I Want a Moist and Yellow Man

According to MadLibs, my dream man is someone who is moist and yellow, has a physique like Angelina Jolie, and whispers cute nothings in my left toenail. Listening to my brother barely breath out the finished MadLib, (because he was laughing so hard) I began to think.

Is this why I’m 25 and still single? Given the shortage of moist/yellow men with a body like a female actress, maybe I should lower my standards a little. This silly game brought up a world of thoughts on the issue, so I set my fingers-a-typing.

Since the holidays have passed, I’m sure all single people in their twenties are reflecting on the myriad of questions from grandmas, distant relatives, and old friends concerning their romantic lives. I’m sure each one of you found yourself in a scenario something like this:

Old Grandma at the family Christmas dinner: So, are you dating anyone?

Single Twenty Something: No, no I’m not.

Awkward silence. Despair and shame comes across the face of Old Grandma at the family Christmas dinner.

Old Grandma at Family Christmas dinner: (with nose turned up) Oh, well. Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time at that job of yours or at the gym, you’d have time to date.

Single Twenty Something: Well, actually, I meet a lot of guys through work and the gym. They are all either married, or still single for a reason, if you catch my drift.

Old Grandma at Family Christmas dinner: Maybe you’re just too picky.

Single Twenty Something: ::Sign::

Don’t you just love defending yourself in that way? Like, there obviously is some reason why you’re single, and there’s obviously a quick fix to the situation. If ONLY there were moist and yellow men in this world!!

Well, to all of the grandmas still living in the 21^st century, I am here to tell you that sometimes there isn’t a glaring reason at this very moment as to why all of the twenty something singles are in fact, still single. It’s not because of my job, or living situation, or appearance, or lack of mini-skirt collection (I actually have a few and those don’t even work nowadays). It’s just because I am.

I used to be the person who could give the best advice on how to ‘not be single’ until I became single for almost 4 years. (I know, I know, you can silence the gasps. I’m over it, so we should all be over it). I would say, “Go out more!” And, “Don’t be such a hermit!” Or, “Don’t be so closed off.” And my personal favorite, “Well, maybe if you let the guy know you were interested, he would pay more attention to you.”

And unfortunately, speaking from experience, none of those options have worked for me. I go out, I am interested and engaging in conversation, I am open and available to new possibilities and have literally met more people in my small lifetime than I can possibly remember. (Traveling the world before you turn 25 helps). But guess what Grandmas? I am still single. A lot of us are still single. And I refuse to believe that a little more lip pump and city style will automatically bring that Prince Charming dashing into our lives.

After living this life and trying to ‘meet someone’ or ‘be available’ to some mystery man, I am handing off the reigns. I’ve realized (AGAIN) that I am not in control of my own life, God is. And as much as I always hated saying this phrase, I have come to realize that God has a plan, and that nothing is a surprise to Him. He is not shocked to find out that Johnny Hair Swoop isn’t interested in you, or that this singles group is not supplying the men or women of caliber that you expected. He has crafted a master plan, and is working on the intimate details as we speak. Trust in Him, and your paths will be straight. There is a reason that is in Proverbs, the books that contain the most wisdom in the Bible.

My plan hasn’t worked, so what else do I have?

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and He will make your paths straight.”

Proverbs 3:5-6

The Jesus Tree

Today I found Jesus in a Christmas tree. I know some of you skeptics and Christmas haters think that the art of decorating a pine tree came from some witches’ tribe in Germany, or whatever the hell the legend is, but I am here to say that this Christmas tree has Christ written all over it.

It’s been kind of a rough week. I’ve been trying to put my iPad in refrigerators and going to the wrong bakery for business meetings and freaking out because I think I’ve misplaced my wallet, only to find it sitting in my lap. And that’s just today.

I have been sick, and had a different event or meeting every night this week, which makes for no ‘rest and recovery’ time. And as most of you know, sick Jessica does not transfer over so well to carefree-and-easy-to-work-with Jessica. So the pains and heartaches I’ve been trying to bury start to bubble up in short, snippy comments and whiny phrases.

One of the things I’ve struggled with since I’ve been home from the race is finding solid, consistent community. I have amazing friends, but they are all pocketed through the vast expanse that we call Atlanta. I don’t have a ‘group’ or a ‘posse’ or a number of coed twenty somethings whom I hang out with on a regular basis. Just me, my dogs, and my new iPad. (OK, I’m exaggerating a bit. Not about the new iPad though;))

Tonight was different however. I went to this AH-mazing event called Street Lights, which is a collaboration of Atlanta artists, spoken word poets, musicians and dancers coming together to bring awareness to the issue of human trafficking in Atlanta. While the event itself was phenomenal, it was the after party that spoke to my heart.

After the event, a few friends from home, the race, and work all went to grab a bite to eat. Just a normal Friday evening event for most people, but for me it was something I desperately needed. I was in Atlanta spending time with people my age, with similar dreams and passions, and laughing so hard together that we cried.

It was fellowship.

It was laughter.

It was community.

It was everything I had been craving for the past 6 months, packed into a few short hours. And it made my heart overflow with joy.

I know you’re probably wondering where my semi-obscene reference to a Jesus tree is going to pop up, (I’ll save you the confusion) so here it is. I got home tonight, and strolled upstairs to get ready for bed. All the lights in my room were off accept the soft glow of white lights and blue and silver ornaments from a Christmas tree. Someone had purchased a Christmas tree, decorated it, and put my silver-wrapped packages under it. And that is my Jesus tree. That was my sign from Jesus that he is with me, he knows what I crave, and that he is supplying all of my needs in his perfect timing.

So I cried. The simple, every day, some might say cliché Christmas tree made me cry, because it is a promise. A promise from the Lord that He is still faithful and that he will provide, in His due time, and I think I can wait. At least until the next tree. J

It Takes Hitting a Deer.

Sometimes it takes hitting a deer to realize that you are going too fast. At least that’s what it took for me. I’ve been running my life a mile a minute over the past few weeks, looking over my shoulder at Jesus asking me to slow down.

I keep running faster; thinking he will just catch up with me instead of sweetly beckoning me to slow down and wait for him. So I run. And my legs begin to quiver, I being to breath harder, shorter breaths, and my focus on Him fades.

I’ve been focusing on everything but Jesus lately. My job. My future. My family. My budget. My friends. My life.

I’ve forgotten that He is my life, and everything that I have or do is His.

I was driving home from an event this weekend, utterly exhausted. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausted. I was winding around the road nearing my house, and a giant deer ran out into the road, and rammed into the side of my car. I screamed, re-gained control of my car, and looked in the rear view mirror to see the deer bob up and down in agony.

And. I. Broke.

All of my pent up emotion and yearning for the love of our Father bubbled to the surface in the form of big, wet tears. And I sobbed all the way home.

I am fine, my car (miraculously) is fine, but I need to be revived. I need Jesus. I need his fulfillment, not the fulfillment of success or a busy schedule, but just purely, simply Jesus. All it took was hitting a deer. Why something so drastic? 

My Favorite Quote

"There will come a day, perhaps years later, when you suddenly see what it meant. If one could understand it now, it could only do one harm."

-C.S. Lewis

Have you ever been watching a really intense thriller and someone walks in, recognizes the movie, and blurts out the ending? You’re in your living room, the lights are off, and you are methodically putting one cornel of popcorn in your mouth at a time, and the mood is totally smashed by Johnny Talks-a-lot. It doesn’t take long for the offender to realize his wrong and slowly back out of the room, shamefully.

As a person who loves suspense and relishes in surprises, the resident ‘bubble-burster’ would have had an earful of “what were you thinking?s” and “you just ruined the BEST part!s” from yours truly.

In all honesty, I think I would do the same thing is someone from the future came and announced my ‘end of story.’ As much as I want to know where I’ll end up, I have to agree with Lewis when he states that ‘it could only do one harm.’ Plus I can’t help but envision him sitting at his monthly Inklings meeting at the Eagle and Child pub discussing such matters with other academic greats. This strangely gives him even more credible proof that he knows what he is talking about (to me at least). 

What do you think? Do you think that knowing the outcome of your life would help you or do you harm? 

The Cute Guy at Starbucks

Ah. The cute guy at Starbucks. Everybody has one; that one person at your local ‘whatever’ that makes your knees a little weak, and you don’t really know why. For Joey and Chandler from Friends, it was the copy girl. For Michael from The Office, it was the chair model from the business furniture magazine. For Manny from Modern Family, it was the girl in his class who had the pretty cursive handwriting. You get the picture. We all have one person. The person that we would never date in real life, mainly because our awkward ‘ums and uhs’ would get in the way of us saying yes. Nevertheless, we treasure those few seconds of him saying, “Good morning, what can I get you this morning?”

This guy was a barista at Starbucks. I couldn’t go to my usual Starbucks (the one of Dallas Highway, what’s up?!) because I had to meet a coworker to pick up a few things. As soon as I arrived, I sauntered up to the counter and started glazing over the menu for the drink with the most get up and go. And then I saw him. He was tall and lean, with thick, curly black hair down to his shoulders. He had long arms and broad, protect-you-if-he-had-to shoulders. He was wearing a leather-strap bracelet and a sparkling-white smile.  

But his physical appearance wasn’t what caught my attention. Ok, not the only thing that caught my attention. It was his complete demeanor. Not only was he attractive, but he was kind and unassuming. When you walked up to the counter, he made it seem that it was his life’s joy to brew you your morning cup ‘o Joe. While I was internally grumbling that I had to sit on a computer all day, he was choosing to smile even though he had been up since 5 am.

I ordered my drink, and sat down to get some work done. The longer I tapped away on my laptop, the more impressed with this guy I became. He greeted every person who walked in with a “Good morning sir or mam,” or my personal favorite, “Good morning Mr. Lewis,” just to make that one customer feel even more welcome. (As if cute guy’s million-dollar smile didn’t already say that)

At one point I had to run out to my car and grab something. He just happened to be leaving his shift for the morning, and he held the door open as I walked back in and said, “See you later girl!” That’s it. Nothing special or well thought out, just a personal touch as he ran out the door.

The funny thing is, I don’t even think this guy had one clue the affect he made on me that day. The smallest things he did made my not-so-great-day greater that morning and I am thankful for it.

Bottom line is, people notice things. Even if you don’t have silky, curly hair or a permanent tan, you do have a voice, or a smile. Those things can really change someone’s life. It made this grumpy-pants girl turn her day around and jump out of her morning sulk. (The Cafe Americano helped a little too) Your actions make a difference, no matter how small. 

Cheap Thrills

Last week I forgot that I hated fairs. It took a two-mile walk from our car to remember that I did, indeed, hate fairs. It wasn’t until I bought a ticket, crossed through the ticket booth, and gazed at all of the plastic regality that I remembered I hate fairs. I looked at my good friend Debra and said,

“I think I hate fairs.”

She looked back at me with scrunched brows and said, “You invited me; this was your idea!”

“I know.” I said trying to rack my brain for the reason I wanted to come to this blessed event. “Oh crap. I love festivals; not fairs!”

But it was too late. We had already purchased our tickets, and committed to the candy apple purchase. We were in.

As we meandered around, I looked down at my outfit and realized that my skinny jeans and trendy knit cap were extremely out of place. Let me just list for you the make-you-put-your-head-down-in-shame outfits I witness that night: there were jean jackets worn with jeans, camo tank tops, jeggings tucked into Saconys, and the famous pants so tight that they make your muffin top even more overflowing with batter.

For those of you who know me well, you will not be surprised when I say I…was…mortified.

As if that wasn’t enough, we thought that walking through the petting zoo would help subside the sheer shock of what we were witnessing. But that did not help; it just made it worse, because there were chickens in cages. Chickens. In. Cages. Not unique, authentic, or foreign chickens, but normal chickens from a farm. And people were walking around taking pictures with their IPhones.

So we emerged from the petting zoo and looked around at the big attractions. These included paying $5 to see a live rat, (…-.-…) spending $7 for a hotdog, or watching someone put a slew of people to sleep on stage. Again I say, …-.-…

Amidst the flashing lights from the Ferris wheel and the mist of powdered sugar hanging in the air, I realized something. We pay a lot of money for cheap thrills. We are constantly looking for the alluring bright lights and cheesy attractions to full the gnawing void in our hearts. We hope that a few short hours of fake entertainment will suffice for the sweet fulfillment that Christ gives. Not that any of these things are wrong, (I mean don’t judge me if keep my kids away from the caged chickens) but when we hope to replace them with the eternal hope Christ brings, we are setting ourselves up for a big batch of emptiness.

This blog is an encouragement to do the things you love, but to do them as an overflowing of Christ’s love for you. He will fill you up. He will give you more grace, more love, and more abundance so you don’t have to rely on a $5 candy apple and a giant rat.