Of Mess and Moxie

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