June 9

June 10, 2016 Jacqui

HELLO!

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. Occasional cusser. 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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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

Oh hay, Spring, haaaaayyyy! 💜🎉

It’s true what they say. There is nothing new under the sun. So maybe, then, when God says, “behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19 ESV), what He really means is that He’s doing the same old thing He’s always done––making a way where there is no way, loving a desperately unlovable, wandering people, rescuing us one minute at a time, taking kerosine to our weak candles and scorching death for his glory, fighting relentlessly to woo His people back to Himself so we may live whole and free––but He’s using new people. New voices. New experiences. New perspectives. New dollar store bargain candles. We are not writing our own stories as much as we are simply re-writing His.... ✨Resurrected the neglected blog today. ‘‘Tis the season for such things, no? New post—for when you feel your light flickering out—link in profile. ⬆️

While I was at a local writers conference today, this little guy was living his best painting life at #renewthecity! 🥰🎨☀️ He’s going to sleep good tonight! (I hope 🤞🏻😬) 📸: @juliette.massey 😘

Will we ever understand the gospel of grace? The furious love of God? The world of grace in which we live? Jesus Christ is the scandal of God. In gratitude and wonder, we stand on holy ground.

$Exactly two months ago was my first day back to work in over a decade. Actual clock in, clock out, paid twice a month, need to file taxes next year kind of work. Sometimes I think maybe “work” should be in quotations as it’s only six hours/week, but I keep reminding myself it still counts, especially because I spend the time managing 30+ rowdy students in an aftercare program. A couple weeks into the fray, when I was still trying to memorize names without the help of labeled desks and juggling an ever-revolving schedule of after school extracurricular activities in one hand and a vital attendance sheet in another, one of the little boys asked me to close my eyes and hold out my very full hands. In it, he placed this heart with a wide-eyed smile. After thanking him, I himmed and hawed and tried to give it back. More than once. Really, you can keep it. Don’t you want it? I said. But he insisted. I nodded okay with a wink and stuck it in my purse for safe-keeping. He came back around a few more times that day to ask if I still had his heart, peering hesitantly into my purse to see if it was there. Each time I said, “yep!” and pulled it out to show him. Flashing me a scraggle-toothed grin of approval, he’d bound off to play again. His broken, bargain-bin plastic heart still sits in my kitchen today. I can see myself in its likeness—fractured, imperfect, often cheaper than I’d care to admit. But I wonder, isn’t that what we all really want to know at the end of the day—do you still have my heart? And can you see it for the gift it truly is?$

Exactly two months ago was my first day back to work in over a decade. Actual clock in, clock out, paid twice a month, need to file taxes next year kind of work. Sometimes I think maybe “work” should be in quotations as it’s only six hours/week, but I keep reminding myself it still counts, especially because I spend the time managing 30+ rowdy students in an aftercare program. A couple weeks into the fray, when I was still trying to memorize names without the help of labeled desks and juggling an ever-revolving schedule of after school extracurricular activities in one hand and a vital attendance sheet in another, one of the little boys asked me to close my eyes and hold out my very full hands. In it, he placed this heart with a wide-eyed smile. After thanking him, I himmed and hawed and tried to give it back. More than once. Really, you can keep it. Don’t you want it? I said. But he insisted. I nodded okay with a wink and stuck it in my purse for safe-keeping. He came back around a few more times that day to ask if I still had his heart, peering hesitantly into my purse to see if it was there. Each time I said, “yep!” and pulled it out to show him. Flashing me a scraggle-toothed grin of approval, he’d bound off to play again. His broken, bargain-bin plastic heart still sits in my kitchen today. I can see myself in its likeness—fractured, imperfect, often cheaper than I’d care to admit. But I wonder, isn’t that what we all really want to know at the end of the day—do you still have my heart? And can you see it for the gift it truly is?

Soo....I thought April Fools’ Day was tomorrow? 🤔☃️😳 #fakespring

After a series of texts about mission statements and community center layouts and other info from a conference he attended this morning, my husband sent me this photo. No caption. “Ha, I would’ve taken a pic of that. 😂” I quickly responded. He knows this. I’m simply stating the obvious. And it wasn’t until after I’d moved on to the next thing that I realized it—this picture is a love note. Although I’m beginning to appreciate the ministry of a fresh bouquet, I’m far too complicated to be appeased with chocolate or body lotion or probably even jewelry. This has been a wedge in our relationship at times—could I just help a guy out and let him know how to make me happy already?! But pictures of the random, the easily overlooked, and the often passed by? Glimpses of beauty and goodness in the midst of the mundane? This is my language. I will stop dead in the middle of the road, turn around four times if I have to, or run outside without a bra on in my crazy pink house shoes to get the shot. He knows this, too. So today when he looked up, he thought of me. Me in all my weirdness that is still his mystery to figure out. Almost fifteen years later, he’s still trying, and gosh do I love him for it. 🥰💕💌

Paying attention. Feeling all the feelings, even the uncomfortable ones. Inhaling. Trying to replace the overwhelm with joy. The lies with truth. Wonder. Exhaling. Closing my eyes. Opening them again with a prayer to see anew. Calling it good. Believing it matters. All of it. 💙