Having Babies...

You know the ole urban myth about the kid that eats at Taco Bell, complains of a sore tooth a few weeks later, and the dentist goes in to find that a roach- a Tacobellian roach- has laid baby roach eggs in the kid's gums? I think I've got that.

I woke up with a toothache. I felt around with my tongue and realized the gums surrounding that tooth had creeped awfully low- as in- pretty soon the gums might be the only thing showing. They might droop all the way down to my bottom teeth. They might pop or stretch open. They might overtake my mouth like weeds.

It's a tragic thing to wake up on a Monday morning with gum hemorrhoids.

I pulled out my dental floss. I am a furious flosser. Committed to the utmost excellence in above par standards for my dental hygiene.  Each and every tooth must be loved on- people. Are you loving every tooth you have? Be honest.

I flossed each tooth around 'the tooth' and then I worked up the courage to wiggle the floss past the fleshy gums that had crawled waaaay past their God-given home and had plastered themselves around my poor little tooth.

Then.

An explosion of blood.

Blood filled my mouth, turned all my poor teeth crimson red,  and started running down my chin.

I was, of course, gagging- while also instructing my husband to PLEASE get Annie out of the room so that she is not traumatized and her love for dental hygiene is not diminished because her mom is squirting gummy blood everywhere.

I applied pressure and when the bleeding finally stopped I saw something sticking out...

I had no earthly idea what it could be.

Surely if I was eating something and it got lodged in my gums, I would've noticed, right?

Why did it look like a tiny twig?

And why was it beginning to inch its way out?

I gently tugged on it...

out comes what can only be described as a roach leg.

I showed Ryan and he gagged.

"Why do you show me that kind of crap JENNY???"

He doesn't like it when I traumatize him with my bodily functions and weird abnormalities. But if I can't share it with him, who can I share it with???

(the correct answer is: YOU, blog family)

It was a about  1/3 of a centimeter's long twiggy, stick, roach leg looking thing. I nearly threw up. I immediately (in a way that only a seasoned hypochondriac with a vivid and dark twistiness in their soul can do) decided that I was the most current victim of the Taco Bell urban myth.

All morning long I've been waiting for roach babies to start crawling out.  And that's just not a good way to start your Monday.

And I promise I have some real things I want to write about today- which means I'm going to have to write another post this morning- so I apologize in advance for two in one day. But I needed to just tell someone...

I think my mouth is having roach babies.

War

My brother-in-law, Tim, deploys to Afghanistan in three days. It is his third deployment since President George W. Bush declared war on Iraq and subsequently Afghanistan. Our military is exhausted. Our military families are exhausted. Our military bases are depleted.

Souls are weary. Families are broken. Lives are falling through the cracks.

God how I long for the day when humans stop destroying each other.

3,000 men and women from his base are gone.

Gone.

It's a ghost town of wives and babies and kids and chaplains trying to keep it all together.

And it's getting harder to keep it all together.

I am tired of this war. And I am tired of watching so many strong women (men) fight the war back home in their husband's (wives) absence.

Tim will be gone for 14 months.

While Melissa and Tim have a peace right now that passes all logical understanding...

they have been on an emotional roller coaster.

They have been trying to get pregnant for well over a year.

You know.

Or maybe you don't.

Can any of us really understand the intensity these families are living under?

Trying so hard to get pregnant  before he leaves, because truthfully -it's always there- the worst case scenario tucked away somewhere in the back of your mind.

What if he never comes home?

Trying so hard to not be stressed about getting pregnant before he leaves because, you can't make a baby happen.

And, maybe you don't even want to? I mean, what would it be like to give birth without your husband being around? To grow a tiny, kicking, squirrely little baby alien in your belly and have no daddy to whisper to it?

Trying so hard to sleep through the night, because the nightmares of someone in uniform showing up at your door with "the news" keeps you awake for months on end.

Trying so hard to trust that your wife will be taken care of in the arms of her friends and family; that if she were pregnant your baby would grow to love you even though it had never heard your voice or felt your touch; trying so hard to live in hope and not fear; trying so hard to get everything in order before you leave.

Trying so hard to enjoy the moments you have and not think about the unknown that lies ahead.

They have been preparing for this moment for almost a year. A year ago we knew he would deploy. Each month crept closer and closer and the curse that we refused to name got nearer and nearer. But now it is here. And I feel my heart almost stopping.

War. Tim. My sister's husband. A man we love. A friend. A buddy. Camouflage. Helicopter rides through the desert. A machine gun. IED's. Radical extremists. Third time. Really, third time? It's like we're basically begging for these men and women to not come home... teasing fate or something. No one should have to be in war three times. No wife should have to endure that. No child. No family. No man or woman on the field. And yet, these men and women are three and four times deep into deployments.

Thoughts rush my mind and my heart swells and I pray a prayer that makes no sense... God protect Tim.

Knowing it must grieve God's heart when any person dies in battle and believing that God does not interfere with IED's and machine guns; I have to believe that death in war is not God's plan for any one's life.

War was not the plan.

Death was not the plan.

Not the original one.

But you still pray. You pray for miracles. And peace. And protection. And you beg God for mercy. And you trust. Not always knowing exactly what it is you are trusting. But you trust, because God's peace that doesn't make any sense starts oozing into you. Something becomes calm. Centered. You trust that no matter what happens...

there is always hope.

And maybe that is why we pray for protection. Maybe God does perform a few miracles in the desert. Or maybe war is just war, and while some miracles happen, often times- there aren't many miracles in war. Maybe God is just there, walking through the valley of the "shadow of death"  alongside His children. Still, we pray- fearfully begging for miracles of protection- but mostly we pray because when we get past those initial prayers of fear, we desperately need to find ourselves connected to the heart of Jesus.

Our healer.

The only One who can make sense in the chaos we have created.

We need Him. And we need to be deeply rooted in His message.

Our God is with us. Emmanuel.

Jesus drew near to the weak, weary, and broken. He seemed to be on a perpetual mission of finding the sick, and putting a balm on their soul.

We need peace that makes no sense. We need water when our souls are dried up. We need a firm foundation.

When everything you love leaves on the back of a C-130... and your foundation shakes like the tremors of an earthquake-

His rod and staff will comfort you. He will lead you beside still waters. He will restore your soul. He will fill your cup. And though the world may give way... you can safely dwell in His house.

Melissa is pregnant.

they found out a few weeks ago.

Tim will be gone for 14 months.

Four months after she delivers their sweet baby.

I've said it before and will say it again and again and again: thank you, thank you, thank you to all who serve and the families who persevere back home. Your sacrifice is inspiring and beautiful. In the midst of war, we draw near to Jesus, the deliverer. The giver peace. We pray for miracles- but more than that- we pray because the Lord is our refuge.

Do you have a loved one who is deployed? Please put their name and any specifics about their family in the comments section.  At the beginning of next week, I will compile the list and turn it into a blog, which anyone can then print off and use to faithfully pray for your loved one.

Do you know an organization that supports military families? Please leave a link in the comment section. I will compile those into a blog next week as well.

Finally...

If you have any family or friends at Schofield Barracks in Hawaii- please let them know I will be doing a FREE show on the base, May 10th at 9:00 a.m. in the chapel. Military families from any base on the island are welcome to attend and free childcare is included!

Stories: A Journey of Hope and Redemption

Free acoustic concert and worship with Jenny Simmons from Addison Road

honoring the military families on the island of Honolulu

May 10th, 2011 Schofield Barracks

9:00 a.m.

Sponsored by Women of the Chapel

Best App Ever!

I'll write something real... real soon. I promise. But for now, can I just say that I have fallen in love with an iPhone app that I am quite convinced every iPhone user must absolutely have?!? It's called Camera+.  It's only .99 (cents, that is). Take a picture and then turn it into a work of art in less than a minute.  My favorite effects are under the retro section. I love hipster, toy camera, and lomographic. As far as the borders go, I am a sucker for viewfinder, dark grit, and vintage. The app also allows you to change scenes and lighting, adjust, crop, and offers a more enhanced lens than the one your iPhone camera actually came with.

And if those last two sentences sounded like a foreign language to you: fear not. I am (ashamedly and with no good reason) technologically challenged. But I bought this app hoping to spice up my photography love life and it did the trick. Incredible effects and easy for the- shall we say- feeble in technology (aka, those of us who are 50 light years behind the rest of the world).

Without further ado, new and improved pictures from my iPhone using the greatest app ever, Camera+.

Monday Morning Happies

A few days ago, from another room, Annie said,  "________    _________." I froze. Did I hear her right? Did she really just say that? I thought I heard her say it. But there was no way.  Right? I mean she's not even two years old yet.

Where would she have heard that? Who taught her that? Oh. My. Gosh.

Surely not.

Lord, surely my child didn't just say  "_________   _________."

Not my child. Not at this age. Not from these two parents did this child spring...

But she said it again. And again. And again. And I couldn't make it stop.

I sat- thinking in the living room- of all the things in this world that my child has decided to talk about, has she really landed on this? And what does this say about her as a person? I mean, what will she grow up to be and do? Will this last well into her adolescent years?  Does this have bearing on who she will become?

I walked into the restroom where she was staring at her daddy's Rolling Stone magazine...

I shot this footage.

My sweet-proper-graceful-mother-n-law, later confessed.

She slipped, she admitted. She didn't realize Annie's memory was so strong. She was just trying to distract her.

The Words my Child Said...

On Domestication...

Dear Becky... Thank you for inquiring as to my whereabouts!

I am living in a strange and foreign land.

I have a real live toilet (not a nasty tour-bus toilet). My daughter has a semi-schedule. And I have slept in my own bed more in the last three months than I have in two years straight. In this strange land, I have friends that I actually share meals with, and I am realizing this is a lot more sweet than sharing text messages. In this land, I cook my own meals; there is no maid to make the bed and clean the bathroom while I'm away for the afternoon. I clean baseboards, teach my daughter how to spell her name, and I touch chicken guts more times during a week than anyone should ever have to do.

In this land of suburbia, I am learning a new normal. And when my heart aches to get on an airplane or I worry about losing my frequent flyer status; I crave to sleep in a Hilton bed or I miss being on stage telling my stories and singing my heart out; I remember, this will not always be my normal. This is just normal for now.

And for now, I am trying to fall head-0ver-heels into this new phase of life because it is a gift to be here. To be now. To be all that I can be for my daughter and my husband. For so long, I have given so much of myself to so many people that it seems foreign to pour all of that into a small circle of people. But God is showing me, in a multitude of ways, the beauty of sewing seeds into my family during this time in our lives.

I admit, I have days where I fight it. Days where I want to crawl back into my tour-bus bunk bed and get back to the life I was once living. But then I see Annie look at a bug. Nose to nose with a little bug. And her eyes light up and she says, "Oh my goodness! Buggy is sleeping!"

I don't have the heart to tell her that buggy is as dead as a doornail.

Right now I am taking the time and space to pour myself into her, Ryan, my family, my friends, and my church. Oh yeah, and myself. Having the gift of  being still, present, and available to the ones I love the most is amazing. So I am trying to fight my own selfishness; and I am embracing domesticity. For a little while, I will put my own dreams on hold while I teach my daughter and watch her explore the world. And in a little while- when she wanders the hall of her kindergarten- and I find myself back to singing, writing, and traveling- I will wonder how she grew up so fast and I will ache for these days once more.

I have missed writing and missed my sweet blog family that has joined me here on my journey the last few years. Now that we have established a "new normal" I will get back to writing out the stories that make this life great. And I hope you will join me once again...

Here are some pictures of my journey into domesticity.

This kid is only smiling because she is not the one who is actually cooking.

In the land of domesticity, I made my first ever chicken. I had to pull its stomach guts out and that was disgusting.

The end product was beautiful. And, in my attempt to be a real Marth Stewart, I took the carcass and made my own chicken stock. Wow. I never thoought I would utter those words.

My favorite cooking attempt has been a series of homemade muffins. I like watching Annie press her face to the oven to watch them "grow."

There is the "sleeping" buggy. No, she is not eating it. But she likes to get nose to nose with buggies and talk to them.

Some things are changing. In fact, some days I feel like my whole world is changing. But if you find yourself in the midst of change like me, remember, some things never change.

Like my love for taking pictures of clouds.

Clouds. They are always moving and reshaping. But ultimately, they do not change. They always exist. Always have. Always will. Sometimes they just look different. Sometimes they take on a new normal. Sometimes we take on a new normal.

Here's to living IN the new normal...