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...