feeling inspired.

I've finally started acting on a dream I've had for a while - start a photography series centered on people who inspire me. I've just posted my first "Inspired By" story on the Casara Photo blog, and I'd love for you to check it out. It's the story of Hannah, and her journey through motherhood, infertility, loss, and her unwavering faith through it all. Hannah has taught me to see beauty all around me. Her story is also helping to connect people who may be feeling alone in their struggles. If you're looking for some inspiration, or maybe you're coping with a loss of your own, I highly encourage you to read her story.

Love,
Jessi

hello, dreamer.

Good morning, friends.

Can I just say how nice it is to be doing this again? I realize in my last post how much of a whiner I was being...mornings...jobs...eek. But really I am incredibly excited about what the next few years hold for me.

I feel selfish saying that I want more out of life, because I truly am blessed, but that really is both the pro and con of being a dreamer isn't it? One the one side, I have these beautiful thoughts and aspirations of good things - and not just for me - I truly do find joy in helping people and showing people how beautiful their lives are.

My passion is photography. Something inside me comes alive when I snap that shutter. It is raw and honest and good. I get to capture a moment that was once fleeting. I get to show a mother her expression when she looks at her newborn. I get to remind a husband how much his wife adores him. I get to bring out the joy kids feel when their only job is to be loved by their parents. And I do it every time I take a picture. I love it.

But like I said, being a dreamer can have it's dark side. Sometimes you feel like you're living an unfulfilled life. You have all of these beautiful hopes, but part of you realizes that not all of them may come to pass, and that leaves you a little sad inside. We feel like the rabbit in the cage...we have our food and water and shelter, but what of those meadows and streams and sunshine? Isn't that what we were made for?

I truly believe that everything God made is good, or at least it's supposed to be. And I think He made us to do good things. I think we are the choices we make and both our actions and intentions frame us and mold us. And, honestly, I think our main job in life is to match our intentions to His. I think that He is the biggest dreamer of us all. I think whatever we can dream He can dream bigger. And that excites me.

So maybe the best thing I can do right now, is just say "I'm in." Right now it is my job to make good choices. Love God, love people. Make my actions match my intentions, which ultimately match His intentions. What better dream is there?

I know there's more to it than that, but I'm still trying to figure it out too. I do know though, that following that dream makes me a lot less sad. So that's a start.

Love,
Jessi

morning people.

I've decided I need to be one of those morning people. I mean, think about it. Morning people make the world go round. Bakers, baristas: morning people. So here I am at 6:30 am trying to be a morning person. I'm hoping this bagel and coffee kick in soon.

I want to do things. Mostly, I want to write beautiful things and photograph beautiful people. And write about the beautiful things that those beautiful people do. Is that so much to ask? Can I please just sit here all day and write about things that make me cry and smile and then go through all of the photographs I took this weekend and share them with the world in hopes of bringing a smile to someone else's face?

I want to help make the world go round too.

I have a full time job though so I have to leave soon. I have to sit in front of a computer writing about things I don't really care about, and looking through photos that I don't really care about, and answering phones that I surely do not care about. Because I have bills and responsibilities and whah whah whah.

Surely this is not God's will for me.

My pastor did this super annoying message series at church the last few weeks. He said that God's will is whatever. Like, whatever you're doing (as long as it's not killing, lying, cheating, etc) can be in the will of God. And we should do it well, do it "as unto the Lord." Because wherever we're at, if we're claiming to know Christ, we need to act like Him.

Yeah that's super annoying. I mean it's true, but it's annoying.

I want to quit and run away and then come sit in Starbucks and write forever and forever. But writing does not pay the bills my friends, at least not yet. You gotta do whatcha gotta do. Or something.

Anyway, I say all of that to say that I'm going to try and do both. I'm gonna wake up at the crack of dawn so I can do what I love, and then go to work and try to do it the best I can, so I can pay my bills and be responsible (and pay for my coffee and bagel at 6:30 in the morning) so I can keep doing what I love to do.

I sincerely hope that one day this is my job. In the meantime, look at how cute this is:

Love,
Jessi
 

how dare you.

Do you  know who has had the audacity to break my heart? To make me want to give up on humankind? Who has absolutely deserved a kick in the groin and a slap in the face?

Christians.

And I don't mean the real deals, I mean the ones claiming to be Christians - the ones who actually claim to follow Jesus Christ himself - and who are absolutely positively the most vile, prideful, disrespecting, violent, hurtful human beings on the face of the planet.

You claim to be better than someone else? You say that those people "aren't worthy" because of their background or social circumstance or GOD FORBID their sexual orientation (yep, I said it)?

HOW. DARE. YOU.

If Christ himself would never say those things, or do those things, who are you? Who do you think you are?? Do you really think you're better than he is?

"Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone." - John 8:7

So go ahead, Oh Sinless One, you cast that stone.

You blameless, perfect, wonderful being. CAST IT.

I. DARE. YOU.

Yes, I am a bit angry. Angry enough the throw some card tables maybe. Not that I'm trying to compare myself to Christ, cause God knows I'm a screw up. But at least I admit it. I may not be perfect, or anywhere close, but I do think I know what it means to follow Christ. And it starts with LOVE.

We are to be patient, kind, loving and gentle. PERIOD. Through that love HE will be known, because that is who HE is.

Less of you and more of HIM.

Geez.

And go read Philippians 2 while you're at it.

I'm out.

Love,
Jessi

sometimes I just want a script.

I can literally lay on the couch and watch an entire season of a cheesy teenage drama series and never get bored. Is that bad?

I so easily get sucked into their world. I get attached to the characters; I want to know how their lives end up. I still wonder how Joey and Pacey are doing. And Peyton and Luke. And oh my gosh did Veronica and Logan even end up together?!? (I mean how are you supposed to deal with a series getting cancelled mid-season?!)

I think there's something wrong with me.

Isn't my life supposed to be more interesting than a fictional tv show? When did reality become less interesting than a script? (Well, I guess there is the whole thing where writers deliberately add drama to keep you watching...they do call it "drama" for a reason.) But isn't life full of real drama? Maybe we'd rather be involved with someone else's drama. Maybe it's easier to watch it from "afar." Maybe it's easier to point out what they did wrong or say "Oh, I would have done it this way instead." Maybe it's easier to see how obvious the right thing is and blame the obvious bad guy for doing the wrong thing. Maybe it's also nice to see the good guy do the wrong thing, and then pat ourselves on the back for being "normal."

Whatever the reason, it's distracting. I've been sitting on the couch since 11am watching the entire first season of "Switched At Birth" and wondering if Bay and Emmett are gonna make it through this whole Ty fiasco (and holy crap they better) but simultaneously wondering if maybe my Saturday could have been better spent hanging out with real people with real problems?

Is it ok that I would rather hang out with fictional characters that have their own scripts than with real people I might actually have to converse with?

I'm not so sure.

Sometimes I just want my own script...

Road trips

Sometimes it is nice to see new things.

you think you're alone, but you're not

I've been wanting to write about this for a long time, but it sucks to talk about it. I hate that it sucks to talk about it, so I'm gonna talk about it.

The 17th was 17 years to the day since the worst day of my life. I still think about it, still remember it, and still want more than just justice. I want freedom. Don't get me wrong, I have forgiven and moved forward with my life. I do not live in fear like I used to, but I still live with the sadness of knowing that there are girls like me all over the world who don't have the freedom to talk about it. They are scared and they feel alone. So that's what I'm doing. Talking (or writing, but whatever, you get my point).

So here I am at 11 years old. Perfect hair, perfect teeth, and impeccable fashion tastes (and, yes, that is a unibrow).

I am more than a little naive. I'm 11 for goodness sake. That is how it should be. I know nothing about boys or what they think about. I don't know if they are much different than me, other than the fact that they stink a little more and are kinda annoying sometimes. I'm an A/B student. I live in a small town. My parents aren't rich, but they aren't poor either. I'm average.

April 17th, 1996. I'm in my 6th grade math class, and it's about 20 minutes til the last bell, but I have to pee. I ask Mrs. Osborne for a bathroom pass, and she lets me go. I walk into the empty bathroom and into the second to last stall cause it's the one that closes the best. None of the stalls have locks that work. A few seconds later the lights go out. Very funny. "Hey turn the lights back on. Someone's in here!" Then someone comes into my stall. "Hey someone's in here!" Then someone puts a gun to my head and tells me if I say anything he'll kill me.

This makes no sense. I'm at school. I've used this bathroom hundreds of times. I don't understand what is happening.

He puts duct tape over my mouth and tells me to take my pants off. I still remember it was a Wednesday because I was wearing my green Wednesday panties. He touches me in a place I didn't think he was supposed to. I stand there quietly. I have no idea what is going on. He tries pushing me down onto the toilet. He asks me if I've ever done this before. The duct tape on my mouth prevents me from talking, so he lifts up the corner so he can hear the shaky "No." I begin to understand what is happening. I start crying. I start banging on his chest. I don't want to do whatever he wants me to do. He asks me to lay on the floor. I can't lay on the floor, I don't want to. Is he trying to have sex with me? I've heard of that before, but I thought that you had to be a grown up to do that? I thought that you had to have that period thing first. If I don't have my period yet and he tries to have sex with me will I die? It might kill me. I. have. no. idea.

As he is trying to get me to lay down, the lights came on. I see his face. He is a boy that I go to school with. I didn't know it at the time, but he had been suspended from school. He shouldn't have been able to come on campus. He puts a finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet. I don't remember this, but everyone in the classroom next to the bathroom said that they heard a shrill scream, and the girl in the hallway saw the boy run past her.

I stand there, shaking. I have to leave before he comes back. I put my pants back on, but I forgot to put my green Wednesday panties back on so I just stuff them in my pocket. I take off the duct tape. I run.

I run straight into Mrs. Woodburn, my favorite social studies teacher. She holds me until she figures out why I'm crying. "Someone tried to rape me."

The rest of the day was police and questions. My parents were called. That may have been the hardest part. I have only seen my dad cry 3 times, and that was one of them. The principal brought a yearbook and opened it to a specific page. He asked me if the boy who did that was on that page. He was. He knew he was. Later that night, the boy was caught, and a year of trials and court dates ensued. I had to tell that story over and over again in front of a room full of strangers. I remember the defense attorney, who was a heartless bastard, asking me to redraw the gun because I drew it different this time. I must be lying. And I remember the court reporter, who gave me candy and looked at me with the saddest eyes. Long story short, the boy was charged as an adult and sentenced to 20 years in prison on first degree charges of sexual assault and attempted rape with a weapon. Justice is served. (Though it will be a good 5 years before I can use a public restroom by myself).

And here I am 17 years later, still thinking about it. As I said, I did forgive him. Not, of course, because what he did was ok, but because I did not want to live me life in fear and in anger. But honestly I didn't want to tell this story to teach about forgiveness, although I would recommend it to anyone who has been hurt by someone. I am telling it because this happens, and it happens a lot. 

According to the American Medical Association, sexual assault (and rape in particular) is one of the most under-reported crimes in the nation (and I'm sure, the world). It is estimated that 1 in 6 women and 1 in 33 men are victim to attempted or completed rape, and the number is much higher for sexual abuse and other types of sexual assault. Most of these events happen to children between the ages of 12-17. If you also take into account that less than half of cases are typically reported (especially true for boys and men), then those numbers are terrifyingly staggering. And that's just in the U.S. I can't speculate, but I assume that it's even worse in third world countries and places of war.

So, not to play a numbers game, but we are talking at least one out of every four women and one out of every ten men have experienced sexual assault of some kind, and no one ever talks about it. 

I spoke with a group of girls recently at a group home. The "bad" girls who are there for truancy or running away. All of them had been abused. One girl had been raped since she was 3 years old by her stepfather, another had been raped by her brothers with beer bottles. Of course they didn't want to go home. Of course they were doing bad in school. Of course they were stealing food and selling drugs to make money. What else can a 13 year old girl do?

I could go on and on. And I don't expect this blog to change the world or the psychopaths living in it. But at least be aware. Know that this happens, and know that it is ok to talk about it. Know that the girl in your class might have gone through something like this. Or the girl you work with. Or your neighbor. Or your cashier. 

And know that it is terrifying to talk about, but that's ok. You've never felt more vulnerable, weak and alone in all of your life. But it has to stop. We need freedom. And we need it now. 

Feel free to discuss this further in the comments below or share this post with others.

Love,

Jessi

A little get up and go.

I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know Him better. I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of His glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.   - Ephesians 1:16-19

I needed a little get up and go this morning. I have been so tired, so burned out. So many things on my plate, but so much left I want to do. I needed hope, I needed refreshing. There is a purpose in what I am doing, or at least there can be if I choose to believe it. Live each day on purpose and with purpose. Have hope in Him, know Him, and believe Him when he says "You are ready."

Love,
Jessi