Abuse can breed LOVE

I figure God has me here for a reason.
I am not sure what.
I figure God gave me a loud mouth for a reason.
And I hope it’s not to just stick my foot in it.
I figure God made me physically strong for a reason.
And it’s not about my body, I’ve learned that one.
I figure God gave me an extraordinary amount of fearlessness when it comes to having my children in a “hood” (not my words, but those of the people who know our area) school.
I hope it’s not really ignorance.
I figure God gave me a passion to protect children.
And it isn’t because I want to collect children. I have my complete set. I don’t need/want anymore, just maybe to hold your newborn.
I wish I knew why God has me where He does, and gave me these certain character traits like He has but I don’t.
All I do know is that I will use what He has given me for Him when He asks.
Yesterday was a weird day.
I didn’t think of my safety at all.
I saw a child getting beaten and put myself in the middle.
In that split second decision I had no idea that the safety of my family could be at risk. All I saw was that a child, one of God’s very beloveds was not being treated in a manner worthy of who they are.
In the strangest turn of events the custody of the child was given to me. At the moment I scooped up the child, I was told “I don’t want her. Take her. I don’t want her anymore.”
In my arms was a child clinging to me, crying “Take me home with you. I want to go home with you.”
I didn’t know this child.
I had no idea what I was agreeing to.
“I’ll take her” I said.
Here’s the thing.
I had witnessed this abuse before. To this very child. I am not a required tell in the state of Florida to report it to the abuse hotline or social services. I have a moral obligation to report what I saw to the proper people, and that was the school the child went to and where the abuse happened. I did. I even followed up with the school later to see if the director had contacted whoever she needed to contact about the abuse I saw, and was told that it wasn’t her place to report because she didn’t see it. This didn’t sit well with me, but I let it go.
I went directly to the family. I told them what I witnessed. I asked if they were seeking help. They profess Christ as their Savior, and Biblically I am to speak with them about an offense first. I was assured that they were seeking help, and that it would never happen again.
I am not a license foster parent here. I am fly under the radar and go about my merry way and pretend that everything is jolly good in my little slice of the Promised Land.
Every time I saw this child, I would pray for safety. Every time I saw this child my heart sank.
Something in me sees when a spirit is broken. This child is wounded. At 4 years old, your eyes should not hold so much sorrow.
Yesterday when the abuse happened, this time I wasn’t the only one to witness it. This time there was no time for the school to get involved because the child was in my custody and I was going to be the voice of this child until someone heard that she needs help. I apparently didn’t speak loudly enough, or to the right people the first time I saw something happen with this child. And even this time as I spoke to all the “right” people, I was told “I see why (the Gaurdian of the child) did what she did.”
My jaw dropped.
The very person who was supposed to be there to protect this child from abuse, a State Licensed Social Worker was reasoning that abuse was warrented in this situation, because this is a difficult child.
Wrong.
Incorrect.
And I rebuked.
“No child deserves to be hit. I don’t care what they did or how hard they are. There is never a reason to put your hands on a child to harm them in anger. Ever.”
She backtracked quickly, but the truth (or her version of it) had been spoken as to what she believed.
Shortly after I was dismissed.
I was not asked what led up to me having custody of the child. I was dismissed.
Clearly I must be some granola mom who thinks that you should use love and logic in all circumstances and never spanks her kids. All this kid needed was a good ass whoopin’. Right? That’s not abuse. Is it? (PLEASE HEAR MY SARCASM HERE!)
The thing is. I spank my children. I do believe a spanking is warranted in some situations. Never to shame. Never in anger. Never out of control. And never, ever with the force you would use to hurt an adult. To quote another man who witnessed the altercation “That was the force you’d use to beat an adult.” It was wrong.
But because it was a spanking it gets fuzzy. Because of cultural differences it get fuzzy. Because the government is involved it gets ALL KINDS of fuzzy.
I honestly don’t know how to wrap this up.
I wish I was a more eloquent blog writer and this would get shared, and maybe people would read this post and we would stand together against child abuse in all its forms no matter the cultural difference, but I am not. I am just a mom. That’s all I do. Sometimes I don’t do it well, but I pray that love is the lesson my children learn from me.
Millions of people will never know my name, but God showed me that my legacy will be far reaching. My children know of what happened yesterday. We prayed for this child and we talked about how often times when children are mean it is because someone in their home is being mean to them. We talked about how this is why mom and dad are so up their butts about being kind to each other, and being more like Jesus. And I prayed last night as I tucked them in, that even though I failed this little girl that I not fail in the raising of my children. I prayed that my grandchildren will never endure abuse, and their children will never endure abuse. I want to leave a legacy of hope, love and redemption because what I am seeing is that anger breeds anger. Hate breeds hate. Abuses breeds abuse.
We have the chance to fight that.
Us, the moms. The ones who feel like nothing we do matters. WE MATTER. We have the chance to change everything. It doesn't matter the pit we've been in. It doesn't matter the abuse we've endured or what everyone else has said we will become. We make the choice to change. We make the choice to say "Enough." We make the choice to believe that abuse CAN breed love. We are not so broken that we can't change. "No pit is so deep that God's love is not deeper still"- Corrie Ten Boom We have the chance to change. In our children may we breed love, mercy, grace, justice and Jesus.

The "Pinterest Mom" Failure

It is a given that in my house there are always two jars of peanut butter that are currently open. There are packages of cheese that are opened the wrong way so the self-seal zipper thing is irrelevant, and there are boxes of cereal that don’t close properly because they were ripped haphazardly instead of carefully.
There are socks stuffed into the couch cushions. Barbies in the bathtub. Shoes littering the hallway leading up to the door. If it is special to you, then you best hide it, because chances are your brothers or sisters will see this as an opportunity to zero in on your weakness and use it against you. If you are smart, then you keep your toothbrush in mom and dad’s bathroom because no one is allowed in there without permission.
Lunches are either provided by your school, or you get tuna straight from the can. Occasionally a PB and J sandwich or make your own quesadilla.

I am a “ Pinterest Mom” fail. I have too many DIY fails to claim otherwise. I have been known to burn hamburger helper. I have kids and no abs. And I’d rather do anything but laundry and housekeeping, I can organize a closet and give you tips on how to do it too, but in reality the next day it’s a mess again. In fact, because of dishes left over in the sink for a few days, we are now combating an infestation of fruit flies (which I had to check Pinterest to find out the best ways to win this battle.)
The absolute last thing I’d ever want you to think about me is that I got it all together. We are not some well-oiled machine. In fact, we consistently have the “change oil” light on the car.
My daughter went to church yesterday wearing a winter hat because her hair wasn’t brushed and rain boots because we couldn’t find any other shoes that actually matched. This wouldn’t seem too out of place, except that we live in Florida. There is never a need for winter hats here. Ever.
We are a hot mess.
The whole lot of us.
I think every single one of us cried yesterday either before church, during church or after church.
When I tell you I have no idea how I make it through every day, I am not lying. There are times I sit in awe of the words that just came out of my mouth because I know it wasn’t me who was speaking but God speaking through me. I am utterly at a loss with the whole “mom” gig.
I cannot get a handle on laundry. Cannot. It’s ridiculous.
Meal planning is beyond my capacity to plan in advance.
But I am excellent at seeing what is right in front of me. Or actually let me rephrase that. I am not excellent. God loves to show me what’s in front of my face and needs my attention while the laundry can wait, and no one is going to die if they eat another PB and J for dinner.
I’ve spent the last 9 years wrapped up in appearing to have it all together. Even though I was still a hot mess, I surely wasn’t going to let you know about it. And because I spent the majority of my time hiding from you what I didn’t want you to know, and perfecting what you did see, I missed a lot of important stuff. Like my kids.
Tears well up in my eyes when I think of all the times I didn’t see my kids. Not see them, as in lay eyes on them. I saw them every day. But see their hearts and what was going on in their brains. I missed that. I was too wrapped up in myself and what you thought about me to notice how hearts were breaking all over my home.
In the last week, I’ve seen how God has changed my head and while my hearts’ desire has remained the same. I have always wanted to be famous. The root being that I wanted to be known and adored. There I said it. Few will admit this is the cry of their heart, but when it all came down to it that’s what I really wanted. I wanted you to want to know me, and to adore me, to think I got it figured out and ask me how to show you how to do that.
Last night my son lost his crap. Screaming that he didn’t love us, flailing is body around, and doing pushups until he wasn’t going to scream at me anymore, I prayed. Lord, show me what he needs. The answer resounded in my heart. To know him and still love him.
When all the piss was out of him, we sat on the floor of his bedroom. Tears streaming down his face.
He’d screamed at me that I didn’t love him and that nobody loves him.
“Son, I love you. When they called me to ask if I wanted y—“
“THEY DIDN’T WANT ME!” He screamed at me. “MY OTHER FAMILY DIDN’T WANT ME!”
“That’s a LIE,” I screamed back. “THAT IS A LIE.” I settled myself and as tears sprang to my eyes and started down my cheeks. “They did want you. They were too sick to take care of you.” And I choked on my tears. I pulled that 7 year old boy into my lap and cradled him like and infant. “They loved you. I loved you, I have always loved you and wanted you. You are so loved. It’s hard huh?”
He sobbed into my chest and nodded.
“I know baby, I wish it wasn’t so hard, but I am going to be here with you and we will get through this, no more of these lies. You are loved and you are so wanted.”
And we sat and cried into each other for a good long while.
My audience has been all wrong.
This week I realized, I am known and adored. And not just by God, but by my family. Everything has a time. The time for me to be known and adored by my children is now. They will grow up, leave the house (God willing), get married (again, God willing) and I will become the dreaded mother-in-law. My children will love me, but they might not adore me at that time, as they are learning to leave our home and create their own families. For me to spend any amount of time trying to reach people outside of my home seems utterly ridiculous to me when my end goal is to want to be known and adored. I am so adored at home there are times I can literally hardly stand all the adoring (and touching) that comes with raising 5 children.
And my goal has changed from wanting to be known and adored by others to wanting my children to know they are not just seen, but known and adored.
I am so thankful for the calling of Mothering that God gave me. My life would be meaningless if at the end of it, I have millions of people that have come to Jesus because they knew and adored me, yet there were 5 that didn’t. I might be mediocre at the whole “Pinterest Mom” thing. Meals are certainly not my forte’ and my house will never be photo-shoot material, but I will see my children. I will work to know their hearts intimately. That is a job I can delight in, and that pays more than enough.

Pearls and Pigs Do Not Mix

While the Bible is the dearest book to me, it can also cause me utter confusion. Jesus spoke and taught in parables most of the time, and his reasons for this was so that those who have ears to hear will hear (and understand) what he is saying. This is a little unnerving for someone like me who might read something a few times, and still be like…what the heck, I don’t understand this. Then my mind goes on turbo speed through thoughts of “Am I saved?” and other ridiculous notions. The thing with the Bible is that it is the Living Word. This is a difficult concept for believers to understand, so people who don’t have a relationship with Jesus just can’t even begin to grasp this concept.
Let’s start with the fact that I am no Biblical Scholar. Just a girl who loves Jesus with everything I am. There are lessons I learned right at the beginning of my walk with Christ, but honestly in the last few years I’ve understood and learned more than ever before in my life. This is just a passage that was always confusing for me, and has now had some light shed on it.

Pearls before Swine
Matthew 7:6
“Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs (swine). If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces.” Parentheses Mine
If you are like me, you’ve read this one, and wondered why anyone would have pearls around pigs. I mean it’s not like you would ever wear your fine jewelry out to feed the pigs some slop. And feeding dogs what is sacred seemed to be the same thing to me, I just assumed that this passage was a literal passage. Don’t feed dogs food that has been sacrificed to the Lord, and don’t give pigs pearls. Yep, ok, I think I can handle both of those tasks. Seeing as the sacrificing doesn’t happen anymore, and I don’t own a strand of pearls or a pig, I should be good with this one.
I am not one to dig into the ancient Greek text, or meanings behind the Greek words. If it’s not spelled out in layman’s terms in the NIV Bible, then I tend to gloss over it. I just figured this was an irrelevant passage to me, and skipped along my merry way.
Until I understood. It wasn’t until standing in the shower, (which as a mother of 5 elementary age children is my ONLY alone time with God) that He spoke to my heart…child that is what I meant by casting your pearls before pigs. Tears had been streaming down my face, and all of a sudden they stopped as the most gentle and tender of words were spoken to my heart: I cast my greatest pearl down to swine. Some treasured Him, and some trampled Him. You are in good company, my child.
It was Christmas morning and I checked my phone first thing in the morning as I always do. I had a few Merry Christmas texts, and one that made my blood turn cold. The husband of a woman I had shared my story with had messaged me. In his message he heaped all the condemnation and disgust he could muster through the written word onto my head, and let me know exactly what he thought of my sin. I wept that Christmas morning. Even though I knew that I was clearly forgiven by Jesus and those I had wronged, his words stung. They were lies that I had used to believe, and had had to work so desperately hard to no longer believe that there was any truth to them at all.
My heart was so hurt. I had shared with his wife the story of my redemption as a way of reaching out to a women who was struggling to see past her sin to find our Savior. She took my beautiful story, the one that God gave especially to me, a rare and beautiful treasure beyond words…or a pearl…and repeated it to her husband. It wasn’t her story to share, even with her husband. It was/is mine. The beauty of it, was lost in when a mouth other than my own speaks of my story, because the words he heard focused more on the sin and less on the redemption.
In his anger, he felt the need to message me to tell me how disgusting I am to him. And when I contacted his wife to let her know that I would not be communicating with her husband, and to please inform him that all further communication from him to myself needed to cease, I was met with coldness.
Unclean, pigs. Dogs that devour what is sacred. Delighting in the gossip that my story allowed them to share.
I was so shocked. I thought this woman and I were friends. But she’d fooled me. I’d given her my most precious of gifts, my testimony of Christ’s redemption, and she used it to hurt me.
Standing in the shower and the tears rolled down my cheeks, asking God to remind me that I am not that girl that used to dwell in a pit of destruction, but to remind me of who I am in Him, those tender words were spoken to me, and my eyes were opened to such a confusing passage of the Bible. Tears of sadness were replaced with feelings of utter joy. I understood!!!! I saw God more clearly, and I thanked Him for His unceasing tenderness with such a foolish child as myself. Oh, how He loves.
From that tender moment in the shower, I have been pondering what it is to share your testimony. God has called some of us to live out so boldly for His Kingdom, and others to live quietly for it. What am I to do?
For one, I know I am not to live in the fear of rejection. I AM in good company. Jesus was rejected and scorned, and He was faultless, to think that I will go through life and have everyone accept every part of me is foolish.
Second, I have learned to never share my testimony out of fear. More than once, I have shared intimate details of my story with people who have used it against me. I wage war within myself on how much is too much to share, and how much is too little. The imagination is a crazy thing, but sometimes the details are far crazier. I’ve come to the conclusion that there are people who know the details of my testimony because they walked through it with me. Those are safe people for me to talk details with, everyone else does not know the entire story, nor do they need to know it. Generalizations are just fine. And it is harder to cast stones of condemnations when you are uncertain of the details.
Third, no matter what we are not God. My desire to be known should be by my Creator, not of other humans. Humans no matter how good their intentions were not designed to love as completely as God does, there are some things that we just don’t want to know. I mean our curious selves wants to know them, but once we do…we are like…wait…can we just un-know that little fact about you, because someone we once held in high regard has just fallen down on her pretty little face and we don’t know what to do with that mess. So in our humanness we retreat or repeat, and both cause hurt.
So it’s a fine line, as is much of the life of a Christian. We are to walk boldly but know what we are going to say (and disclose) before the situation arises, so we are not left with a big ole’ mess when we walk out. Share, be honest and transparent…but save the nitty gritty for God.

I See You.

Over the last few months the colors have gotten brighter, faces clearer, and my heart fuller. I can only contribute this to the complete change in the relationship with my man that God gave us. It is like my eyes have been opened to the things that I couldn’t see before, and I only couldn’t see them because I was so blinded by my own self that I got in the way.

Something that I have found super interesting as of late is the ability to see my own self in someone else. It’s almost scary.
A few weeks ago I was contacted by a woman who was still caught up in her sin. Her sin was the same as mine had been. While her words were all right, something in me told me that everything she was saying wasn’t what she was really about. I recognized some of the exact behaviors as ones that I had employed when I was caught in my sin.

I walked away from that meeting and was a little distressed. I let Tom know that while I wasn’t certain that something wasn’t right with this situation, and while she wanted my help and guidance, I felt a strong pull from God to walk away. He encouraged me to listen to the Lord and do just that.

It later came out, like it always does, that she was in fact speaking of wanting to be out of her sin, but was still very much wrapped up in it, and was not willing to make the radical changes that needed to be made to get out of it. I could love her, and distance myself from her at the same time. For accountability to work, you have to also have trust and transparency. I know the beauty that comes with having Sisters in Christ love you, pray for you, and walk with you through life, but if you aren’t showing them your true self, none of it is authentic.

My two girls, the ones that God gave to me when I needed some love, laughs and a good swift kick in the butt, only stuck around because of my honesty. It was an UGLY honesty.

About a year ago, one of them asked me a question about my sin, and I lied to her. The enemy divided us so quickly it made my head spin. She had no idea that I lied, but our friendship was different. I couldn’t talk to her like I had. I started to spiral down into the deepest depression I’d ever been in. She finally called me and said to me that she knew that something was up and she wanted to know what, because she wasn’t going to just walk away from this friendship. I confessed.

There was some hurt. She was angry. She didn’t have anything to say to me right then, and I thought I’d lost that relationship.
Her words to me where so moving.

“Jenn, I am sad for you. That was a bad choice. But it doesn’t affect me like it does you. I will always love you, and I want to pray for you. You HAVE to tell me when you stumble if you want accountability to work.”

While I’d kept it from one friend, I had also kept it from the other. At this time they didn’t know each other, my spiral of depression was so deep that they were about to contact each other in an effort to get me some help.

Without even knowing that’d I’d been withholding information from her, the other one told me about a person she’d met and how things just didn’t feel right. She questioned if the woman she’d met was telling her the truth.

She said “I can deal with anything if you are honest with me, I will run from liars.” Not wanting to lose this friendship, I confessed what had been weighting on my heart. As she always does, she turned it into a joke, made me laugh when I wanted to cry and told me of how she loved me, and already knew what I was going to confess and wondered when I would tell her the truth.

Accountability works, when you WANT it. It will not work, when you are not willing to be transparent and honest with those people that you’ve asked to be in your life.

My sin didn’t make them angry, it didn’t hurt them, it just made them sad, and pray for me all the more.

I had to walk away from the woman who was still tangled in her sin with no desire to actually stop. It was too close to my own. It is too hard to watch someone walk down the same road you’ve been down, and you are standing in the road with the GO BACK signs, NOTHING GOOD FOR YOU IS HERE signs. And to have them plow threw. I can tell you what is at the end of that road. Messed up children. RUN from your sin.

Since my eyes have been opened I’ve met countless women that I see the old me in. Of these woman, I see that most of them are so desperately alone. They don’t have anyone that they reveal their true selves too. I can only assume because of what I have gone through, that they fear being known and rejected. This is where the community of Christ comes in. We were made to be in community, not to be alone. Just going to church on Sunday does not put you in community, it means that you are in attendance. It’s hard to have community with people who are not looking into the beautiful color of your eyes. Nothing replaces face to face time.

To the women who think that their body is the end all be all of their exsistance:

I want to show you that your beauty lies within your heart and soul and whisper to you that you are fearfully and wonderfully made you don’t have to work so hard, there is a more abundant life for you out there than this.

To the woman in a marriage that feels invisable and like she is no different than a nanny and assistant in her own home:

Hold on, you are not invisable, you are so seen and loved and while you feel unappreciated what you do is KINGDOM work right there in your home.

To the woman who is desperate to know she is wanted:

Oh sweet thing, how easily we confuse wanted and desired…but wanted in a real way, wanted to be known and kept and treasured…you are a prize, you are worth more than you could ever imagine. The world lie to you; being the object of someone’s lustful desires is a cheap, worthless substitute for being the person someone wants to know intimately, see their heart and love unconditionally. Child, do not sell yourself short.

To the woman who feels alone in her struggle:

You are not alone. The more I live the more I realize that we are ALL hurting units walking around in beautiful bodies, and painted faces. In fact the more perfect you look, the bigger mess you tend to be. I’ve been there girl, and some days it’s all I can do to not JUMP back into that pit. Can I encourage you to seek accountability and commit to honesty with at least one person?

Who should your person be? If your husband is seeking the Lord in an honest way (and you will know if he is on not) as hard as it may be, HE IS YOUR PERSON. There is no one else on the planet who will pray for you, and is more affected by your struggles, temptations and sins than your husband.

Some days you may have to tell him something ugly, and he may be hurt in the beginning, but the release of power that was over you when you held that back from your husband is not of this world. And it will bind you together when you are able to honestly speak to each other and bare your heart to the man God desires for you to give yourself COMPLETELY to.

If your husband is not in that place, and I’ve been there too…be praying that God give you a woman that you can be real with. Don’t seek it out, wait for the Lord. He will provide the perfect people at the time that you need them.
Beloved, I am so you…I see you, I know you, I love you, and I am praying for you as you walk through this journey into the abundant life that God has for you!

A Different Kind of Christmas...

This Christmas is markedly different from any other I’ve had. I have truly accepted the gift of grace given to me. Not just by God but by countless others who have walked through the tough stuff with me these last few years. I’ve been given the gift of actually knowing the heart of my husband and desiring to know him more. I could not imagine a better gift than a restored family. I thought we were beyond repair, but here we are new, and beautiful. I never thought I would WANT to, (and I mean REALLY WANT) spend every waking minute with my man, enjoying the complex creation that he is, but I do. Christmas for me, has already come, and for me it’s a time to celebrate what God has done for me, and set out to do with that very first Christmas 2014 years ago.

The other difference in this Christmas is that the Grimm family is for the FIRST TIME EVER, on a budget.

Many things led up to this.

A sermon series on what rich people do.

Credit card bills.

An obsession with Lululemon.

5 growing, HUNGRY children.

A new house.

And last but not least a desire to be obedient.

We’ve tried to do budgets before. It goes something like this:

We agree to a budget.

I blow it.

Tom sighs, asks me to do better next month.

I blow it again.

We give up.

The difference is this time, I am on to the enemy and his lies. I am not fooled by them anymore.

The lie: I am worth X amount of dollars.

I’d read an article some years ago on what it would cost to hire someone to do my job of raising our children, and so I began to believe I deserved that number.

The truth: I am irreplaceable. No amount of money will buy the kind of love I give to my family.

The other lie: if I owned X, I would be happy.

The truth: As soon as I own X, I will want Y and Z as well. Joy cannot be bought.

Lululemon: It’s a brand of workout clothes for those who don’t know. For those that do, you know why I coveted them so badly. I could make all kind of excuses about how they are the best, and how I didn’t actually pay that much for them…but it still comes down to I believed that if I owned X, I would be happy. But I am here to tell you I own the whole DANG GONE ALPHEBET and it didn’t make me any happier. In fact, I now cringe that the thought of the person I was when I felt I NEEDED the WEE ARE FROM SPACE PLUM RUN INSPIRE CROPS and MATCHING BRA to complete my collection.

WEE ARE FROM SPACE September Run Inspire Crops $87


Matching Bra $56

Whoa, this girl was WAY off track.


All this to tell you that we are on a budget and for the first time ever, my heart is in it 100%. This budget isn’t about getting out of debt. It’s about getting right. This budget is about glorifying God with HIS money.

I bought Lululemon to make my ass look better with HIS money. That kind of makes me sick to my stomach now. I am certainly not saying that Lululemon is bad, I am wearing some right now. I am saying my heart on the issue of our finances was so ugly. That was bad. I had an attitude of entitlement when really God GAVE me everything single thing I have, and He owes me nothing.

Getting right means that we may do without. We may not join you for dinner out (not that people ever really ask us out to dinner our family is intimidating enough to just have over), we may not be sending you a Christmas gift in shape of a $40 fruit basket. But we are praying for you, and we do love you. And we have committed as a family to be wise with the resources God has given us, and we hope that blesses you more than a fruit basket to know that our hearts desire is to be obedient to the Lord.

We just wanted to let you know before you wrapped up our presents and wrote our name on them. We’d be delighted if you gave us the gift of your prayers this year for Christmas instead of something tangible. We’d be delighted if around your Christmas tree you whispered a little prayer of thanks to God for what He’s done for our family this year. We know you love us, dear friends and family. And while your gifts are appreciated, they depreciate and end up at Goodwill before the year is over…Prayers are eternal and it’s an investment that only grows.

Seven Seashells sent to the Shore

Two weeks ago my family was at the beach. Shocking since we living Florida, I know. It was one of those blustery days where most Floridians were bundled up by their fireplaces sipping on hot cocoa pretending it was cold outside, but the Grimms’ were out in their shorts and flip flops splashing in the Ocean.

I was tender. The night before had been particularly rough, and while Tom and I had both committed in our hearts to weather whatever storms came at us together with God, I was walking along the beach feeling weary.

I looked out at the Ocean, and picked up shells, most were broken and weren’t worth keeping. In fact, every single shell I came across while I walked was just pieces of what it once was.

Father, I hurt and I am tired. Father, I need to see you. I need to feel that you see me. Why so many broken shells, Father just give me one beautiful shell. Just one, then I will know you see me and you love me.

Yep, I was having a moment.

A moment when the blood of Christ just wasn’t tangible enough for me, and my faith was wavering.

This is not a proud moment.

This is a tender moment. A humble moment.

A moment where I know I am nothing. Standing in the vastness of the ocean with the waves licking my toes. Thinking Who am I that He would even care?

The waves stopped for just a moment and I looked down. There at my feet was a perfect shell. Not a piece of a shell, but a perfectly whole shell. And next to it…

Was another.

Thank you, they are beautiful.

In the deafening sound of the waves and into my heart I heard Him say:

“All I make is beautiful, and I will surpass all you ever dreamed.”

It was about that time that Tom caught up to me on the beach.

"What are you doing, Jenny?" He asked as he grabbed my waist to spin me around and wrap me up into a bear hug.

I showed him my shells. I was giddy over what I’d just found. He’d been busy catching fish for the kids to play with on the beach. He walked with me for a bit and was in awe of how we found 5 more perfect shells, each smaller than the next. Once we had seven, I told him that we were done.


Seven Seashells sent to the shore... by my sweet Savior

It was complete. Our family. His love. It was all complete.

Tears sprang to my eyes.

I felt silly.

How could I question His love for me? How could I put Him to the test like that?

I have professed a strong belief in Christ for years, but my faith was WEAK that day. He showed up in a tangible way when I needed Him the most. And I am so thankful.

Since those 7 seashells, life is continued to go on. Some days are better than others. Each day I look at the day before and am in awe of the mighty way I see God working in my marriage. It was only 3 short weeks ago my husband left our home and told me that we would be getting a divorce. The shells, God gave those to me only two weeks ago. Last week, I met my husband on the beach and remarried him under a new covenant.

If I am brutally honest with you, I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to fall. I’ve been waiting for the old us to return, but it just hasn’t.

Trust me, it’s been hard.
We’ve had moments.
Moments of weak faith.
Moments of frustration.
Moments of exhaustion.
But more than that we’ve had moments of pure joy.
Moments of praise.
Moments of tenderness.
Moments that I honestly don’t even have the words to describe.

I finally feel known. I finally feel seen. I can’t believe how good marriage can actually be. I thought people made it up, I thought they were just faking so that others would admire them. And I don’t know about those relationships, but I know this one, and it is better with Christ in the middle of it. He has bound this family together in the most beautiful way imaginable.
It might seem silly to pray for a seashell, but it was so much more. God DELIGHTS in blessing His children. He delights in communicating with us. If you are feeling weak in your faith, talk to Him. He WILL answer you. You are so loved.

Say Nothing or Say Something

Watch This Before You Read Blog

This week I learned a valuable lesson.

When to say nothing.

Ultimately a person will get to choose if they are going to follow Jesus or not. He can choose to reveal Himself in the most miraculous ways and they can STILL think that they got it going on without Him.

I have friends in my life that I’ve had for years. I mean since I was a teenager. Our paths have clearly diverged and I love them dearly still. Yet, from them I feel a sense of distain.

My faith bothers them.

They find me to be hypocrite. (True story, I say leggings aren’t pants, yet I rock them as pants often.)

They find me to be judgmental. (Again, true story…I really dislike Kim K’s need to do a nude photo shoot. I totally judge that decision. I try hard to remember that I am not her judge, but man I sure wouldn’t do that, and I will tell you all about how I wouldn’t.)

They find me to be not very much like Jesus. (Are we sensing a pattern? Do I really need to give you an example of how I am not like Jesus?)

Their truth is relative, mine is Jesus, rock solid.

We could not be more different.

And in this week I’ve learned that sometimes it’s best for me just to say nothing to them.

No more: “I am praying for you.”

Because I think they hear that as “I think you are a hot mess who needs Jesus so let me just talk to Him and all my Bible Study girls about you.” (Even though that’s NOT true.)

I care about them.

I WANT to see them in Heaven.

But I can’t do it for anyone.

There is nothing left for me to say.

So I will say nothing.

I once had a friend do this for me. And it was by far one of the biggest gifts she ever gave me. As angry as I was at her for withdrawing herself from my life, it opened me up to actually hear God instead of what she had to say about God. I had to find out for myself, and that’s when I started to have a real desire to get to know Him.

I will let God say something.