by Jen Hatmaker
•For all of history, God has used suffering to make us stronger, even when it was born of sin, failure, injustice, or abuse. It is not wasted. It can even be precious.
•When we are crushed, Jesus is as close as our own skin. He suffered greatly, and we are molded more into His image when we share that spiritual space. There is a Jesus maturity only available to us in suffering. It’s true.
•He has given us to one another as agents of love and grace and safety.
•He told us hundreds of times to comfort each other, making sure we are cared for.
•Jesus wept over death and grief; shed your tears, friend. We have a Savior who cries.
•It is not our responsibility to explain why. We are family. We circle the wagons. We make casseroles. We weep with those who weep.
Suffering invites us to be radically human with one another, perhaps doing nothing more than reaching across the table, clasping hands, and crying together. We are afforded the chance to create a safe place for someone to mourn; nothing is needed but space, proximity, presence, empathy. Grief cannot be sidestepped; it must be endured. May we be a people who endure with one another well, slow to formulize and quick to empathize, because life is so very hard and until God reweaves all things, people are dying for a cold cup of water in their pain.
As for those sovereignty questions, I am sorry to say I don’t exactly understand how it all works this side of heaven. I’m just not sure. It is too complicated and nuanced and interwoven and not at all prescriptive (all the formulas dissolve under scrutiny). I can tell you what I make of the end game—I believe God’s sovereignty ultimately means He will have it all back. Every wrong will eventually be right. Every injustice will be overturned. Every tear will be dried. All the torn pieces will be rewoven. Every prayer utilized to bring us another inch closer to Jesus and more in partnership with His love. This earth and realm will be repossessed into glory, and God will have the world He dreamed of. Some redemption will be in our lifetime, and all of it will be in eternity.
Sovereignty means none of this is too far gone; nothing is outside God’s ultimate plans. No matter how off the rails this world appears, God’s eye has always been on the tiny, fragile sparrow. He has never lost count of an injustice, a life, a human being. No nameless death was ever nameless. No senseless abuse was ever missed. He may have set the whole earth in motion with its mix of humanity and spiritual realms and principalities, but only One is on the throne where He has always been and will always be. If we are still holding a pile of tattered threads, it just means the story is not over yet.
We can trust God entirely until heaven when He vanquishes all tears, all death, all mourning, all crying, all pain, and He reigns and He won and He fixed it all and saved it all and restored it all.
Grace and peace and mercy to you in the beautiful reweaving.
ONE MORE WORD AS YOU GO . . .
Yesterday, I was at level nine hundred crankiness. A combination of factors really: some online drama, a hard week in the news, a bit of travel fatigue, this relentless heat (go home, Austin, you’re drunk), and a general sense that the whole world is a mess and nothing will ever go right again and no one loves anyone and we are all doomed. No big deal. I’m not overreacting; YOU’RE overreacting.
Anyhow, savvy to my own red flags, I did what I always do when I’m careening toward a meltdown: I called my best friends. Well, let’s at least tell the truth—I texted them (I try to use my phone for actual phone calls never). I sent an SOS text lamenting “a cloud of yuck over my head” and asked them to come over for Happy Hour to sit on my porch together and fix me.
They showed up at 5:30 and left at 11:15.
We ate Chips and Salsa Dinner, and everything got put back together. As is usually the case, the yuck cloud had been hovering over all of us in big or small ways, so once again, the “me too” factor was healing in and of itself. And then, of course, all the other magical tools: Prosecco, cheese, funny stories, a few demonstrations of our most absurd yoga poses, picking up the fallen yogi after failing to master the “locust scorpion,” the kids running around the yard, fresh air, Chris Stapleton on the speakers, God in us and among us and for us.
Today, I’m thinking of you. Thank you for thumbing through all the previous pages and spending time with me here. I do not take your time and loyalty and love lightly. When I think of our tribe, the one you and I along with so many others have built, I think of girlfriends on the porch. I think of SOS texts and friends at the ready and laughter and a few tears and togetherness. Always the togetherness. Last night was a picture-perfect description of how I’d describe this community of women: all the mess, because we tell the truth, and all the moxie, because telling the truth sets us free.
I imagine you barefoot on my porch with a crisp glass of Prosecco paired with chips, because we aren’t fancy. I imagine you telling me outrageous and amazing stories of all your Bonus Moms and how they’ve loved you and rescued you. I’d like to hear your tales of renovations gone wonky and that one time you painted your kitchen fluorescent green because you were in a real mood. I bet you have your own version of the Private Baby brother story, and you can probably match my Driving Accidentally to San Antonio for a Field Trip gaffe, because motherhood is basically humility training. We could talk for days about how exercise is trying to kill us and would obviously devote a whole night to our favorite Netflix shows.
I also know you could absolutely identify with my stories of heartbreak and broken bodies and hurting kids and dreams gone sideways. I know you could, because you’ve told me. We’ve endured much. Sanctuary, Forgiveness School, the Cabin, the Grocery Store—you get my places; you have your own versions that are holy and hard and hilarious. No one came to these pages unscathed; we are learning and unlearning and figuring out what to hold on to and what to release. Sometimes life is great and sometimes it is painful beyond recognition, and yet here we all are: still standing.
Still standing.
We have breath in our lungs: still standing. We have people who love us: still standing. We have a God who spends all His hours making broken things whole again: still standing. We are smart and resilient and so very funny and capable, and the days ahead of us stretch unwritten, unsullied, untarnished: still standing. That’s our moxie. We have everything we need.
Sure, these are some of my stories, but really, they are all our stories. They encompass big dreams and home and Jesus and motherhood and childhood memories and husbands and our own parents and church and struggle and triumph. These are ours. And I want you to know I hold your versions with tender hands—in the ways they are similar to mine and in the ways they are polar opposite. Some of you didn’t have healthy parents, and the love note to mine was painful to read. I hold that space for you with great affection. Some of you aren’t married or you’re divorced, and the husband and wife parts in here felt distant or raw. Listen, you may not be a wife, but we are still sisters. I’d previously titled one of the essays “Hiding in the Car Eating Crackers” since sometimes moms can be found doing such scandalous things, and my editor Jessica, who doesn’t have children, wrote back: “I’ve never in my life hidden in the car eating crackers. I don’t even get this.” I howled. Mom Life is so weird.
You have some gorgeous and difficult variations, and this is what makes us stronger together. You are vibrant in areas where I’m weak, and you bring a perspective to the table that the rest of us absolutely cannot live without. You offer depth and nuance and perception to every conversation we share, and the tribe is immeasurably better for it. I am immeasurably better for it. I’ve learned so much from you. You are precious to me, and I count you among my life’s greatest treasure. I sincerely mean that.
So let’s go forth, Moxie Ladies. We have a world to love and a sisterhood to expand, and we’re just the girls for the job.
FOREVER YOUR FANGIRL,
Jen
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to thank my readers first. I cannot imagine a mor
e loyal, loving, hilarious community of (mostly) women. We have been through so much together, and I envision your faces with every word I write. This is for you, all of it, because I love you sincerely. Thank you for being so good to me. My only mission is to serve you well.
Launch Team: you are, as you know, my people. From a ragtag group of strangers pulled together to launch For the Love in January 2015 to what I can only describe as our own little church, my devotion is absolute and forever. Our FTL babies, parties, meet-ups, trips, groups, merch, that time we bought one of our own a car, that time we helped send one of our own to college, . . . you are every good thing. You have all the mess and all the moxie and I adore you. You’ve convinced me the community I’ve always dreamed of is possible.
My team at Thomas Nelson means more to me than I can figure out how to say. Brian Hampton, Jeff James, Karen Jackson, Tiffany Sawyer, Aryn VanDyke, Janene MacIvor, Heather Skelton, my editor Jessica Wong—your belief in me, the way you let me be me, absorbing my suggestion that the cover design include a pin-up girl without laughing in my face, our many, many hours around the table and on twilight cruise—you are my publishing home where I feel safe, loved, and welcomed. And Jessica, this book is so different from the first version I sent you, because you are a brilliant, persnickety, obsessive editor. You made it so much better. SO MUCH. My readers should send you flowers. Thank you. I love you, Team.
All my love and loyalty to Heather Adams, Beth Gebhard, and Kerry Gardner of Choice Media and Communications. For two projects in a row, plus all the in-between, you’ve gone well beyond the call of duty as smart, savvy publicists. Well beyond. You are sisters, collaborators, cheerleaders, and travel partners, including that time we took an “Uber” on a snowy day in New York City, and it was just some random guy driving a Camaro. Good times, girls. Love you dearly.
I cannot possibly, remotely imagine where I would be without my agent, Curtis Yates, and his wife and my favorite reader, Karen (love you forever for the gecko with mouth rot story), and our partner in crime, Mike Salisbury. Someone recently spoke about our relationship and said something about “just business” and I about came undone. You are far more than “just business” partners. Curtis, you are like the most overprotective brother a girl could ever want, and I love you for it. Thank you for the years you’ve guided and stood beside me. I am the most grateful girl. You are so important to me.
To my assistant, Amanda Duckett, I cannot even think of my life without you. Nothing would be done, e-mailed, edited, composed, booked, confirmed, scanned, considered, developed, or accomplished. You and I both know this is true. Your ability to work with an impulsive, unorganized, Big Idea Girl without losing your mind will surely get you straight into heaven. Your ability to speak for me, predict what I need, and communicate on my behalf is so uncanny, it is as if we share the same brain (except yours is organized and systematic and does all the real thinking). I love you, sister.
This is the first book in which I included a few stories about my first family, the one I grew up in. Mom, Dad, Lindsay, Cortney, and Drew: the best, the funniest, the loudest, the tightest, the most obnoxious, the most protective, and the most amazing. You are my safest place, the people I always want, always reach for. We were overloved and overvalued and we don’t even care. Just think: one day we’ll inherit Grandma’s mink, and God willing, the red horse trailer that refuses to go down without a fight. I love you. Our family is what family should feel like.
I can’t not create line space on this page for my A.S.S.S. sisters (don’t ask). Girls, everything. That is what we’ve been through and shared. Everything. Every single thing. Your voices of love and hilarity are constantly in my ears (literally), and I love you so much, I could just freak out. You are true sisters, and I trust you and adore you and need you and would take a bullet for you.
Gavin, Sydney, Caleb, Ben, and Remy: When I dreamed about becoming a mom, I didn’t have one hot clue what that would actually mean. But now I know: it means thinking about you basically every minute of every day, sneaking in to see you sleep at night, watching you across rooms and barely believing that you are mine. Fine, sometimes it also means stalking you on Instagram. If I could handpick five kids in the entire universe to raise, it would be you five. Dad and I are just crazy about you. Watching you grow up into young adults right now is the most amazing, shocking, beautiful thing.
And finally, to Brandon, married twenty-four years this December. I don’t think anyone on earth could love me like you do. I have always felt seen and known and cared for inside our marriage, and that is a true gift. We’re on the downhill slope here on this parenting gig, which is exciting and terrible. But I know I can anticipate an amazing new chapter with you after we’ve wrapped this part up, because I like you and we’re awesome together. Let’s travel. Let’s move into a loft. Let’s get new tattoos. Let’s sit on a lot of porches and beaches and docks and toast this little life of ours. Thanks for being my person. I love you.
MY WILD AND GLORIOUS LAUNCH TEAM
Kim Adam
Chaselynn Beard
Cindy Brill
Regina Chari
Heather Adams
Georgette Beck
Dyan Bronstein
Chelsia Checkal
Amanda Alcamo
Rebecca Beckett
Danielle Brower
Tomi Cheeks
Bethany
Connie Beckham
Amanda Brown
Kristin Cheng
Alexander
Kelly Becktold
Jamie Brown
Mindy Christianson
Robin Allen
Emily Bedwell
Theresa Brown
Katie Ciccione
Anne Alley
Ashley Behn
Jane Brummett
Jenniemarie
Laine Alves
Jennifer Bell
Sarah Buckel
Cisneros
Mary Anderle
Ashley Besser
Kelly Buddenhagen
Becky Clark
Mitzi Arellano
Kodi BeVelle
Kelly Buist
Corie Clark
Elizabeth Arnold
Sue Bidstrup
Kristen Bulgrien
Elise Cleary
Heather Averill
Emma Bircher
Ashley Bunnell
Stephanie Clinton
Darla Baerg
Courtney Birkbeck
Lynn Burdine
Miranda Coker
Erica Bailey
Stephanie Bishop
Elizabeth Burnfield
Jess Collier
Morgan Baker
Amanda
Jessica Burrows
Andrea Conway
Allison Ball
Boardman
Clare Butler
Bridgette Cook
Courtney Banceu
Jennifer Bond
Hidi Byrd
Brenda Cordova
Rachel Bardgett
Miriam Boone
Megan Byrd
Ann Marie Corgill
Ashlee Barlow
Kresta Bosley
Liv Campbell
Whitney Cornelison
Celeste Barnard
Catherine Bost
April Cao
Monica Cornell
Parker Barnes
Kaitlyn Bouchillon
Sue Carbajal
Erin Cox
Christan Barnett
Christine Bowin
Ashley Carbonatto
Wendy Cox
Megan Barnett
Jenna Boyd
Hannah Card
Vickie Cozad
Amber Barrett
Angela Bradford
Leslie Carlton
Kylee Craggett
Lisa Bartelt
Heather Brady
Wanda Carlton
Melissa Crawford
Erin Bassett
Lindsay Brando
n-
Anna Carpenter
Heather Crespim
Cindy Battles
Smith
Nichole Carrabbia
Colleen Crocker
Christy Beach
Sarah Bratt
Angela Carroll
Mary Cumberledge
Amber Beamer-
Erin Brazofsky
Shellie Carson
Angelica
Rohde
Kandice Bridges
Amanda Carver
Czubkowski
Bethany Beams
Danielle Bright
Nicole Case
Amy Dail
Angie Dailey
Lindsay Evans
Angela Graves
Brandee Holland
Heather Danek
Leah Evanson
Rebecca Greebon
Channin Hoover
Laura Daniels
Kelly Fain
Carey Gregg
Sarah Hoover
Robin Dauma
Bekah Fairley
Ashley Griffin
Brianna Houston
Cathy Davidson
Terry Felix
Brittany Griffin
Gwendolyn Howes
Amy Davis
Mrs FishGuy
Nova Grimm
Anastasia Huffman
Athena Davis
Lauren Flake
Gina Grizzle
Shea Hughes
Cassie Davis
Kara Flathouse
Erica Groen
Heather Hughes
Tara Davis
Cydney Fletcher
Elizabeth
LaRae Humes
Rebecca Degeilh
Jodi Fletchet