4 Days in the Wood[land]

You know how sometimes you have experiences that are life-changing, heart-altering, eye-opening... and yet you can't seem to put those experiences into words?

That's what Woodland Christian Camp was to me.

When I said yes, I initially didn't know why - I didn't even really know what to expect - but what I did know was that God wanted me to be there.

"Your world's not falling apart, it's falling into place..."

I was a counselor and bible lesson teacher at the preteen camp, which consists of four days with rising 4th, 5th, and 6th graders.  I stayed in a cabin, in the middle of the woods, where I had to walk outside of my cabin to get to a bathroom/sink/mirror/shower/toilet.

I was completely out of my comfort zone.

And it was perfection.

The camp had 80+ campers, both boys and girls.  I was assigned to be camp counselor for a group of twelve girls along with my dear friend, who also wholeheartedly poured herself into this opportunity.

Logistically speaking...  there were mission opportunities, bible lessons, recreation time, swimming in the pool, so much food, dancing, praying, campfires, fishing, canoeing, paddle-boating, slip-n-sliding, zip-lining, bungee-dropping, and relay races.

But what happened for me at this camp went so much deeper than the activities and daily schedule.

And this is where I struggle to find the words to adequately express what my time at Woodland meant to me.  Maybe because it is supposed to be only between God and me, forever kept inside the protection of my own heart?

But I what I will share is this...

I was surrounded by a group of girls who changed my life.  A group of girls whose hearts were pure and innocent and like sponges, soaking in the words and love of Jesus.

I was among campers who made themselves more vulnerable in four days than I've ever made myself in 36+ years.  A vulnerability that was inspiring, that rocked me to my core, that made me want to be a better Christian, a better human being.

"Before I bring my need, I will bring my heart..."

I cannot even explain how nice it was to be completely away from my daily comforts and crutches - Netflix, social media, my constant to-do list, a mirror(!)... Instead, I was all wrapped up in the simplicity of being around some of the most incredible children and adults, people young and old who opened my eyes to more than they'll ever know... people young and old who made my heart feel things it has never felt... people young and old who made me smile and laugh so much my cheeks and abs are still sore.

And I sat in awe of the man who has become my better half, falling more and more in love with him with each passing hour...

 ... the man who has taken over helping run this week of camp to carry on the legacy of his late father.  

I watched Jason comfort kids and make them laugh and I heard so, so many of the campers say that they will always come this very week so that they can be with him.

...

There was a moment on Tuesday when the pain of being away from my own children was so debilitating I had to lie down in my bunk for a minute.  I was holding back tears, when about half of my girls jumped into my bed so that I could help them with understanding their bible verses and quiz them on their scripture memory work.

And I realized that CK, Everette, and Brooks didn't need me in that moment.  These kids did.  And as I posted in my last blog, I made myself refocus on being where my feet are.

And for the past few days, my feet have been in a place that has forever changed who I am, what I am, and who/what I want to be.  I have been in a place where I heard a rooster crow the early morning hours, where I was constantly surrounded by the most precious sincerity of giggling children, where I spent each night taking in worship music and the crackling of a campfire, where I found myself in tears listening to the sweet voices of children singing and praising God.

"I once was lost, but now, I'm found..."

In true Jessie fashion, I snuck away before the camp awoke each morning to steal some alone time for a run.  During these runs, I worked through and processed so many things, felt so many emotions, both good and hard... and I was constantly analyzing my Woodland experience, why God wanted me there.  

And this morning, during my last and final run with the sunrise, I realized...

I am His, too.

Last week I had such a hard time saying goodbye to my own kids as they left for some time with their dad, but I wrote all about how they are His, and that I need to trust Him while they are away.

And it took me venturing to the middle of the woods, away from my daily comforts and distractions, surrounded by the purest form of love and inspiration and spirituality to realize that just like my kids, I am not here on this earth for me.  My time here is His.

I AM HIS, TOO.

"So take this heart, Lord - I'll be your vessel.  The world to see, your love in me..."

I AM HIS, TOO.

...

I will take my time at Woodland, I will take the sounds and images and moments that are forever engraved into my heart, and I will do all I can to let them shape me into the vessel God desires me to be.  Because the past four days have forever changed my life.  And honestly, writing about those days doesn't do them justice, because I will be analyzing and processing and feeling them for a long, long time.  Perhaps, until I return to Woodland next year - a place that has created a space in my heart that was not there before... <3

"Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from these things, he will be a vessel for honor, sanctified, useful to the Master, prepared for every good work." 2 Timothy 2:21

The Hardest Part [divorce]

I have a whole drafted post on the topic of divorce, one that has come together in bits and in pieces, in highs and in lows, in strengths and in struggles, over the past almost two years.  One day, I may find the ending punctuation that enables me to do a final edit and actually post it...

For today, though, I pour myself into a separate post that feels hard and heavy and - honestly - excruciating.

The part of divorce that makes me feel like I am being ripped in half.  

The hardest part.

The part where I am away from my kids, the part where I watch my beating hearts walk away for awhile, the part where I say a temporary goodbye to the three most important souls in my life.

...

Getting divorced was shattering.  I will not sugarcoat it.  Every single second, every single decision, every single step and signature and agreement and court document rocked me all the way deep down into my bones.

There was (and continues to be) a long journey to heal from being divorced, especially when being divorced from a person who you wholeheartedly thought you'd (without a doubt) spend the rest of your life with.

For me, there are so many weeks and months and hours of counsel that led to the divorce process, a process that finally became inevitable because of... well... so many things.

Because of everything.

A decision that had been a long time in the making, no matter how much time and energy and effort and faith and prayer and love I put into doing anything and everything I could to change the course of our lives and the course of our future, together.

I knew that, in time, support and love and therapy and God and strength and courage would allow me to grieve and heal and forgive and take steps toward the sunshine, away from the heartbreak of the divorce.

But I also knew that it would always, always hurt me beyond words to spend time away from my kids.  

An inevitability post-divorce.

In complete transparency, because of all my heart had been through, I got to the point where (with plenty of faithful counsel and medical advice and therapy/family/friends) I knew I could only live a physically, mentally, and emotionally healthy life alone and away and divorced from the source of my constant betrayal and pain.

I also knew that meant I would no longer be a part of my kids' lives 100% of everyday.

But being a part of their lives 80% of the time as a healthy and happy and whole version of myself, alone, became better than being a part of their lives 100% of the time as a broken and battered and bruised version of me.

In time, I have healed from the dissolution of the marriage, and I have forgiven and I have found my courage and my strength and my footing.

In time, I have never truly learned to feel whole and okay when those three tiny beating hearts are not within my arms' reach.

...

It is no secret that I am a full-time-working, third-grade-teaching, single mama of a 7-, 4-, and 2-year-old.  Also, I have exactly ZERO family members within a four hour radius.  So I am not going to lie and pretend like every other weekend when my kids go to their dad's I don't soak up the chance to breathe, to self-care, to get my life together for 48ish hours, to make my house look less upside-down.  In fact, those every other weekends of being me and not being "always-on-mama" allow me to be a better mama when they are back in my arms.

But.

A week in the summer away from them is honestly pure torture.

And later on today, I will be away from them for ten.straight.nights.

A week that was supposed to be seven nights, transformed into ten (completely against my will and out of my control), and I have been sick to my stomach for weeks anticipating the last hugs and kisses and tight squeezes.

I will fill the nooks and crannies of the next ten nights with counseling, Christian service opportunities, long runs, sleep, time I desperately need alone and time I desperately need to be surrounded by those who love and support me unconditionally.

And in those nooks and crannies, honestly... I will worry and I will cry and I will feel angry and resentful and so, so scared.

But also, I will try so hard to remember that those three precious, tiny humans are not my ex-husband's.  And they are not mine.

They are His.

They are God's children, and we are only lucky enough to be their guiding lights while here on this earth.

It is so much easier said than done, but I want so badly to trust Him with their steps, and as my dear sister reminded me just this week, I want so badly to use the next ten nights to "be where my feet are."

...

Each night this week my trio and I have prayed that He will prepare our hearts to be away from each other.  We have prayed that He will keep them safe and healthy and happy, that He will bring me peace and faithfulness and fill my own heart with trust...

"You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it. You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed." Psalm 139:13-16

I am hurting, but I am praying.  And over the next ten days, with each beat of my heart, each breath in and out, each step forward, I will focus on the fact that I am closer and closer and closer to having them back in my arms... <3 

 

Dear August 2018 Jessie

Dear August 2018 Jessie,

I am writing to let you know that you can do this.

You will do this.

I know you are scared - so scared... scared to go back into the classroom, to have your "own" students, to be responsible for making sure a room full of third graders learn and grow not only academically - but mentally, socially, emotionally...

I know you are terrified about how in the world you will balance work life and mama life and personal life.

I know you are so stressed, so anxious, so overwhelmed.

But you will do this.

You will find your way, back into your teacher self, with each passing day.

You will recapture the magic in your heart, rediscover the passion you have for the classroom, a passion you have put aside to focus on being a wife and on being a mother.

You will be a student yourself this year - learning from and being inspired by the absolute best colleagues and administrators, and the most perfectly-matched work wife.

You will do this.

You will cry.... oh how you will cry.  Because you will feel inadequate, because you will be exhausted (the most exhausted you've been in your entire life!), because you will be stressed, because you will be scared.

But those tears will allow those negative emotions to escape from your body so that you can get through each day, bonding with students in a way that exceeds all of your expectations.

You will work your butt off.  Before your own kids wake up, after they go to bed, in every nook and cranny of each day.  Though it will take some time to find a constantly seesawing balance, I promise that you will learn how to be intentionally present with your students and also with your own children.

Because - and hear me say this - God has intentionally given all of them to you... and given you to all of them. <3

You will fall asleep before 8:30pm most nights, and you will train your body to wake before the sun with your 4:47am alarm.

You will do this.

You will somehow cross your t's and dot your i's and produce a classroom full of students who will make incredible progress... a classroom full of students who will challenge you in the most important ways... a classroom full of students who will allow you to discover parts of yourself you didn't realize existed.

You will bond with one student in particular, a student who perhaps you need even more than he/she needs you.  A student who will become your why, forever engraving himself/herself into your teacher heart. <3

I will not say to ignore the fear, ignore the stress, ignore the worry... because you have every right to feel that way.

This school year is going to be hard.  So very hard.

But it is going to be worth it.

I promise.

You will do this.

And you will get to May.  You will get to the end of the school year, and all of those tears you cried at the beginning of the year will be back.

But this time?

This time those tears are tears of pride in yourself, tears of joy in rediscovering why God put you on this earth, and mostly... mostly those tears are you trying to let go of the grip your students have gotten on your heart as you bid them goodbye and wish them well as they transition to middle school to learn how to fly.

In May, I want you to look at yourself in the mirror, and say - I did it.

And then give yourself permission to rest, permission to recharge, permission to take some pressure off of your life.  Give yourself permission to focus on your family and permission to pour yourself into the most important relationships in your life.

Give yourself permission to take care of you.

Because before you know it, it'll be August... and it'll be time to walk back into your classroom, and do it all over again. <3

xoxo,
Me

Happy Mother's Day, to my Mama

To my mama,

There was a dark time in my life where I literally could not get out of bed.  Brooks was only a couple months old, and I specifically remember lying in a dark room in the Luton house, Linds taking care of my kids so that I could hide from the world.

She'd bring Brooks in so that I could nurse him, and then take him away so that I could go back to hiding.

Back to crying, back to being sick to my stomach, back to weaving through my disbelief and heartbreak, back to worrying and feeling the most scared I have ever felt in my entire life.

I also specifically remember the moment I pulled the covers off and put one foot on the floor, and then the other.

In that moment, I took a step forward, out of that dark room, toward the sunshine... and all I could think about was you.

Little do you know that you, mama, are the reason I was able to find the courage to navigate my storm.  The courage to let myself actually feel the pain and see the darkness, so that I could find my way to the light.

Because of you, I am me.  

A mama to the three most incredible children...

 Three children who now give me the courage to keep living in yellow...

...a courage I keep in my heart, always, because of you.

Thank you for living a life of meaning, a life of beauty, a life of pain, a life of healing, a life of hope, a life of laughter.

Thank you for standing by my side, always.  For speaking truth, even when it hurt.  For being my best friend.  

For being the kind of mama I try everyday to be for my own kids.

Thank you for running with the wolves, and for making me believe that I can, too.

Happy Mother's Day to the woman who both gave and saved my life.

To the moon,

- your Jesseeca

Sweet and Sour 4.5

You are sweet and sour.

You are a gentle soul and a wild spirit.

And today, you are four-and-a-HALF. I am such a sucker for you, Everette.  Always have been, always will be.

And buddy, you are a tough cookie.  You can be defiant and challenging and irrational and emotional and rough and you are seemingly always toeing the line of trouble.

BUT. You are so very lovable and have one of the kindest hearts, one of the most genuine souls I have ever known.  There is a light in your eyes that inspires me every single day to never lose hope.  I saw it the minute the doctor put you on my chest after you were born.

Being your mom stretches me and challenges me in ways I need, and I am a better person because of it.  Because of you.

Everette, being your mom makes me so, so happy. You are affectionate, so snuggly, and you are by far the very best hugger in our family. 

You love nerf guns and wrestling, Power Rangers and superheroes.  

And you always wake up super grumpy, refusing to start your day until I snuggle you.

You've become a picky eater, but just like your mama, you've got a sweet tooth like no other.

You've found your niche with tball, and I think you actually may have some natural talent out there on the baseball field.

You are all boy and so very energetic and like to jump off of anything and everything.  You adore your sister and yes, Brooks, too.... though mostly you just want to wrestle and tackle him all day, everyday.

You have fallen in love with our Laney, and don't tell Cameron - but I think you may be her favorite. <3

Your wild hair matches your wild spirit... God has a sense of humor, that's for sure.

It's hard to believe that you, my buddy, are four-and-a-HALF.  It seems like just yesterday you were one lone follicle visible on the ultrasound screen during a failed IVF cycle... 

But then... a miracle.  Hope coming to life.  An answered prayer.  A dream come true.

Thank you for making my life an adventure.  Thank you for loving me so good, even when I don't deserve it.  Thank you for teaching me how to be a boy mom.  Thank you for being my perfect little sweet-and-sour Everette.

I love you with all my heart and soul.

~Mama