To My Girls

Be on the lookout! Tomorrow I’ll be giving away a set of Find Wondrous Things Bible tabs. Come back here to enter!

Right after my failed attempts at college, I took a great deal of time looking inwardly. Who am I? What do I want to do with my life? What does God want? It’s a difficult experience when everyone you ever knew in high school goes to college, and you aren’t one of them.

I tried to mentor someone, but I was so interested in my own life that I let that relationship fall to the wayside. I tried to work hard at my job, but I was pretty interested in my boyfriend, so I only worked hard enough. Even years into motherhood, I tried to give of myself in a lot of ways, but I almost always felt like I was withholding. And in most, if not all of those cases, I was.

You could say my excuse is pregnancy, babies, being young, not knowing who I was just yet. I will gladly wear those badges on my arm, because they all played a part in my foggy early twenties.

Where I wanted to be great, I didn’t want to fail. So I never jumped. I never tried. I declined invitations to friendships without saying “no” outright. I avoided Bible studies, in-depth discussions, or being friendly with my sisters in Christ. I wallowed in fear that I would never jump. I looked back on my past mistakes and felt the heat of embarrassment rise from the pit of my stomach. I was a naive girl, even a few years ago. I didn’t see the whole picture, the one that I was actually a part of.

I see you. I know what it is like to be in the fog of motherhood and think, so, this is it. The feeling of wanting to be away from my toddlers for only an hour a day was real, and some days I just didn’t want this. I wanted to have the freedom of being able to go to Target with only myself to worry about.

I see you. I know what it is to look back at those mistakes and think, I failed people, and most of all, myself. Why do I think I could ever be better than that? I listed all the reasons for my misguided behavior, or for the times I could’ve done so much better, and I let those be my banners. I chose those truths and gave them more merit than they deserved.

I see you. I know the excitement that resides in knowing that God has spoken great things over your life, and experiencing the frustration in never seeing the fruit. It gets tiring, believing something about myself that has never seemed to shown itself true except for in the reassurance of His Spirit in my soul. What are you waiting for, God? Why am I sidelined? Why are giving me the menial tasks? Give me the big ones! You made me for those!

We’re part of the big picture, the one where we get to praise God for the rest of our days. I see you in these pits and valleys, the moments where life is not as forgiving to our fragility. And I need you to get on His shoulders.

For the rest of your days, you’ll be whatever you think you’re confined to, if you believe it. You’ll be the mom who never has time, the woman who works harder than her husband, the one who never gets to join everybody else as we take center stage. You’ll be her, just say the word. I see you. I fight it, too. It feels easier to be here, where excuses are plentiful and legitimate, where it feels comfortable to feel frustrated.

You can stay there. Or you can climb on His shoulders and get higher. What you might have forgotten is that He can raise you up. You might never get higher than what your eyes can see, and if you’re like me, that isn’t much at 5′ 4″. But He can take you higher. I think the freest place is right when He has His arms wrapped around me like a daddy with his little girl, lifting her up on his shoulders.

Think of her: arms outstretched as if she’s flying. She can see higher than anyone else.

We aren’t the badges we put on our arms and wear like armor.

We get to be girls for the King.
We get to run forward, away from those mistakes, fears, frustrations, ruts.
We can get out of it and fly free because we’re on His shoulders.
You can’t lift yourself. You surely don’t have to.

I see you.

Meet me in the place you never thought you dreamed, the places you weren’t tall enough to reach, and the places you could only reach from the shoulders of Someone stronger. I’ll be looking for you, sister. We’re freest where we’re flying.

3 Things To Do When Things Get Weird

I don’t mean weird, like, ew. I mean weird, like, this is real life?

I keep looking at Evan and saying, “This is just weird. Weird. Like, what? I am a writer for real now? Wake me up soon, I guess?!” But, not dreaming here folks. This is real life. I get to write here on my blog all the time, and it’s just recently become less of the weirdest thing ever. I used to think it was so odd when someone said, “Read your blog today!” I’d mostly want to say, Oh, really! But why? Because I thought no one cared. And then I decided to care and invest and here we are. Blogger Janelle.

This list might be a little stupid/silly, but it’s Friday, I’m feeling it, and you’re reading it, aren’t you? You’ll have to tell me you read this and make me feel a little weird.

1. When things get weird, acknowledge it. Like I said, I keep telling my husband that this feels weird. But it only truly feels weird because I’ve never been this before. I’ve never been the blogger. I didn’t think I had it in me to be a writer for real. Jumping into it has felt like a constant Pinch and remind me this is real moment. I see you, weirdness. I am grateful you exist.

2. When it feels weird to be in a place you thought was a long way off, smile big and give glory to God. He does mighty things. He did something crazy when He created me, invested in me with every breath I take, and sent me forth to do work for Him. He delivers. I thought that I wouldn’t be here. And when I arrived, it felt weird, like Why am I here, amongst these people? God makes a way. He makes it all good.

3. When it’s weird to think that at one point you weren’t here and that your dreams were just dreams and not reality, be humble. Know Who brings us through it all. Thank Him for the weird chaos of it, and His ability to lift us up higher than we can see. He does that. Only God. And when it feels weird one day to think that we were once at a different place in life, I think we gotta turn our face up to the heavens and let His light shine on us. It means He needed us for another day right here. It means He is giving us opportunities because He knows we are able.

It gets and feels weird to “arrive”, but it’s not really even that. It’s knowing that the Holy Spirit is guiding in a way that makes it simpler to get my paths straight to the King. Every ounce of living I do is an act of worship to Him. That’s how I know this is right where He needs me. The simplicity of all of it, including the weird, makes the glory of it easy to see.

Timeless, Not Trendy

As a teenager, I always wanted to have a “thing”; something about me that was unique to only me. For a while it was a plain, silver thumb ring that I wore every day. I didn’t know any other girls in my class who had one. Another time it was a nose ring, but I truly hated putting it in or taking it out, so I called it quits with that. I made my mom buy me a pair of black converse shoes just so I could immediately doodle on them with permanent black marker. That isn’t really unique to just me, but man, I really wanted to be cool. I wore jewelry no one else had, took popular trends and ran with them, but I never wanted to be just like anyone in particular. I wanted to be a mash up of all the incredible women, trends, and looks that I so admired. I wanted to be me, and I wanted to be unique.

I’m not sure where this innate desire came from, or if it really has a root; I just know it’s deeply ingrained in me. It isn’t the desire to stand out, not like it used to be in high school. It’s changed to a longing to be free to be whoever Janelle is. Trends don’t interest as much as they used to, not that I don’t enjoy some of them. (Which, almost all the crazy 90s trends are just painful. No no no.)  I remember reading on Instagram a few years ago, “Be timeless, not trendy,” and I was like, yes! That! I want to be that!

It’s a mindset that is more important than whatever clothes are on my back or the haircut I have on my head. This week I shaved some of my hair off, and it was one of the most liberating things I’ve done. It’s just hair, though, right? Cutting it off doesn’t make me timeless.

What makes a woman timeless?

I think it’s more than the whole look. It’s more than shaving part of my hair off or wearing an outfit that I might consider wearing again in five years. It’s being relevant to people who are in this world, knowing what’s really happening outside my door, caring less about how good I look and so much more about how other people in this world are existing. Being timeless has so little to do with me. It has so much more to do with other people, being with people, and caring so much more about others than I do about what makes me unique.

You see, every single one of us is unique. So intricately created. We have gifts and purpose that no one else in this world has except for us. I don’t need something to wear that will make me stand apart. I need something in my soul, that changes me day in and day out, that makes me timeless, free, unfettered.

I’ve thought on this often over the past few months. It feels like I’ve pinpointed a wavelength in this life where I feel freedom, and I feel free to do what no one else does. I am free now, more than ever, because there’s less of me in the equation and more of God. There’s less interest in my own praise and so much more devotion to His glory.

I want the Father, the author of all time and ultimately the most timeless of us all, to be the reason I am such a unique woman. Not a ring on my finger or the shoes on my feet. Just Him.

With, Not Against

Last week I started reading Lysa TerKeurst’s new book, Uninvited. (But I didn’t Instagram about it, so hopefully you believe me.) I’m not even finished with it, because I’m mostly doing a lot of other things (like looking at my phone rather than reading). But, what I have read? It is so good. I recommend it this far (and I’ll keep you updated if that changes).

Over the weekend, I heard a message in church about knowing who our enemy is, as well as knowing the King and knowing what our weapons are to fight. It seemed fitting that just today I read in Uninvited about the issues in friendship women run into. We get mixed up; rather than fighting the enemy together, we look at each other thinking she’s my enemy or he’s my enemy. We fight against each other instead of with each other.

I’m really not a confrontational person. Facing problems is something I can deal with, but it’s especially hard for me to deal when I’m in the wrong. It makes me want to melt into the floor and disappear. The thought of someone coming to confront me…please, just let my superpower be invisibility. I would use it far too often.

I’m also very much a cheerleader. Supporting, encouraging, and being a sounding board for advice is my jam. Like, my jam. I don’t do it because it makes me feel good or gives me brownie points with anybody. I just love to be optimistic about people and their stories. I often try to see all sides of situations, because I hate to believe that everyone has a bad side.

So, this is what you know of me: When I mess up or someone is disappointed in me, I want to hide from it. But when I can fight for others, I do it, and I do it well. You can believe that I am the type of friend who gives it their all and will squish issues before they become overgrown in my heart.

I have entered a season where I have a lot of women around me, and man. It feels like glory. In worship this Sunday, where the message was about knowing who our common enemy is (and it is never each other), I quieted for a moment to hear the hundreds around me singing. Just as I closed my eyes, God gave me a vision of all of His angels doing just the same, only multiplied so greatly I couldn’t see the end of the crowd. It took my breath away, the thought of so many surrounding me, so many who are with me that fight the same enemy that I do. I think about all of our people, the couples, families, and singles that are all around my own family, and my breath escapes my lungs. The women around me. We all are in this. And these are all my people.

I get it in my head that I’m probably going to mess up. There will be something I say or write that will just need to be confronted, and I can see her–whoever she is–and her silhouette coming right in my direction, waiting to tell me whatever it is that I’m scared to hear. I look at this crowd of women I’ve got, and I keep thinking, God if I fail, I pray they fight for me. I pray they can help me do better. I pray they love me hard and confront me well and give me grace where I probably don’t deserve it. And I’m praying in the moments when another woman does something that hurts me, or yields anger in me, Lord let me fight for her too. Let me be soft, let me lift her up, let me give her so much grace that it drowns out anything that feels like sin.

Ladies, I want to fight for you. I want to see you as God sees you, and I want to pray for you and love you because I can. Because I am so loved. Because God is a forgiving Father, and He corrects when He needs to, and Lord, let me have the wisdom to let You do what only You can. Not me.

Our enemy is Satan himself. Not you. Not me. Or her, or that guy. We can fight for each other, and I think that’s a great way to win a war. With, not against.

Notes on Being a Mom Today

I know you all love a good post about parenting, raising boys, and “tips” that I can throw at you. But today, I just want to note the parenting of late.

This week, my oldest had his first day of school. When I arrived to pick him up, I saw him sitting his seat, paying attention to his teacher. He spotted me standing outside and the smile, you guys. I wish it were acceptable and possible to raise him up like Simba in Lion King and sing that crazy song because man. I was so proud. He made it through his first day ever and ran back to me, smiling.

I have a habit of thinking that my children can all be treated the same, or that they will react the same to certain situations. This is also true in their age difference; I think that my two-year-old should be as “rational” as my four-year-old, but hello. Never ever. Maybe once every few days. But in most situations, they do not react to life the same. That also means they could be different in every way as they get older. And I get to love them through it. I don’t need perfect children. I just need them to see why we’re here.

Finn is 17 months old (WHY), and it’s one of my favorite ages. I am almost beginning to trust him a little more to not fall off of a cliff (exaggeration), but he’s still the baby, so I still tend to treat him as such. He actually says “baby” and that is also a heart melter. He loves to play silly games and be chased around the house. The giggles! Goodness, I could live off of those for the rest of my life.

Side note:  My boys are absolutely best friends for life. How do I know? Asa, who is seriously attached to Liam, wore his backpack (for his first day of school in two years) from the moment I left to drop Liam off for his first day until it was nap time that afternoon. The sweetest. They immediately went right back to fighting once they were back together, but I am certain. Best friends forever (or else).

My boys still drive me crazy, but we’ve hit the rhythm. These three boys feel like the magic number, and I actually find myself enjoying time with them. When everyone is little and needy all the time, it feels suffocating to be their mother sometimes. But now that they can take of themselves just a little bit more independently, it’s like I get to come up for air and feel the breeze. I’m not longing for them to be old, but the reminders that the grueling phases of toddlerhood are coming to a close make it easier to just enjoy it. We’ll still be in the thick of it for a few more years, but I don’t mind so much.

Just writing these down to remember. Some day I’ll forget, or the memory of them will be faded. Here’s to keeping it close to my heart.

Three Joys of Three Boys:  Parenthood in My Early 20s

This post originally appeared on my friend Chris’ blog Millenial Evangelical back in June 2015.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was sitting in our small bathroom in our one bedroom apartment in the early hours of July 4th. We had been married for three months, living blissfully with all of our secondhand furniture and hardly any money. I remember the conversations we had in the weeks before that morning, discussing how we wanted to be open to a plan we hadn’t really planned for. It was the morning I took my first positive pregnancy test.

Nearly four years later, and my husband and I are the parents to three boys at the age of 24. Don’t you know how this happens? Was this your plan? Yes, of course I know how this happens. And no, this was never my plan, but that surely doesn’t mean it’s a bad one. It may be hard to see through the craziness as an outsider:  the tantrums, the never-ending interruptions, the crying. But the joys of getting to love and teach my little boys hold much more weight than the difficulties.

1. Having babies at an early age means I’ll be 42 when my youngest is 18. Maybe that means I’ll be a hot mom? The least of my worries. But it will mean that all the traveling I’m not doing right now can happen once my boys are out of the house. It means we’ll still be “young” and hopefully agile. It means that while our peers have 10 year olds and are dealing with never-ending after-school activities, my husband and I will be able to spend a lot of uninterrupted time together. And when you have three kids aged three and under, you pray on your knees that you can conquer the next 18 years gracefully (or just the next 18 hours).

2. My toddlers teach me about the gospel everyday. The gospel isn’t out of reach for anyone my age, and having kids doesn’t make it more applicable. But on days when I am tangled in the thick of my worries, my oldest son will bring me back to Jesus. He’ll forgive me quickly and easily when I’m angry. He loves fiercely and without reservations. He learns about Jesus and says to me, “Mom, Jesus is number one!” and I am reeled back into the grace of my Savior with those words, praying I can find the zeal he has. Some days I pray so I can keep my sanity, while other days I pray because these little boys remind me of how gracious God is.

3. Kids connect people. Everybody loves a funny story about your kid. They’re great conversation starters. They’re also great excuses for getting out of lame parties or weddings. But when it comes to connecting with others, especially young, newly married couples, it can be awkward and uncomfortable. So sometimes it’s easier to fill in that weird silence with a funny story about that one time my 20 month old decided to wield a bread knife (which is a true story). Granted, I don’t only talk about my boys. But they sure do serve as a gateway to connecting with others when the task feels daunting.

Being young and having three boys is insane, tiring, surprising, messy…it is a lot. It is good. It is a glorious work that I am grateful I was chosen to do. And if I had the choice? I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Parenthood in my early 20s has been everything I wasn’t expecting. And frankly, I think that’s the best part.

The Weird & The Wonderful

When I started this blog two years ago, I had a little tiny idea in my head. I had two little boys to take care of, and I needed a place where the words swirling in my soul could escape. I could type faster than I could journal on paper, so I chose to write when I could. Whenever a kid was asleep, whenever a movie was on, or whenever I needed to feel remotely like myself, I was typing.

I started and never really tried harder than I needed to. I took my time. I warmed up to an audience I didn’t know. I opened up about my life because it’s what I know how to do best. It’s weird:  I have zero fear in vulnerability. God placed the pieces of my soul together and made vulnerability an easy one. I can reach within and find it like a familiar door in my house.

So I wrote. Never consistently, always only because I wanted to, never because I was asked to. Sometimes I would go months without it. Some weeks I would never pick up a pen and paper.

This year has been different in so many ways, and I don’t know how to explain it. I cannot pinpoint a moment in time where I realized what I needed to do and just did it. Mostly because it wasn’t me. It’s never been me. I went into 2016 thinking I could make it my best year ever, and then I just released it (no, shoved it) into God’s hands and said, “Yes. Let’s do this.”

It has been wonderful.

Weird in that I don’t know where this glory came from, because it feels like it just arrived like a sunny day. Wonderful because I know God brought it, He delivered, and then some.

The weird and the wonderful isn’t waiting for the year you turn 26 like me. It isn’t waiting for you to have kids like me, have more time like me (which isn’t true), or have everything I have. It isn’t waiting. It’s right here. This, whatever is yours, whatever God is crafting before your eyes, that’s the weird and wonderful.

I would spend a lot of time looking over my favorite bloggers’ and Instagrammers’ lives via the internet and think, “I can’t wait for that to be me. I want to be them. I want to have that. I want to preach it like they preach it.” Can I let you in on the secret? They’re not far off in front of you. Their lives are not unattainable. Even more, their lives are not the epitome of perfection. If I can be the woman to look back at those who are on this path too, this is what I would tell them:

You can preach it right there. Your audience could be one, and that is an audience worth the Gospel. You can stop reaching ahead and instead soak in the earth right under your feet and say it too: Yes. Let’s do this. What happens when we stop looking at everyone else with longing eyes and thinking we are not who God says we are? What do you think happens? I think you already know.

The weird happens. The wonderful. The things that don’t seem to make sense, and you start looking around and realize God is working, because you’re giving Him free reign. Your eyes are fixed on heaven, and don’t think I’m lying about that. The purpose of everything shifts to glory, and you can see your way. It doesn’t have to be clear, you just have to believe it’s there. The wonderful arrives, and you realize that this is all God, this is all His glory, and you get to relish in it.

God is doing something right here on Soul Strings. Most of me is looking around thinking, What? Surely this isn’t happening right now?! because it’s weird and wonderful. I’ve got my eyes up, gaze transfixed, path in front of me. I can’t see a thing, and you best believe I’m still running.