It Takes a Village to Raise a Jenn

Apparently it takes a village to raise a Jenn, was the random thought to cross my mind yesterday with a chuckle. Don’t you love it when you amuse yourself and there’s no one around to see how funny you are? Am I the only one that happens to? No, I’m positive my sister, Alisha, cracks herself up on a regular basis.

But after I stopped laughing at my own version of the famous quote, I realized the truth peeking out from inside my play on words.

Yesterday the thought was inspired by my preparation for the fantastic She Speaks Conference coming in just a month. I’d had my first pre-conference training to help me make sure I had all my ducks in a row to present my book ideas to publishers. I came away from it invigorated, encouraged, and looking at a boat-load of homework to make sure I knocked their socks off.

The amazing presenter, author Glynnis Whitwer, was so calm. Her job was to tell us what was included in a one-sheet—a single sheet of paper created to grab the attention of a publisher or agent with who you are and what your book is about. She went above and beyond that simple description with encouraging tips about networking and what NOT to do. Oh please save us from ourselves, I thought. It was such a worthwhile use of my time, energy, and the small fee.

One item on my to-do list was to find a good, professional-looking picture of myself to use on my business cards and my one-sheet. Ok. I’ve got a bunch of pictures. I found what I thought was the best and was soundly shot down by my sisters. Too dark. Not professional enough. Got anything else? Gotta love how direct sisters can be with you.

So off I went to Facebook to see if any of my amateur or professional photographer friends had time. Kendrea stepped forward with a generous offer for a location shoot at an amazing price. Her professional talent has long made me smile. She’s one of the fantastic women I met in my many years in MOPS. My friend Tanya agreed to help me create a graphically fantastic one-sheet. Two photographer professionals offering to help out.

Then there was my hair. I have it perfectly planned out exactly how long before She Speaks to get my stylist Shayla to give me a killer color and style so that it looks amazing. This was not now. Now I have in-between hair. Thankfully Shayla could trim my bangs today.

Now what to wear? My friend Jaime has offered to take me shopping before the conference to help me. Oh do I need help. I’m, shall we say, “fashion challenged.” I don’t know how to layer or accessorize well and don’t get me started on what I think looks flattering vs. reality. But I am aware of my limitations. I know I need the help. However we hadn’t gone shopping yet.

So I started sending Jaime and our friend Jenny (who was with her at the pool) pics of myself in what I had to work with. The joys of smart phones. Then I included Alisha. Between them and the responses from my boys, we found something we could work with. Kendrea even chimed in with a few more suggestions.

I met Kendrea on the edge of town to head to a beautiful location in the Hills. She posed me in ways a yoga master would have been proud of to get just the right angles. I think I may be able to call that an extra work out this week.

But as I look back at this day, I realized that yet again, my vast circle of friends had come to my aid to help me when I needed it. It has taken a village to raise a Jenn—to raise me out of grief and help me smile. To raise me out of fear and care for my needs. To raise me out of feeling alone and make me feel loved and supported and prayed for and lifted up.

So thanks to my “village people.” You are many and you are diverse. You come from a variety of denominations and churches. You come from my past and my present. You range in age from young to well, let’s just stop right there. You are the village that God is using to help me continue and thrive in the new journey He’s set before me. You are His people in action helping this widow turn mourning into dancing.

Yesterday it took a village to raise a Jenn and I’m unbelievably thankful for that.

 
 

Roller Coaster Week

This has been a roller coaster week for me. I’ve felt amazing hope that I have God’s next step for me in the form of the She Speaks Conference I am attending in North Carolina this summer. It was an answer to the prayer, “What next?” that has been ringing in my soul for a while now. It seemed the breath of fresh air in the musty chambers of a heart that’s been walking through grief.

Then the coaster headed down as one of my sons virtually collapsed under the weight of grief and school problems and faith issues and just the weight of the world. He’s such a good kid. My heart broke that he was struggling. But I know this is part of the journey of grief. It is affecting each of my kids differently as it is me. So we dealt with what we could deal with and I went to bat with him at school. I encountered fantastic support there. Things started to look up.

Then came another day of God’s magnificent provision. In one day I was given two financial gifts. One friend had been negotiating a used car for my son to drive with someone in her Bible study. When she told the lady my situation, the negotiation stopped. She wanted to give me the car for free. Jaime, the friend who had been searching for the car, wept. And then she called me. As a fantastic bonus, the man who has be the mechanic for this car offered to help teach Jarod how to do any repairs that should arise. Amazing.

In that same day I had the privilege of hanging out with a new friend. I shared with her more about my conference and why I was so excited that this was God opening a door for me to pursue my dreams of writing and speaking professionally. She was excited for me. She said she felt certain God was going to us me, use my story to glorify Him and to encourage and bless others. Later I received a text from her telling me she was so sure that God was behind this that she and her husband had decided to pay for my plane ticket.

The roller coaster went on.

So as the weekend arrived, I felt a little weary from all these ups and downs. It had been a long week. I decided to do more research online to help me prepare the proposals for my writing ideas for the conference. I get to meet, one-on-one, with a publisher and I need to be professional and have my stuff ready to sell. So I headed to Google to try and figure out how I would package the two books I’ve got almost finished and the two I have ideas for.

Google can be very discouraging. Google tells me it is going to be pretty impossible to get a publisher to buy my book. It tells me that the style of two of my books are what every writer tries first and pretty much unless I’m a survivor of a tsunami followed by alien abduction or the Queen of Quite a Lot, no one is going to pay me for it. It tells me that I’d better try my talent at a few other styles or just make a nice, self-published couple of books to give my grandkids someday and move along so the better writers can be seen. Ok, so that last one may be a bit of an exaggeration. But it’s close.

I spent the day trying to go back to the drawing board. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Starting fresh can lead to new angles, new ideas, and sometimes new ways of telling stories so the audience is captivated. But when I was feeling like I’d failed before I’d even started, back to the drawing board was not any of those amazing things. It was defeating. It was exhausting. It was unproductive. After a while I realized I was writing stuff so boring I was getting sleepy.

And then I glanced at Facebook tonight. What I found was a post by Lysa TerKeurst, founder of the very conference I’m so excited to be attending. Here’s what she posted:

Over the years, I've come to a realization - I can rest in the assurance that if something is meant to be, it isn’t up to me. It’s up to God. I give what I can give. And then wait for Him to give what only He can give. So, if He makes it happen without all my chaotic self-effort, then I will know it is His best. And if it doesn’t happen, I will praise Him for saving me from myself. 

And just like that the roller coaster leveled out. It’s not up to me to figure it all out from here. It’s up to me to do my best with what God has given me and take the next step in the direction He provides. The rest is up to Him. And His plans are always good ones.

So I’m headed to bed. I’m exhausted and we all lose an hour of sleep tonight. I’m going to take to heart the words from Psalm 4:8, “I will lie down and sleep in peace for you, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.” God is faithful to care for me. He will direct my paths when I let him. It’s up to me to do my best and follow His leading. He will take care of the details.

I think I’ll try to exit this coaster now.

Light Ahead

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when dreams come true at last, there is life and joy.” Proverbs 13:12 Living Bible

For the past six months I have been walking in the valley of the shadow of death. It’s dark here. The walls are steep crags of jagged rocks dotted with simple glimmers of life and hope growing in unexpected places. The walls seem to go up and up forever, though, blocking out most of the light. Maybe it’s to force me to look up towards heaven to see the beautiful blue of the sky overhead—even if it is only a sliver.

This weekend I received my first sign that the end of the valley is approaching. I can see light up ahead. I knew there would be. I knew this path was temporary, is temporary. But it’s hard and it’s sad.

Since the day Kraig died, I have held on to the promises of God. They are truth that brings healing. These wounds are real but I have always known that God walks this valley with me. His rod and His staff comfort me. He will restore my soul. He will lead me if I let him.

After a few months in this valley, I started to feel like I was in limbo; like I was at a crossroads. What next? Where our family has lived has always been determined by Kraig’s career. Now it was up to me to decide where our family belonged. Stay here? His job brought us here. This is not where either of us was from and not near any family. It’s a big world full of great places. So, move? If so, where and why? I have a great support system here and I’ve networked well. I now understand why the best advice to someone in grief is not to make any major life decisions for the first six months to a year. It was all so murky. But the question persisted: what next?

I have always known that God has the best view on my journey. From where He sits He is able to see what is coming next. He directs my paths and, when I allow Him to, He leads me where I should go. I have known that since the day Kraig died. But this valley has still been dark.

For the past several years, a spark of a dream has been growing in my heart. I want to write and speak professionally. I want to be published and to use the gift of words He has given me to encourage and equip women with the story of what God can do.

I believe God whispered this dream to me several years ago when I had no idea how to make it happen. I had been published already in a few magazines. I had spoken publically in small venues for years. This seemed like a good dream. I believe God was speaking through my husband last summer when he suggested this is where I should focus my time and energy once our last little duckling waddled out the door to Kindergarten. He suggested this might be the next step for me. I just had no idea how.

This weekend a friend sent me a glimmer of light. She sent me information on the She Speaks Conference taking place this summer in North Carolina. Put on by the Proverbs 31 Ministries and led by Lysa TerKeurst, this conference offers tools for women longing to use their writing and speaking talents. It helps women start using their gifts to glorify God as leaders, speakers, and writers. It tells me how.

I read the information and I wept.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick. I had felt without specific hope. I have always had the hope of God’s overarching wisdom and plan for my life. But the specifics for what’s next eluded me. I can see a bit of that now. In front of me the walls of the valley are getting wider, the crags further apart. There is light on the horizon in the distance and it brings with it life and joy just as the proverb promises.

I still have work to do and a long way to go before I am living that dream fully. But I can see the path. I have the wisdom I have been praying for to help me head towards what’s next. I have always known He would turn my mourning into dancing. This week I got to enjoy a few steps of a jig and it felt good.