Monday Musings – I Miss Writing

I miss writing.

Over the years, a handful of worthwhile endeavors have quietly stolen time away from my true passion; endeavors like creating a nonprofit and renovating a farm for my disabled son or necessary obligations like marketing and social media, or fun “let’s stretch Jess a bit” type of activities such as hosting a podcast, speaking engagements, or creating a documentary. Good endeavors, life-giving endeavors, but not THE endeavor that makes my heart sing. Not writing.

I resigned from teaching for the same reason. Teaching was a stable, worthwhile endeavor but not my endeavor and teaching left little time for writing. Life is full of complicated choices that involve either this or that and the choice must be made because otherwise neither this nor that can be done very well.

All I ever wanted to be was an author. As a young girl, I poured over Hemingway, Faulkner, and Graham Greene while my friends competed in sports and played spin the bottle. I was always a bit of a complicated soul who resonated with the likes of Sylvia Plath or Emily Dickinson; tormented writers, although my life was far too normal and suburban to be all that tormented.

Instead of living vicariously through small squares on Instagram, I lived vicariously through characters. Books provided an education to my naïve homeschooled life; an education about the world and human behavior including intimacy, sex, and desire. Yes, mom, I read smut by the light of the moon.

I penned my first poem at age 9 entitled When God Created the World and wrote Missy May, my first work of fiction, around 11. I KNEW they were brilliant, but no one else seemed all that impressed. In fact, my younger brother, the one who would become an attorney, he received most of the accolades when it came to writing, or intelligence, for that matter.

I didn’t care. The misguided affections simply lent credence to my theory that I was a tormented writer whom no one understood.

In 1999 I excitedly enrolled in college eager to enter the world of higher education which I was sure would affirm my talent, and again, no one had much to say about what I wrote. My professors often stated something to the effect of “There is so much potential here; however, you need to slow down and develop the content.”

Slow down.

Develop the content.

The Devil, most certainly, is in the details.

I am very much a “good enough” person. Good enough has gotten me far enough in many situations, and good enough was good enough at that stage of my life. I enjoyed the free time that the Bs allotted. I enjoyed not having to work so hard for A’s, and then there came a day when I had to give a speech.

My first speech ever.

It was called “All of my Heroes have Died,” a story of courage and valor, a story that retold the Columbine tragedy which had occurred only a few months prior. I read detailed notes as I clutched the podium, and then as I read the last sentence, I exhaled to calm my racing heart. I lifted my head and nervously looked out onto the room and met the gaze of approximately 20 faces and saw that most of them were wiping away tears.

And then I understood. Storytelling just might be my sweet spot.

That’s where I did enjoy the details.

That same year I showed up at an ex-boyfriend’s house and flung a bunch of poems at him – poems sharing the agony of my broken heart, poems like a bird stuck in a cage and chewed up gum under my shoe, overly dramatic hormonal ridiculousness. There’s no other way to describe it, but I do experience a smidgin of glee when I let my imagination run wild and allow myself to become a New York Times best-selling author. I imagine that maybe he still has those poems, and I wonder what he’d do if he realized that I had become famous. Or as famous as an author can be.

Another time I shared my poetry with a skeezy older guy I met at the gym, and the next day he asked if I was ok. I said then, (as I say now) yes, I’m fine. The thing is, I’m observant. Most of what I write is not about me. Most…

After college, I married Jason, a man I met at that gym, and we built our dream house for our dream life which included a third-story attic (my dream) where I would pen the great American novel, or so I thought. I occasionally sauntered up the stairs to put pen to paper, but then the birth of babies and special needs and brain cancer took over, and my manuscript gathered dust. I did write late into the evenings as I shared personal stories on my blog while my husband labored to breathe in the next room over.

Jason died in 2010, and a year later I packed up that dream house that had been built for a dream life that was no longer viable. I stuffed a pile of notebooks with half-written stories into a crate and began a new dream with my husband Ryan and our 7 children. I resumed a graduate program that I had begun years earlier, and on the last day, I handed in my final assignment; a paper that had become intimately intertwined with my own grief. Day after day I listened as the discussion dissected the hardships that many of the characters had endured; eerily familiar hardships like mine. I whispered an opinion a time or two but slowly let my voice fade when it faltered and then resigned to simply listening. For the final assignment, I wrote The Whiteman Road, one of the most deeply personal essays I’ve ever written, and the feedback I received agreed, “this paper is easily among the best, if not the best, in the class.” This admission made my heart soar, and I realized I still had words to write.

Our crew eventually moved to rural TN where I lived many of my stories and where I was asked to write my first real book Sunlight Burning at Midnight! I almost DIED of joy – a publisher wanted my story! That book was released, and I was asked to write another on blended life which I did in the middle of a global pandemic and then a poem went viral and reached millions of people, and that’s when I understood that not everyone was going to appreciate what I had to say. In fact, my truth might trigger responses in somewhere they would wish me dead. That was a hard lesson to learn. But my skin toughened up, as most skins do with scars that eventually heal, and I was asked to write another book, a book on marriage, but a nonsugar-coated book, which was just my specialty. My philosophy is “tell the truth or don’t waste your breath.” Nobody’s life is changed by reading sugar-coated spam, and if I agreed to write a marriage book, it would expose our scars. Healed over scars but deeply forgiven wounds, nevertheless.

I wrote that book, Lovin’ with Grit & Grace, and now we wait.

Ryan and I expectedly await your reaction.

And as we wait, I return to my first joy, my passion, writing.

These shall be called my Monday Musings, and they will arrive in your inbox weekly. They will hopefully be spirit led but sometimes the ego gets in the way too – that’s how it is with these human suits of ours. Some musings might be brilliant and some might be “good enough” but I hope they inspire you to lean into life, love deeply, be present, face hard things, make changes when necessary, and pursue joy above all else.

Just keep livin.

Pre-order Lovin’ here.

Tate Turns Ten!

Last night we drove home from a rare dinner outing as an entire family and Jada turns to Tate and very innocently asks, “Tate, how do you like your new blue bike?”  

The whole family out for dinner

 Ryan and I looked at one another in horror.  We had taken Josh and Jada out that morning to pick out Tate’s birthday present.  Problem was, we hadn’t given it to him yet!  He was getting it the morning of his birthday.  Ryan tried to brush it off as something that she was saying in complete ignorance, and I flat out lied, with a whole elaborate story, down to the minuscule details…
 
“Oh…. She must be talking about when I took her to Walmart the other day and we looked at princess bikes” I explained, not batting an eye. My husband looked on mortified at my ability to achieve such a statement with utter sincerity. I justified it later with the example of a wife asking if she looks fat in a dress and the husband says no even though she really does look fat. EXACT same sort of scenario – in my opinion.   
 
Tate just smirked at my fib and replied, “Yeah, probably.”
 
This morning, bright and early, he was given his “surprise” birthday gift. He loved it. 
 
 
 
 Over the past few days there has been quite a bit of deliberation over what the birthday boy wanted for his birthday dinner. He finally decided that it would be crepes with strawberries and whipped cream along with scrambled eggs and bacon.  His wish was his mother’s command, voila’! 
 
 
 
 
brown sugar bacon (aka “crack” bacon) doesn’t last long in our house
 
 The feast was completely consumed by all. 
 
 
 
And mom even had a little bit of time and energy left over to make some chocolate banana bread for tomorrow morning. 
 
  Just Keep Livin!!
 

Best 7 Reasons I Get out of Bed + Coffee


In honor of Mother’s day I’ve chosen to recognize 7 little people who have made motherhood a reality for me.  Caleb, Tate, Lucas, Mya, Mabel, Josh and Jada – you literally get me up in the morning and keep me on my toes (with lots and lots of coffee!).  Each one of you has brought such joy to my life in unique ways, and although I’m not always the greatest at remembering to tell you how much you mean to me, know from the bottom of my heart, that you kids are my heartbeat. 
 
Caleb – My first born son, named after one of the Biblical spies allowed into the Promised Land, a sign of God’s blessing upon our family.   You arrived in my life when I was merely 25 years old, and  I bore you with a great amount of pain and determination, but you were so worth it.  You were my “little beaner” and we were buddies from day one.  You have seen way too much in your short 10 years from your brother being severally handicapped, to your stressed out mom during many of those hard years, to accepting a new brother and two new sisters and embracing the fact that your mom would be spread even thinner than she already had been, to finally being the one to discover that your birth father had left our family to journey onward to his forever home.   I am so proud of the little man you have become.  I pray that you continue to find beauty in this world, continue to push yourself past all limits and continue to ask the questions that no one else will ask.  Always open your heart even when this world will send numerous blows your way. Continue to trust in HIM son, he we make all of your paths straight. Dad and I love you so much.   
 
 
 
 
 

 

 Tate, my son.  You ran circles around my brain for about the first year I was blessed to be called your mom.  I’ve never met a child like you who could literally talk all day long!  You always have a spark for life that has never faded, even when your own birth mom passed away and you were left with a gaping hole in your heart.  You, Tate, gave your dad hope so that he could move on and pursue love again, and you paved the way for your family to step out of grief and embrace the gift of a new family that God had sent their way.  Thank you Tate for being bold enough to speak it like it is.  Thank you for your tender heart and for accepting and loving me as your mom.  Thank you for always being cautious of not hurting my feelings or the feelings of others by speaking of things that would only be painful.  Tate, you have not let the hardships of life keep you down and instead you have risen to any challenge and have actually risen above and beyond anything we could have ever thought possible.  We love you buddy. 

Mya – You bonded to me immediately. We mirror each other in so many ways and that has made our relationship easy sailing at times and at other times some pretty rough waters.  They say, what bothers you the most in others are your own worst personality traits and tendencies, and I would have to say that is an accurate statement!   You are my wingman just as I was called upon to be a wingman in my youth, and that makes you helpful, a know it all, dependable, and absolutely necessary in my life as a mom.   You, my daughter, carry a special role in our family as the oldest girl, weight is put upon you that is not always fair but you never balk at what is needed or asked, you just fulfill your role quietly and respectfully (usually).   You have an old soul brought on by heartache and life but right now, in this moment, I’m so thankful that I get to be your mom.   Thank you for accepting this role so easily and readily. Thank you for loving me and welcoming me into your heart.  Keep your eyes on Jesus and he will direct your path. I love you Mya Dru. 

Mabel Grace.  Oh sweet pistol girl.  I wanted you so badly.  Actually I wanted a daughter so badly and when you were lifted out of my stomach and the doctor said, “It’s a girl!”  I just wept.  You have brought a smile to my face during some of the darkest moments a person can walk through.  Sweet girl, you were so oblivious to the pain surrounding your first three years of life, your birth daddy being diagnosed with brain cancer months after you were born, chemo, radiation, Luke’s brain surgeries, another terminal brain cancer diagnosis and finally the death of your first father.  I’m sorry I didn’t have any better answers for your little three year old heart when you awoke to find him gone the next day.  I’m sorry for the confusion and the pain that you’ve endured in your short 6 years.  I’m sorry that I checked out on everything for those three dark months after his death. I thank God every day for sending you a new daddy and for the bond of love you have with him.  Keep your fire my little pistol, it will serve you well (most of the time) throughout your days.  Along with that fire, carry your sword of the spirit and nothing will be able to sever you from your path.  I love you sweetie. 

Joshua  – my sign of a promise, named for the other spy who could enter the promised land.   I had no idea why in the world I would wind up pregnant during the worst possible time in my life with your birth father on chemo and radiation.  It seemed like you had to be a sign of a promise for my life, and you were actually a sign for something so far beyond anything I could have comprehended or conceived in those moments.  You provided me with something to live for during those months when your birth father could live no longer.  You gave me hope and a promise for a better tomorrow and that better tomorrow has been fulfilled for me, you kids, and your birth father.  I look at you today, all little man of you, at 3 years old with a gun shoved down your pants just like your big brothers and marvel at what God pulled together in your life.  You now have a sister you couldn’t’ live without and a brother who is not your blood but probably more your brother than any other family member, and a daddy who you love and who loves you.   Little boy, God knew what he was doing when he placed you in my womb.  Thank you Joshua Isaac for something you have no comprehension of right now, thank you for being born for such a time as this and allowing your mother to believe again that there would be beauty from the ashes.  I love you crazy boy. 

Jada –You dear little girl, I love you ferociously but at times, my goodness….  You have a stubborn tenacity that would be hard on any woman. I didn’t have the chance to bond with you in my womb, and I didn’t bond with you in your infancy either.  That was a gift you gave your birth mother, and I’m sure you made her final days here on earth full of peace and joy while cradling you in her arms. In fact, you came into my life during the “stinker” years of 1-3 and those aren’t easy for any mother, let alone a mother who hasn’t had any initial bond with a child. I have prayed, many, many prayers of patience and understanding during these last two years.   We, little Jada Alexis, are finding our sweet spot finally.  I am thankful to be your mom, and I’m thankful for the stretching and pulling of my faith and life that you have brought.  I’m thankful that you have sent me to my knees repeatedly in an effort to seek God’s will for my children. Jada, you are my princess girl.  Always remember, I love you, I want to be the mom you need more than just about anything, and that I chose you because of that unconditional love.  I love you princess. 

 
Lucas Aaron Ronne – you have changed us all for the better.  People wonder what the purpose of your life is and it is such an absurd question.  You find joy in every single day.  I don’t think many people can say that.  You find joy in school, in family, in movies, in music, in food, and in chocolate milk.  Every day, these things bring joy to your life.  You don’t wish your life to be different, just as I don’t wish my life to be different.  We are all in God’s perfect will just exactly where we are and that’s the best life you could ever live – smack dab in his will.  You, little boy, are such a blessing and in fact, I believe that your life isn’t even necessarily about you, your life is about everyone around you and how we each change because you miraculously live.  You dear boy, are a miracle.  My beautiful family is a miracle and just as you don’t wallow in your limitations, we also don’t wallow in our loss, and instead we rejoice in what was created from the loss.  Here’s to you Luke, “let’s give ‘em something to talk about….!” 
 
 
 

Like Peanut Butter and Jelly


One of the questions we most often hear in regards to our family is,

“Do all the kids get along?” 
The answer is yes.  They have gotten along beautifully from day one.  They met, bonded, would become annoyed with one another and then act like best friends two seconds later.  Within months they acted as if they had always known each other.  People have commented on how it seems like our family was always meant to be, and we feel that as well.   They all look like they could be blood brothers and sisters, their names flow as if one set of parents named them, and usually most folks can not figure out which are Ryan’s blood and which are my blood. We love this and it makes all of them more secure in the knowledge that we are one big, generally happy family.  
Caleb and Tate, our 10 year olds, act like typical brothers.  They usually complement each other really well.  Caleb is quiet, introverted, really smart, a ferocious reader and a first born.  Tate is also a first born, although he doesn’t fit the typical first born mold as well as his older brother; which is interesting because he technically gave up the title of first born when we joined families in 2011.   Tate is extroverted, life of the party, never knew a stranger, and confidently throws himself into anything.  Caleb has brought calm and structure to Tate, and Tate has brought confidence and a social aspect to Caleb.  They are like ying and yang or some kind of crazy. 
Mya and Mabel are like peanut butter and jelly.   Mya is quiet, introverted, not so sure of herself in new situations, so helpful and really wants to please those in authority – kind of like a smooth spread of jiffy.  Mabel on the other hand – there is nothing quiet about this child, she’d be jalapeño jelly if she were a flavor – the life of any and all parties. We never worry about her hiding information from us or being sneaky because she’s the type of person who just does whatever she’s going to do boldly and in your face, regardless of what you think about it!  We joke that we will be dragging her down from telephone poles one day (or hopefully not other types of poles).  She is extremely colorful, loud, extroverted and smart as well.  We discovered, to our amazement , that she is quite intelligent. At a recent parent teacher conference we were informed that Mabel was moving up from her kindergarten reading curriculum to 1st grade curriculum because she had completed all of her work. These two sisters are as well, a perfect mix of two delicious, two completely different substances to make one dang good sandwich at the end of the day.  Mya helps Mabel, she mothers her, encourages her, and I truly believe that Mabel pushes Mya out of her shell a bit.  They are going to be an interesting pair to watch as they enter their teenage years.  
Luke has enriched all of our lives in ways we could have never predicted.  He has opened the eyes of the kids to how special those who are different from the “normal” can be.   As a family we have cheered on his accomplishments, like walking, talking, and waving goodbye, and we all prayed intensely as he was rushed to ER yet again.   Luke’s favorite person right now is Mya.  She recently began feeding Luke breakfast on the weekends. We agreed to this arrangement because, honestly, it bought us an hour of sleep.  We decided to have a trial run one morning and she did fantastic.  She got him up, fed him his breakfast, washed his face, hands, and tray, and then brought him back to his room where he was promptly placed in front of a video. One morning when I was awake early, I fed him, cleaned him up, took him out of his chair and attempted to bring him to his room and that’s when he saw Mya out of the corner of his good eye.   He immediately left my side, walked over to his sister, grabbed her hand and they started singing Veggi Tales together.  Hand in hand, 8 year old Mya led her very special 8 year brother down the stairs to his room.  
Josh and Jada, the three year olds, -they play together, fight together, and have each others backs against all of the bigger predators of the house.  They will never know life without one another and they will never know life any differently than what they have now.  I envision them being best friends for years to come. Every child wants to feel truly a part of a family unit, and I really believe that all of our kids feel like we are a family, mom and dad, brothers and sisters, joyous days and pain in the rear days. It has been a huge blessing to not have sibling issues or even any catastrophic parent/child struggles so far.   We had one major incident when 1 year old Josh met 1 year old Jada for the first time.  They were both standing on my old deck getting to know each other.  Josh had not been around other small kids very often, and he had a tendency to be a little mischievous.  Jada also was not used to being around another little person about her age, and she tended to shy away from this creature with a sly smile etched across his face.  Ryan and I were visiting with one another and within one split second, Josh saw Jada standing at the top of the deck steps and decided to reach out and push her down 8 wooden stairs.  She lost her first tooth that night; to the utter amazement of her older brothers and sisters.  
They all get along, and we are eternally grateful for that, and it just goes to show, when God is in the midst of the journey, things just seem to fall into place in unexpected, yet beautiful ways.  He makes all things beautiful.
Beauty from ashes…

Just keep livin!!