</a> was in 3 days, and we were scrambling for alternatives as the smoke from raging wildfires crept into our valley and hovered for days. I had a million and one things on my 'To-Do' list, and I was still working my regular day job for 8 hours a day, making phone calls and sending emails on my breaks.<br />
<br />
I couldn't possibly put one more thing on my plate. Right? Right? Can I get an Amen, Sista?<br />
<br />
And then I read this.<br />
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I had been following my friend <a href="http://pedalsandpencils.com/2013/07/28/vigilante-kindness-piglets-for-the-piggery/">Alicia's adventures</a> online. Last summer this teacher from Redding, California decided to commit the bulk of her summer vacations to the people of Gulu. I read her blog post about the pigs, and without really thinking about it I sent Alicia a message asking how Oregon could get in on some Vigilante Kindness.<br />
<br />
She wrote me right back. Some kids needed $230 shoes for school. Could I help?<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Crap. Do I even have time for this?</i><br />
<br />
My compassionate, adventurous spirit is impressing and inspiring you right now, no?<br />
<br />
But seriously. I'm just an ordinary girl, working an ordinary job, living an ordinary life, trying to make a difference, and my schedule is packed. I'm planning this event for goshsakes. And I'm stressed out. I would be nuts to add one. more. thing.<br />
<br />
But there was this little voice. It's hard to describe if you've never heard it. But in that moment I knew I had a choice.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">CLAIM IT</span></b> or <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">CUT IT LOOSE</span></b>.</div>
<br />
No one would blame me for walking away from this one. And honestly, no one except Alicia would ever know.<br />
<br />
It's like I had this little ticket in my hand, and I could take it up to the counter and hand it over or I could just let it flutter to the floor with all the other tickets I was too busy to claim.<br />
<br />
I took a deep breath and opened up my Facebook and turned in my ticket. I had no idea what was about to happen. I didn't even know if anyone would respond to my post. Within 5 hours I had this.<br />
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<br />
20 people responded to my invitation to<i> knock their socks off.</i> I sent my son <a href="http://jumpingintoawkward.blogspot.com/2012/11/happy-birthday-ellis.html">ELLIS</a> out on a mission to collect the cash, and within 24 hours we were wiring $350 to Gulu.<br />
<br />
But that's not the end of the story. Our money got there too late. Some California Vigilantes beat us to it and bought the shoes. Alicia messaged me and asked what she should do with our money. We decided to spend one day praying about it. We asked God to bring something crazy and heart-pounding and wild. We prayed He would make it obvious what that money was for.<br />
<br />
And He did.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow night I am having a big "Kindness Vigilante" party at my house. We will be celebrating what happened the day I turned in my ticket. I will be sharing some incredible news with each of them, because really, they turned in tickets too. I can't wait to sit in my living room and laugh our heads off about how God took our coffee money and our spare change and our ratty tickets and started something amazing in a little village in Uganda.<br />
<br />
Today, if you hear a little voice, STOP. Just stop. Even if your plate is full. If God hands you a little ticket, don't cut it loose. CLAIM IT. You never know what will happen. It could be something magical.<br />
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<br />Jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12055293588647496258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-86158658656978163722013-07-06T08:31:00.001-07:002013-07-31T07:26:07.753-07:00DON'T LISTEN<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When the world tells you to be practical, dutiful, grateful for an average, safe life DON'T LISTEN.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When fear tells you your dream is not defined enough, important enough, big enough DON'T LISTEN</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is Stacy. She's a Doula. I'm so grateful she didn't listen.I could write a thousand words, but this picture does it for me. Can you see it? Can you see what it looks like when passion and strength and excellence come together to make a difference in the lives of others? Can you see what happens when someone is exactly where they are meant to be? Thank you, Stacy, for using your gifts to welcome my grandson. You took fear out of the equation for our family. Thank you for not listening. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Thank you for taking on the coaching part so I could simply step into the Grandma part. I'm so grateful to Scott and your sons for giving you up for a couple of days. Thank you for investing in our family. Thank you for not listening. </span></div>
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Jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12055293588647496258noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5146231821288628216.post-76453357779498276002013-07-04T22:03:00.000-07:002013-07-04T22:03:20.372-07:00FIREWORKSIt's been a long day.<br />
<br />
A long, breathtaking day.<br />
<br />
After 24 years of marriage, David and I looked into the swollen little peepers of our new grandson and found a place in our hearts we didn't know existed.<br />
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His Momma is a rock star.<br />
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<br />
We decided to take a walk in our neighborhood tonight. Families lined the sidewalks with their plastic lawn chairs, watching bright lights dance and crackle in the street. Dads holding lighters, kids hopping up and down, Mommas sitting next to buckets of water.<br />
<br />
Yesterday my heart would have <b>ached</b> for the times when my little boys danced to the light of sparklers under a July moon.<br />
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But life and time is a strange and beautiful thing. Tonight there is no ache in my heart for yesterday.<br />
<br />
The Lumberjack held my hand as we rounded the last block towards home and we dreamed of a little boy with Benton ears who would sit in our driveway someday and dance to the light of sparklers under a July moon. <br />
<br />
Micah David Benton. Born at 1:19pm. 7lbs 4oz of pure perfection.<br />
<br />
Happy Birth Day, little man. Happy Birthday, America.<br />
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<br />Jennahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12055293588647496258noreply@blogger.com2