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

Finding Clarity In the Midst of Confusion

Happy New Year to ALL, and I pray that you entered this 2018 with a new outlook on life and can achieve your goals (new or old)! I know there’s a lot of downplay about the “New Year new me” attitude that’s made for the new year, but if you feel a need for change, I say go for it! No need in holding back your growth in any way shape or form because it’s not popular. Change is inevitable and necessary…so do you unapologetically.

In recent days my 2018 has been off to a great start. I’m pacing myself more carefully. Carving out more time to enjoy my family and friends. Although I could make more time to hit the gym, but besides that, the things I prayed for are certainly coming to pass, which I’m eternally thankful for.

Earlier this week I was visited by stranger at work who is in his early 60’s and was in need of some assistance. Unfortunately the day that he arrived, we were unable to complete the necessary steps due to websites being down; so I asked him to come in the following day. Before he left, we spoke for at least an hour and I gave him more information about what we would be accomplishing the next time he came in and what I needed for him to provide me to better assist him.

He was grateful, and somehow we ended up discussing Christianity and what God has in store for us; the promise. The conversation was fluid, and I appreciated having God bless me with meeting him; he concurred.

Side note: It’s always amazing to me when you can really chop it up with someone who has a relationship with God. In my opinion it feels like I’m talking to a brother or sister. It’s like we know about a secret no one else knows about. The space in which we speak seems to develop its own energy. It just feels right and pleasing to God. All parties involved in this place of “energy” know the power behind the words and what it means to be able to confidently speak about His promises to us, and it’s an overall spiritually uplifting experience.  

Now, for privacy’s sake, I’ll name this gentleman “The Poet”. It suits him well and you’ll later find out why.

So the following day, The Poet came in as expected. As he carried his tethered 3-ring binder with hundreds of self-written copyrighted poems cased in plastic protector sleeves, I knew immediately he was serious about writing. Who knew?

He later began to explain to me that he would wake up in the middle of the night to jot down small lines, words, and phrases that came to him. He also expressed that he wasn’t sure why he was sharing any of this intimate information with me at all; other than having met me the day prior—he said I reminded him of Kerry Washington (now those were his words not mine…either way I’m flattered!).

The first poem that he invited me to read was printed over the opaque picture of a beautiful bright-eyed young lady. She was pictured holding a video game remote control, and had a huge smile. She couldn’t have been a day over 20 years of age in the photograph. In turquois blue lettering centered throughout the sheet was a poem. It was highlighting her short lived life, and how the Lord is there to comfort those who lost her too soon to a tragic gun related accident. She was young. The story he told me about her was heartbreaking. His poem was relieving and beautiful. No amount of words could take the pain away from the family who experienced this tragedy, but he said he was inspired by their pain to comfort them in some way and that this was what God delivered him to do.

Now at the time, he felt that it was not enough. This young lady that was taken was like a niece to him and his wife. There was now a void there that had to be filled, and he kept hearing God instruct him to write—pour his pain and the remedy of God’s love into a comforting masterpiece; a poem!

Having just returned in December from a funeral of a dear loved one, losing a cousin, and praying for the loved ones who were experiencing illness and hospitalization; pain was showing how colorful it can be and what disguises it takes. Both of these recent losses left behind grieving spouses, children, and loved ones; left to question how to move on and where to start.

What The Poet did not know at the time was that I immediately knew God sent him to me to relay a message to me, and when I read his poem, I was yet again reminded of God’s unwavering love for us. That’s when I was reminded of 2 Timothy 2:7:

“Think over what I say, for the Lord will give you understanding in everything.”

These are very confusing and troubling times that we live in, and often times what is happening in our lives do NOT make any sense at all. Often times what we see as an error or glitch in the system, isn’t that; but a notification (or signal) to come back to God on conversation, shift your mindset immediately to Him and meditate on clarity.

Logic is not the answer in most situations we face in life. Confusion is often dismissed as a burden, but the clarity we are supposed to seek is in fact the lesson. The pain, loss, anger, frustration may not pass in your desired likeness, but it will. Not that The Poet had the answers, or he wasn’t still affected by his loss.

But in the midst of his confusion and loss, he drew closer and was obedient to God’s requests. It wasn’t comfortable or convenient for him (as he expressed to me), in turn he used his gift in a special way.

Stay Blessed!

-Jenn

Overlooking the Rockefeller Observation Deck during sunset.