break

I needed a break so I went to New Mexico over the last 5 days to visit my very best friends and their two perfectly adorable boys. It's funny how a few people you love can bring you back to life.

I went hiking to the top of a mountain, ate lots of Mexican food (the good kind, New Mexican Mexican food), played cards, watched movies, and did lots and lots of talking and listening and laughing and loving. Something about holding a new baby, changing a poopy diaper, going to your friends parent's house and realizing you have family all over the country, sleeping in late, and NOT having to make the bed...it is just rejuvenating for me.

It reminded me of a passage in the book I am reading (Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne) about how Shane will only go to an event if they arrange for him to stay with a local family. He doesn't want a hotel room, just a family, just some community. And that's what this week was for me. A family. A community. I came with presents; they welcomed me with tacos, wine, kashi bars, clean sheets, pretty flowers, and a place in their hearts and lives for me.

Haunted
This book is haunting me. I thought it would be a short read, in fact a few people who read it nonchalantly said, "Oh yea, I read that, it was a cool book." Really, there is nothing cool about this book. It is not just another read. If you can read these pretty prophetic and powerful words and come out the other side completely the same, there is something really wrong. In fact, if you can read this book and digest it in a few days, I would say you have read with the wrong set of eyeballs. You phonied your way through it. So reread it and stop being phony.

Turns out the words in this book are royally screwing me up.

I want to dive into this book over the next few days so I wanted to give you the chance to pick it up first. As far as books go, besides Atlas Shrugged and Embracing the Love of God...this book takes the cake for the most influential book in my life (OK, besides the Bible...for those of you who needed to hear that Sunday school answer confessed!). I encourage you to get a copy. Not because this man makes a dime off of it, he doesn't, all proceeds are donated...but I wonder how these deeply uncomfortable words will settle with you and how you will choose to respond? I wonder if you can tune it out? I cannot.

A Taste
My favorite passage of the day is:
I had a college professor who said, "All around you, people will be tiptoeing through life, just to arrive at death safely. But dear children, do not tiptoe. Run, hop, skip, or dance, just don't tiptoe."

Shane ends the page by saying:
God forgive us for all those we have lost because we made the gospel boring. I am convinced that if we lose kids to the culture of drugs and materialism, of violence and war, it's because we don't dare them, not because we don't entertain them. It's because we make the gospel too easy, not because we make it too difficult. Kids want to do something heroic with their lives, which is why they play video games and join the army. But what are they to do with a church that teaches them to tiptoe through life so they can arrive safely at death?

Catalyst
Thank you. Exactly. What makes me excited when we do shows at churches is not another cool youth building with lots of entertaining play stations and multi-million dollar rooms full of multi-media excess...but when I see people who believe that the message of Jesus is fulfilling enough. Churches that do not model how they can use their money on themselves and their entertainment and numbers strategies, but how they can inspire their people and send them out to use millions of dollars on others...people who really need it.

We do not need more entertainment. We need authenticity. I don't know about you, but I need something real. The way of Jesus is not easy, but it is beautiful, so right, and so deeply fulfilling... it cannot continue to be watered down. Shane Claiborne paints the most convicting and divine picture of this way of living, living like Christ. I hope to be able to share with you this week all that I am learning and all that I am dreaming up. Or all the dreams that God is filling me up with.

While I was resting...I hope you were doing well. Pray for the people of the world today. I felt like I left civilization (Deming, New Mexico might as well be a different planet for me) and came back to so much suffering. So many natural disasters. At the very least our first response should be prayer and mourning...these are our brothers and sisters who have lost their children, homes, food, and lives. How would we respond to our own family in such times?

If you know of any ways to directly contribute to any of the natural disasters that have occurred this week in Myanmar, China, India, or America please post the relevant info on the content page.

Worms

I am in the front seat of the van right now. It is 11:48 pm. Our estimated time of arrival in Dallas is 2:43 am. That’s what the Garmin says. So as soon as I get home I will post this. And that puts me at a new level of blog crazy.

First you should know that we are driving through Oklahoma and it smells like worms. Mud and worms. Travis was just driving and so we talked about worms and how we wished we could put our hands in some good old-fashioned dirt and dig around for worms. This was followed by an example of how Travis can drive with his teeth, use no hands on the wheel for 14 seconds, and a story he made up for me about a town called Crayonville that was threatened by two giant erasers. He is my favorite driving buddy. We sing country songs together, make up songs, name dead animals on the side of the road, and best of all, we listen intently to Delilah. We love that woman. We think about calling in but never have the guts. What if she answers??? Maybe I will call and dedicate a song to my mom for Mother’s Day.

Today we played in a little town in Missouri. Actually it is more like we played at the central location of four little towns…I am still not sure what town we actually played in. But that is beside the point. The point is this church had more girls than I have ever seen in one building. They were everywhere like little ants. Cute ants.

At lunch there was an entire table of girls, like five years old to thirteen, and one single boy. It was a 14:1 ratio and he hated it. The girls were making him color. His mom was having him take pictures with me. And he was turning red. I felt bad for him. It was like my cousin Eric who was our only boy cousin growing up that we dressed up in girl clothes and make-up. Sorry Eric. But the guys, being the guys they are were excited for him. They said that he should appreciate his odds because one day this would be a good thing! So live it up little nine-year-old man. One day you will love being the only guy at a table full of girls!

Anyways…back to the girls. They were precious. A lot of them were little. First, second, third grade. And they were looking at me with their huge, innocent eyes hanging on to every word I said. I just wanted to hug all of them, and tell them that they were beautiful, and tell them all the mistakes I had ever made and tell them all the things to avoid in life and keep them from ever messing up, or hurting, or being painfully dumped by a stupid boy. I felt like there should be a moment between us all.

So I made one.

After the show I had all the girls come up that had been hanging around all day and we took a girl picture. Then I said, “Girls huddle up.” I had no idea what I would say next. And then I felt stupid, like, what right do I have to impart wisdom??? But it was too late. They were all looking at me with their big beautiful eyes waiting to hear what I had to say.

So you know…I told them they were beautiful. And unique. And special. And that God had made them that way and they never needed to change. The only thing I could think of next was…and girls, be nice. And they all giggled.

We are notoriously cat like little creatures. And we know it. Prone to be caddy and mean and jealous. Even the first graders knew that. And we all giggled. I said…really, lets be girls that are nice, that make others feel loved and special, girls that refuse to talk bad about others and refuse to think we are any better or any worse than the people around us.

That was sort of it. They all said ok. And we ended our girl huddle, gave lots of hugs, and took lots of pictures. And that moment meant a lot to me.

You wonder if you are ever affecting people. And as we drive tonight and I think about worms, I am also thinking about these little girls. Their little faces keep popping into my head. What if they grow up to be kind? Loving? Accepting? What if they don’t care what they look like and don’t care if the person they are talking to is “cool” or “not cool”…what if they just love like Jesus. How beautiful would that be? That is my hope for them tonight. For each of us really.

That and I really hope I can play with mud and worms sometime soon. It sounds strangely fun. Happy Monday friends. Love people well today.

Follow Up

Yesterday we drove ten hours to get to Agape Festival in Greenville, IL (we play tonight at midnight. Little do they know, I have a 10:30 pm bedtime. This might create a slight problem).

We got in late and the front desk lady told us exactly where to park the van and trailer. This is usually the first thing we try and get settled since most hotels are not equipped for our big ole van of love. Apparantly the alley she told us was not really and alley but a road. And we got a call this morning at 5:23 am informing us that if the van was not moved it would be towed.

Rude wake up call.

Anyways, I thought I would let you know that in light of that, I have basically been a calm angel today. Not even remotely wanting to kill anyone. (And please know that I use the word 'kill' in the most loose, sarcastic way possible).

I loved all of your thoughts on my confession of struggling with anxiety and panic attacks. Ok, and also ADD and a mild form of obsessive compulsive disorder....jeez, I sound like a clinical trial.

I really appreciated the person who admitted judging people like me in the past. I too judged people who took "medicine" to fix their "emotional" problems for a very long time. My dad got one of his graduate degrees in counseling, so I grew up with a shrink around the house and that was loads of fun! Through no fault of his own, as I learned about medicines and more importantly saw some of the people in my life who took them, I automatically associated taking medicine with lazy, messed-up, crazy people. Mainly girls. People saw my dad because there was something wrong with them, they needed help.

And clearly, I was above having problems and needing help with anything.

That was my mindset. But a very Godly woman who spent several years with me in therapy was able to break me free of this arrogant and ignorant belief. She helped me to realize that much like diabetes or cancer, chemical imbalances in your brain that cause mental illnesses are just as equally a disease that is beyond your control. You would no more chose to have a panic attack than you would an asthma attack or lupus or diabetes. And if you were told you had diabetes you would take the treatment for it...so why not take the treatment for anxiety, depression, and other disorders?

For me, this decision did not come lightly. I refused to take medicine for five years after I was diagnosed. And when my dad and a dear friend named Patty told me that I could have such a different life and encouraged me to give the medicines a chance....I hated their guts. But I began to wonder if I could be a more healthy person and what if, just what if, it made my life look different?

I cried all the way to the pharmacy. And you would've thought I was giving my self a lethal pill when I took the first pill. I was bawling. I was ashamed of myself and felt defeated. Because it had to do with my mind I was convinced I should be able to fix it on my own. But we can't fix our own diseases. If we could, we would never see those little pink ribbons ever again...and the world would be a more beautiful place.

I felt like a total loser for days. I was one of those girls now.

But then one night I fell asleep. No bad dreams. No fifty million thoughts going through my head. No counting the ticks of the clock and the constant circles of the fan. I woke up and for three days straight I didn't have any chest pains. And a few weeks later I realized I had not been sick and no fake heart attacks. I was talking at church a few weeks later and realized that I wasn't sweating and freaking out in my head. And it had been a long time since I had floated out of my own body and disconnected with the world and watched everything from a different place. A few months in...and I felt balanced.

Same Jenny. My personality wasn't gone. I was not a zombie and I didn't cry all the time, I assumed both of those things would happen. But nothing happened. I was still me.

My head was just a little more calm. And that was a great gift.

What a personal and hard decision this was for me. As I am sure it is for most people...so if you are ever faced with it, don't be afraid. Use caution, wisdom, guidance, prayer and remember you are created in the image of God. We are blessed to have access to doctors and nurses and medicines that can help our bodies. And that is amazing. As with everything in life...we approach it and the people who are dealing with it...with grace.

Mean Girl?

(written a few days ago...really, i promise)

I have turned into a monster. Cruella Deville meets Omarosa meets the Antichrist. Cutting off old people in the hospital parking lot, glaring down the man at GAP who suggested I try some jeans on from the "curvy" line today, hating the men out my window who have been moving furniture up and down the stairs so loudly (seriously can't you haul that oven down four flights of stairs with a little more grace and composure?) and looking at everyone with the impending, "What, is it idiot day in Dallas???"

I missed my medicine last night. I used to just think that perhaps I was the meanest person in the world, just a total, you know, bad word. Which I called my sister in the fourth grade and got spanked for, grounded, and told that I was never to call a family member that again. To which I replied, "but what if she really is?" I got spanked again.

Sometime in the last few years I started reading about and discovering, hold on to your pants, MENTAL ILLNESSES.

Hear no Evil
No one wants to talk about this. No one wants to be labeled as "mentally ill." This sounds much too like someone who hears voices, sees invisible people, and lives in a rubber room with a padded suit, security guards, weekly electric shock therapy, and drool constantly running down their faces. And while I agree we are a completely over-medicated society (which is one of my new years resolutions: one year with NO antibiotics) I think it is sad that words like Prozac and Zoloft have come to represent depressed and emotionally needy or psychotic women, people who don't have enough faith and haven't prayed with enough fervor, or kids who are totally misbehaved and are trying to be fixed through medicine. The stereotypes go on and on. And they exist because in some cases they are true. But not all cases.

I realized a few years ago that I suffer from anxiety and panic attacks. Which would no doubt explain the years and years I have spent throwing up when I get too excited, nervous, or full of energy. It would also explain why I could never pass a test in school. Why I get mad at people when they are trying to talk to me while I am on the phone or too many people talking at once or too many things going on in my life at once... or just too many loud noises at once, like the movers today... because these things can become overwhelming and they cause anxiety inside of me. This explains why sometimes my heart races, I start sweating, and I feel like I am floating outside my body experiencing everything from a different little world. And it also explains why in those moments when I go to my doctor and INSIST that I am having a heart attack (like Oprah said to do) that she looks at me, does the little EKG and says...no sweetie, still no heart attack. Just a panic attack.

What? No heart attack? I cannot breathe. I cannot think clearly. I feel like I am going to explode and I am nasty mean out of no where for no good reason...I feel like I might want to kill you. She says she understands and tells me again...it's just an anxiety disorder.

Anxiety
Ever had these thoughts or feelings? The irritability. Inability to focus, concentrate, to sleep without dreaming, to talk about something important without sweating, to drive through a parking lot of certifiable idiots without feeling the need to run them all over. You may have anxiety. I do. And for so long I thought it was just a mean demon inside of me, but it turns out that my mind gets to a certain place where it feels overwhelmed and cannot handle the world around me...so my body reacts, my emotions react, my words react, everything reacts and I start shutting down to stop from feeling overwhelmed. And all of this happening to a girl that gets stressed out about very little, if anything.

A perfect example is forgetting words on stage. In rare moments I will be singing a chorus and realize that I have no idea what the second verse is. Once I realize this, I feel anxious. Dangit!!! What's the next verse??? Then I panic a bit. My mind starts going fast. I sweat. My throat hurts. My heart pounds...I know I am starting to have a mild panic attack, but I swear it feels like a heart attack. And then, I am convinced it is a heart attack. And then, I freeze and I don't know what to sing next, and then the rest of the show is a blur and I leave stage feeling like I have physically been hit by a train...I am exhausted. For me that is what anxiety and panic attacks feel like.

Anxiety is controllable and it is never an excuse...but sometimes it is the root of the little DEMON Jenny that comes out.

And after having talked to several different doctors I have realized that low doses of medicine, for me, can help keep it leveled out(I have also, in the process, been diagnosed with ADD). Mixing this with exercises in breathing, thinking calmly, walking myself through my situation, and being, as the Bible says, "clear minded and self-controlled" I can get a grip on these moments that feel so out of control for me. They are scary moments. Like an asthma attack or even a really bad charlie horse that seizes up your leg or terribly painful heart burn that you have no control over. It is scary to feel something that you are not so sure you can control.

Wrapping Up
Back to Cruella. I feel better now. Sitting, drinking some tea, and telling myself that I am irritable right now because I am feeling overwhelmed. With what, I am not sure. It is hard to know what triggers it. Take it from me, a laid back, never stressed out, calm, cool, and collective woman...there is no reason for me to have panic or anxiety, but yet sometimes it is there, out of nowhere, like a roach. The house is clean and then a perfectly huge roach shows up. Yuck! Where does it come from? Who knows. I live on the third floor and I just don't think roaches can climb three flights of stairs. But they show up. Same with these random mental illnesses...they show up, even if you feel like you got a clean house that is all in order. Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason...it just is.

I am not sure why I am telling you this except that I went to the doctor today to get a refill on my medicine and to just make sure I was on the right track with dosing and what not. It feel like a zoo in there. A bunch of exotic animals, and me, the normal family friendly dog. Poodle. I started to feel crazy. There were three LOUD talkers. One guy listening to earphones and singing, mumbling, and twitching. Two teenagers that looked like real mutants. And some high strung rich ladies with lots of plastic surgery going on looking around to see who was looking at them. And then me and one normal guy. We caught eyes for a second and bonded in that..."these people are crazy," way. And I remembered the first time I ever went to a counselor. One of the questions in the interview process asked if I had ever wanted to walk in front of a moving bus or car before? I broke down in tears. I am not that screwed up!!! I don't want to fling myself in front of a bus! I was tempted to leave. Surely I was above this. Surely I was not sitting in that chair answering that question.

And I guess I felt that way today with the crazy lobby. I thought about bailing, telling the doc, look take care of the wild species in here, I am just a simple poodle who might have a mild and temporary neurosis, or look, I could just be a mean person. That's it. Let's go with I am mean.

But then he called my name, I went in, and took another stab at becoming a fully functioning follower of Jesus Christ...a phrase I stole from a great woman in Dallas. I left with my new prescription, got stressed about riding the elevator down with all those sick people, so I walked 13 flights, almost ran down people in the parking garage, and thought about breaking my windshield wipers off the windows after they kept bizarrely going off and decided ....yeah....maybe I will go get this prescription filled after all.

Meetin' Bloggin' Buddies

New Friends!
That's right! This is Brooke from Oregon, aka, "Seven" and I got to meet her!!! You guys know how much I love the community we get to have on the blog, right? Well, it's not a joke! I love your comments, your thoughts, your feisty feedback, and your personal blogs. And it doesn't end in cyber world, I would love to meet you in person too. Seriously.

Brooke was at our final Planet Wisdom weekend and I got to have lunch with her and find out more about her life. And she got to come backstage for literally the best meal of the year so far! It was really cool to be able to meet someone from the other side of the country and feel like we were already friends...I loved it. So thanks Brooke. And if you guys are going to be at one of our shows, please let me know so we can meet up!

Other updates:
No luck, the Ipod is gone. It is either nestled in the seat of the airplane or someone from the cleaning crew or a future passenger now has my Ipod with all my personal pictures and tour dates on it! Not to mention my life saving music. I am over it though. I think I could have gotten $150 for it. I opened my mailbox today and some precious friends who just sold all their belongings and moved to Africa sent Ryan and I check for $500. Missionaries sending other missionaries what little money they have. Is that beautiful or what? That is the beauty of what it means to be a true Christ follower. We take care of each other and we are blessed beyond what we can imagine. If my Ipod is always on, how can I hear the music of the world or the whisper of my Savior? This is something I can learn to live without. Though I won't lie, the four hour plane ride last night left me lusting.

Finale
And this weekend was our final Planet Wisdom tour date. It hit me all at once during the last set. I made it through without crying because if you are a guy and cry on stage it is a "cool" moment but if you are a girl and cry on stage it is "unprofessional"...trust me on this one. So I made it offstage and bawled my eyes out. The end of two years. The end of a little family that I have grown to love. The end of being a part of leading 20,000 kids a year in some pretty soul quenching worship. And the beginning of the unknown. For two years all my tour dates have been planned out...a year in advance. Now I look in the fall and stare at nothing. This is frightening. Everything seems unknown right now. What happened to my five year plan??? And how did I end up here?

I remember the first PW run through at my home church in Dallas. I stepped on the stage and looked out to the HUGE, empty auditorium and thought..."oh man, this is me now. My job. My stage. My responsibility. Just me and God and the guys. Crap this stage is huge." I was terrified, but I tried not to let on. Now it feels like second nature. A part of me. I will miss it deeply.

GMA Re-Cap
Yes! I did go to GMA week and it was absolutely amazing, but I have had a hard time knowing how to talk about it and where to begin. Should I start with meeting Steven Curtis Chapman, my childhood hero, and how kind he was to me? Or with the 40 plus interviews that we did? Or the fact that most people actually knew who we were, loved our new album, and showed the band sooo much support? The incredible hotel with the crazy lobby full of every Christian artist, American Idol artist, and even some country peeps too? Or that I met Rupert from Survivor a few seasons back? Or with the INO showcase that was packed out and left people waiting on the streets to get in and that I sat there watching The Afters. Sarah Groves, Phil Whickam, and others perform and got overwhelmed with the most amazing feeling that I was a part of them, a part of that amazing label, living this incredible life that I dreamed about as a kid? I was sharing the stage with them? Or that I struggled all week as I read through Shane Claiborn's book the Irresistible Revolution and then made my way to banquets, nice meals, and Christian luxury and stardom. And I wondered, how can this match up? The sacrificial way of Jesus and being a part of the "Christian market?" Those thoughts and events just barely scratch the surface of what GMA was like for me. It was a dream. It was fast, long, tiring, beautiful, and as so many other artists said...basically a big family reunion. We loved it.

And that's all the updates I have for you....have a lovely Monday.
Your friend...
jenny

Observing

I would like to write a book but I do not know where to begin. Ultimately it seems like it is people-plagiarism to simply write about what I am seeing in the world. At this point my book would have to be called: 24 Hours at Starbucks, a Glance at Everyone Else’s Life.

Right now there are 2 teachers and four of their first grade students sitting next to me. One teacher, with a sturdy, pointed nose and shortly chopped blond hair has the best posture I have ever seen. She no doubt still uses the ruler on the hands of those who slouch. She is sandwiched between two absolutely opposite little seven-year-old girls. One is very quiet; the other is very loud. One is delicately disassembling her huge cupcake into bird like bites; the other is taking monstrous chunks out with no regard to the cupcake or to the others around her. One listens and observes; the other can’t talk fast enough or get all her stories in. One is ignoring the two boys at the table; the other is grabbing the boy’s shorts closest to her while he screams. She explains that she had to do it; his underwear was sticking out.

The teacher? With fork lifted astutely in the air, elbows off the table, and a completely perfect spinal column that held her chin in the air at a very respectable angle, reminds the girls to act like “ladies.” I.e. take smaller bites, sit up taller, don’t grab the boy’s shorts, and definitely don’t talk about underwear at the table. And if possible, maybe, just don’t talk for a while.

The quiet girl finally talks with a quiet gasp…her child’s organic chocolate milk is 110 calories.

I’m not sure if God is playing a trick on my baby crazy mind or I am torturing my own thoughts, but I am both amused and terrified by the girl who seems to be playing the role of me twenty years ago. The anti-calorie counting, loud mouthed, cupcake lover.

Sometimes when I most wonder about myself, and how I turned out this way, I am promptly reminded that indeed I was born with much of it. Mr. Rogers would call it my unique, wonderful me. Dad would call it my mom’s DNA. My sisters would call it the gift of being high strung and emotional. And I would just call it normal. Underwear at the table is not something new and neither is having too many words pent up inside me. Will my own daughter be this way? Normal?

I watched her and wondered about her future.

I also wondered if the seven year old who actually knew what calories were would stop eating by the age of 9 or by the age of 13? I am 27 and the newfound terror of calories is paralyzing for me, a mostly functioning healthy young adult. The introduction of calories twenty years ago would have caused me to never eat again, or at least to keep a pretty nifty diary of every thing I put in my body, which, yep would have increased the intensity of my OCD disorder. And if we are being honest it may have increased my tendency to dissect my own poop. I mean, come on, if we are keeping careful tabs of calories, at that age, I would have wanted a discount on the calories that didn’t seem to stick around in my body.

Back to the mini me. Would she feel like she talked too much? Like me? Would she ever feel like she was too much and she needed to be less? Would she ever realize that cupcakes were from the DEVIL? Or would she keep eating them every time she saw a good one? Would her elaborate, sometimes aggrandized stories ever go unheard? Would she ever listen? Would she ever see someone’s butt hanging out of their pants and just let it slide? What would she love? Who would love her? Would she still be spunky and spastic and full of energy, or would the less passionate people around her squash it out? Would she ever sit on the porch of a coffee store someday and watch another little girl, thinking, “I was just like her…I ought to write a book.” And really, what I need to know is, will she write the book?

She is only concerned with her cupcake right now, and stealing the frosting from all the other cupcakes at the table. That and telling everyone about her blue dinosaur, her idea that Friday’s should be written “Fabulous Friday’s” on the school calendar, and that she planned on going to Disney World this weekend, by herself if no one would go with her. She would just take her dinosaur.

The proper bird like teacher is trying so hard to tame the beast into a lady. But I have big plans for her. I think she will write a book.

Case in Point

I lost my Ipod. My $250, every ounce of birthday and Christmas money, lifeline on long airplane rides, Ipod.

The thing is, I have recently come to an agreement with Jesus and myself that I was OK letting go of a lot of my physical possessions in order to make the much needed money Ryan and I need right now. And in hopes that if we ever have excess money, I will be used to living on little (by America's standards), and I will be fully satisfied in the abundant riches we already have... not requiring anything extra. So I had recently decided to sell my Ipod in hopes that I could bring in some extra money.

It's not the loss of the thing...it is the fact that I LOST IT. How annoying! How stupid! How irresponsible! How frustrating...I needed that money! Can I live without my Ipod? Yes. I had already decided to do so. When you think about it, there is a lot that you can live without. But would I have really loved to make $200 back? Yes.

So I am beating myself up. I have torn through my suitcase ten times and dumped everything on the floor and have called myself cuss words that I would probably not use against my worst enemy. And now I am taking a breath.

It is just money. It is just a thing. And...I look like I wear a size two and the guys from The Afters like my voice, and dangit, I did good this week. And Jesus seems to be smiling right now at me, talking to me a little more than usual...so...I am ok.

Case in point: Beating myself up as we speak. Thank God for those compliments this week. Maybe I am not such a _________.

Take It

Wow.
What a long week it has been. We played for Planet Wisdom in Orange County, California then headed to Nashville, TN for GMA week and now we are back in Northern California for one last Planet Wisdom conference weekend. I have so much to tell you and so many thoughts about GMA week (a big convention for artists, radio, retail, and anyone else involved in the gospel music association). To say the very least, I am pretty tired. We all are. It has been an intense week, thus, no writing. Please forgive me.

As I flew today I thought about some of the things I have heard over the past week and I thought, what the heck, I should write down the best compliments I got. So here they are:

“Jenny, you are the best hippie I have ever known.” “Oh my gosh, I am a hippie?” “Of course you are.”

“Oh my gosh, you are like the cutest thing ever,” from my friend Amy.

“Girl, can I please put you in my pocket and bring you home to my mama?” from a fan in a California bathroom.

“You’re a size 9? You look like a size 2!” from a very nice lady after we discussed the problem of our widening hips between interviews.

“DANGIT, WHY ARE YOU SO GOOD WOMAN?” from Travis (our bass player) after I aced a radio interview!

"You stole the show," "Thanks, you have to say that," "No, seriously, you owned it." from my A&R rep after our GMA showcase performance.

And finally, from one of the guys in The Afters, “Seriously. Your voice rips. I could hear it on the first floor (I was on the third). The only female vocalist I like is Lisa Loeb, but I’ve added you to the list, you are amazing.”

Vanity?
Look, we get enough negative feedback in this world, right? We feel pressure, we feel judged, we feel compared, and often we are told in so many words or less that essentially there is something wrong with us and we are not good enough. For every good word we hear about ourselves, we hear or perceive 10 bad things as well! It’s true. If we don’t beat ourselves up, the world will do it for us. But either way, we are facing an inevitable beating.

As if that were not enough, somewhere along the way we have come to believe that because of Christ-like humility there is no room for praise of the individual person. So we spend a good bit of time rejecting overt praises that might lead us into, God forbid, the folly of pride, vanity, or selfishness. We are basically telling people while covering our ears…aggghhh…don’t flatter me; I might turn into a monster!

Hogwash. When you are given a compliment, live it up! Write it down. Memorize it. Put it on your refrigerator or mirror. Make them say it again and secretly record it on your phone…or, blog about it! Indulge in it. Brag about it. Store it away like a treasured love letter. Every good thing in you is given to you by God.

Do you have an awesome voice? Do people love you at work? Have you done an incredible job on something? Did a random stranger compliment your hair, body, smile, or outfit? Are you the greatest friend? Coolest dad? Best artist? Most loving caregiver? The funniest person around? Or the most beautiful woman alive? Has someone told you something that has made your soul smile?

Embrace it!

Receiving a compliment is a gift. There is no need for false humility, for shame or embarrassment, and there is definitely no need to hide it away. Cling to the good. All good comes from Christ, from God alone. And while there is not a lot of room in our hearts for vanity, there is room for encouragement, truth, and freedom to accept a good old-fashioned compliment. Size two? Seriously? I will take it!

I hope you have heard something good lately.

After a long week with a lot of pressure... I have treasured the sweet words spoken to me. Even if it is just about my lipstick!

Anne Lamott

I just finished reading Anne Lamott's new book Grace:Eventually.

I want to be able to evaluate and critique what I am reading and leave some sort of written opinion for those who care to read it. And for myself. When I am 75 years old, or ok, maybe 40 and on the verge of being senile and experiencing complete memory loss I want to remember why I loved, hated, or cried through a book. I need to judge it and then share it with you.

This is hard for me to do as an artist. An artist who just spent almost two years pouring my heart into a lot of songs that I love which are now currently being judged by anyone who feels like it. Seriously, anyone. I mean God bless freedom of speech and the blessed little internet...it's better than censorship and communism, but couldn't we insert a clause that says: you have free speech except for any negative, presumptuous, or tacky opinion against someone else's work?

This is an impossibility and if we are honest, some people's work totally sucks and we all need to be warned. For instance, music by David Hasselhoff, the movie Heartbreak Kid or any movies staring Jessica Simpson should all come with warning labels. Still, even if it is true, I feel bad saying that.

That being said...I will review yet another book.

If you are unfamiliar with Anne Lamott think ex-hippie, totally irreverent, hilarious, thought-provoking, sarcastic, spiritual woman who is sometimes two steps too self-deprecating and two steps too honest. About as honest as me. A spiritual speaker who talks about drugs, sex, abortion, assisted suicide, and a multitude of mistakes and blunt thoughts. She also dives into the ocean of faith, Jesus, God, salvation, grace, doubt, pain, beauty, birds, gardens, and other beautiful things.

The complete and utter downfall of this book is the obsessive fixation on Anne's hate and extreme anger for George Bush and the current administration. I had been warned by other friends that her previous books made frequent mentions to this topic and that it bogged the material down. I blew them off as annoyed Bush supporters.

But they were right. What started out as her opinion became a rather annoying and redundant bitter diatribe against a man that lives thousands of miles away from her. And while I understand her frustrations, I think they would be more effective in a book called, Why I Hate George Bush. And trust me, plenty of these books already exist.

She is way too artistic, witty, and beautifully spoken to ruin her rare, random, and priceless stories with constant mentions of George Bush. It tarnishes a great jewel.

Bottom line: If you like the writing style of Donald Miller, David Sedaris, or Rob Belle you will enjoy Anne Lamott. If you appreciate followers of Christ who have decided to experience their faith outside of the typical and sometimes judgemental walls of American Christianity, you will love her perspective. And if you just like a good story from a quirky person this is a good read. That is, if you can endure the endless whines over W.

My new book for the week is: The Irresistible Revolution by Shaine Claiborne.

A PRESENT FOR THE BIGGEST FAN

I am standing in the security line when I bend over to get something at the same moment a very big man across from me bends over. I look up to see none other than...Terrell Owens!!! T.O.!!!

To which I brilliantly replied in a whisper, trying to keep it a secret just between he and I, "OH MY GOSH YOU ARE TERRELL OWENS!!!!!!!!"

I think he knew this. Did no one else know? Why hadn't anyone approached him? I mean, he his not hard to miss. Anyways. He asked me why I was in a different line than him, I said I was a gold member, he said he was too, and he came over to my line. He asked how I was a gold member, I told him I was in a band and we travel a lot. He asked, what band??? I sported out Addison Road!!! Jeff was in line with me and was fast acting on the camera and got a picture of us.

As one of my guy friends said after receiving the picture through a text message..."You are the luckiest Cowboy fan I know."

For real. I am the luckiest Cowboy fan in the world. Now I just need tickets to the games. What a great day!!!