Thursday, January 16, 2014

The Day My Husband Wrote Me a Speeding Ticket

Tomorrow Brett and I celebrate five years of marriage.
This number five is a little extra special to me.
You see, it took my husband Brett five years…

Five years of chasing before this noncommittal girl took off her running shoes.
Five years of consistency before this snowflake of a girl decided to land on the ground.
Five years of chipping before this dense girl finally cracked.
Five years before this happened:



If anyone needs a picture of pursuit, look no further than my husband.
He wrote me notes, sent me flowers, honored my parents, forgave my faults, respected my space, prayed, waited and even got to a point where he let me go.

But not before he attempted quite a few crafty methods to win me over.
My favorite attempt of all?

The day he pulled me over and gave me a “speeding ticket."

I was home from college on Thanksgiving break. Brett and I had spent a couple of days together. 
I found myself falling for him, but my pragmatic self wouldn’t allow it. 
I’m too young! I have a career to pursue! I have goals! I don’t have time for a relationship! I want to “play the field.” (FYI, if there were a “field,” I never played in it.)
So, the last night we were together, I drove away from his house in tears after telling him, “I can’t do this!” Drama. Mama.

Did that scare him away? Oh no. Quite the opposite.
He concocted a plan with my sister, Andrea.

The next day, she and I were in the car on our way back to college when I saw this unmarked vehicle with a flashing red light on top (like the kind you see on a mall cop car) begin to tail me. There was NO way I was going to pull over. It all looked a little shady to me. But my sister, in on the plan, urged me. “Jenna, you don’t want to try to outrun a cop! Pull over!”

So I did.

A tall man with wild grey hair, a retro cop hat and tight, high-water cop pants stepped out of the vehicle and approached my window. It wasn’t until I looked into his face that I saw it was him.

"Brett!" I screamed. "What are you doing?"
He was wearing a wig and a cop costume that could comfortably fit a 13-year-old boy.
He pretended to sign a “speeding ticket” and handed it to me. 
He said that I was speeding and that he didn’t like the way things ended between us.
Then, he handed me the “ticket.”
It was a note. Not a love note. Because he knew that would scare me away. Just one that said he valued our friendship. After that, he walked away. 

You and I were made to be pursued like this.
Okay, not in the fake cop outfit kind of way.
I mean through sunsets, through a child’s laughter, through a mouth-melting apple pie.

Daily, God pursues you. 
Daily, He pursues me.

Yet so often I refuse to pull over. I just keep driving. Missing out on His message of love.

Today, on my five-year anniversary I am thankful for a man that reflects God’s loving pursuit.
And I am thankful for a God that relentlessly chases after me. And after you.

What if today we pulled over? What if today we stopped for a moment, amidst our busy lives and just received His love? Want to?

“Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life” (Psalm 23:6, NLT).




Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Why I'm A Creepo (and a little about this blog)

So my mom tells me that when I was little, I would sit up tall and straight in my stroller and just stare at people. Yeah, kinda creepy. I know.
Every so often, she said I would point at someone and ask her, “Mommy, does he know God?”

I guess I haven’t grown up much.
Because I’m still pretty good at sitting up tall and straight, thanks to all those piano lessons.
I still love to watch people. (Wow. I’m creeping you out even more. Please don’t give up on me just yet.)
What I mean is, I love to be around people, listen to their stories, occasionally yell at them in 5pm traffic, even make up hypothetical scenarios about the ones I don’t know running through the airport terminal.

And I still ask the same question, but not as much to others, as I do to myself:
“Do I know God? Like really know Him?”

I guess that’s why I have this blog.
I want to write about my journey to get to know God more and more.
And I want to hear about your God journey too.
Let’s ask questions, admit doubts, tell funny jokes and vent about bad days.

And then, after all of that, I want to remember what I believe this crazy life and even this silly little blog should be all about:

“And this is the real and eternal life:
 that they know you, the one and only true God,
 and Jesus Christ, whom you sent” (John 17:3, The Message).

Speaking of knowing (smooth transition, huh? J), since this blog is new and we are just getting to know each other, here is a little more about me.

My "always-have-time-for":
My husband (cliché), peanut butter (crunchy), playing Catch Phrase, texting with my two sisters, sitting at Starbucks with dad and in the kitchen with mom, sour candy, Teva sandals, old hymns, eating breakfast, clean sheets and NBA basketball.
My "aint-nobody-got-time-for-that":
Driving (I struggle with road rage in a bad way), crowded malls, jars that I can’t open, stubbing my toe, flossing, shaving (just hygiene in general), delayed flights, mosquitos, room-temperature coffee, diet sodas (give me the read deal), the pink eye.

What about you? Tell me some of your "time-for's" and "nobody-got-time-for's".
As I read your posts, I’m just going to pretend we are sitting together on my back porch, sipping on some cider gettin’ to know each other.
And since I believe we are each image bearers of God, my prayer is that as we learn about one another, we will learn more about God too.
That’s, at the end of the day, what matters.
That’s, I believe, where we find real life.

 



Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Why I Shouldn't Write a Blog


I’ve never wanted to have a blog.
Why?
Well, I’ll tell ya.

Here are just some of the reasons:

1. There are millions of blogs already out there. No need for another.

2. My life seems too ordinary to write about and my mind too simple to inspire.

3. I could have eternal writer’s block after this first post.

4. I could get hate mail.

5. I already have a big mouth, so will a blog just make it bigger?

6. The blogs I love have these cool, “artsy” photos of their life. These people can turn a McDonald’s burger into a frame-worthy picture! Me? Not really the “artsy” kind, and the burger is in my belly before the thought of a photo.

7. She’s a better writer than I am.

8. I could get hate mail.

9. No one will read it or like it (except for my mom).

10. I’m going to make theological, grammatical and intellectual mistakes. A lot of them.

11. The joy of writing could turn into a chore or pressure I put on myself.

12. And did I mention I could hate mail? J


Okay. There ya have it. Why I shouldn’t write this blog.
Wait a minute …
Hmmm…
As I look over my reasons for not having a blog I’m realizing that I don’t have a reason at all.

That list of 12.
Those aren’t 12 reasons.
Those are 12 fears.

I fear others’ thoughts and judgments of me.
I fear inability and not measuring up to her or him.

And even deeper than those fears, there lies a pride.
Fearing the way I am perceived, fearing MY inability or MY ability compared to others, is wrapped up in ME.

So if I don’t have a valid reason to not write this blog, I think I will.
After all, what if God uses this blog to refine me?
What if He uses it to hack away at those ugly fears and chisel away at my stinky pride?

I am asking God to take my list of 12 messy, fear-filled and prideful thoughts and somehow use me in spite. He did it with 12 messy, fear-filled and prideful guys 2,000 years ago. Maybe He’ll do it with me.

I feel dumb admitting I’m scared of this blogging thing.
But I promised myself that this blog would be a place of honesty, a place where I can practice being authentic in a world where I’m so good at pretending.

So this is it – the first post. It’s out there. (Gulp.)

A new year and a new blog.
This should be a fun adventure.
Happy 2014!

(What adventure do you plan on taking in 2014? Please comment! I can’t wait to read them! Wow. I sound desperate. New blogger jitters.)