Beauty for Ashes

As I pulled into the parking lot of my daughter’s school one cold January day, my cellphone was ringing—it was my husband—“Babe we got MacDill!” (one of our most highly sought after military installations to become stationed at). I could not believe it! This was “the base” of military bases to be assigned to; mainly because of the sun, bustling city of Tampa with its’ grand population of north-easterners (much like ourselves), amusement parks, powdery beaches, amazing culture and food; there was no doubt we were excited to call this place home in the months to come.

The wait was nerve wrecking leading up to the move, but nonetheless, we were game. Not even the slightest of disappointment could phase me at that point. I was moving to Florida boo! I’m all the way good, and no negativity was about to knock me off my natural high.

Thoughts of swimming after a long day, eating authentic Latino and Caribbean food, going on roller coasters, taking pictures with Mickey Mouse, driving to Miami, you name it; it all flooded my mind as I daydreamed day after day.

Even when I lived in other states across the nation, I always found the good in it. The adventure. Sadly, I’m not particularly sure why I struggled to experience “fun” in New Jersey, but it just didn’t hit all of the boxes for me. And, don’t get me wrong, New York and Philadelphia were both a hop-skip-jump away, but the state itself fell short on my list of excitement. What more can I say other than I’m extremely thankful for snow-days and the local farmers market.

So the day finally arrived. We were outta here! The packers came and packed our three bedroom home up in a day and a half. It was so odd that at some point that house felt pretty big, but now it felt more less like a tightly cramped closet. The moving truck was massive, cutting off traffic onto our street, and the movers hustled the huge crates and boxes onto the semitrailer. I practically didn’t look back at the house other than to show my daughter the cherry blossom tree that we think a bird planted by the water fountain I staged years prior when we first moved in; it had grown into a healthy 10 feet or taller tree by now. My daughter really had no other connection to the house, but she waved goodbye and that was that.

After 4 long gray winters in New Jersey, this was the breakthrough we know God had His hands all over. And, shortly after our arrival, Florida did not disappoint! It felt exactly like what it looked like in the magazines; sunny, sandy, blue skies, bright smiles, just an overall glow covers this area and it is amazing. The temperatures were just right, even though the locals warned us of the daily 5 o’clock rain (the hurricane season is upon us now) and increasing temps in the late summer; my family and I took to the culture easily. I’m not sure if it was the weather or how happy my family had become almost immediately upon arriving here, but my spirit was full.

We stayed in temporary lodging facility (TLF) for about 2 weeks. Now that part I was not a fan of, but it was temporary, and every single day I drove from city to city in search of a rental property that I found adequate enough to house all of our household goods, and that had a good-great school district for my daughter. Unfortunately, with such a high demand to be at MacDill AFB, and the increasing amount of newly stationed military members arriving throughout the summer, the housing waitlist was at an 11 month wait. There was absolutely no time to waste.

Everything we loved seem to fall through, and the mediocre properties were pending with other potential renters. I was over the idea of renting. The discouragement was beginning to set in, and my patience was running thin. I was doing a majority of the house hunting alone, but for good reason. My husband was busy getting back into the swing of things at his new office and in processing. This was the part of the balancing act that most military spouses do, that often get overlooked, but we play an integral part of the process as well.

Thankfully I abandoned the “house” renting idea, and switched to the apartment living concept for the sake of my sanity. Due to the horrific traffic (oh and it is just that, awful!), I branched only 5 miles away from base, and there you have it….we found a place.

There was an awesome move-in special and it was near restaurants I loved, what more to ask for! Basically the amenities sold me, and it was perfect for my husband’s commute and for me to find potential employment. With an 11 month wait to get base housing, this seemed to be the right choice—especially with our home goods on the way to be delivered soon.

May 4th, 2018. The day before the celebratory “Cinco de Mayo”was our delivery date. Dispatch had contacted us about the delivery of our home goods, and we had plans to spend the weekend unpacking and organizing to store a good portion of our belongings in a storage unit. My husband rented the U-Haul truck, and we patiently waited to see if the semitrailer was arriving. The two hour window of 10am-12pm came and went. We called dispatch and received no answer. This was highly unusual considering that the woman who handled all of the logistics was very responsive.

In my pondering, I was bored and tired of waiting so I decided to call my father. We talked about blessings and patience, and how we were thankful that we were closer in proximity now that we moved to Florida. The apartment was quite empty and echoed with every word we said. In the kitchen, I could hear my husband’s phone ringing and him starting a conversation. I ignored it because I was still in the middle of my conversation with my dad. Then I was interrupted by news that would change my perspective on life forever.

“Jenn I need to talk to you, it’s important”, my husband said to me through the halfway open door. I immediately got off the phone and asked him what was going on, and the look on his face was like nothing I have seen on him before. He then explained to me that the truck that was carrying all of our household goods had been involved in an accident and caught on fire. Nothing was salvageable and there was no police report. Just like that, all of a dream became dark. The sun was out but the clouds seemed to have rolled in quickly. Visions of all of my possessions, including my husbands and daughters possessions, going up in flames was playing over-and-over in my mind. All I could imagine was flames and heat consuming my life’s accomplishments and keepsakes. Nothing short of bad movie that I could not stop playing.

To say I was overwhelmed would be an understatement. Not for nothing, I distinctively knew my sadness had a place, but this was not the time to exercise those feelings. I also knew that I should not covet, and to do so is not what God wants for me to do. I literally was placed in the position to let things go without my permission. There was no sorting through my things, picking out what I wanted and did not want to keep. It was gone in a matter of minutes. The very thought of not seeing familiar pictures and holding my childhood memories was now my new reality.

The weeks went by. We were practically in regrouping mode. Everything that was lost was now a distant memory. A good friend suggested we setup a contribution pool, similar to Go Fund Me, so that we could quickly recoup the necessities. That was extremely helpful and allowed us to get back on our feet after the loss. All-in-all, it still felt surreal. The clutter that I once complained about, the toys that we in the way as I walked through the living room, the maternity photos that were in my daughter’s bathroom, the CDs I collected from my adolescence, and the yearbooks with well wishes were now minuscule in comparison to life itself.

Thankfully the driver was unharmed during the accident, and so were my family and I. We were not in the vehicle, only our belongings. The perspective that I prayed to view this from was to take on the incident, manifest the positive aspects of it, and in spite of all of the tings that were lost, those “things” were just that...things. Without any doubt I know God was control, and our resilience fueled our faith in Him more now than ever before. There’s something about being stripped of everything that is sobering and leaves you vulnerable. That enabled us, and it allowed us to see the situation from a different scope. Isaiah 61:3 (NLT) reads:

“To all who mourn in Israel, he will give you a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory.”

Nothing Satan tried could break that promise that God made to us (all of us), because of all the “things” the world has to offer, God will always supplement and give us more than what we deserve. He most definitely was my strength and my salvation during and after the storm. And, in no time during that storm did I ask Him to get rid of the storm. In fact, I asked for Him to walk me through it. I’m imperfect in many ways, and this has never happened to me but I knew he’d be my comfort when I felt all was hopeless.

When I reflect on the circumstance, it was a revelation of sorts for my family and I. Only can God take anyone from losing everything, to being in a state of thanksgiving. From what I thought was the “good” part of my life, to preparing me for what is very likely to be the “best” part of my life. The blessings are flowing, and they are coming in so many different forms that I cannot help but be thankful to God and those He has used to bless us as well.

Throughout this process I have been open to sharing my testimony (my story), taking my time to come back to my brand, blog, and give you all the honest story of how my life has been shaped as of late. I completely took a step back to let go of the fear of reliving the loss publicly, but the secretiveness was not what was intended for my story, it is the part of me that cannot be undone, and that I am forever thankful for.

I will continue to share my story with you, and thank you for your support and for being patient with me. 

Blessings! 

-Jenn

Two Years Without Facebook: Why I Did It

There was no great “ah hah” moment the day I said, “you know what?...I’m deleting my Facebook account!”. I did know one thing however, it was a major distraction and personal letdown.

I with only a few months left as an undergrad student, I worked fulltime for the government, commuted every day—2 hours or more, mother and wife; life was jam-packed with things to balance. I would arrive home, heat up some food, play with my baby girl, simultaneously flip through the channels, chit-chat with my hubby, text message occasionally, and most certainly checking my timeline on Facebook to see how crazy everyone else’s life is too.

Nothing about Facebook necessarily brought me joy, per se. It was only a means of checking in, so I thought. Seeing what everyone else was doing in their early 30’s; maybe to confirm or deny that I was doing something cool in life, or that I was on the right track. The occasional late night DM in my inbox would pop up, I would quickly delete and block, and my block list grew larger and larger. As a married woman I could only grow more uncomfortable as the same would happen to husband. Family members would gush about my family pictures, natural hair posts, career moves, and accomplishments; I even made my grandmother an account to keep her in the loop. In the middle of the day I would post how tired I was at work, post subliminal messages about people I could not stand (yes I fell into the pettiness once upon a time), secretly hated on  dreamy vacations pics, and drove myself half-crazy looking at ex-boyfriends’ pics and their new lives without me in it.

What was really going on here? How did the “old” Facebook go from needing a college email address to register and saying “hey check out my pics!” ,to everyone and their mama (literally) joining say “hey look at my open diary!”? It all seemed to be that my personal life was already full, but I found myselfmaking room for this “pet” of sorts. I gave it more attention than I did my bi-weekly manicure or deep conditioning treatment regimen. It was almost as if I had to feed it, bath it, groom it, clothe it…my profile was constantly changing, my pictures were being posted throughout the day, my “friend” count grew past 4k—and still I was not satisfied.

As a fulltime student, working towards a business administration degree online, I would post a status of my unaccomplished work rather than working on a 12 page APA format paper due in a few hours or so; and still check back in to see how many “likes” I received to validate my despair. Ugh. What a vicious cycle I was running. Even over date nights, after posting pictures of my beautifully plated meal and a quick selfie of my makeup being on fleek, I would gaze at my husband sitting there scrolling through his timeline as well, liking the very pictures that I just posted! What the hell was really happening here?

So here it goes, the truth—I was silently validating myself through Facebook. All of these 4k friends had full access to the life I wanted them to see. Truth was, no one knew about the arguments that had spewed from those inappropriate late night inbox messages from long lost exes, insecurities about my husband’s exes, envy and jealousy behind the trips I had not taken, wishes of having a child (which at the time my hubby and I were struggling to conceive for 6 six years), angry about the opinions people would post, confused about the relationships forged and portrayed, the list runs on and on. The nitty gritty truth was, I was giving life to nothing. Absolutely nothing. None of these things made my world go-round. That is when it hit me, this was not life at all, and it was a grand perception and front for what we all want our lives to look like.

So on January 12, 2015 I deleted my Facebook account, and never looked back. The date was never significant, I just could not stand to keep doing the same thing and expecting to see new results—that is insanity, right?

Literally, for the first 2 days I felt like I was on a fast. My mind was racing as I got ready for work the next day, not whipping out my iPhone to take a selfie in the car, in my most fabulous outfit that I once would have thought the entire world should see me in. As I pulled off in my car, and made my way to work, no longer did I have the luxury of posting how I was counting down the hours to go home with a cute meme to match. It was just me and my life, no one had a clue what I was embarking on, but I knew things would become more refreshing and true to thewoman I was striving to become, not just pretend to look like.

After a week, I was at ease, my anxiety to check my timeline had almost went away entirely. I knew when popular television shows would come on I would miss the blow-by-blow spoiler alerts, but I was okay with that. Instead, I curled up next to the man of my dreams and baby girl and watched it, in real time, without even glancing at my phone. My husband then decided to cut off his Facebook as well, and things got interesting. He and I were actually having conversations again about things that we did not see on our timelines. Instead of comparing what-with-what, we were making plans to go over our couples devotional, together! What I had not done before, which perhaps I could have, was look at my life and marvel at it. I was truly blessed. Everything that I had asked God for was granted to me, and the life that I wanted, I was living.

The facts were, I was capable of living my life out loud, but truthfully, it did not work with my personal and family dynamic. There was no quick hack for appreciating what I had, but once I purged Facebook from my life, things looked up and since then I have graduated—now in graduate school, I shed those pesky post pregnancy pounds, I no longer commute and work at my old job so I spend tons of free time with my daughter, and that spark has ignited into a flame between hubby and I, friendships and relationships are more organic and true, and that vacation we so desperately needed…we went to Mexico for 5 days! My bottom line was simple, I do not mind if my life does not “look” as colorful as others’, black and white is good enough for me, and apparently great for my life! One small area of change shifted. The distraction and letdown in my life into a clearer and more focused me, and the benefits from it were life changing.

Since, I have restored my Facebook account, all has been good. I’ve certainly made some changes, and I communicate less on Facebook than I do my Instagram account (a personal choice); but I have also given less care to what I once gave power to.

What is your personal experience with social media and has it affected your lifestyle?

I’d love to hear about your experiences.

Stay blessed! 

-Jenn

Self-Worth

I’ve had my fair share of self-worth evaluations, maybe more than I should have, but all in good faith I’m a deep thinker and I can get carried away with my own thoughts of what I think my life should be. Unfortunately for many of us pain, trauma, etc. are buried deep down underneath the surface and linger longer than they should. For me, I came up with an ingenious idea, I wasn’t going to address any of those burdensome thoughts (worst idea ever by the way). The way I pictured it was if I avoided digging deep into those cobwebs I’d be able to get through on my own, and that was the furthest thing from the truth.

Problemo numero uno, a lot of my self-worth was conditional upon achieving, recognition, unrealistic expectations,  and being way too hard on myself (does any of this sound familiar? If so STOP doing that!). Insecurities that were never tackled as a youth were expressing themselves in other ways as I grew as an adult, and that was not going to blend very well with learning how to manage a chronic disease.

Without warning, I fell ill. Within a month or two I had lost drastic weight, almost 20lbs. I suffered from extreme thirst, and was not feeling like myself. After repeat hospital visits to the emergency room, I was soon diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes (I’m giving you the very short version for now). It was one of, if not the, most earth shattering day[s] of my life. I was going to be medically discharged from the military shortly after, and little did I know, I would fall into some serious depression.

Timing could not have been worse. I was handed a paper bag with my new diabetes medication and a referral slip to see an endocrinologist (an endo-what?!). Just like that, I was officially a Type 1 Diabetic at the tender age of 22. What was happening was completely out of control and I had to get my health under control and fast! I couldn’t wait for some miraculous event to happen in my life to cheer me up and give me life. I couldn’t place that weight on anyone else’s shoulders. This one was on me; and for all of those fast years of reckless abandonment, I needed God more than ever—my Savior.

Now at the time, it felt like the sky was falling right on top of my head. I was blessed to have the support of my husband who worked hard with my endocrinologist and dietitian to help me stick to a regimen that would get me back on track; but I was stubborn and extremely difficult to work with. I was flat out angry and felt so damn sorry for myself. Coping skills were nonexistent, and I earned myself the biggest crybaby award. Remember when I told you about those “things” buried deep down inside, well those “things” were coming up to the surface without any regard as to who or what was in the way.

One of the most difficult lessons that I had to learn was to disregard my expectations of what I believed my life was to become. Clearly life had something else in mind for me, and that was okay, I just had to get in line.

Not that I had to submit to my new diagnosis, it was humbling, and God was reshaping me from within a way unlike what I had in mind.

With each prick of the finger, multiple daily injections of insulin, and learning how to be a mathematician in order to eat; I began to see what God had for me in all of this despite my condition. My relationships with several people changed. The way in which I ate had to change for the rest of my life, especially if I had any plans on living a long life. I can go on and on about the multiple lifestyle changes that developed over the years, but without the recognition of what was lacking in my life (God), I truly believe I would have sunken into a darker place.

I was encouraged to write this for that person who hasn’t gotten that diagnosis or devastating news and is blindly living their life without God’s guidance. Don’t waste another minute of your life handicapping yourself by not addressing what is buried within, they are there for a reason and have a place. Those things that hurt you, concern you, change you...whatever “that” is, it is going to reveal itself one day. What I don’t want for you, is to have those things erupt without being on your terms. You may not be able to control the inevitable, but you can control what defines your self-worth.

In my case, I’m not particularly sure if my hard-headed self would have learned this any other way, but it’s no coincidence what God has done. All of those years spent omitting Him just to do as I please, shaping my resume instead of my spirituality, hitting the scene; I’m blessed I was able to see the day I was diagnosed, let alone today. You see, if God had not slowed me down, humbled me, and reveal to me the good bad and ugly, I’m absolutely sure I would be far more disappointed with my life. So no, I wouldn’t honestly change a thing.

I still have Type 1 Diabetes and I’m fine with that, it doesn’t have me (cliche but true). Yes some days are better than others, but that talk about trusting God to handle it all—yeah that really works. The more you work those spiritual muscles, what seems like the end of the world, will instead feel more weightless as trials come. And they will come.

God handles all things effortlessly, let Him do as such, no need to complicate things. Your self-worth is a beautiful reflection of what He made you to be, not by what happens to you.

Be Blessed!

-Jenn

Changes To The Appointment

I would consider myself a pretty well organized person. I have my schedule book, phone apps, sticky notes and more to keep me on track with what I need to get accomplished throughout the week; and still with all of the moving parts, change occurs with or without my permission. That is to be expected. Recently I made an appointment to get my hair done in New York City, and I like to get in and out on my weekends when I go to larger cities because of traffic; so for the most part I like to schedule my appointments as early as possible. In this case, I requested 7AM. I know, I know…that’s like crack of dawn early to be getting your hair done, but I just wanted to have the remainder of the day to spend with my family, and do as please with my time.

Well, appointment reminders were sent out, and my requested time was moved to 10AM. Three hours later than I originally wanted, but nonetheless, I had a scheduled time (this hair stylist is pretty popular and a major deal so I’m not arguing). However, it got me thinking about what God’s time and my little hair appointment had to do with one another. Everything.

As much as I’d hate to admit it, I sometimes think I have the logistical part down-packed to a science—and all of the other foolishness I think I can rely on God to handle; you know the stuff I can’t seem to figure out and the things that pull on my emotions. Yeah, I am guilty of leaving the heavy-lifting up to Him while I act like I have control elsewhere (the nerve). There is no right way of admit that, but hey, it’s the first step to recovery! I think that a lot of the time we do have “everything figured out”, until there is a “change”. Then what?

Now I could have read my email, with my new confirmed hair appointment time, and been upset or disappointed about it. I mean, I do hold my time as a valuable factor in my life, and I’m sure the stylist does too (which she explains quite well as to why there were changes to individual appointments). However, after careful reconsideration, there were many “pluses” to having a 10AM appointment instead of 7AM. For starters, who needs to wake up on a Saturday at 4:45AM, just to get ready and drive into the city, find parking, blah blah blah. It’s honestly a form of abuse now that I really think it through. No one is asking for me to put these pressures on myself. It’s never that serious.

Even when I wasn’t looking out for my best interest, God was and is. The reason why I’m focusing on that aspect of the matter is because too often we can find ourselves removing Him bit-by-bit from every equation, when in fact He is the catalyst of it all. Yes, something as trivial as a hair appointment, I found a way to notice Him moving and shaping my attitude, patience, and reaction to change. I’d be foolish to believe I had any ounce of control in the matter. From my safety traveling to and from, to the weather, or current events; I have no idea what He may be protecting me from (or reserving for me), but my outlook is that of a positive stance because everything that happens is for my good (Romans 8:28).

So today, with all that is happening around us, in the world, at work, with our children, sports, marriages, health…let’s take an opportunity to recognize the changes that take place and not twist it into something negative and unexplainable. The orchestration of lives still should have Him at the very center of it all, and whatever changes to your appointment, know He is in control.