And What If We Were Free?

I have a question for the world today. What if women were free? What if? What if that battle that rages around us, inside us, was suddenly silenced? What if we all decided to stop caring about what culture tells us to care about. What if we all said ENOUGH. What if we decided for once and for all:


WE. Will. Not. Be. Reduced.


To a face, to a voice, to a body, to a size...


We would change the world.


It occurs to me as I sit here six months pregnant, that in order for me to create new life I have to give up on "my ideal body". I have to forgo my right to the stereotypical image of "sexy". Is it worth it? Every second, every pound, every new ripple and glimpse of cellulite. It's all worth it. I'm taking part in creating someone new, who will someday change the world. I could not do it with out letting go.

What if.


What if in order for us to truly do something great...to solve the worlds issues, we have to let go and be something much more than a face, a voice, a body, a size, but instead be who we are - a force to be reckoned with. What if we have to let go, in order to "birth" what we were always meant to create? I'm not just talking children here. I'm talking businesses, movements, causes, art...


The end of human trafficking.


The end of world hunger.


Is it too much?


I disagree.


We are powerful. What if we were free?


When I was young we had a computer that would serenade me with Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I have a dream" speech every time I opened a certain program. Because old computers took a long time to load anything I used that time to memorize.


I am inspired by his words:


I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.


I am inspired by the power of his dream. I do not compare causes or injustices, but use his words as fuel to dare to believe that how things are today does not have to be our reality tomorrow.


What is your dream?

A brief break from the blog

and I'm back,

ready and inspired

to write.

Definition of Rest #3...

3. relief or freedom, especially from anything that wearies, troubles, or disturbs.

What would life be like with complete relief and freedom from everything that wearies, troubles, and disturbs?

It  might be kind of like living in a Barney and Friends episode. Except you'd think all the dinosaurs were cute and wonderful. And you'd be singing right along. Probably dancing too. 

Yep, picture it. 

Let me tell you a little story.

Two months ago my kids started getting sick all the time. I tend to be pretty chill when children are vomiting on everything from the carpet to public restrooms (that's awkward). I roll with it. I was even chill when one of my children had some sort of flu that included being so hyper he wanted to go jump on the trampoline approximately 2 seconds before pooping his pants. If my kids are sick, I prefer them to be tired and cuddly and watch disney movies with me all day.

But this would not end. Especially for my three year old son. Each time he'd get better for a couple of days I'd wake up to hear gagging in his room. I'll be honest, no kind of stress goes over very well in the middle of the night. (Kind of like when we have an infant and Graham and I get in weird incomprehensible arguments that include swear words I don't usually use.) I'd be pissed. Pissed because I had no control and I couldn't fix it. I felt helpless. 

I'd clean Scout up, or call a pathetic "You got this babe?" while Graham was caring for him. Either way I'd fall asleep with a twisted feeling in my gut. By week three..and then four, I was definitely getting anxious about Scout's well being. 

And then the melt down.

Picture this:

I'm at church. Usually I'm very social and talkative, possibly obnoxiously so. Today I'm walking around smiling, but not in a friendly inviting way, more like a has-Jessica's-body-been-taken-over-by-aliens way. Or, has-she-been-bitten-by-a vampire-and-now-is-a-vampire? This is probably what people were thinking... 

We were leaving in a few days for a week long trip without the kids. For the first time. I should have been a little loco anyway right? And on top of that Scout was still getting sick. 

By the end of church I was still having out-of-body experiences while talking to people. The kind where as words were coming out of my mouth I was thinking, "what am I even saying right now?" and "why are my lips feel numb and heavy?".

And the confrontation.

At about this time someone I love very dearly asked me to come get my kids out of kid's church. Instead of happily bouncing off to get my children, I began to feel surges of tears like when I'm about to throw up except with water coming out of my eyes. Rushing numbly, I felt "it" coming and tried to hand Oaklee to Graham, but he said he was busy. Which is like saying don't puke until I can pull over the car. I rushed the kids outside and strapped them into their seats while they were yelling things about water and food and cookies. As soon as the door shut the tears begin to come in torrents. 

Right as I sat in the front seat and released them into their full potential, one of my good friends knocked on the door. There was no pulling it together. Not that I needed to. She hugged me as I cried and prayed for me. I wiped away the snot, and went to find more friends, because turns out that was very nice. They were all sitting chatting about the usual things I'm sure, like PMS and Pinterest recipes. 

My friend took one look at me and said, "Oh! Are you alright?"

"NO."I exploded again into a waterfall of tears and snot.

They gathered around me like a team of ER nurses and hugged me, prayed for me and encouraged the feelings of failure right out of me. 

You know what feels better than never having to "deal" with stress and fear? 

Being completely vulnerable in front of people that love you. 

I laid it all out on the table in a safe place and God seemed to come right then and pick it all up. It is so necessary for me to live open and real.

And I felt such...

Relief and freedom, from everything that wearied, troubled and disturbed.

I felt known and loved. By my friends, by Graham watching (like whoa when did that happen) and by God.

And for some reason it didn't really matter that I still had nothing under control.

Sometimes it's easy to take on one thing at a time and to choose rest moment by moment. Like now that I've stopped feeding Scout dairy and gluten and he's not puking anymore. But sometimes I wake up in a bad mood, or things keep going wrong and it's starts to build up like a game of Tetras on speed.

And to be honest, I love peace all the time, but nothing feels better than peace after the chaos.

Or going back to level one in Tetras, after you've been on level 57.

...to be continued...

Special thanks to all my friends and my husband who never make me feel like I can't be a mess.

A Breather

Rest Definition #2
refreshing ease or inactivity after exertion or labor: to allow an hour for rest.

"I visited a church in the suburbs and there was this blowhard preacher talking about how television rots your brain. He said that when we are watching television our minds are working no harder than when we are sleeping. I thought that sounded heavenly. I bought one that afternoon.”

Donald Miller Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality

When I got married I did not know how to keep a house clean. Literally. I tend to like to do fun things. Cleaning was not fun. For approximately one week I kept things perfect. Then...we ate there, we slept there, we made messes, and I realized I would have to keep cleaning. Not cool. When I was in high school I moved out of my bedroom onto the couch because it was so messy, but without my mom, my couch had dishes and clothes on it.

If we were a two person army, I pictured myself speaking to the officer that sent us on this mission, "Sir, it appears...I am all we have." It took me a while, but eventually I mastered the task. I still do not love cleaning. I still am tempted to blend up everyone's meal into a smoothie so we can solve the crumb infestation (because really no one should have to sweep and mop four times in one day). But I can clean. I like the state of having-been-cleaned so I can sit-and-enjoy. That goal is mostly impossible. Which makes me sad. And also like a mouse running in an exercise wheel.

                                                                  Back in 2009? 


With some wisdom from my friend Charity, I've realized that I must make peace with is: The job is never done. If I wait to rest until the proverbial "it" is accomplished? I will never rest. I don't think it's a good idea for me to go back to the blissful life of avoiding responsibility. Because actually it was stressful, not blissful. But I do know that I must take time to be refreshed.

And it's not just cleaning house.

I can have the "fighter" turned on with more than laundry.

How about...pursuing my kids and raising them to be empowered world-changers...or...encouraging and championing my husband and seeing him realize his dreams? How about pursuing each of my friends because I love them and want everyone in my life to be thriving? What about reaching out to the broken and hurting?

I believe in passion.

But do I know how to turn off Hero and turn on me?

Do I know how to walk off the battlefield and rest?

Can I look at my house destroyed yet again and read a book?

Because the job...it's important...and it's continual. I think it's part of it's beauty. Maybe I've made the mistake of believing it's my job to solve the problem instead of living a wonderful part of the story.

In the book For Men Only Shaunti and Jeff Feldhahn compare a woman's mind with a computer screen that has several windows open at one time, according to their survey more than four out of five women find closing out their unwanted thoughts either required effort or was impossible.

Do you ever have the thought...If I don't do it, no one will? Me too.

And...it might be true.

But if I don't take care of myself and take time to let the music turn back on, my song I'm singing to the world; to my family, to my friends, to the broken...it won't be as beautiful as it could be.

I've read parts of the book Eat Pray Love, in the beginning, there is a quote that I love. To set the stage, the author is sitting on her bathroom floor begging God to tell her what to do about a particular situation. She's sobbing uncontrollably, and this was her first time "speak(ing) to God directly":

"Then I heard a voice. Please don't be alarmed----it was not an Old Testament Hollywood Charlton Heston voice, nor was it a voice telling me I must build a baseball field in my backyard. It was merely my own voice, speaking from within my own self. But this was my voice in a way I'd never heard it before. This was my voice, but perfectly wise, calm and compassionate. This was what my voice would sound like if I'd only experienced love and certainty in my life. How can I describe the warmth of affection in that voice, as it gave me the answer that would forever seal my faith in the divine.

The voice said: Go back to bed Liz."


-Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray Love

Go back to bed. Take a minute to rest. Relax. Trust me. I've heard all those. A week or two ago it was:

Jess, you can only do what you can do.

Most the time rest is something that happens to me on the inside. Something I choose. Rest is being with God and trusting Him. Sometimes it's "refreshing ease and inactivity" and knowing that in this moment I don't need to prove or achieve a thing. The moments when I'm wonderfully, wildly, unproductive and unashamed. A week ago I watched my favorite TV show on Hulu...during the DAY. It felt so wrong. What would my great great great grandmother think? but it was exactly what I needed that Tuesday.

And afterwords I laughed deeper and harder and had more fun with my family than I have in a long time.

And this is what I would say,

Girl, you will move mountains, but don't forget to stop and take breathers. 

If you are new to my blog, don't forget to check out He Has Loved Me and The Art of Sleep for more on my journey to rest!

The Art of Sleep

Rest:

1.  the refreshing quiet or repose of sleep: a good night's rest.

Definition one of rest is literal sleep. Not just any kind of sleep, but apparently refreshing sleep. In researching the dictionary's first definition of REST: "sleep", I found a website that said the number one symptom of sleep deprivation is tiredness. I have no words.

Sleep. I am the kind of person that doesn't like to sleep because I might be missing out on something. To be honest, if I think about sleeping I already feel so bored that I begin to feel sad about the next time I will have to do it. When Graham tell's me at 9:30 that he's ready for bed, I feel like I just found out I have to wait two years for my next birthday.

A while ago, me and basically all my friends, acquaintances and neighbors read a great book called The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown. It was a craze kind of like The Hunger Games, only for perfectionists. In it she discusses the importance of both rest and sleep. (I truly recommend this book to anyone and everyone). She says, "It seems that living and loving with our whole hearts requires us to respect our bodies need for renewal." and later, "If we want to live the wholehearted life, we have to become intentional about cultivating sleep and play, and about letting go of exhaustion as a status symbol and productivity as self worth."

Boom. (Also, I'm pretty sure that line about sleep and play might be why the first day I jumped on the trampoline for three hours).

I'll admit. Sense having kids, my view of sleep has definitely been altered, particularly my view of it when I'm woken up in the middle of the night. At that time absolutely nothing is cooler or more awesome than sleep. Not even a Disney World cruise with all my favorite friends. That's why I feel it's okay to kick Graham a few times in hopes that he'll get up. There's a lot at stake.

A part of my issue with sleep is not actually the unconsciousness itself, it's the period before where I have to lay perfectly still and try to stop thinking that bothers me. Through the years I've figured out a couple things to make the awkward moments with myself shorter:

1. No caffeine after 11:00 am. I have no idea why. This girl loves caffeine in all forms. If there were some sort of cool energy injection you could buy at the gas station, I would probably try it. Unfortunately for me my body hangs on to the stuff till one or two in the morning when I'm cursing my latte and worrying whether I really gave that lady soy when I worked at Colter Coffee two months ago. Ridiculous. One friend told me it is because I'm getting old. I'm 26. I do not want to talk about it.

2. Being exhausted. Having three little kiddos, I realized the best time and way for me to clear my head and spend time with God is to get up before everyone and head to the gym. Consequently, I become the one asking Graham to go to bed at 9:30...Probably not 9:30, maybe 10:30.

Aside from statistics that say sleep deprivation is related to all sorts of unpleasant things I want to focus on a few different words from this definition: refreshing, repose, a-"good"-night. I've heard a lot recently about guarding your night's rest and watching what you do right before you go to sleep. I thought this might be just a "spiritual" thing, but the National Sleep Association agrees. In response to the "myth" that watching TV and working on your laptop in bed will help you wind down, it says: 

Fact: Doing work, watching TV and using the computer, both close to bedtime and especially in the bedroom, hinders quality sleep. Violent shows, news reports and stories before bedtime can be agitating. The sleep environment should be used only for sleep and sex.

(http://www.sleepfoundation.org/sleep-facts-information/myths-and-facts)

I want to point out right now that they did not mention Pintrest or Facebook. Although I guess they aren't sex. 

Seriously though, I know that feeling where I'm keeping my internal lights on for worthless reasons, like eating a giant bag of nacho cheese Dorritos with my eyes. You know? The moment where there are literally no more new things on pintrest, and I'm reading status updates that are more boring than sleep itself.  It's time to be done. 

In light of my desire to learn to truly rest (because I do want to be said "wholehearted" person, and I do not want to carry around a "tension") I have begun to be more careful about my nighttime routine. In the evening I sometimes spend slightly too much time "networking" and pinning, but I try to feed myself something beautiful before I fall to sleep. Something like a verse, a really good book, a song, or a conversation with Graham. Sense I've begun doing this, and sense I started on this journey a couple months ago something special has started to happen that hasn't happened in a long time. It's a unique sign to me that I'm truly experiencing, "a repose; a refreshing, good night sleep". I wake up in the morning with music in my head. It's usually a worship song, sometimes it's Dynamite by Taio Cruz. Always I consider it a message from God.

What I know is: I'm coming more alive than ever before and the music is back on.

This Mornings Song:

My Everything by Jesus Culture

He Has Loved Me

In March some fabulous women and I had a "Women's Night". We didn't have time to think of a cooler name. I know that's important because one time I suggested that we do a weekly Mom's-Night-Out. A friend said that was the most horrible name she'd ever heard and she would never want to tell anyone ever she was the kind of person that would go to a Mom's-Night-Out. So, we'll call it We Laughed, Talked and Each Ate 3 Pounds of Cheesecake Night. 

After wine and cheesecake, my friend Allie played worship music while we painted. I soaked in God's presence and a voice familiar to my own came from my heart, I took a pen and wrote across my painting, "My story is...He has loved me". I had no idea what those words would mean in the months to come.

I'm surrounded by friends, family even strangers that hear God all the time. Hearing God for myself is awesome, but sometimes it's vital to hear what is being spoken in Heaven from another voice. I remember a particular time when I was doing an outreach with Youth With a Mission in South Africa. We had been given the opportunity to listen to a local speaker. I can't remember what he spoke on that night, but I walked up front to get prayer. I was squished in-between fifty other people as he made his way through us praying along the lines of his sermon topic. As he touched my head he stopped walking and switched subjects completely. "Someone has put a burden on you from a young age, you've been carrying this weight, but God says that you are His princess and you were never meant to carry it." From the deepest places inside me I began to sob. It's so amazing how God can tell the secrets of a Montana girl's heart to a preacher in Africa. He had called out something in me that I never would have been able to put my finger on myself. And that burden? Although lifted it didn't entirely go away that day.

Two months ago I would have told you that I was doing amazing. Sure there were a few things here and there. I would have given you a list for self-improvement (part of the issue I will soon explain) but over all I was thriving.

About that time an amazing guest speaker visited our church. When I went to get prayer he spoke about a tension that resided in my chest. "The tension has been there a long time" he said. "It's not your fault, but God wants to release you from it." He spoke to me about intimacy with Jesus and about "rest" which would become a theme in my life. Real rest was so foreign to me at that point that I cried because rest sounded like one-more-thing I needed to "do".

I cried and cried. And cried. Not a nice crying like my South African crying, but a frustrated, mad, but-I'm-just-trying-so-HARD-God crying...and I don't know how the *blank* to change. But I listened. It poked at my identity in a way that made me feel...disconcerted, but at the same time I knew the tension was there, and I wanted to know a life without it.

I was so unsure how to go about this thing called "rest" (which I interpreted in my mind to mean: sit still and "don't" do all the things you NEED to do, pretend to be serene, but instead feel like ripping out your own hair). Seriously. Has anyone ever lived with toddlers? Or been a woman? 

I'll be honest, for the first day of my journey to figuring out this thing called rest...I jumped on the trampoline for a quarter of the day. Then I started with other basics like a visit to dictionary.com.

Rest

noun

1.  the refreshing quiet or repose of sleep: a good night's rest.

2.  refreshing ease or inactivity after exertion or labor: to allow an hour for rest.

3.  relief or freedom, especially from anything that wearies, troubles, or disturbs.

4.  a period or interval of inactivity, repose, solitude, or tranquillity: to go away for a rest.

5.  mental or spiritual calm; tranquility.

Throughout the months that followed I continued to get the same word from anyone who hears the voice of God. All different people. Rest. Rest. Rest. Never have I received the same message so many times. I began joke with friends about heading off the next person to pray for me, "Hey, rest right? I'm working on it. Anything else?"  or..."Please do not tell me to rest. Please tell me God is going to send someone to come clean my house, pay my bills and combine all my junk drawers into one junk drawer." 

But seriously.

In actuality the word sunk deeper and deeper each time and became less offensive to my identity. I continued to pursue it, even though I didn't understand. 


One of my favorite words during this period of time was from a fatherly man that goes to our church. He told me God was calling me to "rest" and that my relationship with God had been defined by how much I loved God, but God wanted to change it to "How much He loved me".  


But. 

If I didn't pursue God...would He pursue me? If I didn't DO wouldn't I be some sort of disappointment?  If I didn't make sure to "love" God...would we even be friends?

In the movie Father of Lights, I heard this quote. It intrigued me:

"He (God) spreads the table for His children...people always seek God, in the Christian faith God seeks man." Father of Lights Film

And this is the beginning of my journey to the restful life...

Special thanks to all those who have been walking with me in this season, and have affirmed and re-affirmed God's invitation to a less-broken identity.

What Do I want to be?

Feelin' the Pressure...

If I were a "Cosmo" girl, I would want to be fun and fearless...sexy and maybe a man. If I were a "People" girl I'd want to be...hotter, skinnier and less messed up than at least one celebrity. If I were "Oprah", well, then I would be Oprah.

I'm not going to lie. I do want to be fun, fearless, crazy-sexy, skinny, ageless, gorgeous, attractive, fit, successful and secure. This afternoon I went to the gym. I love the gym...most of the time. The gym is a safe haven where I work off stress and find my peace (sometimes sanity). Today it was a haven of body builders. They were everywhere. Their arms were the size of telephone poles and they used every piece of equipment for an unnecessary amount of time. I wondered around trying to find a place to stand where I didn't look awkward while simultaneously not-staring at the 4 foot tall woman doing pull ups with a 50lb weight between her feet.

The day started out this way. The kind of day where I wore sweat pants instead of jeans because I had a feeling my jeans and also life were against me. The kind of day where I thought...if I were as skinny, pretty and fun as I want to be, life would be so much better.

As this scenario was unraveling and my list of goals-not-accomplished was growing I was listening to a teaching on breakthrough on Graham's iPhone. Along with many tips on how to "break through" Danny Silk mentioned that in some things you do not want to break through because the barrier you are pushing on might be overlooking the Grand Canyon. Obviously that was not me. I want to be prettier, skinnier and fun-er. Damnit. Speaking of which when was Miss America going to step aside so I could pump some iron?

Unlike most of my trips to the gym I was not feeling less stressed I was feeling like a bomb about to blow. Was my bra always this constricting? Was it always this hot in here? When did so many twelve year olds start working out? 

"When you are pushing for breakthrough if you start getting frustrated, scared and hurt you are going into survivor mode." Said Danny. I was wrestling with said survivor on the way home when the grand canyon scenario popped into my head again. It suddenly occurred to me that although I started out searching for freedom,"freedom" was freaking me out. So I changed the goal from freedom to world domination. They are kind of similar if you think about it.

I was trying to control...everything...again. No wonder I was wound up so tight like my 9th grade science teacher and the Incredible Hulk twisted into one twisted twizzler. The line I give my kids came to mind, "Jess, no fun." in there case "fun or room", in mine, "fun or miserable?"

Danny said "repent", which for me meant; cease beating my head against that wall and choose a new direction. Pushing aside doubt, I intentionally let go of a few unhealthy goals, including: 1) world domination 2) trying to be God 3) Barbie-Oprah combo. To be honest I didn't have high expectations, but something happened when I stopped controlling: Peace.

So, I still want to be; fun, fearless, crazy-sexy, skinny, ageless, gorgeous, attractive, fit, successful and secure. I just don't want to be ruled by them. As far as who I am as a woman? I really do want to be free, even it freaks the you-know-what outa me.