Author: soheresmystoryblog

My name is Jennifer. I'm the wife of Dave, my favorite husband ever, and the mom to 450, give or take a few. I've given birth to two handsome baby boys, who have grown in to two handsome, wonderful young men. I do, however, provide snacks, bandaids, a listening ear, emotional support, calls to check in on, and so much more to about 450 kids at the high school where I am the "office lady". So in essence, I have 450 plus kids. My husband and I live in the middle of nowhere, in the upper left corner of the lower 48, with our dogs, cats, occasional cow, and a stray horse named Amber. In the absence of children in the home, our mixed breed lap dog, who happens to be the size of a small pony, has become our fur baby. I have a heart for the broken and hurting. God did not bring me through childhood abuse, bad decisions as a teenager and saved by Christ as an adult, to keep my story to myself. I firmly believe that we are not meant to walk this road alone, I mean God did create Eve because it wasn't good to leave Adam alone.

The Sweetest Lemons

soheresmystoryblog
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

In this life, the terrain is continually changing, we will climb mountains, skip through lush fields of wildflowers, traverse into deep valleys, and try to navigate our way through dry desert sand. Each with its own beauty and hardship. As difficult as these paths can be at times, we need to make sure we aren’t trying to go it alone. We should take our own advice, you know what you tell your kids when they head out the door on an adventure, “don’t go anywhere alone, remember to use the buddy system”.

Now don’t get me wrong, sometimes we need a little time out, some solitude, to do a little self reflection, see where we should be showing ourselves some grace. Most of the time, though, we need a hand to hold on to, someone to come alongside and remind you that you do have the grit to climb that mountain in front of you.

The climb may be hard but the best views come from the summit.

Other moments we cant contain our joy and need to share our jubilation with others. Now these moments aren’t necessarily gigantic moments. Sometimes it is a small mom victory, or maybe a finished project, heck, I recently had a mom moment that made my heart explode just like a volcano erupting. My family has recently embarked on the adventure of Sprint Car Racing. I say my family because we all have a role, my husband is the Team Manager, my oldest son is the Crew Chief, my youngest son is the Driver, and me…I’m the Mom, and that title trumps all the others. So back to my recent mom moment, after a session on the track, walking back to our pit stall, I see my driver still in the car while the crew chief is kneeling down beside him. I have no idea what they were talking about, but in that moment my mom heart erupted like a volcano and let me tell you the tears flowed. I stopped and took it in, and in true fashion of the times we all live in, captured it with my phone. Then, needing to share this moment with someone who would get the significance of it, I mean really get it, I uploaded the captured moment to my community, my squad, my ladies, my tribe aka my Lemons.

These are the ladies I couldn’t imagine doing this life without. They know just about every side of me, the side that cleans up real nice and can dance a mean jig. Actually I really don’t know what a jig is, but I like to dance so it sounded good. The me with no makeup, messy hair, sweats and a t shirt, wearing my flip flops, while we discuss the latest book we have read. We have supported each other through difficulties in marriage, sickness and at times the deaths of our parents, taking on children that are not our own, school projects, graduations, sending our kids off to college, and now weddings.

My Lemons were also there while I lay on the hospital bed with my son, who at this point has no diagnosis as to why on a scale of 1-10 the pain in his head is a 12, he cant keep any food down, has a fever of 105, and cant tolerate any noise or light. They prayed with me, and sat with me in the silence when I was worried and scared beyond words. They also rejoiced with me when we got to bring him home, on the mend.

We all need these women, these relationships, to remind us to give ourselves a little grace when we mess up, or help us to remember the we have the grit to keep moving, even when moving seems impossible. So cheers to our squads, our Lemons and to having the grit & grace to share the mountain top moments, the valleys, and all the terrain in between.

Birthdays in Heaven

soheresmystoryblog

Yesterday, my dad celebrated his first birthday in Heaven.  Knowing that this day would come so quickly after his death, I thought about it a lot.  In all of my thinking, I pictured that it would be a sad day, that I would cry and mourn his absence.

When I woke up, and started getting ready for church, I realized I wasn’t sad.  “It just hasn’t hit me yet”, I thought.  “Just wait, it will come”.  I waited, but the sadness didn’t come.

Why wasn’t my heart sad?  I missed my dad, I loved my dad, and if those things were true, why wasn’t my heart sad? This thought, I pondered for most of the day.  Then I started asking a different question.

Are earthly birthdays celebrated in Heaven?  If angels sing and rejoice when we leave this life, and join the heavenly hosts, then why would they even think of the day we were born on earth?  If they thought of the day our lives, on earth, began, then would it be a celebration?

After much thought, and if you know me at all, you know that it was a lot, I came to the conclusion that my heart was not sad because it was not a sad day.  My heart did feel something of longing, to hear his voice on the other end of a call, or to see the smile on his face, as we wished him a day full of blessings and love.

Later in the evening, as the sun was setting, and I stood in a dusty field, behind our almost finished middle school building, singing worship songs with my community, I could feel the sun warming the side of my face, and as we sang the words…

Bless the Lord oh my soul
Oh my soul
Worship His Holy name
Sing like never before
Oh my soul
I’ll worship Your Holy name

The sun comes up
It’s a new day dawning
It’s time to sing Your song again
Whatever may pass
And whatever lies before me
Let me be singing
When the evening comes

Que the tears….

Bless the Lord oh my soul
Oh my soul
Worship His Holy name
Sing like never before
Oh my soul
I’ll worship Your Holy name

I could feel my temple warm…almost like a kiss, and the tears came.  They weren’t tears of sorrow, or mourning, but tears of knowing, of peace, and of joy.  On the temple, is where my dad would kiss me, and I could swear that through the warmth of the sun, I felt the warmth and reassurance of my dad’s kiss. My earthly father, and my heavenly father were celebrating everlasting life, as the sounds of our worship lifted to the heavens, and the Glory of the Lord shone down.

Reflection’s In My Father’s Eyes

soheresmystoryblog

Four days ago, my Dad traded in his earthly burdens for heavenly crowns.  It is such a bittersweet thing, the death of my Dad.  You see, my Dad had a pretty rough life, his childhood was less than great, his adolescence was riddled with instability, and his adulthood was filled with troubles of many kinds, but when I looked in his eyes for the very last time, I saw a man whose burdens had been lifted, his garments washed clean, and the pure love of a clean heart.

Writing

soheresmystoryblog

Writing, to me, has always been an outlet. My high school English teacher so wisely, placed this tool in my toolbox. She also helped me find that I had a passion for writing. Who knew that English 11/12 would still be an influence on me 20 years later?

Fast forward, in time, a husband, two boys, the acceptance of and invitation for Jesus Christ to be my Lord and Savior, a deep depression, lots of counseling, tears, prayers, growth, and acceptance of who I am, I attended a Women’s retreat.

The retreat was life changing. It deepened my walk with God, and changed my writing. In the beginning I wrote for myself, and I wrote with my husband and boys in mind.

During the retreat, we were given 30 minutes to find a quiet place, where there were no other people, be silent, and invite God to speak to us in whatever way he chose. In that silent 30 minutes, God whispered that He wants me to write my story.

I have started many journals and notebooks, with the intent of it being “my story”. None have felt right, and I end up abandoning them. I get frustrated and I question if God really wants me to write, I’m not a real writer, it’s just something I do. How could I possibly write my story, what would it say…and how in the world could my story be bring glory to God?

That question, I still struggle with. I don’t have the answer, but I do know that the calling to write my story has not changed, and it’s not up to me to write a perfect manuscript, but it is my charge to be obedient to what God has asked of me.