What I Wish I Knew In My 20's

[Preface: Well, I have a feeling that the title of this blog, alone, has made some older and much-wiser women roll their eyes. 
So please receive this blog as a simple, humble and far-from-perfect reflection from a girl who still has a LOT to learn.]

I just recently turned 30.
The day after my birthday, I was sitting on an airplane and decided it would be a fun exercise to list 20 lessons from my 20's - the first ones that came to mind.
I thought I would share them.
Then I would love it if you shared some of your own! So comment below. (I love comments.)

In my 20's I learned some lessons like ...
1. How to pay a bill on time (and the consequence of the opposite)
2. What a health insurance deductible means
3. Eating a McDonalds McGriddle right before running isn't a good idea.
4. As long as I have cereal, milk, peanut butter and bread in my kitchen, I can go weeks without grocery shopping.
5. How to write a resume
6. My parents really are always right.
7. College is a marvelous, fun, life-shaping bubble. The real world bursts it. But that's a good thing.
8. How to use an iPhone
9. Living in a country where you don't know the language is a fast-track to humility.
10. Road rage never gets me anywhere, faster (a lesson I am still learning).


Then, I learned some deeper lessons like ...
11. When someone you love passes away, a lot of things that used to be important aren't anymore.
12. A five-year plan needs to be written in pencil, on something easily disposable.
13. Asking questions and listening - two rare skills to find and ones I want to practice more.
14. Rejection and failure are really big fears of mine.
15. So much of my issues root in not forgiving people.
16. Being married is a beautiful gift but doesn't complete me.
17. The church is a family, and families can be messy.
18. Saying "no" to good things doesn't make me a bad person. In fact, sometimes it makes me a better person. (Just ask my husband:))
19. People-pleasing is like running on a treadmill - it gets me no where and leaves me exhausted.
20. Grace. It's everything.

I finished the list, got off the plane, and then headed out to the lake where I was going to celebrate my birthday with some of my most-cherished friends.

I love the lake. I grew up going to the lake every summer. My girlfriends and I sat out on the porch, close to the water.
It was a warm July night.
The summer breeze stirred up the smell of water and sunscreen.
And I guess the nostalgia of the lake made me sappy.
Well, let's get real. I'm just a sappy kinda girl.

So I asked them the sappy question I had asked myself on the plane.
"What are some of the lessons you learned in your 20's?"
We laughed at some of the comments, got serious with others.

And then one of my friends said one I really liked.
She said, "I learned towards the end of my 20's that the more I know, the more I don't know."

Yes. Love that. Wish I really believed that in my 20's.
I wasted so many years pretending I knew, feeling like I should know or striving to know it ALL!
When one of the most beautiful things about life is that I never will.

Just when I think I've got life mastered, I turn an unknown corner.
Just when I think I've grasped all there is to know about friendships, marriage, my job ... life hands me an experience that's like a new, crisp textbook, never read.

I love that about life - there's always something more to learn.

And I love that even more about God.

There is always something new to learn about God.
There is always more to Him.
More to experience, more to discover.

"The Lord Has No Equal     
Who has measured off the heavens with his fingers?
Who else knows the weight of the earth
or has weighed the mountains and hills on a scale? 
Who is able to advise the Spirit of the Lord?
Who knows enough to give him advice or teach him?  ...
Does he need instruction about what is good?
Did someone teach him what is right or show him the path of justice?
Who else has held the oceans in his hand?" (Isaiah 40:12-14, NLT)

In this new 30's decade, I hope that I never reach a place where I think I have it all figured out.
And I hope I never have an attitude that acts as if I do.
I hope I heart and mind that keeps learning more - more about relationships, cultures, the stars ...

And I especially want to keep learning more about the Creator of it all.

I want to learn MORE about this God who always offers MORE.
More love, more grace, more hope.

And no matter what decade you are in, I hope you will do the same.
Let's stop acting as if we know it all. Know-it-all's miss it all;)
Instead, let's seek God in a new way - maybe for the first time, maybe for the 70th year.
There's always more.



[I want to hear your lessons from the good 'ole 20's decade! Funny or from-the-heart ... doesn't matter. I love reading your comments!]

Back-to-School Giveaway for Youth Workers

(This giveaway is dedicated to the youth minister, the youth ministry volunteer, small group leader, mentor ... anyone who serves middle-school or high-school girls.) 

The new school year is starting, and for you that means:
Starbucks dates
Long conversations about boys
Weekend retreats
Slumber parties
Sunday mornings
Volleyball games
Late-night texts
Mid-morning texts
Afternoon texts
Anytime-of-day texts :)
Drama mediation
More Starbucks dates
More long conversations about boys


If any of this sounds familiar, that means you probably have chosen to walk alongside some of God's most lovely, yet, at times, most complicated, creatures: middle-school and high-school girls.

So today is a giveaway for those giving their lives away specifically to young women.

Thank you for being the one that is there - there through the break-ups, there when she loses the game, there when the bullying gets worse, there when she makes an "A," there when her parents separate, there when she gets into the university.
You are there.
More than fancy words, more than a solution, more than money ... just being there is the part she will remember.
"There" is one of the best gifts you can offer.

As a thank you, I'm doing a little giveaway of three books that you may want to read with the middle- school or high-school girl(s) in your world.

If you need a small group curriculum idea, something to read through on your coffee dates or just something you want to give to her on her Birthday, then who knows?
Maybe these books can help.

So sign up today for a chance to win three books:
"Redefining Beautiful - What God Sees When He Sees You"
"From Blaw to Awe - Shaking Up A Boring Faith"
"Love Is ... 6 Lessons On What Love Looks Like"

a Rafflecopter giveaway
or check them out HERE

Praying that each of you youth volunteers/workers is fueled by God's love to serve another semester with joy.
I admire you.
And I know those young girls in your world do to. (Even if they don't say it much).

WINNERS of "Redefining Beautiful" Giveaway!

Drum roll please ….

Congratulations to Paula L and Lynn D!!!
I will contact each of you personally.
Thanks to everyone who joined the giveaway!
And keep those eyes out for another giveaway very, very soon.


a Rafflecopter giveaway

For Moms of Middle-School Girls

First, let me say that you are my heroes.
Moms of middle-school girls are my heroes.
You walk with them through it all.

Braces, puberty, first boyfriends, the "cool" crowd, the not-so-cool crowd, zits, gossip, homework, soccer, texting, band, drama …

Oh, middle school.

And amidst all of that chaos, middle-school girls are asking some big questions.
Maybe not always out loud but in their hearts.

Will they accept me?
Do I have to look a certain way for him to like me?
Am I smart enough?
Am I athletic enough?
Will I ever be as cool as she is?
Will my boobs ever grow? (Maybe that was just me:)

And then, I believe deep down most middle-school girls are asking this "doozy":
Am I beautiful?

And if we are honest, it's probably a question that we, who have had middle school in the rearview for miles upon miles, still ask at times.

Judith Rivers, a friend of mine, knew her daughters would be asking these questions, especially the questions surrounding this idea of beauty.

So she decided to give them a chance to talk about those kind of questions in a safe place with women they could look up to, women who had been in their shoes, women who wouldn't judge, just love.

Every month she, a few other middle-school-girl moms and their daughters, along with any of their daughters' friends, would discuss a chapter from a book I wrote a while back called, "Redefining Beautiful - What God Sees When He Sees You."
They would laugh, cry, talk, pray and, of COURSE, eat snacks.

Then, at the end of the school semester, they had a big party to celebrate the group coming to an end.
And I got to join!
It was a blast! We danced, sang, ate (a lot), and talked about what REAL beauty is.

Here we are being cray cray.
I'm somewhere in the middle of that sea of blue cuties.

So I started thinking with the new school year rolling up (YIKES!), maybe you would want to do something like my friend Judith.
Maybe you would be interested is having your own "Redefining Beautiful" group.

Or ... maybe you are thinking, "Girl, paleeeaase. You think I got time for that?!"

If so, it could be that you scale it way, way, way back.
Maybe just you and your daughter sit down once a month with some popcorn and nail-polish, read a chapter, then chat about it.

It can be as simple or grand as you want it.

To get ready for the school year, I'm doing a couple of "Redefining Beautiful" giveaways.

If you win, then you can check it out and see if it's something you would want to go through with that middle-school drama-mama… ahem … I mean … princess of yours;)

Here ya go! Hope you win it! And if not, you can check it out here.






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For Those Missing Dad This Father's Day

Last night I listened to something that I guess I didn't think I would ever hear … or at least, not this soon.

I listened to my dad share a story about my father-in-law, Wes Bishop, in his church sermon.
One dad talking about the other.
My hero talking about my other hero.

But I guess that's not really the part that made it unique.

What made it unique was the tense my dad used when talking about Wes.
A tense I didn't think I would have to hear for a long time.
Past tense.

It's actually the tense we are all using these days when we talk about Wes.
Because a year and a half ago cancer began to take over, and 8 months ago we said goodbye.

It still doesn't feel right using past tense.
Past tense just doesn't make sense when talking about the ones you love, about the ones who have always been there.

I mean, wasn't he just here?

He was just going to Rangers games with his three boys.
Just washing dishes with his wife.
Just jogging around the Sweetwater High School football field.
Just mowing the lawn, eating Mexican food with Tim and Cherie, taking afternoon naps.
Just singing hymns in church, going to work and sipping coffee from the mug I gave him for Christmas.

He was just here.
And now he's not.

So this Father's Day is … well … different.
It comes with a buffet of emotions.
A main course of sadness with sides of frustration.
A pile of mashed confusion and a boiling pot of anger.
But then, there's some dessert too.
Some sweet gratitude, love and this one other emotion that I'm trying to eat more of ...
Hope.

Actually I think hope is more than an emotion.
I think it's a lifestyle, a gift, and as dad said last night in his sermon - it's a choice.

When you walk through pain, "you can either choose to press into the problem or press into God's promises," dad said.

You can choose to drown in despair or walk in hope.

So this Father's Day that feels a little uncomfortable, what if I chose to hope more?
Hope more in what God has promised.

When Wes passed, the lasts words that he listened to on earth were a promise from an old hymn that gently sings,

"And He walks with me, and He talks with me,

And He tells me I am His own;And the joy we share as we tarry there,None other has ever known."

C. Austin Miles wrote these lyrics based on Mary's reaction when visiting the grave of Jesus that Sunday morning after he had died on a cross the Friday before. 
When she arrived, she saw an empty garden tomb. 
Jesus, her Savior, was and still is alive.
Jesus defeated death and promises to defeat death for all who put their hope in Him.

That's it. 
That's the hope.  

Hope in a risen Savior. 

It's the hope my sweet father-in-law chose to press into even in his final moments.

It's the hope my sweet dad has taught me not only from the church pulpit but in the carpool line, in my room while kissing me goodnight, around the dinner table, even in his text messages. 

So this Father's Day, I want to honor both of my dads.

I want to honor them by sharing the only thing that they taught me really matters. 

Sharing the hope that they have chosen to trust.

The hope of Jesus. 

I can't help but picture Wes during his first Father's Day in heaven.

Today he is living out those last words he heard on earth. 

He is walking with Jesus, talking with Jesus, tasting a joy I have never known.

Yes, this Father's Day comes with a buffet of emotions.

But as I choose to press into the promise of Jesus, press into the promise of eternity, I notice a difference. Instead of piling up seconds of sadness, I find myself walking over to the dessert. 

More hope please. 

The Babies I Didn't Get to Hold but One Day Will

(a blog dedicated to moms who have miscarried.)

I guess I’ll always wonder about them while I’m on earth.

Wonder what they would have looked like, smelled like, sounded like.

Wonder about what vegetables they would have thrown on the floor or crayon color they would have reached for first.

Wonder if they are boys or girls, one of each.

Wonder how they would have felt in my arms.

I guess I’ll always have questions about what they are like in heaven.

Do they play with my Papa Jack or laugh at Uncle Dee’s jokes?

Are they held by my father-in-law, Wes, or cuddled by Memama?

Do they think about me?

Do they know they have a mom on earth who thinks about them and somehow, though she never knew them, loves them?

I have so many questions.

And for a while I refused to ask them.

I don’t know why exactly.

I think it’s because when I would think about these questions, it made the babies feel that much more real.

And, as much as I am ashamed to admit this, I didn’t want them to feel real because real can hurt a whole lot.

I just wanted to hang out with my good friend, “Denial.”

But denial is never a good friend.  

I also think that I went through a time where I didn’t think my sadness was valid.

I would talk to myself (I do that a lot) and would say things like:

“Jenna, let yourself be sad for a little bit, but then move on because your pain isn’t near as bad as hers.”

Or, “Jenna they were each so young. You didn’t carry them but for a couple of months each. Why are you sad? You didn’t even know them!”

And so I wouldn’t let myself ask the questions about what they would have looked like or sounded like or felt like in my arms, because those questions made me sad.

And I didn’t think my sadness was warranted.

But the questions wouldn’t stop surfacing.

Every time I saw a pregnant friend.

Every time I saw a commercial for diapers.

And days like today – Mother’s Day – the questions still linger.

Not too long ago, through the help of friends and family and a book by Kathe Wunnenberg (click here for book), I reached a place where I decided asking all my questions was okay.

So I did.

My husband and I planted two rose bushes in their honor, and as I water I have given myself permission to ask and ponder the answers to my flood of questions – questions about the babies I never got to know but one day will.

The first rose bloomed Easter weekend. As you can imagine, I was a blubbering mess. Couldn't stop staring at it!
(photo cred to my sweet hubs who snapped this when I wasn't looking)

But deeper than the questions about the babies, I finally allowed myself to ask questions about God.

Then, I took it a step further.

I started asking my questions about God to God. (There's a difference.)

I noticed that the questions all seemed to revolve around this little, yet head-swimming word, “why.”

I asked Him:

Why I had miscarried.

Why the babies were brought into my life if He knew they would die.

Why He had let me hurt like this.

Why He didn't rescue my babies when I prayed. 

Why I couldn’t hear Him.

Why I had to go through this.

Why, why, WHY??

I was angry. I was sad, confused, afraid. A real mess.

It wasn’t until I took KatheWunnenber’s advice, that I started to get some answers.

She says,

If you are drowning in the sea of “why” try changing the “y” to an “o.”

Choose to look beyond the “why” and to the “Who.”

So I started trying to do that – focusing on who Jesus is instead of why this had all happened.

And slowly (and I do mean slowly) I began to feel the sand of the beach, solid land under these feet – these feet that had been flailing and kicking in the deep waters of “why.”

Asking “who” led me to solid ground.

Because asking “who” led me to the heart of Jesus.

And the heart of Jesus is the only sure foundation I have to stand on.

Who is Jesus this Mother’s Day?

Who is Jesus everyday?

He is the way, the truth and the life (John 14:6)

He is the beginning and the end (Revelation 1:8)

He is selfless (Romans 5:8)

He is faithful (Psalm 36:5)

He is a good Shepherd (John 10:11)

He is salvation (John 11:25)

He is alive (John 20:6-7)

He is with you (Joshua 1:9)

He is love (1 John 4:8)

He is in control  (Colossians 1:15)

He is good (Psalm 86:5)

And oh so much more...

I still don’t have all my questions answered.

But I’ve noticed that as I have focused on “Who,” the “why” has become less important.

If you have miscarried, I hurt with you today.

I am so sorry.

That’s why I have an invitation for you.

An invitation to join me in asking “Who” today.

Will you look at who Jesus is with me today?

Let’s think about:

Who our babies are with today.

Who the real Father of our babies is.

Who created them and calls them by name.

Who holds our future in the palm of His hand.

Who cries with us when we cry.

Who restores our brokenness.

Who loves us, and our little ones, more than we will ever know.

(If you want to know more about who Jesus is, contact me here. I would love to chat with you more about it. )

When Life Feels Out of Order

A lot of people call her Romadene.

Others, Mrs. Preston.

And a few "mom."

But we grandkids?

We have always just called her “Mimi.”

And if you met her, she would instantly become your Mimi too.

She’s just that way. 

The teacher that everyone remembers from Elementary school? That’s my Mimi.

The casserole that empties the fastest at the church potluck? That was Mimi’s.

The fridge stocked with popsicles and Dr. Pepper? Mimi’s.

The woman that never had a hot meal because she was serving everyone else? The soprano, the white curly perm, the one calling everyone else “sweetie”?

All Mimi.

When my sisters and I were little grand-girls, we would all sleep on her living room floor during Christmas. She was the best pallet-maker ever, piling one blanket on top of the next. And then she would tuck us all in like little burritos.

But today she isn’t the same.

Her health is failing and mind is wandering.

Dementia has crept in like an unwanted guest, and though we have asked him to leave, he refuses.

I know she’s afraid. She’s confused.

She’s wondering why she can’t do things like she used to.

And it breaks my heart.

I miss who she used to be.

The roles have reversed.

Now we are making her the casseroles.

We stock her fridge with Dr. Pepper.

And the other night, instead of her tucking me in, I crept into her room and knelt down by her bed. 

I asked her if she was comfortable, told her how much I loved her and said, “Sweet dreams, my sweet Mimi.” Then I asked her if she wanted the door closed or open. “Open,” she said.

I used to like my door open too.

When roles reverse, the world just doesn’t feel right.
Life feels out of order.

It feels backwards, uncomfortable, like two left shoes.

Jesus understands role reversals really well. More than I ever will.

From Mountain Molder to mountain climber.

From Breath Giver to breath taker.

Star Placer to star gazer.

From God to man.

And then, on the cross, He went from sinless to sinful.

He took it all on – all my bitterness, all my selfishness, all my envy, all my sin.

And He took yours too.

This reversal has made some skeptical, others doubt.

It may seem backwards, uncomfortable, like two left shoes.

Yet, in this reversal, everything was made right.

The world met grace. The world met love. The world met God.

This role-reversal with my Mimi feels uncomfortable now, but what if God uses it to make something more right in me?

What if as I suffer through how backwards this feels, I move forward in understanding? 

Understanding more about the suffering Jesus endured to offer the biggest reversal ever made – 

my sin for His grace.

And understanding this love a little more, makes my heart a little more right.

We have been chatting about good in goodbye the past couple of months on the blog. 

Is there such a thing?

I think this is another good I have found lately.

That as I’ve said goodbye to who my mimi was (still praying for a miracle along the way).

As I tuck her in, instead of being tucked in.

The reversal makes me think of Jesus’ reversal that much more - what He gave so that I could have.

 “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Corinthians 5:21).

 (Are you going through a role-reversal these days or feel like things are a little backwards? If so, what are you learning through it? Comment below.)

My Computer Crashed ... And So Did I

(Any Good In Goodbye Continued...)

My computer crashed the other day.
And so did I.

I don't know what came over me.
But as soon as the screen froze and went dark, something dark came out of me.
I lost it. Completely lost it.
I began to cry thinking I had lost months worth of work and memories that I had never backed up on another hard drive.
But it was more than that.
Turns out, my melt down had more to do with pain and bitterness backed up in my heart than anything not backed up on a hard drive.

I began to slam kitchen cabinets, stomp around the living room, clang dishes.
Brett, my patient husband, looked at me and asked if I were alright.
I gave him the evil eye and screamed, "I'm going for a drive!"

Peeling out of the driveway, I couldn't even see out the window because of the tears.
I needed windshield wipers for my eyeballs.
Between my dramatic, animal-like yelps, snorts and gasps for air (I can be a pretty ugly cryer), I screamed at God.
It was some type of gibberish only He and I could understand.
It included a lot of " Why?!" and "Where are you?!"
After I pulled back into the driveway and calmed down, I wondered "what in the world just happened? Where did all of that come from?"

It took me a few mugs of coffee the next morning to realize that my crash was a result of weeks upon weeks of not being completely honest with God.
We have been chatting a little bit about seasons of goodbye. And to help us find the good in goodbye, I have been turning to some of my favorite verses in John 11.

In this chapter Jesus' close friends, Mary and Martha, say a tragic goodbye to their brother Lazarus who had just died.
When Jesus arrived on the scene Martha "went and met Him" And the  she says one of my favorite lines: "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.'"(11:20-21)I love that.

I love that there is no sugar coating her emotions, no polite "hello, how are you," no fake smile. Instead, before He even gets to her house, she runs to Him and lays it all on the table.
"If you had been there..."

During this season of goodbye, that's something I've thought a lot.
God, if you had only been there...
If you had...
But instead of being honest with God and sharing these thoughts, what did I do?
I kept busy, I kept emotionally tidy, I kept a distance from God.
And when I did talk to Him it wasn't sincere.
It wasn't my whole heart.It was formality, a have-to prayer, slivers of my heart that I didn't mind Him seeing.

But the truth was, I was hurting.
The truth was I blamed God for the hurt.
The truth was I didn't trust Him anymore, and this kept me from talking to Him honestly.

In our story, Martha teaches me a good lesson.
Be your true self with God, your whole self.
That might sound obvious, even dumb.
But sometimes I find myself hiding my true feelings from God.
And because I  hide my questions, my anger towards Him, my confusion, my doubt.Because I don't give Him all of me, then big parts of me are never healed.
They just sit, bottled up,  rotting in a corner.
And I thinks that's why I crashed that night, alongside my computer.
When we bottle up, we blow up.

But Martha didn't do this.Martha wasted no time. She ran to Jesus and was honest with her hurt.

When I finally did this that night in my car, something happened.
A weight was lifted. All the anger, confusion and hurt was released.
And by sharing my whole self, my true self, God began to restore the trust I had lost.
Why?

Because I was letting Him into every corner of my heart.
And when we surrender it all, He restores all.

I guess that's a 'good' I have discovered while walking through hard goodbyes.
We learn what being our true selves with God really means - not bottling up but instead sharing it all, our anger, mistrust, bitterness...
And as we do, our relationship with Him strengthens and our trust in Him deepens because we are inviting Him into every part of our heart.

Two Little Words For Those Really Hard Times

("Any Good In Goodbye" Continued)

I don’t know who hurts more when I have a hangnail – me or my mom.
She winces as if it’s her own when I show her my finger.

Why would my hangnail hurt my mom just as much as me?

I don’t know. I guess it’s because she loves me that much.

We tend to take on the pain of those we love.

When my first-ever boyfriend moved away my freshman year of high school, I came running into the house after saying my last goodbye. I was in hysterics. The tears could not break lose fast enough to keep up with my devastation.

I just knew my life was OVER! 

When I got home, I didn’t even make it to my room. I fell on the floor, face buried in a couch cushion.

And my mom –

the mom who knew everything would be just fine; the mom who has the eternal perspective to know this heartbreak did not have the last word; the mom who could have easily told me to just get over it … Yeah, that mom?

That mom dug my face out of the couch cushion and gently rested it in her lap. She stroked my hair. She repeated over and over how sorry she was. She hurt with me. And I felt less alone.

Suffering is hard enough, but suffering alone? Unbearable.  

As I’ve said goodbye this past year, I've learned empathy does not heal the wound. 

But it does make the process of healing a lot better.

Why? Because you feel understood, loved, but most of all…

You feel less alone.

I think that’s why I have held on to the shortest verse in the Bible so tightly during the suffering of goodbye. Just two, little words that aren't so little.

“Jesus wept.” (For the entire story, click here.)

Some of Jesus’ closest friends were a set of siblings – Mary, Martha and Lazarus.

In John 11, we read that Lazarus grew sick and died.

After Lazarus’ death, Jesus goes to visit Mary and Martha.

And when Jesus walks with Mary and Martha to visit the gravesite, Jesus begins to weep.

Jesus –

the Jesus who knew everything would be just fine; the Jesus who has the eternal perspective to know this death does not have the last word; the Jesus who could have told Mary and Martha to get over it (after all, He was about to raise their brother from the dead) … Yeah, that Jesus?

That Jesus wept with Mary and Martha over the loss of their brother as if it were his own. 

John tells us that his "spirit was troubled." 

He didn't just cry; He wailed.

And to know this.

To know that He cries.

To know that the Creator of the universe not only understands our grief but experienced suffering in a way you and I will never live. 

To know that He not only cares about my feelings but feels my feelings. 

Something about that makes saying goodbye, makes the suffering in this life, a little easier.

As He has lifted my face out of the couch cushion and has stroked my hair …

As we've cried together over brokenness, something has happened.

I've, in turn, understood His suffering a little more. I've experienced Him more. I know Him more. 

And that intimacy is one of the "goods" I have found in goodbye.

I don’t know who your hangnail hurts more – you or Jesus 

He gets you, He understands you, He empathizes with you.

You are never alone in your suffering.