"Working at a church you grew up in can be disastrous"

Before my husband took the position at our "hometown" church, we had a few people suggest that working at the same church you grew up in may not be the best choice.  That piece of advice definitely was something I took into consideration and it kind of always lingered in the back of mind. I worried that they would struggle to see J's potential as a working adult versus the student they remembered.  For some reason, that simple advice has lingered in the forefront of mind.  I found truth in something that may have contained zero truth and it allowed a dust of doubt to at times develop into dust storms.  Can that experience be truth to some? Absolutely.  Was that our current truth?
Not necessarily.
*side bar, if you are reading this and wondering if you suggested this to us, please understand it was not you..... these peeps don't read my blog.

This past Thursday marked one year of my dad's unexpected, world-shaking death.  If I think about him for too long in one sitting, before tears, I will get this pain in my chest, like someone is pushing my lungs together  And if I can endure that for long enough, I can get to the point where I feel physically ill.  I'm not a public 'displayer' of emotion. I will search for a corner or wait until everyone is asleep to cry.  I really don't even want to talk about it much because the disgusting thing that I think to say is, "you just wait".  The thoughts in the depths of my own humanity tend to lend itself to the most selfish parts within me.
A few weeks after dad died, I would go to Meijer and see these much older men limping into the store or standing outside the door smoking and I couldn't help but think, "how did you outlive my dad?" I think the concept of death is impossible to fully grasp. I don't think that concept is for me to grasp.
I sat outside Eagle a day after dad died when no one else was there. We had the normal post death family argument blown out of proportion because we were all tired and devastated.

And I ended up at the church.

I sat outside where the flowers would soon bloom and the sun was shining. It was nothing extraordinary but it was a moment.

You are not a good God. What is wrong with you?  What a waste of time. Are you even there? You are so mean. You didn't even let me say good-bye,  You are not good.  I remember one moment yelling over and over, "are you even there?"  until the words were so tangled among the crying and defeat.

Those were the thoughts cascading through my mind. I honestly didn't care how many people were inspired at dad's funeral. I would take every good thing from his funeral, I would take it away.  I would, with my own bare hands, rip it away from someone's life if that meant I would get my dad back.  I would carelessly, selfishly and with my ugliest self, rip any hope or eternal knowledge that dad's death could have given to someone else. I could have made direct eye contact and without a single apology, I could have easily yanked that from a stranger or loved one's heart....if that meant another moment. I would have ripped an eternity from someone else for a moment with dad.

It's hard to experience loss with no point of return.  The pain of loss displays itself in the most raw, desperate, heart wrenching, vulnerable and sometimes super uncool parts of ourselves. But those are still truths. Because the truth isn't always apologetically beautiful.

This morning our pastor mentioned the one year anniversary of dad's death.  I felt a sense of relief that dad's name was still being spoken. He gave specific details about walking into the funeral home and pieces that he remembered....pieces that I didn't know about because it was a blur. He hasn't just mentioned dad once. Within the past year, he has reached out to my mom, my brother, my sister and myself....simply remembering dad with us.
And today, would I take a piece of someone's hope away to have dad for a moment?
Yes.  But at least I can say that a year later, I would apologize while doing it.

I am also sitting in a cushion of wonderful family and friends within our community that have given me constant support and love. Friends that love not because they fully understand or can sympathize, but friends that almost wish they could fully understand the hurt.  I can't imagine desiring to carry the burden and pain of someone else.
Obviously, I'm the girl willing to remove a piece of hope from one person in an attempt to restore a large part of myself.

"Working at a church you grew up in can be disastrous", someone once told me.    

Or working in a church you grew up in means that it's likely that your family is still there, your friends that have been in the good, bad and the ugly are still there, and where a year later, your pastor remembers your dad on stage on a Sunday morning. Not because that memory will develop a burst in growth or financial gain......but because we are a family. And a family grows together.  We see the parts within each other that are quite nasty and we love well. We don't give up easily or with selfishness and ignorance but we choose to love through the mess.

I remember that day that I left Eagle a few days after dad's death and I asked Justin, "What if none of this is real? What if I am wrong about everything?" Justin responded with, "So what? There isn't any other model of life I'd rather follow than the life of Jesus." And just because all I can see and feel is my own pain at times, that doesn't negate the reality that outside the pain, I know what is true.

So when I walk into Eagle, I see the place I sat, cursed and cried under the late-March sun. I walk into the atrium and remember dad holding at least one grand-kid.  On Sundays, I see the chair he sat in. Three times a week, when I walk into work at Eagle, I walk through the moment where I was told that dad had passed.  I see the faces that I first encountered after my life had instantly changed. I walk through that sacred place that held a forever moment several times a week.

Thank you for those who have remembered with us. I understand that it can be uncomfortable to discuss, but sometimes it can give life to his memory.  And if you accidentally say something super stupid, relax. It's typically something one of us will bring up and we can all have a good laugh at.

I have no trouble remembering.
It's nice that you remember him too.

Bladder Control

No one should have to push when they pee.  It's unnatural.

This is something that I have realized over the past year or so, something new. In the past, I would sit and without any hesitation, it would come flowing out.  Now I don't know whether to blame this on the three children that sat on top of my bladder for 9 months each (Bram quite longer) or just a gift from the mid-30's committee. What's worse, sometimes I am thinking "Am I even pushing right now? How can such an important part of my body be so lazy!" And thank you Jesus that it's hitting a bowl full of water because sometimes only the sound of the trickling (I wanted to say splashing but trickling sounded more feminine) lets me know that I am in fact, still going.  Truth is, if I didn't hear it, I would stand up and have huge mess on my hands. 

(By me we all know I mean Justin...right? That's not weird.)

There is some sort of weird correlation between my bladder and grace. If you are a child, teen or in your early 20's you will need to find another example and most likely another blogger to follow regarding grace.  

Because pee is all I got.  *can this be a hashtag?

Six months ago, we had an unexpected tragedy that shook our lives. Let me be very clear, I am not going to blame my circumstances on decision after decision and allow that to dictate, and possibly, mutilate the life I knew before.  I do know that any life altering tragedy can turn everything upside down, and with a few shakes, throw everything out of place and then flip it back over. 

Six months ago I was feeling good.  I was on an almost three month run of exercising every few days, I was reading and focused on writing and pressing towards some goals that I had for 2016, I am pretty sure in one of my blogs I decided 2016 was going to be the 'year of Janna'.  I was on a pursuit to write a book and excited to do it. I knew it was going to be hard and mixed with some disappointment, but I just wanted to finish it regardless of the path it took.  I was spending time with God regularly and felt filled.  I could be around people for longer periods of time without feeling like I wanted a bear to rip my eyeballs out of my head (fellow introverts will understand).  Once I stopped taking care of myself spiritually, emotionally and physically I became a shell of who I was working hard to be.
 I wasn't something glamorous like a seashell but more like a cicada shell or an old snake skin.

*Please don't think this entire blog is centered around grief, there are many circumstances in life that cause us to derail.  My goal was for it to be centered around grace and caring for ourselves and souls.

I was functioning through the day to day routines, but I felt like a deflated balloon on the inside. The indicator that I noticed first was that I was using my grace reserves.  It was running low. 

And I tried... 

I tried, I tried, I tried.  

I tried to feel refueled but refused to have any quiet time since it was so hard.  I didn't want to stop and be still........didn't want to hear what was on the other side. I tried to get on a routine of better eating habits and regular exercise but one simple hiccup would throw me off and I would throw a fit, grab my yoga mat and run home. Some of my friendships felt hard and/or forced and in those larger group settings, I was just begging and pleading for that bear to come and grab my eyes.
"Sorry guys, we need to go....Janna's eyes were just ripped out of her head.  What are the odds!"  

Peace out.  

Distant provided a way to eliminate disappointment because I didn't have any grace. 

I self manufactured as much grace as possible and it felt unnatural and was most definitely unsustainable. Just like my bladder, I had turned tired, lazy, unpredictable, unable to jump on inflatables/trampolines, and I didn't know how to make it stop. 

So I have been on a journey. The Lord has had to show Himself to me in some painful ways that were literally uncomfortable, but I appreciate the fact that I am still pursued. I would love nothing more than to eat an entire thing of Pringles while watching back to back episodes of the Real Housewives or Roseanne (shut up) with a 32 oz coke, but the next day I would wake up feeling awful.  I felt guilty for zoning out from the kids, I felt physically sick, I felt easily agitated and angry, I felt like my soul was sucked dry, and I felt like not one person got the best of me. I ended every day feeling guilty and woke up everyday feeling exhausted and annoyed with myself.

Thank God that I am not meant to do this life alone and that every morning I can wake up and choose peace and love and life.  Thank you Jesus that the course of my emotional, spiritual and physical state can change by choosing simple acts of obedience where I feel personally led. The step may be as simple as choosing to listen well that day, and I will still bomb days. Oh the days I will bomb will be many but instead of lying amongst the rubble, I will dust off the debris and move into the next hour with an even greater sense of accomplishment for choosing to get up.  

I have a community of people that truly love and care for me and when I am surrounded by them, I would be sad if that bear came along and ripped my eyeballs out.  It's a lonely, bitter, painful, tiresome journey when you aren't honest with where you are and aren't able to let people in.

No thank you to that.

And let me be perfectly honest, extending grace to some people can feel like a UTI,...it's painful, it's pressured, it burns....and there are moments were you can sit on that toilet all day and nothing comes out.  Get that sucker treated.  When I extend grace, it's just as much for me as it is for them.

Because for the health of my soul, I will choose grace, and I will extend it freely. (like 80% of time, I feel like that's a realistic goal)

Lysa TerKeust says it best, "Bitterness, resentment and anger have no place in a heart as beautiful as yours."

Below are some questions I started asking myself several months ago in order to reevaluate my state of mind. And to all three of you who are reading this, please keep me accountable when you see me!  

What am I beginning and ending my day with?

Do I have people in my life holding me accountable in certain aspects of my life that I know I need to mature/improve?

What do I spend my day thinking about?

Am I taking time for myself to do things that I am passionate about?

How would the kids rate my engagement with them today? 

Am I able to easily extend grace and love?

World's Worst Relaxer

Today I decided to get microdermabrasion.  This is something, from my experience, that is coupled with a facial.  I would prefer to go in, let them suck all the dead skin off my face and simply walk out.

I am terrible at allowing others to serve me...even if I am paying for it.  My personality thrives on the ability to organize, with little to no surprises, where I can walk in somewhere and know exactly what to expect and complete a task.

My appointment was scheduled for 4pm.  

I was taken back to the restroom and she asked me if I knew how to use the lockers, which of course I had no idea how to.  I had been to that specific spa before but because of my in-frequencies, I had no idea...I can't even remember what I had for dinner last night.

The spa is a place where I am instantly insecure with every decision I make.

The lady asked what size shoe I wear.  In my head I was thinking, Should I ask if they have half sizes?  I like the sound of size 7 versus size 8...but will my toes be hanging over the edge? Crap...what size am I?  When was the last time I bought an actual pair of shoes...that weren't flip flops or slippers??

"I'm a 7."

So I stood in front of the locker looking at the robe and was confused as to why I needed a robe when she's only touching my face.  So then I was instantly stressed with what clothing to leave on and what to remove.  If I leave on too much I will look like a fool...if I remove too much I will look like I am expecting a full body massage.  

I made my final decision that I regretted 30 minutes later due to the fact that the face lady had to personally go around and move items of clothing I left on that I should have removed.

Next decision, do I change out in front of the lockers or go into a restroom?  I think I'm the only one in here so it's fine to change in the open space.  As I rush to change, causing my adrenaline to sky rocket, I hear a toilet flush mid-shirt removal causing me to panic.  The panic results in my hair getting caught on the buttons on my shirt and meeting the toilet flusher with my head stuck in my shirt and requesting additional help.  Luckily she never got a good look at my face because my shirt covered it.  

Ok, how do I activated the locker again?

Robe is officially on and my toes aren't hanging off the edge of the slippers.

I then began to remind myself of the additional instructions.  Get changed, locker instructions, and then go into the quiet room.  Which way is the quiet room?  I hate looking spa uneducated..

Of course I walk the wrong direction but quickly turn the other way with no one noticing but myself..success.

The quiet room is super quiet.  Just the elevator room music and some magazines but the lights are so low that I can't read the magazine.  I pick up a pamphlet that I can't see the letters on and try to look like I am casually relaxing.  In walks my face lady (seriously what would she be called..ugh...) and we head to the room.  

She tells me to get settled in and she will come back.  

What does settled in mean?  Remove robe?  I don't want some sort of harassment suite against me because of my spa ignorance.  

I felt like a risk taker today so I removed the robe and climbed under the sheets and stared directly at the ceiling.    

What do I do with my arms?   

Straight down or across my chest?

Across my chest they go.

She walked in and asked what I was looking for with the microdermabrasion.  I explained that my skin tone is really uneven and she continued to ask me about my day to day face care.  

If you know me well, you know that some days I wash my face and some days I have been known to re-wear yesterday's make-up.  She asked me if I exfoliated often...no.  If I wear sunscreen....no. However, I think my face lotion has an SPF.  I sure hope that wasn't a lie.

She told me about this make up that she would leave up front for me that has an SPF in it.  

"Sounds great!"  I said.

The next ten minutes I worried about how I was going to tell the lady at the front that in fact I didn't want to purchase the over priced SPF make-up....lady, I can barely wash my face on a daily basis.

Rookie mistake. 

She was doing her thing and I realized I hadn't swallowed in a while.  I didn't want to swallow when her face was so close to mine.  I was able to get a quick swallow in while she leaned towards the sink...but 2 minutes later I needed to swallow again.  

What's wrong with me?  Am I an over-swallower?  

So I went for it again and swallowed but I didn't fully commit so now I needed a throat clear which I was not about to do.  I had no intention of being "face lady's" Facebook status for the evening. 

50 minutes is a long time to keep your eyes closed when you aren't sleeping.  I had this sudden urge to just pop open my eyes.  I seriously could not control it....they just had to open.  So randomly, my eyes popped open and there we were...awkwardly staring at each other.  

*embarrassed grin

"Sorry, they just wanted to open."

Is that what I just said?  I am for sure she is taking a pic of me right now...I'm not only going to be a status update but a picture status.

Janna get it together.  

I was finally able to calm my mind enough to relax and realize that my legs felt rested and that it was nice to have my hands up by my chest....and then I started thinking how it felt like I was in a casket. Which of course made me think of dad which then made me cry.  

Oh yes...you guessed it.  

I cried.  

She saw a tear run down my face and asked if something hurt and I just mumbled "my dad died."

Janna, is this you getting it together?  Pull it together.  You look like an idiot.

I finished up the facial and walked back into the locker/restroom and realized I didn't memorize my locker number, I was probably too startled by my hair getting stuck on my buttons...oh yeah...remember that?

So I started mid-way, I put in my four digit code to three lockers before it sounded the beautiful "this is yours" sound.  

With all that said, today reminded me that some days I need to relax a little and let others take care of me because the days where people will need me are endless.

Lastly, I miss my dad, he would have thought that this was funny.

*I am attaching some pictures from the week of dad's death that are super precious to me and I just wanted to share. I don't have a blog to write about concerning everything because I haven't even had a chance to fully grasp it all.  Thankful for my family and all the support from our wonderful community around us that still ask and mention dad; because even though the actual weeks have been many...it still seems like yesterday. 

                 Dad's funeral clothes.

                    Kyle & Mom

                 Papa's grand-kids

            Lucy & Eisley

            Eliana, Bram & Jude

                 Liza, dad & me.

      Post funeral day.  I am getting some Emelia snuggles.

         Kyle & me on Easter Sunday

             Me and my dad.

      Becca, Meg, Kyle and me

            Me and Kyle.

Megan took our kids on more than one occasion so us "kids" could be with mom. Kyle and Meg took

Bram one afternoon and they spoiled him like an only child. 

            Mom and dad.

Year 1: Pastor's Wife- 3 Lies That I Thought Were True

My husband is a licensed pastor.  He was licensed last January and he is continuing on to be ordained by early 2017.
At home he asks that I refer to him as "pastor" or "master", I'm kidding......relax.

Growing up, the pastor's wives that I came into contact with were usually volunteers in the nursery, played the piano or answered the church phones.
My heart started this journey with it's feminist cape flying high. I never wanted to feel pushed into a role that only a "woman" or "pastor's wife" could or would fill because that's what I was (am), a pastor's wife.  Before any transition took place, I found myself in an underground tunnel with all the other outspoken pastor's wife refusing to disappear into the shadow of a title.
I had become a martyr.
Oh how time becomes the best source of knowledge, growth and maturity.

1.  I would lose my voice due to my gender.  What I had always seen as a child raised in the church was that it was a place where women were invited in...to do "women" type things. Change diapers on Sunday mornings, schedule the pot-luck or chili cook-off lunch every second Sunday of the month or lead a study on "How Can I Be More Like Christ, but the Female Version." It had always felt like such a male dominated world.  A little over a year ago, I felt the need to overcompensate, worried that I would lose my voice if I didn't put all my two cents in by the first month of his new job.  Needless to say, I had exhausted Justin by month two.  I don't know why the looming title on paper gave me the fear that he would think his knowledge and understanding dominated my own.  Instead of allowing us to merge ideas together and be a force, I easily divided us up before I gave him a chance to become settled in.  Justin is one of the most gracious and kind people I know.  He has taught me how to refrain from harming individuals and instead be loving, because seriously, when people refer to me as the church secretary, something super scary inside my body has to be refrained. They might as well call me the church uterus. My own deficiency is not due to the fact that I forget where I came from or what I have been through and all the forgiveness and tolerance that has been laced around my life, but simply to do with the fact that I expect everyone to do what I say.
What?  Is that so bad?  Smile.  It's a joke, mostly.
What's been really encouraging is that we have been surrounded by other pastors and couples that really love and embrace an obvious  resource, women.  How I have loved doing life with these people and how they are a constant reminder that yes, I desperately need Justin to lead our home but I also need to be heard.  I don't want Justin ducking down while I try and hold the umbrella to protect us from the rain, I need him to hold it.  But we are sharing the same umbrella, that's the part I am most excited about.

2. I need to be an extrovert.  When I picture Justin and I standing by each other, I see his kind face welcoming people over saying, "come, tell me about your day."  And then there's Janna.  More porcupine like with a face that obviously says "no thank you" and if you get to close I will start to shake my head to reiterate what my face already told you.  I did an experiment on my face with a friend at a conference.  When she sat in the aisle seat, our row was full.  Her face was welcoming and invited people to sit by us.  When I sat on the aisle, our row resembled that of a ghost town.  I even attempted a friendly face, but I think I just came off as sarcastic.  I am not a big party person or even large event goer.  I typically will say no to concerts (unless you offer me JT tickets, then I will go...alone of course), most of Justin's HSB concerts I steer clear of, holidays give me anxiety, any kind of large outing with people...I simply cannot handle it.
There is this expectation that because you are in ministry you enjoy large crowds, big events, showing off your Biblical knowledge;  "watch honey, I am going to show everyone up in the sword drill challenge at this party."
Cool.
Oh. So. Cool.
My social preferences lean more towards an introverted scene.  I love getting together with a small group of friends where they all love each other. I prefer small groups because I truly desire to know people and know them well.  I have really enjoyed making new friends these past few years and have allowed other women to speak into my life, without being offended or making excuses for myself.
Extroverts amaze me and some days I wish I could handle the stories, constant smiling, remembering people's names, and how they have enough of themselves to go around...that's my husband. He could be around people all the time and enjoy it.  His love languages are quality time and personal touch (of course).  Which is super interesting because mine are alone time and don't touch me.
I'm kidding.
Relax.

3.  We have to serve together.  Marriage was a commitment that I chose because I wanted to do life with Justin.  Life.  Life, for us, includes work.  Life includes my passions and his passions and finding a way to merge those together.  Obviously, we have enough in common or I would have lost interest almost a decade ago.  I am so thankful that I don't have to serve with him but that I get to.  I feel very lucky that we both have the opportunity to express ourselves creatively.
We brought the whole fam to help with Christmas tear down at church one Sunday evening.  I would like to quickly admit that I hate tearing down my own Christmas tree at home.  I have an organized rhythm going on for the first five minutes, then I start getting bored. and that, my friends, is why Justin hates putting the tree up.  The lights are a tangled mess, the ornaments are scattered in the tub and I'm pretty sure trash winds up in there as well.
Justin figured that taking three kids to help tear down would be more distracting than helpful.
I understood the concern.  However, this is the ministry that engages and teaches our children Sunday after Sunday and if this is a way we can serve together to help, well, I wanted to be there.  Lucy was so into it!  She had so much fun being part of a team of adults working together to get something done.  From my perspective, I saw my sweet girl being invested in by a group of amazing people. That place has become our second home and the people that walk in the doors have become our family.  And some of our greatest friendships have formed through serving together.
Serving has allowed me to see how health, joy, sacrifice and community can bloom while working together with others.

My type A, check list, overly organized personality has given itself freedom to dream alongside my husband.  Where we will end up someday, what we will be doing, all the unknowns of life-whether changing or staying the same-those things that used to frighten me now excite me.
With that same excitement I am thankful and loving the life we do together, today.
A new year has a way of bringing a fresh perspective and renewed understanding.  

P.S. One of my New Year's resolutions is to stop "nagging" Justin.  After a 30 minutes discussion over the exact definition of nagging (because I categorize it into, correct criticism, guidance, back seat driver and overall life help) we were able to negotiate some terms.
I'll keep you updated.

Normal day in the office...

With 3 children under our wings and our youngest being over two, we have been asked the question, "when is the next baby?" 

Because I appreciate others asking about our lives and loving on our children, that question doesn't bother me at all. It's wonderful having people that care and love enough to ask us "what's next" whatever that may be.

The truth is, I am satisfied with our family ratio.  I went into the beginning of our pregnancy with Zaza with the mindset that this was my last pregnancy, labor & delivery, infant, hospital visits...this was the last of those very specific, celebratory, joyous times.  In my heart, I feel a complete confidence with where we are at with our family and the number of family members that I am personally responsible for.  I understand that I have a working uterus and eggs that continue to drop. Trust me, I experience the aftermath on a monthly basis.  

The biggest struggle for me has been to admit that all of my reasons for having a fourth child are completely narcissistic.   

For me personally, there are most definite times during past pregnancies that I have felt a validation as a person, woman, contributor to society, bringer of newness (not an actual thing)....the truth is, I have felt the most important when I am pregnant or have a newborn to introduce.  People become a little more helpful, Facebook is a little more "likey", family and friends become a little more engaged and considerate...it's fun, exciting, and for a moment, I feel like I am giving something to the people I am needing the most affirmation from.  It's a brand newness that is immediately surrounded by an incredible, unwarranted love. 

When we decided that Zaza was our last, I was worried about having nothing else to contribute. I worried that that delicate time where others were eager....oh so eager to help, was over. That my Facebook likes and smiley lovey eyes would lessen because kids are not as adorable as babies.

We ARE pregnant!!!!  *Facebook likes & comments = Janna validated

It's a boy/girl!!  *Facebook likes & comments = Janna validated

Baby is here! *Facebook likes & comments = Janna validated

It was a struggle because my heart felt fulfilled but something within my head said that the days of extra help and maybe love and attention were redirected.  I was worried people wouldn't ask me how I was feeling or if I was sleeping through the night.  I have had several sleepless nights that were not due to restless babies,  

What if I am only as good as the next baby I have? I worried that with every passing baby, jealously would just well up inside me because my baby days were done and I would just be thrown to the side. What if the woman (me) behind the baby isn't as neat as the baby?

However, my sister-in-law gave birth a few weeks ago.  This is one of the first births of someone I am personally close to where I haven't had a baby of my own.  Which means that I have energy...a LOT of energy and time to give to this baby and the mama.  I am not too far removed to remember how exhausted I felt but far enough removed to not be that exhausted.  Instead of feeling an ache within myself to just have another baby because I am holding a baby, I feel a genuine desire to just enjoy the time.  It's been a realization that being a sister and an auntie is fulfilling and wonderful.

A shift happened in myself, where I became excited to help, visit and simply love my family without needing to compete.  These past few weeks have been so refreshing to my mommy soul because forever I will be a "mom" but only temporarily will I will be a mom to a newborn, toddler, middle schooler, teenager..... but through it all, we knew that three was the number we felt comfortable with. 

This is what I have to keep reminding myself:

-We both have decided that we want to be able to give the attention needed for each child and for us, this is our capacity.  In all honesty, 2 was our capacity but we can't really go backward now can we?
One of them we are just going to have to ignore...(oh relax, we ignore them all equally)

-We never want to have children due to difficult seasons within our personal relationship, a baby will never repair a marriage or circumstance(s).  I believe Joy is supernatural not circumstantial. 

-And I personally have realized that a baby will never fill a void within myself.  My own "baby validation issues" are something beyond pregnancy.  It's a recognition of something I need to work on within myself and also forming relationships that validate me for being just...me.

So go ahead, ask that mom with a 4 year old how she is feeling, truth is, her brain is probably fried from all of the world shattering questions her child keeps asking her.  Ask that mom with the student going off to college how her mommy heart is doing.  Ask that mom how her marriage is doing while juggling three children, work, life....
Ask that mom how she is doing as a woman.  Ask her what she is looking forward to for herself, ask her about the state of her soul, ask her about her dreams, ask her about her struggles.  Why do most women's eyes well up with tears when someone asks us about us....because it's rare.

There you have it, I have frequent narcissistic moments.  

*Lastly, if something happens where I do end up pregnant with a surprise baby, please do not shove this blog in my face.....that would be super uncool and I will unfriend you (and I may tweet something bad about you, like super bad...).

I would like to preface that I understand confidence is not built from the physical appearance, but to neglect the fact that more times that not, we look in the mirror and see things that we are unhappy with and sometimes things that don't even exist is ignorant.

I saw a picture of some college girls pop up on my Facebook feed a few weeks ago, as I am privileged to know some wonderful young women and I simply love following their lives' journey...even if it's through Facebook.
It was a picture of beautiful, bright-eyed young ladies. They all looked stunning. The comments below were each girl in the photo commenting on how either their arms looked fat, they looked intoxicated, they looked too tall (huh?), they accidentally stood too close to the skinniest girl (and we all know how that creates a false mirage)...so of course, I looked back at the picture to see what they might have seen.
I saw what I saw at first glance.
Confidence has been my word these past few weeks.  I had a mini melt down (don't all gasp at once) crying to Justin that basically I am "too old" to do anything that I ever wanted to do.  The Janna that wanted to go on Star Search or that practiced her smile and how she wanted to pump her arm with the award in hand.  And how my acceptance speech would just be something super cocky like, "I deserve this, it's about time. Sit down." Or how I practice my spin and smile like the Real Housewives. I've shown a few people and I think it's quite good.

Today while I was scrubbing my kitchen floors, I was trying to decide what confidence meant to me. People in general assume that when women want to be confident, a rally will take place and we are all of the sudden feminist.  I truly still don't even know what that word means. I am a female. I agree with the parts I was born with and I acknowledge they are there. See, I still don't know.

So here is my Monday's list of what confidence has and currently means to me:

Loving myself.  This is a battle I struggle with everyday.  I looked in the "skinny" mirror today (it literally elongates me, I don't know how) and told Justin how I wish this is what I looked like. I was totally posing and flipping my hair around.  I wasn't even fishing for a compliment..it's actually how I felt (feel).  Justin moved me to a different mirror and said this is how I like you.  I really have started training how my mind sees myself.  It's what us women are good at, we can point out our flaws in an instant and we think if we hurry up and do it it will be beat other people to the punch.  I refuse to let Sofia Vergara be the only confident woman in this world.

Becoming a pursuer of dreams.  Despite what Hollywood might tell you, my prime age was not 18. My age doesn't depict my capabilities.  Remembering that things do not come easy.  Work, work, work hard.  That hard work will pay off but for today, keep grinding through and continue to take pride in feeling like a super mom.

Confidence does not equal arrogance. So a beginning practice of me loving my outward appearance, aside from working on a bunch of yucky stuff on the inside, when people would compliment me I would mumble under my breath "I know." So my response to the "you look nice today" or "I like your hair" or "cute shirt" my response was always "I know".  Sounds pretty arrogant.  I get it.  But for me it was my two word phrase that was retraining my brain from the auto pilot of "ugh, I have a zit" or "I found a gray hair today though" or "this old thing, there's a hole under my armpit".  I would always deflect any compliment because receiving a compliment felt wrong, it felt....well....arrogant. Because confident women are not only those running a large company, accepting their Oscar, married to George Clooney...confident women can be anyone, anywhere.  I do believe true confidence starts from the inside and works it's way outward.  An infectious love for your uniquely created self.

Learning when to shut up.  I like to call myself "passionate".  It's how I excuse myself for losing my cool.  My husband has unfortunately seen the worst side of me when I become overly "passionate" (see what I did there).  However, with grace extended, he has also had a front row seat to my growth in this area.  There will be times when he will say, "I'm surprised you didn't say anything."  Oh, how I have learned that some times saying nothing holds more truth than opening my big mouth.

I believe women don't know how to respond to other women because we don't even know enough about ourselves. Social media for example...the few people that never like your profile pic or what you think to be your witty post...but they are quick to comment something sarcastic and a little hurtful when the opportunity arises.  Rest at ease, they don't have enough confidence in themselves so obviously it's not going to overflow to you.  AND then there are those wonderful women that are encouraging, that compliment other women, truly/genuinely excited for you when good things happen.  That's the goal, for myself.  I am still at the phase were some of this still feels forced but I know I am working on it, working to find the confident Janna that lies underneath the Star Search contestant hopeful, Brittney Spears BBF(ing), Today show guest, book writing Janna.

Refusing to drown in the dreams of my past and reach uncomfortably for the dreams of today.

Pictured below, one of the most confident woman I know...

I had this Valentine's day post all ready to go; however, I spent a lot of time painting and thinking today and I changed my mind.

These past few months, Justin and I have been dealing with some difficult things.  At the core, the issue does not lie within either of us about each other, but when any couple feels the weight of stress, frustration and hurt the tendency is that it overflows into daily life and typically, it's easier to hurt those closest.

I thought yesterday that Justin and I should do a project together.  In my head I imagined us engaging with each other and opening up all while keeping busy.  I forgot the hundreds of HGTV shows where couples did projects together that actually brought out the worst in them.  In our case, it began in silent painting...the sound of the constant brush motion along with the arthritis in my wrist flaring up. While I was sitting there I couldn't help but think that at any moment he was going to apologize for hurting my feelings because he was upset with someone else.

Paint. Dip. Paint.

At one point, I thought for sure he was crying thinking about how innocent I was in all of this.

Paint. Dip. Paint.

Okay...any moment he is going to start talking and just confess how in the wrong he was.

Paint. Dip. Paint.

Come to find out, I am quite sure he was thinking all of those thoughts, but in reverse.  Remind me next time when I send my kid to his/her room to think about what they have done.  Mostly likely they are thinking about how I handled it wrong.

I ended up breaking the silence.  As we talked, I kept thinking how much he hated the old paint color and that instead of just living with it, we chose to take the time to put work into it, to make it our own, to not just endure the mustard yellow walls that surrounded us every day. Same with our relationship with each other.  We will forever be making it our own, repainting when necessary and putting the day to day work into it.

What's interesting within both of our pain is that separately we are dealing with our own heartbreak in different areas of life and with that we are doing our best to navigate it together.  It's easy when one spouse is doing great and the other is down, the great picks the down up.  This is our first time where we both have felt down for a while waiting on the great to pick us up....where's the great???  Who is supposed to be the great this time??  Then we both end up laying there....waiting....too weak to pick the other up. You can lay on the floor forever, but you will never become a rug.

Personally, the past few months for me have been raw and emotional.  I have confided in a few but for me, it's better to not attempt to get the advice from too many people because instead of working through it myself, I fall too easily onto other people. This has been something that I have had to just work through, listen to others, pray, but ultimately go through all of the steps for myself. I think with all of the heavy processing going on in my head, when I get home it's easy for me to be a monster to Justin. I have to remind myself that it has nothing to do with him.  I think of the saying "hurt people, hurt people."

I am reading a book recommend by a new friend (that I stalked down in the clearance Valentine's day candy isle, just saying, you know it's a good woman when we met up there).  The author talks about how her and her husband are in South Bend and they decided to just leave all of their personal/internal junk there...in South Bend.
Justin and I agreed to do just that. That we were leaving years of mis-communication, hurtful words, prideful moments and arrogance at Lowes...in the tile aisle.

Since it's not natural for me to just let it go sometimes, I felt the need to bring it back up on the way home and so therefore we actually left our baggage on 650 but one more thing came up so technically the baggage of 10 years of unintentional or intentional hurt is sitting on Indigo Blue Blvd.  It cannot be picked up again, that's the rule.

There are times when you just have to let it go. That trying to figure it out or making it right just may not happen. Sometimes an answer and even an apology doesn't cut it. Will I get angry again about mostly stupid and petty stuff?  Of course. Will I get fired about things I am passionate about?  Yes and Yes. But I will always remember that the junk from yesterday and the days before are sitting on Indigo Blue Blvd.

I really love this new paint color.