You Ruined My Life: An Open Letter To My Daughter

Dear Emery, 

Six years ago I went to sleep at about this time at night with you nestled tightly in my large tummy. I didn't sleep a wink. I cried all night. I prayed all night. I got up and journaled. I was so worried about the next day, my labor day and your birth day, that I couldn't find a comfortable spot in my California King. 

That night I wrestled for comfort in my head and heart. I knew that things were about to change drastically. I new life would never be the same again once they cut me open and took you out. I knew that you were about to ruin my life. And I was right. You did. 

You ruined my life. 

You ruined my "perfect" body. Years of fertility treatments in order to have you brought unwanted weight gain, acne - on my face, neck, chest and back, hormone fluctuations that wrecked my metabolism and made me feel like I was a going literally insane. And a c-section scar that ensured I'd never wear a two-piece swimsuit again. But ruining my body made me come to appreciate my body for the temple that it is. An imperfect body made me realize just how precious my good health is and it made me want to fight to ensure that I do my part to stay healthy for me and for you. Because I want to be around to watch you grow up and grow old. 

You ruined my predisposition for perfection in myself and others. You ruined my ability to "turn it on" for some and to "turn it off". You stared at me with your blue eyes and you ruined my ability for false pretenses because all you wanted from me was me. Not the fake me. Not the perfect me. Not the made-up me. But just the real me.

You ruined my people-pleasing addiction. You ruined everything in me that cried out for applause. You, with your tiny self, looked at me and said, "just look at me, Mama" and so I put the world aside and I looked at you and my world was at peace. Because at the end of my life, if I pleased everyone else but never knew you, then I failed at life. 

You ruined my selfishness. Gone were the days of doing whatever I wanted whenever I wanted with whomever I wanted. No more lazy days off where I slept late, binge watched tv and/or read the day away. My days now had purpose and the purpose was not about me anymore. I woke up with every feeding, every dirty diaper, every late-night fever, knowing my purpose was about you. Meeting your needs. Feeding your appetite. Helping you find rest. You turned my life from "what about me?" into "what can I do for you?" And I found life in abundance through a life of serving - even in the mundane there was joy to be had. 

You ruined my marriage. Spontaneous date nights were a thing of the past. This new phase of "romance" demanded a plan, a schedule and a budget. All things that my crazed world of "Yes, sure I can do that. Brad will understand" needed. And no more were the fights and arguments that stewed beneath the surface looking for the opportunity to blow. This man who was up all hours of the day and night with me, caring for this colic baby, was now my partner and I finally knew that I was going to stick around "until death do us part." I wasn't sure until then. I hate that, but its true. The back door in my mind was always cracked just a little. But now, there was more at stake than my pride and my need to be right and my "right" to be treated like a princess with romance and nonsense. He needed me to grow up and be a woman just as much as you needed it...and I need it. There was a new "baby girl" in our marriage and it was you. It was supposed to be you. Because I wasn't meant to be his princess, I was made to be his queen. And a great queen serves and gives and bends to meet the needs of her people.

You ruined my life. 

You wrecked me. 

When you were born, my glass house was shattered. 

All the cracks in the foundation were exposed. 

You sanctified me. 

God sent you here to be part of my story - of His purification in my life. 

Anything and everything I "lost" was exactly the thing that needed to go. 

So that I could have life and live it to the full. 

Full of love and grace and truth. 

Full of forgiveness and compassion and empathy. 

Full of purpose and intensity and adventure. 

You ruined my life. Yes, you did. Life as I had known it for 31 years was OVER. 

But it wasn't a life that was sustainable. I was obsessed with me. What a waste of time. 

Thank you for coming into my life. I'm sorry that I still struggle with being selfish. He's still working on me. What He rebuilt in me, since having you, has been the greatest testimony of how we're never done. It's not finished until we see him face-to-face. Thank you for ruining my life. Thank you for giving me such an incredible purpose in living. 

I love you forever. To the moon and back. You're my God-person. 

And I'm already praying for you, that one day, God will send a tiny bundle of heaven into your arms to ruin you, too. 

- Mama 

I'm Not Controlling, You Are.

Yesterday I was reading my one-year-Bible...does that make me sound super spiritual? Ask me next month if I'm still reading it. If history repeats itself, I won't, but I hope this year that I'll make it! Fingers crossed! 

Anyway, I was reading my one-year-Bible and was visiting my old friends Abram and Sarai from the Old Testament. Most of us know them as Abraham and Sarah but before God gave them new names, they were known as Abram and Sarai. And they couldn't have kids. Scripture says in Genesis 15 that they were barren. It doesn't give full detail as to why. It just says they were barren. No children. No heir. And that was a big deal back then in their culture. And it's still a big deal today in ours. If you don't think so, just listen to couples discuss their battles with infertility. It's crushing. It's depressing. It's enough to make you lose heart and lose hope. When you desire something so deeply, the desire can take on a life of its own. It can grow its own feet and legs and begin a journey that takes you into new territory. Sometimes that territory is fertile ground for you to grow and learn and gain new perspective. But sometimes the territory is laden with thorns and everywhere you step you get stuck and you bleed and you end up hurt and more hurt. And as we know, hurt people hurt people. 

Its on this thorny, bloody ground that we find Sarai's path. 

I'm sure she didn't intend on making bad things worse. Her intention was to give her husband an heir. God had promised to give Abram a son and to make Abram the father of numerous offspring...the father of a multitude of nations (Genesis 15 & 17). But Sarai remained childless and she was past the years of childbearing.

So she took matters into her own hands. 

Sarai gave her Egyptian servant, Hagar, to her husband as another wife hoping Hagar would conceive and give him an heir. Its awful. Just awful.

Sarai took a slave and gave her to her own husband. That was Sarai's great plan. Unfortunately we see here that trading bodies as commodities is a sin as old as Old Testament times. 

And Sarai got what she was hoping for. Hagar conceived a son. But Sarai got a lot more than she bargained for because instead of the outcome bringing joy to her heart, it brought contempt...into Hagar's.

Hagar held contempt in her heart toward Sarai. Can you blame her? I can't. Scripture doesn't say exactly what Hagar did to Sarai to express her contempt it only says that Sarai whined to Abram, "she looked on me with contempt". 

We've all done it. We've looked with contempt on someone. We've looked at them as though they are beneath us. Lower than dirt. Disrespect. Scorn. Worthless. It's such  a self-righteous emotion and I'm a reformed pharisee so trust me, I know this one WELL! 

Hagar's contempt struck a nerve with Sarai. Sarai's response was that she "dealt harshly with her and she (Hagar) fled from her." (Genesis 16:6)

Sarai went into full-on mean girl mode in zero to sixty. She went SO intensely at it that Hagar ran pregnant and alone into the desert...in the Old Testament. This isn't like she went for a long drive while listening to power ballads and had a good cry while sipping her decaf-skinny-iced-latte. NOOO! She probably left alone on foot or donkey with no supplies or weapons or food and she was pregnant. Did I mention that SHE WAS PREGNANT?!?!

Sarai took matters into her own hands and her own hands made a colossal mess of things. And even worse, she got exactly what she wanted and it still wasn't really what she wanted at all. So she lashed out at the very people she forced to play her game. She became harsh and mean because she was carrying out her will, her way on her terms and in her timing. And God let her. 

And then He let her sit with the consequences for the rest of her life. 

Dear Tribe - be patient with God's timing and his plan. His ways are higher than our ways. His thoughts higher than our thoughts. He knows what He is doing. He knows what needs to happen in our lives and WHEN it needs to happen. Let go. Oh that is HARD for us! We want control of our lives and schedules and circumstances. But we know we aren't in control. We know it because life teaches us everyday that we're not. A sick kid. A bad report card. A flat tire. A hopeless diagnosis. A job loss. An untimely death. Another heartbreak. Life sends us more than enough reminders that we're NOT in control but because of our stubbornness most days it has an opposite effect on us. Instead of conceding and letting God handle things we begin holding on tighter - with white-knuckled-fists - all the while dealing harshly with the people trying to survive our plan. We want to control what and who we can control. Unfortunately, we squeeze the life out of them and all the while we know we're not even experiencing the abundant life that Jesus promised. And we wonder why we're miserable. 

It's time we really let go. For me, it's a minute-by-minute thing. "Okay, Lord. Handle this. Handle my heart and my expectations." Then one hour later I'm fighting Him for control and then I start all over - praying and asking Him to forgive me and asking Him to help me relinquish my "right" to play Master of the Universe. 

So let's humble ourselves pray it again and again and again - until relying on Him becomes the peace we abide in. Because if we don't, we'll lose people. They will step away from us. They will wander into the desert, barefoot and pregnant in order to get out from under our crazy control. Friends will leave. Spouses will bail. Children will grow up, leave home and never return.

God does not need your help with His plans for your life. He has got this. 

Do you trust Him? 

My challenge to you today is: Let go. Let go and trust Him. Then follow Him closely. Stop controlling but never ever stop following. 

Get going today and keep Going!  

Dead Dad Day - 11 Years

Eleven years ago we lost my Dad, Jerry Don Johnson, to suicide. 

You could have blown us over with a feather from the shock.

Despite several of his last years of struggling with depression and alcoholism, my Dad was loving and funny and full of Jesus. Suicide at 44 years old was not what any of us had predicted. You could not have convinced 15-year-old Jessica Johnson that 25-year-old Jessica Johnson Phillips would be planning her Dad's funeral. 

But it was our path. And God has been faithful and loving and good. No, God has been great. 

My Mom and Sister and I celebrate Dad each year on the anniversary of his death. We call it "Dead Dad Day". Why? Because we are super weird. It's how we move through our evolving grief and it's how we honor one another for the fact that we did NOT curl up and die right along with Jerry Don (even though we *might* have wanted to). It's a time when we hold each other and cry and laugh and we pray together. And we eat (it's our love language). 

And most years I write something in honor of Dead Dad Day. 

And so, here's my reflection on 11 years without Jerry Don. I still miss him with moans that only God can interpret...and I always will here on this earth. 

I hate that he didn’t call

I hate that I didn’t call

I hate that he hid in isolation

I hate how the loneliness lied to him

I hate that he could be mean

I hate how guilty he felt after acting that way

I hate that I responded to his meanness with my own meanness

I hate how guilty I felt after acting that way

I hate that we couldn’t cure the pain that pierced him

I hate the hurt that broke such a strong man

I hate that he felt too far gone

I hate that he felt unworthy of the love and forgiveness of his Savior

I hate that he felt like he had failed us

I hate that he felt unworthy of our love and forgiveness

I hate that we never watched him hold Karis or Emery or Malynne or Mikah

I hate that he didn’t hold my Mom’s hand on their 30th wedding anniversary

I hate that death sounded better than life; this life

I hate that he died on a hot day in a field all alone

I hate it because I know it’s not what he was destined for.

But my hate doesn’t compare to my love...

I love how he laughed. Loud and larger than life

I love how he smelled. His smell lingered in elevators long after he had stepped off. And in drawers where his clothes once occupied; and now in my closet where I reach in and smell a few of his shirts every week just to remember.

I love how he hugged. I still remember our last hug. He was in uniform and he hugged me so tight I thought his bullet proof vest was going to crush my rib cage...and I loved it.

I love how he fought for the underdog. It's why he became a police officer

I love that he gave people second and third and fourth chances – even when the ultimate outcome was utter disappointment

I love how much he loved God, his Father. It is especially hard for sons abandoned by their earthly fathers to fully grasp the love of God the Father. My Dad never ever knew his own earthly father but he embraced a Father who would choose him and love him.

I love how he demonstrated faith – reminding me not to worry, not to be discouraged, but to pray, no matter how bleak the situation seemed.

I love how he served the church – they were his tribe; his people; his family.

I love how he read his Bible everyday – highlighter and pen in one hand, coffee cup in the other, Bible on his lap.

I love how he loved my Mom – he adored her and thought she was too good for him

I love how he loved me and my sister – with fierceness and reckless abandon

I love how he taught us when to fight and when to back down

I love how he taught us to say, “I’m sorry”

I love how he treated old people. He always held the door and smiled at them from ear-to-ear while looking at them directly in the eye. 

I love that he washed dishes and folded laundry – he served and nothing was beneath him. nothing.

I love that he worked so hard – his work ethic was outstanding and his colleagues still brag on him to this day

I love that he taught me manners and that a simple, "No sir" or "Yes sir" will calm down most people in authority. 

I love that he got in the trenches with lowly people

I love that he was mighty and strong and yet humble and kind

I love that I got to love him.

I love that when he took his last breath, alone in a field on a triple digit west Texas day, he was immediately with God his Father and Jesus his Savior. And I love that they embraced their prodigal son and rejoiced over his homecoming.

And most of all,

I love that one day when this life is passed, I will get to hug him again – ribs crushing, heart healed. Whole. Complete. “It is finished” – kinda hug.

All because God first loved us and saw fit to draw us to Himself through the death/burial/resurrection of His Son, Jesus.

Because He lives, so does Jerry Don Johnson.

And

Because HE lives I can face tomorrow.

And so can you.

Keep Going.

Being Angry Isn't a Sin. Setting the House On Fire Is...

PREFACE - I wrote this entry almost two years ago. I wasn't brave enough to post it. But today I was reading and writing and praying and God pressed THIS post on my mind. So I think I'm supposed to post it. Ugh. Vulnerability...double UGH!!!

And, for the record, please don't give Brad a hard time!! He doesn't forget cards or gifts anymore!!! And, remember: he's married to ME! I'm a hot mess - it's A LOT to deal with, people. The man does REALLY WELL for what he's been given!!!! 

So, here you go...find out why "being angry isn't a sin but setting the house on fire is..."

...let me explain. 

Last week I got mad. Like REALLY mad. The first thing that came to my mind was the verse my parents had taught me as a little girl, "Be angry but do not sin." 

YEAH RIGHT! Whoever wrote the Bible must have never had a husband who forgot their birthday. No card. No present. No nada. 

I got so mad that I texted a friend asking for prayer. The text went a little something like this, "Please pray for me. He didn't get me a card or a present. I'm opening my Bible right now to calm myself so I don't set the house on fire." 

My supportive prayer warrior friend responded, "I'm sorry, Jes. I know you're upset right now but I. Can't. Stop. Laughing! Don't set your house on fire. You don't want to end up on COPS on your 35th birthday."

And there it was...this was my 35th year on this earth. I realized in that moment that I did not have a strong handle on my emotion in this area. As I write this I have to admit that I hate that I'm having to write this. I hate that my response to my wonderful, supportive husband wasn't immediately and naturally grace. No. My natural response was to set the bleeping house on fire. EEEEK. This is why I'm always saying that I need Jesus more than you! 

God gave me this verse immediately, "A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control." 

If I'm being honest, and clearly I am, I'll tell you that that verse made me feel worse. Conviction. My heart sank. I didn't want to be a fool. But I still wanted to burn down the house. And then I realized that's exactly what I was doing - in my heart, in my head, I was burning down my house. Revelation! 

Okay, I didn't go from conviction to revelation that quickly. It was conviction, prayer, whining and crying to God how mad I was at my husband and asking God to remind me how incredibly wonderful my husband is every single day. And then asking God to remind me how much Brad puts up with because he lives with a wife who needs so much work! The big revelation for me is that rather than asking God to change my husband, I needed to ask God to continue to change me. Ugh! 

Not gonna lie, I'm still not happy that he didn't have a card or a gift for me on my birthday. But I'm not mad, either. And I'm not holding him hostage in my anger, hurt or disappointment. 

We literally can burn down our relationships if we fan the flames of anger. Our thoughts and self-talk become the fuel that makes the fire grow hotter and more out of control. I don't want to lose myself in that flame. I want to burn with passion for Jesus and for my husband, my family, my church, my community, and this world that needs hope.

I want my anthem to be,  "This little light of mine. I'm gonna let it shine!"  

Not,  "Just gonna stand there and watch me burn. That's alright because I like the way it hurts." 

Don't set your house on fire. And if you already did, call for help! Counseling! Pastors! Mentors! There are people in your path who are supposed to help you...reach out to them. And for Heaven's sake: KEEP GOING!