ye of little faith

October 26, 2017 Jacqui

I pulled a two-pound container of strawberries out of the refrigerator today to eat with lunch, only to find that most of the berries were covered in mold. I was able to salvage about a quarter of them. The rest of them I threw down the garbage disposal. What a waste....

I should've gotten them out sooner.

I shouldn't have let them sit in there so long.

But an even better solution would've been to give them away when I had the chance. You see, earlier in the week we had gotten out the other container of strawberries to share with the neighbor kids, who were over playing. There was only about a pound left, and they ate through that pretty quickly. Just imagine the Very Hungry Caterpillar, but instead of being small and green with lots of little legs, they are small and dirty with two little legs, but just as hungry. So they smashed the first container and asked if we had any more.

We did, but in my selfish, sinful nature I was having one of those "why do I always have to feed all the children all the time" and "if I give all our fruit away then what are my kids going to eat" kinds of days, and so I said "no...."

i need the city /or/ there your heart will be also

October 25, 2017 Jacqui

The last post ended with a question: What if it wasn’t just the children on the other side of the world who were starving? What if it was MY children?

That changes everything, doesn’t it?

I love my children and every one of them holds a piece of my heart (and also, sadly, a chunk of my brain). I would do whatever it takes, moving heaven and earth in the process, to get them food to fill their hungry bellies.

Do you see the difference….and the problem?

Of course, it’s impossible to claim all the starving children in the world as your own, nor should you have to by yourself. There are no easy solutions to a problem of this magnitude, but I do know that you’d look at the problem of hunger differently if you were exposed to it regularly, if it wasn’t just an abstract concept of “children are hungry” but a tangible problem that affects living, breathing souls you can reach out and touch....

when the city becomes home /or/ where your treasure is

October 24, 2017 Jacqui

I don’t know about you, but I can easily slip into a slump of thinking I have nothing to offer or say. Life can feel overwhelming sometimes, and instead of taking control and harnessing my emotions, I wallow and drown in them instead.

But God has shown me the importance of remembering as I’ve been writing this month. Reflecting back on where we’ve been, how far we’ve come, what we’ve learned, and how we’ve changed in the process has everything to do with our capability of moving forward. The most valuable discoveries in life require desperate, unrelenting pursuit; we need to mine the past for truth as if we’re searching for nuggets of gold, or a missing pacifier.

You’ve lived a story, friends. And on the journey, you’ve learned and grown. You, like me, even on my worst days, have something to offer the world....

ministry is messy /or/ life mirrors the gospel

October 23, 2017 Jacqui

Between the not-quite-housetrained puppy, the 7 month old baby, who still spits up, and the random 10+ children who are in and out of the house on any given day, our carpet is, in a word...GROSS.

Even still, we try to do what we can to keep it from getting worse. We take the dog outside often, wipe up accidents/spills as best as we can, and encourage everyone to take their shoes off at the front door. In typical kid fashion, though, they're forgetful and don't always remove their shoes. Other times, they just plain don't want to listen. Because it's inconvenient, or they think they know better. Rules can be hard and stupid. So along with "buckle your seatbelt," "pick up your garbage," "dirty clothes go in the basket," and "don't fart on your brother," I've added "take off your shoes" to the soundtrack that plays on "repeat all" in our home.

It will come as no surprise, then, that one day we discovered someone had dog poop on the bottom of their shoe....

the currency of souls /or/ wake up from the dream

October 22, 2017 Jacqui

I opened my Notes today to write a post about how I'm overwhelmed and dragging with all of this writing, that all my preparations have dried up and I'm feeling the burden of deadline. But what I found instead was this freestyle poem (?) I started a while ago and never finished. So I finished it today. We'll just celebrate that small victory for now and not get too caught up in tomorrow.

It's about the tension that exists between the girl I used to be and the woman I am now. It's about waking up to real life and not just existing in the haze, but how do you get there? How do you build bridges connecting two different realities? How do you effectively connect people to people and resources to needs? I'm still trying to figure it all out.

Also, I'm not sure what to title it. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to chat in the comments!

Title (?)

I used to get angry at the ignorance

Thinking, how could it be that you cannot see

All of the privilege right here in front of me...

I'm Jacqui, the mom behind the camera. Wife of one + momma to five. Writer + speaker. Unqualified philosopher + theologian. Accidental mentor. Chaos manager. Lover of coffee + wine, perspective, and Jesus. Truth teller. Freedom fighter. Worth affirmer. Wanna-be author + world changer. Laundry piler. Emoji enthusiast. It's nice to meet you!

I hope you'll stay awhile and take a look at life through my lens, as I seek to find joy in the mess and walk with God through the beauty of everyday life.

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That last-week-of-school hustle is reeeeaaal. 😩👊🏻😴

Oh haaay, summer, haaay!! ✨😎 It’s almost 90 degrees with a breeze here in CLE, & we’re not minding one little bit. We just got back from a Target run, as one does on a Saturday. 🎯 I swept yesterday’s chalk dust and all the helicopters off the porch (as far as propagating strategies go, this is a very good one. Those suckers are EVERYWHERE!), and now I’m watching my little corner of the world go by from my second-hand rocking chair on the porch, iced coffee in hand. And it’s so, so good to be right here. In this moment, in this place: the wind tugging at my hair, the kids arguing about something in the backyard, the wind chimes next door, the dogs sunning themselves at my feet. These are the days. This is the abundant life. And I wouldn’t trade it for the whole wide world. My corner is enough.

I used to think the old woman who lived in a shoe was nuts. I mean, why in the world would you choose live in a shoe? With all those kids?? 😱 And withholding the bread? Straight up neglect. Some versions say she kissed them fondly, but we all know that mean broad spanked the daylights out of them before sending them straight to bed. Then I became a parent. Life has a way of waking you up to realities that are literally impossible to understand until you’re completely immersed in the incessant demands of a sacrificial season, or in some cases, a sacrificial existence. And you can fathom now how life can wear a person down to a shell of who they were, how one unfortunate circumstance can tragically alter a trajectory. And you finally realize that no one chooses to live in a shoe. A shoe is where you live when you have no choices, when you’re out of options, when it’s either a shoe or the streets. She had so many children she didn’t know what to do—so many mouths to feed every day. If broth and bread is all she could afford, there might not have been enough to go around. She didn’t ration out of neglect but rather out of necessity. And she whipped them all soundly before she put them to bed because she didn’t have anything left. Because she’s an overwhelmed, exhausted single mom without a shred of a support system. She never gets a break. Carrying the weight of their survival solely on her weary shoulders, she beats them now so the police won’t later. She whoops them because she cares, and that’s the only way she ever learned how to show it. . ...and what you can see now is, she loves them.

Anyone else feel the pull to show up here every so often to say, “Hey! I’m still busy doing things! My life is still interesting! And it matters! And here’s why…” When I feel compelled or obligated to do something, for whatever reason, one of the best things I can do for myself, at least for a little while, is….don’t. Don’t log on. Don’t post for the heck of posting. Don’t force something that doesn’t want to come. And I let the silence begin to speak for itself. God speaks in a whisper, you know, but how often are we quiet enough to hear it? And how exactly did we arrive at the place where our worth was determined by the number of hearts tapped out on 2x2 squares? It sounds quite ridiculous when it’s all spelled out like that, doesn’t it?

This is how we showed up at church tonight—legit looking like maybe we just crawled out of a garbage dump. Or at least a construction zone. 🚧 It’s actually worse than it looks and literally the best I’ve got this week. Bless it. Also, the nursery worker made them wash hands before snack, so we’re good. What matters is that we showed up. On time, in fact, which is no small miracle in and of itself. . ✨All that is required of us is that we arrive as our truest selves. And today? We’re filthy. So, here’s a gentle reminder to you, fellow traveler: come dirty, come late, come ill-prepared or even irate. Come with a smile on your face, or come because you need some grace. Come stressed, come sweaty, come imperfect, even petty. Just come, in spite of your mess, and trust that God will take care of the rest. He always does. See for yourself. ➡️

These jokers are my favorite. 💖 #happymothersday

‘Tis the season. 💜🌸 The only problem is choosing just one! 🤩 So I didn’t. 😬 Did you know that lilacs only bloom for 1-2 weeks a year? Kinda makes you wonder about humanity’s over-emphasis on “blooming”—always producing, striving, hustling, creating output. Even if we’re blooming where we’re planted, as the saying goes, it’s brief. Stunning, yes. Breathtaking, yes. Colorful, vibrant, full of life, yes please. But also short-lived. Temporary. Fleeting. Seasons are not only temporary but necessary. Don’t focus so much on the fruit that you miss the seasons of watching and waiting, of hunkering down when the landscape is barren and learning to weather the storms. These create the fertile soil in which flowers grow. 💜

*new headshot* 😬

Today is Good Friday, and it arrived exactly how I always picture it—the sky weeping, the earth soaked with tears. This is the inevitable darkness that must come before the morning, the necessary death which precedes resurrection. This heartbreaking pattern of life is something my human heart always struggles to embrace as “the way.” Surely, there has to be another (less painful) avenue toward truth and life? . Selfishly, I want what we all think we want at the end of the day: a life of comfort and ease. We quickly realize, however, that comfort is fleeting and ease is overrated. With each excruciating step up the hill of Calvary, Jesus reminds us again: every good and perfect gift arrives on the other side of death. It is finished, forever and ever. Amen.

Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment. —Rumi

HELLO!

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