The Good Wife Chronicles: Those Flirty Ladies

I watched from a distance a couple of weeks ago as another woman laughed, giggled and flirted with my husband. Since my arrival in Small Town USA, watching this woman attempt to lure my husband's attention has become something of a past time.

Most of the time, I chuckle at her. My husband, bless him, has no idea she's flirting with him. He has no idea that she's throwing herself at him. In fact, he's so blind to it, most of the time he doesn't even look in her direction when she's obviously trying to charm him. I won't even delve into the million sneaky ways she attempts to touch him.

I probably should say something.

But I don't.

You're probably wondering why I don't pull her aside and explain to her she's being disrespectful to both me and her husband.

You're probably wondering why I don't tell my husband to avoid her at all costs.

Those are valid questions.

And they cross my mind every time I watch her sneak her way over to my husband with the sole purpose of stealing his attention.

But as someone who watched her father be lured away by a similar woman, I can confirm that no amount of demanding, explaining, or talking to will eradicate the situation. In fact, I oftentimes wonder if we pushed my father out the door demanding he act like the respectful, loving father and husband he claimed he was. Maybe things would have been different if we had tried to win him back to us with kind words and encouragement. What if we had truly loved him better instead of being angry?

No matter how much we demand, men are only human. And my short 25 years have taught me that a man will always be charmed by another's smile when his wife doesn't have one for him.

Instead of throwing a fit, I view this married woman as someone competing for my husband's attention and affection. I could go blue in the face trying to convince my husband he must love me for all the days of my life on this earth, but as someone who considers herself a marriage realist, let me just say that my husband won't always love bitter, angry, demanding me.

And could you blame him? That's not the woman he fell in love with.

He loves adventurous, carefree, laughing me. That's the me I hope to always be. That's the me I hope he sees the most of. That's the me I pray continually wins his heart over and over.

After we had been dating several months--which feels like 50 years ago--there was a young woman who came along and told my husband that she really liked him and wanted to start a relationship with him.

At this point, my husband and I were 1,500 miles apart and he really could have done anything he wanted. But he gently explained to her that a woman half the country away had his heart.

Friends, I hope to always have my husband's heart so that if we ever find ourselves in this situation again, he can loudly proclaim that it is me--not some other woman--who won his heart and has kept it.

Here's the bottom line: if there was ever a line crossed where I began to worry about my marriage, I would talk to my husband. I wouldn't grow bitter; I'd spend every waking moment proving to him that he married the right woman.

For now, I pray endlessly for my husband. For his heart. For protection. For the temptations this world throws at him. I encourage you to do the same. You don't know what the dark principalities of this world have planned to lure him away from your marriage. Satan will do everything in his power to destroy your marriage. Don't let him. Don't let bitterness open a door for Satan to enter your marriage.

When my husband blindly misses the desperate woman throwing herself at him, I just praise God. Because my marriage won't survive these flirty ladies if I'm not in constant prayer about my marriage.

Ladies, don't grow bitter or get angry when you find women behaving this way. Remember: you married a great catch! And if you want to keep your great catch, never stop dating him. Never stop pursing his heart. Your marriage just may depend on it one day!

What You Have That No One Else Does

God is always faithful at teaching me life-altering lessons.

The kind of lessons that leave me shaking my head in frustration with myself.

They're always simple lessons, but I always make them more complicated because I refuse yield.

Yield.

It's a small word, so why is it impossible for me to do sometimes?

As a teacher, I've come to rely tremendously on my God-given talent to over-prepare and then go with the flow.

Oh, there's also that God-given talent that allows me to stand before a room full of people and not once feel a twinge of nervousness in my gut.

But I pray. Oh, do I pray. I pray about my lessons, my students, my testimony, my protection.

Prayer helps me carry on conversations easily and with God's help I have mastered the art of small talk.

So, when an unexpected phone call caught me off guard, telling me I was failing in these areas, the last thing I wanted to do was 'yield'.

Instead, I listed off credentials, told myself it wasn't my fault, and then decided I was determined to prove myself worthy of the title I had been given.

Then, I wanted to quit and give up. A few days later, I wanted to sit down and yell at the people who had caused me grief.

They made me feel small and unimportant. They made me question what I was put on this earth to do.

Truth be told, I felt worthless.

But here's the thing: I matter.

And God gently reminded me that even if I didn't have the credentials, the recommendations, and a good reputation, I'm still His. And because I'm His I'll always be loved and adored and important. There will always be a place for me in His kingdom. I'm not just a woman trying to make a good life for herself and sharing her talents with this world; I'm the daughter of the Creator of the Universe whose power is limitless.

Even if I had no talent--even if I had nothing to offer--I'd still be important in the eyes of God.

No one can take that from me.

So, I brushed it off. I said one big, long prayer and thanked God for the simple fact that even when I'm nothing to this world, I'm still His everything.

Here's what I've learned in the past two weeks:

I have what no one else has.

I live in a way that's different from everyone else.

I have unique quirks and talents.

I have the ability to do things for people that no one else can.

And my dear friend, SO DO YOU.

You matter.

You are important.

You are UNIQUELY YOU.

When the world tries to tear you apart, remember these words: "The one thing you have that nobody else has is YOU. Your voice, your mind, your story, your vision. So write and draw and build and play and live only as YOU can."

Even Still, It Is Well With My Soul

Photo cred: pinterest.com

Whether you've just come out of a battle, are heading into one, or are in the midst of one as you read this, may you find your way to a church pew this morning and cry from the depths of your soul:

"Even still, it is well with my soul!"

Life is filled with good and bad. May this be the reminder you need to remember this: whatever season you find yourself in, God is in control. 

Nothing misses the watchful eye of our Father. 

God Bless,

Jessica

Why Every Teenage Girl Needs To See 'Grace Unplugged'

*Warning: this contains spoilers*

I remember being 17. I had huge plans. Plans to conquer the world. Plans to run far away from my home. Plans to be someone important.

The funny thing about plans is that they often fall through because life is messy. 

And God's plans are always bigger and better than ours.

When I watched Grace Unplugged last night with my husband, I felt transported back to a time and place very different from where I am now. I was transported back to those last days of high school, when I was convinced that someday I would be a famous writer or CFO of a Fortune 500 company. 

Today, my titles are a little different. I'm sure the 17 year-old version of myself would have a meltdown if she saw me today. I'm simply a wife, Sunday School teacher, and small business owner. And I'm perfectly happy with that.

I couldn't help but smile as I reflected back to those naive years filled with selfish ambition. That's why I immediately identified with the main character, Grace. I saw a lot of myself in her, like most girls and women will when they sit down to watch this movie.

Grace Unplugged begins where all the best movies start: with a young woman in search of something more. Following in her father's footsteps, Grace pursues a music career in Hollywood. What she quickly discovers is that Hollywood doesn't have room for her faith or her God. Only her talent.

Her manager begins working on her image as soon as he gets the go-ahead from the record label exec. So, they change her clothes, give her a fancy car, and set her up with a teen heartthrob. But Grace finds that she must sacrifice a lot of herself to become the latest pop-sensation.

Something really struck a chord in me when a rival pop star sits down with Grace and tells her that her body can be used as "currency" in the new world she finds herself in.

In silence, I wondered for a long time how many other pop stars had to give up their innocence--their virtue--to get where they are today. I concluded that most of them probably had to give parts of themselves away to gain fame and success. And that just breaks my heart.

Grace Unplugged shows the ugly side of a business I try my very best not to pay much attention to. It's why I rarely watch movies, buy music, and cringe at some of the things I see on TV.

No, I'm not a prude. I simply don't want my home filled with anything bad. My home is a safe haven--not a place to display the dark sides of the culture we live in.

And let's be honest: what Hollywood is selling today isn't a good example for young girls.

Sex.

Money.

Social status.

The idea that we must give up our morals and values to be well-liked and well-received by the public. 

So, when my pastor's daughter recommended Grace Unplugged to me, I really was eager to watch this movie.

There is nothing more satisfying than watching a father fight for his daughter and her faith. There is nothing more satisfying than seeing a young woman choose to turn her back on fame and success because it required her to walk away from her God. 

I truly believe the best part of this movie was watching Grace and Quentin's friendship bloom in the midst of her great trial. Because that's how God works. He always puts the right people in our lives at the right time to remind us how much we are loved and adored by Him. Quentin interning at the record label was by no means a coincidence; he was put there to steer Grace back to her faith when Hollywood was forcing her to leave it far behind.

Every teenage girl needs to see this movie because it's a real and honest portrayal of why there is nothing worth pursuing in this world other than God. 

Sometimes, we do walk away from our faith for a season as young women trying to figure out this life. But God is always faithful to receive us back when we realize life is empty and meaningless without Him.

This movie was a great reminder that God doesn't plant dreams in our hearts to crush them. Instead, Grace was able to fulfill her dreams on her terms--not on Hollywood's. She didn't have to walk away from God to be a performer. Her dreams did come true. And though she doesn't grace the cover of Rolling Stone magazine like so many other young women chasing fame, she honors and glorifies God with her music. 

That is a message worth sharing with our young women: we don't ever have to abandon our faith or innocence to dream big. We just have to trust God.

To purchase Grace Unplugged for the teenage girl in your life, check out MY STORE now. 

The Truth About Just Getting Over It

God always does his best work in me in a pew, in the very back of the sanctuary of the church I attend each week.

No, I'm not always touched by each message. Because each message isn't for me. I sit in a room full of broken people who are more like me than not.

Because we all sin.

Because we all fall short.

Because we are all adored and loved by a God who calms the oceans that rage against the sandy shorelines.

And God knows that we all have different needs and that different words will strike different chords in different hearts.

I have been a Christian for a long time, though I haven't always lived like one. I have always known that my home is somewhere far beyond the stars that light up the sky each night. I have always known that Jesus died on the cross over 2,000 years ago so that I could be free today. Free to love. Free to choose. And free to just be myself.

But that doesn't mean I'm exempt from bitter seasons. From hard ones. From pain or suffering. In the wise words of Rick Warren, "Life on earth is just the dress rehearsal before the real production."

Sometimes, I endure long months of rough seasons. And most of the time, I come out of them stronger and better than before.

On occasion, I'll leave those seasons bitter. Because life has brought up moments from a dark past that can't be forgotten, though they can be forgiven.

I may be 25 years old, but I'm still dealing with things that transpired 13 years ago--with my parents separation and the rough years that followed.

I've been told numerous times to "just get over it." By the people involved and by outsiders. But regardless of how many times you tell me to "just get over it," I won't get over it until I understand it in a way that makes sense to me.

I'm no longer broken by it. I'm no longer tied to the past because of it. I'm just trying to make sense of it one last time.

I have a beautiful life filled with genuine people who love and care for me in ways that I've never been cared for before. But when my husband and I talk about starting a family, my palms get sweaty and I shut down. I have to search myself over and over again, reverting back to my childhood and wondering what could cause a man to leave his children's mother.

I'm not afraid of my husband leaving me. I spend every day being the best wife that I can and the truth is that I can't do anything more than try to win his heart over and over again and pray for our marriage. I made peace with that a long time ago.

My greatest fear in this life is that my children will ache and suffer the way I did and I could never live with myself if I had to watch them lose everything. So I put off the "children talk" and postpone it year after year as I try to make sense of my own childhood.

The good news is that with the help of a few close family members and mentors, I'm understanding the great need to forgive with finality this time. To close the door. To allow things to just be.

Here's the conclusion I have come to: the more people say "just get over it" the harder it is for me. I want to; I really want to. I want to make peace with my childhood and grow. And I'm on my way. It's proving to be a slow process, though.

We can't expect people to just get over things in this life. Choices change us. People change us. Circumstances change us. Some are out of our control. And we have to make sense of them and find peace.

Don't push people to get over things before they're ready. Instead, pray for them. Encourage them. Help them to make sense of the past by listening and steering them toward the one who can heal all hearts: Jesus. The more time we invest, the more chances we'll help change a heart for the better.

--Jessica

Why Do We Have to Learn the Same Lessons Over and Over Again?

Why haven't I nailed this yet?

I thought it was a good question. I was in the midst of many trials. But I was grateful. Grateful that I have a wonderful husband to help shoulder the burdens. "Two are better than one..." (Ecclesiastes 4:9). It was proving to be more true as the hard days wore on.

Most of the time, it felt like we were walking through fire. We were dealing with the insurance company over an accident I didn't cause and even tried to avoid. We were dealing with family drama. My husband was trying to sell an app to his company and under a lot of stress. And I was struggling to do that which God had laid on my heart: to be a good wife. On top of that, I was also trying to love people well. And I was failing miserably.

I was driving home after teaching a class that tried my patience and made me doubt my teaching abilities. I was talking to God, telling him I had lost the desire to love people well.

I just don't love people like I used to. I don't have a love for people like I want to--like I know you want me to have. How do I change this?

At that exact moment, a deer stood along the road, staring at me as I passed by. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw several cars behind me. 

Lord, please keep this deer off the highway. Don't let it dart in front of those people behind me.

I watched in my rear view mirror as the deer turned and headed back into the wooded area it had emerged from minutes earlier.

That's when God gently reminded me that my love for people was still intact; it just wasn't a priority like it used to be.

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Why do I have to learn the same lessons over and over again? Because the lessons are hard. And God's aware of that. He knows we won't always have these lessons nailed down. From time-to-time, a lack of sleep, busyness and the many tasks God has handed us will try our patience.

If you feel like you're failing today, don't fret. Sometimes, we have to re-learn the lessons so we can be solidified in our faith that God's mercy, grace and love truly are endless.

An Open Letter To My High School Psychology Teacher

Dearest Psychology Teacher,

I recently looked you up on Facebook. I'm not sure why. I suppose when a teacher tells a promising young student, "you will never amount to a whole lot," it sticks with that student long after leaving the treacherous halls of high school behind. Halls you helped make treacherous for a young, troubled teenager trying to make sense of her parents' divorce. 

Yes, I did go to that community college you repeatedly told me I would drop out of. I received two degrees. Two. And did so well in my Psychology class there that I didn't even have to take the final because the teacher said there was no need to. 

Yes, I did go on to a university, majoring in Accounting. I also took a few Psychology classes there. All A's. I guess I probably did well because I was no longer a young woman trying to figure her life out; instead, I was a young woman working on making a better life for herself.

As I was on my way to a meeting in May, those terrible words you spoke over me nearly 7 1/2 years ago, came flooding back. 

"You will never amount to a whole lot."

They came flooding back as I drove down the highway, thanking God for the numerous teaching jobs I consider my calling in this life.

Listen, I know I wasn't the best student. 

And though I'd like to blame you for not encouraging me and instead constantly criticizing, I'll take all the blame for why I didn't care to do well in your class. 

I'll take the blame for not reading my book because regardless of how much I studied, you were always disappointed with my test scores.

I'll take the blame for never paying attention because you used to make me feel bad about myself and I had a hard time listening to someone who didn't like me.

I'll take the blame for every time I spoke out of turn because I was screaming out for attention and you missed it. You missed it because you were too busy putting me down.

I'll take the blame for every time I was late to your class because I knew you would make several comments about it during class. And my friends would tell me it made you look bad.

But I cannot, and never will, take the blame for you ill-timed, unnecessary words that exposed how you really felt about me. The ones that said, "I hope you fail because you are worth nothing to me."

Dearest Psychology Teacher, I can tell you that my worth has never been and will never be based on your thoughts of me. 

I knew it then and I still know it now.

As a young woman who accidentally fell into a teaching job, I know that I will never be a teacher like you. I will never choose to put down a student regardless of how I feel about them. 

Because I understand that the first job of a teacher is not to "teach" but to love. 

It's to love your broken students just as much and your whole ones. 

It's to love every person's unique personality regardless of how difficult they may be.

It's to love to build up, encourage and give confidence to a room full of people who need you, who need your skills, and who need your patience.

It's to love when the job is going well and to really love it when it's not.

It's to love handing your students a certificate of completion with your signature on it knowing that you helped them reach something they could not have attained without you. 

You failed me terribly, teacher. 

And it's taken me a long time to make sense of it. To try to understand your side of things.

But here's the thing: I simply don't. 

I don't understand why you chose to wound me instead of teach me.

I don't understand why you chose to say harsh words when edifying ones were needed.

I don't understand why you used your personal life as an excuse for being mean.

I only understand that you are human and you have to live with your choices.

My hope is that you are finally in a place where you are not allowing your feelings to affect the way you teach a room full of eager students who need you. Not just your knowledge, but your love.

Dearest Psychology Teacher, you have a lot to offer every person who walks through your classroom door. 

Don't throw it all away. 

Don't make the same mistake twice.