A Million Things

A Home for Hope.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Tue, 13 Oct 2015 17:53:00 +0000

Change makes me want to write.

So what I'm also saying is 2015 has been a steady year.

And it's a miracle I remembered my blog password.

A quiet blog usually indicates a quiet life season.

Although our life is far from quiet.

A loud "status quo" might be more accurate.

A new chapter is upon us.

Bringing changes I am so very excited about.

In May of this year,

after the retirement announcement of their senior pastor,

Dave was approached to consider a merge with another local church,

First Baptist Church of San Carlos.

Our summer was full of meetings and dinners and interviews.

And so much prayer.

And lots of communication with our Hope church family.

And our faithful Hope leadership.

And more recently, an official decision to move forward with the merging of two churches.

So much excitement.

Lots of "too good to be true" feelings.

But sometimes,

oftentimes actually,

I've been reminded that God is in the business of goodness.

And this is what He's doing here.

He's given our faithful church a permanent home.

A warm welcome by a dear group of faithful saints in San Carlos.

I can't wait to see all that we're going to accomplish together.

Hope Church began in my grandmother's living room over six years ago.

Sometimes in her backyard if it was warm.

It was a faith jump.

A big, crazy leap.

We'd left the only church we'd ever known with no real plan.

Which, if you know us, is unlike us.

We were slow, comfortable and boring.

My part-time job allowed me to go full-time.

Dave became a stay at home dad for a short season.

Then he worked as a homeless shelter coordinator.

Then a barista.

All the while shepherding this faithful flock of believers.

The best he knew how.

In unconventional ways and places.

At weird times.

At all times.

With little sleep.

And God honored it.

I'm thrilled to see our history continue just a few miles down the road.

I'm thankful for our humble, hard beginnings.

The stacking and unstacking of chairs approximately 260 times.

The constant reminder that church is not a place, it's a group gathered.

I don't ever want to forget that.

I look back on our journey with great joy.

The Lord taught us so much.

Even (and especially) when we thought we knew it all.

I am thankful for those that were there with us when we jumped.

Those that stayed from the very beginning.

When it was hard and inconvenient.

I recognize and value your sacrifice.

I'll never forget it.

And those that joined us along the way.

The love and loyalty they showed us.

The patience they extended as they got used to something different and new.

The lessons learned and mistakes made.

There were many times where it felt like we were wandering in the wilderness.

Unsure of what God was doing.

Unfit for this calling.

I see that He has been preparing us for this all along.

What a privilege it is to serve Him.

What a gift.

What a reminder of His faithfulness.

Dave is able to quit making lattes at 4:30 am.

He'll have an office that is not our playroom.

He'll have a place to store his 5 million books.

He'll have an admin (can I get an AMEN?).

And the help of a kind and friendly associate pastor.

We are home.

In a place where Jesus will be preached and people will be loved.

A group gathered just five miles down the road.

And there is no other place I'd rather be.

-----------------------------------

Local friends, here is a schedule of events.

Please feel free to join us.

Prayers for Ashlyn.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Sat, 03 Jan 2015 21:49:00 +0000

Hi.

I've taken a bit of a writing break.

We've been busy.

And I'll just be honest.

I've learned that controversial posts are not for me.

My people pleasing heart took a bit of a hit.

And I think I'm still recovering.

While I'm a little sad I can't share my heart 100% here,

I don't ever want to hurt anyone with my words.

I'm reminded that heart sharing is most fruitful in person.

Face to face.

The internet makes it all too easy to toss words out into the universe.

Words that are easily misunderstood.

And require clarification and real conversation.

Cookie recipes and dumb stories are safer.

And more of what I think Jesus wants for me.

Jesus likes cookies.

I'll save the drama for Matt Walsh.

Honestly, I don't know how he does it.

Anyhow.

Popping in real quick to ask for prayers for our middle girl.

She's having cochlear implant surgery on Monday up at UCSF.

Her hearing in her left ear declined a few months ago and she became a quick candidate for a second implant.

We are so grateful for her first implant and all it has given her.

We're very excited that she'll now be able to benefit from having two.

We're thankful we know what to expect and that brings some peace.

But it's still scary to hand your little girl over outside the operating room doors.

Please pray for wisdom and a steady hand for the doctors.

Please pray for peace for her.

And minimal pain.

Please pray for peace for those in the waiting room.

It's a scary few hours.

Please pray for a speedy recovery.

Please pray that should would sit still for 48 hours.

I can already tell this will be our biggest challenge.

We are so grateful to be able to ask for such a precious favor.

Thank you.

Always October

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Wed, 05 Nov 2014 18:53:00 +0000

So I forgot I had a blog last month.

I mean.

We were a little busy here in the Bay.

I had "World Series house" for a few weeks.

Piles of laundry.

The only clean stuff was orange and black.

Unpaid bills.

Except for cable.

So many leftover casseroles.

And desserts.

Life just kind of stopped for a while.

But it was full speed ahead at the same time.

Watching games with friends.

And Giants cupcakes.

And swimming in the pool in October.

And cheering like crazy as they came from behind.

Learning to accept loss when they didn't.

Going to the games with family.

Garlic fries.

And sundaes.

And running into old friends at the ballpark.

An amazingly torturous Game 7.

My head still hurts.

Cheering with our neighbors.

And driving around downtown afterwards.

An extra happy husband.

Life around our city when our beloved team makes the playoffs is a little slice of heaven on earth.

Truly.

But other stuff happened, too.

I turned 38.

And spent the morning taste testing donuts for church.

Which, you guys, is a pretty great birthday.

A So Cal friend came to celebrate.

And we made her wear orange and black.

Dinner project is going well.

Holland loves spaghetti night.

Dave ate peas.

Ashlyn is eating carrots like nobody's business.

All we do is win, win, win.

Kayla's gone cellular.

It's Grandma Cee Cee's old one, not activated and wi-fi only for a little responsibility-proving trial run.

Basically she can play Candy Crush and text me, her dad and her grandparents.

And use SO. many. emojis.

She also has a private Instagram account.

It's cute.

I started a new bible study about wisdom.

And oh it's good.

And it's making me realize how not wise I am.

Speaking of.

I'm using hairties for third kid childproofing.

She is all over the place and into everything.

She says Mama, Dada and has just started calling Kayla "Yaya."

She is so very close to walking.

But I've been saying that all month.

So I'm just not sure anymore.

Personally, I think she's just a little lazy.

And would rather sit on Pop Pop's pinball machine.

Obviously safety is a primary concern around these parts.

Halloween was interesting.

Ashlyn insisted on Ironman.

And pretty much wore the costume out before the 31st.

Kayla was Princess Leia.

And Holland was a pumpkin that I couldn't find until 30 mins before we went trick or treating.

So she almost went as a baby.

I'm still eating their candy.

I blame World Series house for all of it.

We love our San Francisco Giants.

Thanks for making October so fun.

The Dinner Project

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Mon, 29 Sep 2014 17:43:00 +0000

I have a confession.

Our family has disastrous meal habits.

I'm sure it's probably a sin somewhere in the Old Testament.

Dave could very well be disqualified as a pastor.

And things have gotten progressively worse since the baby arrived.

I won't go into detail but let's just say there has been an unGodly amount of Chipotle involved.

And eating of separate non-Chipotle frozen items in the playroom.

It's piece and quiet and burrito bowls for Dave and I.

But it's not good for our family.

We're a culinary tragedy.

My sweet friend Laurie posted a meal plan on Facebook last week and tagged my Baked Ziti Recipe in her rotation.

A Baked Ziti I only make for friends with new babies.

Or when we have company over.

Because my kids look at it like it's laced with formaldehyde.

So I laughed.

And made a promise to myself to set this dinnertime ship straight.

I want my kids to remember meals around our table.

Conversations where we look at each other's faces.

I want them to have memories of favorite foods that are not store-bought, take-out and/or frozen.

My last post was a good reminder that we need to make the most of the afternoons that they are home with us.

This growing up time is short and goes by so very fast.

I want that extra hour.

And although there will be complaining and resistance and hidden vegetables behind the china hutch at first.

I know it will pay off in the end.

I know it's important.

I'm starting simple.

And I'm starting tonight.

Make your own pizzas.

And salad.

I'm having the girls choose a few more new recipes from my Kraft magazines and cookbooks.

I also have a few standard classics that I'm going to force them to eat.

Baked Formaldehyde, for example.

I'm committed to cooking a FULL meal every weeknight even if no one eats more than one bite.

And everyone needs to try one bite.

And after I see what sticks,

I'm implementing Laurie's rotation.

She has 5 weeks worth of set meals.

I'm thinking we'll probably start with two weeks.

I found this cute Post-It printable made by my friend Mique.

That will go on the fridge.

My kids do better when they know what to expect.

I'm also bringing back dessert as an incentive.

Fun, easy desserts.

And kitchen will be closed after dinner.

I don't want dinnertime to be a fight.

And I don't want brussel sprouts hidden in my walls.

But I don't want there not to be dinnertime.

So I will do my best to find things we all like.

I want this to be fun.

Also, I find that when I confess, others do, too.

Any other dinner slackers out there?

It's safe here.

Promise.

Galatians 3:28 and the Elephant in the Classroom.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Mon, 22 Sep 2014 17:40:00 +0000

Sometimes on Sunday mornings Dave turns his back to the congregation and faces the stage, mid-sermon.

He preaches to himself.

He even says that.

"I'm preaching to myself here, guys."

And I type with that sentiment.

I'm mostly blogging to myself here.

But I'm only half the equation.

So I realize it kind of falls short.

I guess I just want you to feel like we're in this together.

Because we are.

And anything otherwise would contradict the heart behind my words.

But I think we need a reminder, Christian moms.

Enough is enough with the judgment over schooling choices.

The conversations we have with like-minded friends under the guise of "encouragement" or "fellowship" that quickly turn south.

And we start them knowing they will turn south.

The screen shots and snarky texts we send.

The comments we make under our breath and the thoughts in our heads.

The finger pointing and misguided passion.

The delighting in weaknesses and short-comings to prove our stance is correct.

The public school mom who scoffs at the homeschool family learning in their PJs.

Or having a math lesson at a convenience store.

The homeschool mom who, although she may not say it, carries herself with arrogance and believes in her heart she loves her children more.

The public school mom who ignorantly assumes homeschool moms are overprotective, overwhelmed and raising children ill-equipped for real life.

The homeschool mom who shares news articles about our failing public school system every chance she gets.

Even though she's never stepped foot on a public school campus.

The public school mom who arrogantly comments on posted news articles, proudly proving she's not sending her children off to the wolves.

Even though she doesn't know for sure.

The homeschool mom who judges the public school mom for having her head in the sand and being lazy.

Or even worse?

The implication that she can't possibly love her children if she is willing to expose them to the "evils" of the public school system.

The public school mom jealous of the greater influence a homeschool mom may have on her children.

The homeschool mom jealous of a public school mom's late morning pedicure.

The public school mom who doesn't "like" a picture on Instagram because it has a home education hashtag.

The homeschool mom who doesn't post a comment on a picture on Facebook because it has a public school location geotag.

None of this is good, you guys.

Or healthy.

Or edifying.

Let's stop.

Because here's the deal.

Homeschool mom is doing her best.

She loves her children.

She takes seriously her role as parent.

She messes up.

She is tired and weary and scared.

Public school mom is doing her best.

She loves her children.

She takes seriously her role as parent.

She messes up.

She is tired and weary and scared.

We need to trust that we're each doing what's right and best for our family.

We need to love each other.

And support each other.

And not let feelings of inadequacy, insecurity or envy cloud our emotions.

Or worse?

Fracture our friendships.

Because there is a wedge.

And as the American Christian homeschool movement gains momentum, it's getting worse.

I see it.

Online.

In churches.

I see friend circles based on schooling choices.

I even see divide within the homeschool community over curriculum.

I see popular Christian preachers calling for a mass exodus out of the public school system.

I hear it in our tone when we talk about it.

It's getting kind of crazy, you guys.

It makes me sad.

And honestly.

I think Paul would be angry.

He might even swear.

Because it's rubbish.

It's imperative that we abandon the mindset that there is only one way to educate our children.

That homeschooling produces anti-social, uneducated and narrow-minded individuals.

Because it doesn't.

Or that homeschooling is biblically mandated.

And that Satan himself is running the American pubic school system.

Because it isn't.

And he isn't.

Here's the reality.

The public school system has deep flaws.

It also has great triumphs.

The home education system has deep flaws.

It also has great triumphs.

Through all of it, God is still in control.

And without relinquishing our own control and relying on Him,

we don't stand a chance.

If I, public school mom, want zero judgment.

I need to judge zero myself.

If you, homeschool mom, want me to respect you and your choices.

You need to respect and trust mine.

We all want our kids to be decent humans and know and follow Jesus.

But that happens through prayer.

And study of Scripture.

And implementing the things of God into your family time.

At 10:30 am.

Or 3:30 pm.

Ultimately, it happens through God's sovereign work in our children's hearts.

It's not contingent on any specific learning environment or curriculum.

Likewise, it can't be thwarted by any specific learning environment or curriculum.

Press on in confidence, mamas.

Be praying.

Be learning.

Be loving and unified.

We miss out when we're not.

We're all doing our best.

Be quicker to give each other the benefit of the doubt than to say I told you so.

Public school moms, let's be praying for our friends that homeschool.

For patience and wisdom and endurance.

Homeschool moms, let's be praying for our friends that choose public school.

For encouragement and assurance and that their families would make a difference on campus.

Our children learn the most from watching us.

All day long in a homeschool setting.

Or after they are done with a full day of public school.

Our influence is the same.

And we want them to see Jesus.

So let's be sure we're showing them what He looks like.

One.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Tue, 16 Sep 2014 17:33:00 +0000

Our little girl turned one last week.

She's such a sweet addition to our family.

This past year has changed us.

It's hard to imagine life before her.

She's a petite little thing.

Her hair is growing in a bit and I predict Kayla's curls.

She's scooting around the furniture.

And constantly on the move.

She is quick.

The lure of our cable box has been replaced with the dog crate.

Which is more convenient for my productivity.

She has a mouthful of teeth and says "mama" 237 times each day.

But I don't think she realizes who's she talking about yet.

She only sleeps through the night when someone else puts her down.

So basically I'm trying to get Dave on board with hiring a night nanny.

She is sweet and even tempered.

Unless you take away something she shouldn't have.

Like dog bones.

Or pennies.

Or Spray and Wash.

We celebrated her milestone last weekend.

With pinwheels.

And cotton candy.

And lots of little friends.

And not so little friends.

The weather was beautiful and the party guests spent much of the day in the pool.

Ashlyn and Kayla rigged a inner tube jump that kept everyone very busy.

Nan hired a "lifeguard" that most likely didn't know CPR but he could yell really loud if someone was in trouble. Which is kind of the same thing?

I made pistachio cupcakes with cream cheese frosting that the birthday girl rejected in disgust.

I think she even kicked it at one point.

My baby hates cake.

We sang to her and she got scared.

So we stopped before she cried.

Daddy barbecued hot dogs and sliders.

While chatting with the non-lifeguard.

Candy-filled pinwheels made perfect and easy favors.

Ashlyn opened up all of Holland's gifts.

While the guest of honor played with a single piece of orange tissue paper for 45 minutes.

You know.

I don't agree with Hillary on much.

But she is absolutely right when she says it takes a village.

A kind, loving village.

Our girl's first year of life has been so greatly supplemented by so many wonderful people.

It's made our year richer.

It makes her life better.

I've seen the impact our village has had on our older two.

And it makes me more confident in parenting.

We are not alone.

And I'm so thankful they've stuck around for our littlest.

Their love and investment makes a difference.

She is blessed because of it.

We are blessed because of it.

Happy first birthday, Holland girl.

We love you so.

The Canned Goods of Summer.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Tue, 26 Aug 2014 18:14:00 +0000

Kelle Hampton posted the following as a caption on Instagram last week.

Under a picture of her husband reading a bedtime story to their daughter:

"One for the parenting canned good cellar --

jars of good, happy, peaceful moments

that we stash away to pull out during the droughts and harsh winters of life.

Our [social media] feeds are full of them --

summer sleepovers, family hugs, cartwheel silhouettes against beach sunsets,

babies sleeping on chests, bedtime stories and smiles for days.

Every moment of every day hardly looks like this.

But maybe we accept that these little feeds are our cellars,

and it feels good to stockpile the best stuff when it comes.

To hold us over during the messy and hard and confusing.

For all the jars I've robbed during the hard times (I took one today!)...

I restocked one tonight.

Stock your cellars."

I love these words.

And here are the canned goods of our summertime.

All the best moments.

And a reminder that all moments are not best.

And that's ok.

Everyone has their sad stories.

Their bad days.

We just like to show the world our happy ones.

And that's ok, too.

Camping with kindreds at Bass Lake.

I do need to pause and talk about camping for a second.

Process, if you will.

We were in tents.

In dirt.

With spiders.

It was hard, you guys.

But we're already planning next year's trip.

It's kind of like childbirth.

You forget quickly because the memories are so rich.

Cove swimming.

Late night campfire laughter after the kids are asleep.

Hot dog quesadillas and Pop Tarts for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Ice cream in Yosemite.

But then I remember the spiders.

I might need an epidural next year.

We also crashed my parent's time share for a week.

Newport is our favorite.

Nor Cal beaches are beautiful and all.

But it's nice to actually get in the water.

Thanks, mom and dad.

You are so kind to share with us.

If it wasn't for you all of our vacations would involve spiders and Pop Tarts.

We attended many weddings this summer.

Young adults near and dear to our hearts.

It was a joy to celebrate what God has brought together.

Different celebrations, unique to each couple.

Love is the best.

Praying over the miracle of new life in our church family.

That happened 100% naturally, two weeks after a failed infertility treatment.

I still can't believe it.

Come to Hope, ask for Jen and talk to her for three hours.

Her story is my favorite.

Praying for our pastor on his 39th birthday.

Hearing dear, wise saints thank him for showing them love and grace.

For preaching forgiveness and truth.

For causing them the read the bible with fresh eyes.

For caring for them.

The canned goods of pastoring.

There were the simple days, too.

Visiting a nearby stable.

Turning 10 months.

Although I don't know how that is even possible.

Naps at church.

She takes them wherever she can get them.

Third child.

Golf camp with dad.

Sand for lunch at the beach we can't swim in.

And so many drum parties.

Really loud drum parties.

We're about to enter a busy fall season.

All exciting stuff.

But I'm already overwhelmed at my schedule.

The ease of summer is now tucked away on a shelf.

And I know I'll be visiting that mental pantry often.

Adios, summer.

You've been real.

Mildred Knows Jesus. And Lemon Bars.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Tue, 05 Aug 2014 19:22:00 +0000

Kayla embarked on the awkward adventure that is junior high last week.

And you know what?

She is ready to conquer the world.

I am more excited than terrified.

I know she will encounter joys and hurts.

Highs and lows.

My nature as a mother is to want to protect her from all the hurts and lows.

But I can't.

And I shouldn't.

Because I know this is how she grows.

This is how she learns to be a friend.

This is how she learns to function in the world.

So I pray for more joys and highs.

I pray for a good circle of friends.

I pray for her school.

And her teachers.

I pray we have raised her with a moral compass to make good choices.

And if and when bad choices happen, I pray for a spirit of grace and forgiveness.

A chance to point her towards Jesus.

To remind her that we love her no matter what.

To tell her she is beautiful.

And smart.

And kind.

And a good friend.

Every day.

Because sometimes life makes you forget those things.

And junior high is real life.

I'm so excited to see her live it.

It's been a while since I've posted a recipe.

It hasn't been a while since I ate 5 of these for breakfast.

To cope with all my excitement.

Cindy made these for a Hope Church BBQ last month.

And they were gone in 28.7 seconds.

I begged for the recipe and she obliged.

And gave proper credit to Mildred and an old Baptist cookbook.

I feel like I would really like Mildred.

I make a few small revisions.

Real butter instead of margarine.

Fresh squeezed lemon juice for the topping.

I'm into whole foods, you know.

And add a little lemon zest.

Good can be a sin if zest is left out.

Thank you, Jesus.

And Mildred.

Why Facebook Isn't Enough.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Tue, 15 Jul 2014 20:05:00 +0000

My 20th high school reunion festivities took place this past weekend.

And I think social media made it awkward at first.

Lots of obligatory chit chat about general things we already knew about each other.

Kids.

Spouses.

Jobs.

Current cities of residence.

Faces I quickly scroll past on a regular basis.

Standing in front of me, in living color.

Moving.

Real.

Talking.

As the night went on and spilled over to a family gathering the next day,

I noticed the awkward small talk turn to laughter.

And deep care.

And love for these people that I shared such an important part of my life with.

I think social media is amazing.

I love it for information sharing.

It made so much of our reunion possible.

But I am reminded again of it's downfall.

A quick swipe of my index finger makes me feel caught up.

A comment here and there.

An occasional like.

I feel like a good friend.

But it's a false feeling.

It's not enough.

And requires balance.

It can make us lazy.

And lonely.

We were made for more.

Genuine face to face connections.

Deep conversations.

Real laughing.

Sneaking peeks of the former lineman as he gently tends to his sweet little son.

Talking to a beautiful friend about caring for her aging mother-in-law.

Listening to our super talented class president talk about her perfect job curating an art gallery.

Ugly cry laughing with girlfriends on a couch.

Doing life, even for a short time, with my high school besties as we mother together.

On a blanket in a park.

A park we used to play at when we were children ourselves.

Sharing parenthood war stories.

Wondering why we don't get together more.

Promising to get together more.

Nothing beats it.

So sweet and so rich.

And I feel like we barely had enough time to scratch the surface.

BBQ at my house in two weeks.

I'm serious, you guys.

But Carol.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Sat, 28 Jun 2014 21:05:00 +0000

Here's the deal.

Starting a church from the ground up is hard.

I knew it would be.

But most of the time I go into preservation mode and pretend it's not.

I don't write about it much because I don't want to sound like I'm complaining.

Because I love our church.

I really do.

I would never want anyone to think otherwise.

But there is not a day that goes by that I do not feel inadequate, weary or fearful.

I'm not doing enough.

I'm doing too much.

I'm exhausted.

I'm not focusing on the right things.

I'm not pointing people to Jesus enough.

I'm not praying enough.

Jesus can't fix them.

Jesus can't fix me.

We will burn out before we have a building.

I married a paramedic.

What are we doing??

This season has been challenging.

Three families left over the course of two months.

One moved out of the area.

Two did not.

The two that did not were part of our core plant team.

And it was hard.

And sad.

And it still stings.

But I am reminded to hold people loosely.

I am reminded that church is not a party and I am not the hostess.

It's not my job to keep everyone happy.

Certain people thrive in different seasons at different places.

And that's ok.

We send them off well and do our best to maintain relationships.

But when people leave those feelings of doubt, inadequacy and discouragement are amplified.

My skin gets thicker.

And I learn.

And while learning hurts.

It is essential for growth.

Dave and I have many late night conversations.

Ministry pep talks, if you will.

I cherish them.

And God is so good.

When I am doubting, Dave is not.

When Dave is doubting, I am not.

Or I pretend I am not.

I'm sure he probably pretends sometimes, too.

We share our fears.

Our dreams.

Our insecurities.

And at that time it's as if God whispers in my ear.

"But Carol."

We first met Carol in a wheelchair and on hospice care.

She was very sick.

Her daughter, Pam and family attend Hope.

Last year, Pam flew across country to remove Carol from an unhealthy living situation in Tennessee.

And brought her home to stay.

And brought her to church.

I remember seeing her wheeled through the door the first time and thinking Dave would have to use more paramedic skills than preaching skills that Sunday.

She was incoherent, in pain and so very frail.

I was worried for her.

But she came every Sunday.

And over the course of months, Carol changed.

She started making eye contact.

Then conversation.

God was healing her.

And saving her.

She is now off hospice and thriving.

And she has been introduced to Jesus.

And two weeks ago she was baptized.

And I am reminded why we do church.

To introduce people to the Man who split time.

To teach His words.

Not to please everyone so they won't leave.

Not to preach politics or advocate family choices or theological positions.

We do church to share Christ.

And to equip others to live in such a way that they can do the same.

We pray, serve and care for people like they will stay forever.

But live in the reality that they could leave tomorrow.

And all the pain and hurt and struggle is so very worth it.

When God removes a heart of stone and replaces it with a heart of flesh.

When a woman once on the brink of death now smiles and calls Jesus her Savior.

So when those doubts creep in and I'm overwhelmed.

I stop talking.

And listen as God whispers.

"But Carol."

A Birthday at the Races

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Tue, 17 Jun 2014 22:10:00 +0000

A few months ago Dave and the girls were at Golden Gate Fields watching the Kentucky Derby.

He texted letting me know that he had just put a deposit down for Kayla's 11th Birthday party.

I scoffed.

"Just trust me," he said.

But I don't trust people at the track.

And I felt like it was an odd choice for an 11-year-old girl's birthday party.

But Dave was excited.

Kayla was more excited.

So I ran with it.

In all it's seedy glory.

The girls arrived around 10 am to fluorescent lanyards.

To lessen kidnapping probability.

And donuts and decorations courtesy of Ashlyn.

Kayla opened her gifts.

So many horse figurines.

So much fun for her.

We carpooled over the bridge.

More adults than kids.

On purpose.

I needed a 3:1 ratio to feel comfortable that we'd all return.

The girls loved riding down the escalators to the paddock before each race to check out the horses up close.

We all filled out race tickets and placed "bets" on which horse would win each of the seven races we saw.

Kid winner received a Breyer horse model.

Adult winner received a Starbucks gift card.

This made the grandmas very excited.

That's my mom leaping and fist pumping.

In between horse races were dachshund races that I think they found more interesing.

There were also questionable wiener shirts.

And questions about wiener shirts.

"Just look at the puppies, girls."

There was an awesome all-you-can-eat buffet.

Hot dogs, hamburgers, fried chicken.

Macaroni salad, cole slaw, baked beans.

The track knows how to do food.

It was about this time that I was taking one of the girls to the restroom, waiting outside alone.

"Jess, is that you?"

A high school friend.

"Yes. I'm here for my daughter's birthday party."

"No... Really??"

"Yes, really."

I had grandiose cupcake plans but was quickly reminded that fondant is seedier than the track.

Diddam's plastic horses to the rescue.

Box chocolate cake and canned chocolate frosting.

Her favorite.

The seventh race was Kayla's special birthday race.

We got to stand at the rail near the starting gate during the race and go into the winners circle and take a picture with the winning jockey afterwards.

Amazing.

And so very exciting.

Worth all the seediness and anxiety.

Track, you really know how to party.

Our horse loving birthday girl had the day of her life.

Hey June.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Wed, 04 Jun 2014 19:57:00 +0000

Summer is upon us and I'm frantically trying to fill our schedule.

And I'm 99.9% sure I'll regret the week we have golf camp in the morning and VBS at night.

But I always err on the side of a packed summer schedule.

To replace school.

Because I really like school.

Ashlyn woke up last month and decided everything is a race.

Brushing teeth in the morning.

Getting to the car.

Getting from the car to the house.

She is the second fastest person in all of first grade.

"I take the inside lane like Secretariat, mom."

And I just have to say.

It's SUPER annoying.

Her pointer finger is up all the time.

Yes, Ashlyn.

You win.

#1.

No one cares.

Except for Dave.

He bought her new running shoes.

Kayla is preparing to graduate fifth grade.

And there are just SO many events.

And I have been terrible at keeping track.

I was about to bring treats for Field Day today.

But that's next Monday.

Today is set-up for tomorrow's pool party.

I also drug my family, empty promises of a swim party and two refrigerated dips to Millbrae for a BBQ on Sunday.

That's really next Saturday.

So basically, I'm not to be trusted until I sleep through the night for more than two days in a row.

Also, I made the mistake of downloading the game 2048 on my phone.

So the hours I should be sleeping are spent mindlessly swiping numerical tiles.

Pretend you never read this.

And don't download it.

Or your calendar will be all screwed up like mine.

When she's not eating pizza, the baby spends her days trying to rip out our cable box.

She has 6 teeth and we just had to lower her crib because she's standing.

And by we I mean me.

It's a blue job but I took one for the team.

Her personality is starting to emerge and she is sweet and spunky.

Friendly but sometimes shy.

She's crawling like a professional.

And never stops moving.

She woke up early from her nap and I'm stuffing her face with Yogurt Melts to be able to finish this post.

Life right now is full and fun and busy and sometimes hard.

But good.

So, so good.

I am thankful.

I'm a calendar committee's worst nightmare.

But I'm still thankful.

Phoned-In Frozen Party

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Fri, 09 May 2014 15:22:00 +0000

When you're a pastor's kid and your birthday falls on Good Friday,

I'm sorry but your celebration suffers.

She can add it to her therapy manifesto.

Ashlyn turned 7 a few weeks ago.

She had two requests.

A trampoline park and Elsa plates.

Ask and ye shall receive.

Before we get into the party I planned in five minutes,

let's talk Ashlyn at 7.

She's smart.

Determined.

Tall.

She's missing most of her front teeth.

She talks non-stop.

She loves first grade.

At her annual IEP meeting with the school district I learned of a group of boys she orders around.

A special needs posse, if you will.

"Edwin, please get my FM."

"Joey, please tell me when Mrs. Savory (her speech therapist) comes to the door."

"George, I need my lunch, please."

Her teacher made sure to let me know she always says please.

Like that makes it OK.

She is one strong (and bossy) cookie.

We love her so much.

We also love the rainbow discipline chart.

And bedtime.

More for the manifesto.

Back to our party of the century.

I booked the place online.

Ordered a cake and balloons from Safeway.

Hijacked a favor idea from a friend who hosted a Frozen party a few weekends before.

And her leftover, two-week-old cotton candy.

That she drove 400 miles up Highway 5.

So. MUCH. therapy.

Conceal don't feel.

And you know?

I don't think anyone noticed.

And I was reminded once again.

It's not about the details.

It's about the company.

Kids love old cotton candy.

Happy Birthday, Ashy girl.

Banana Slugs, Marie Antoinette and the World's Best Cookies

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Wed, 07 May 2014 19:14:00 +0000

A pretty new blog makes me actually want to blog.

Take that, Soviets.

Last night, we attended Kayla's JUNIOR HIGH orientation.

I can't hardly believe it.

But I am really excited for her, too.

I survived my awkward years.

I loved them, actually.

Mostly because I didn't realize I was awkward until later.

She went to Outdoor Ed last month.

I asked her to write a post about it and this is what she came up with:

"Outdoor Education was awesome. But the fact that the beds were hard and had waxy, plastic coverings made it feel like you were sleeping on melting candles. I saw two varieties of deer, bats, millipedes, pigs, a scorpion, a junco, a stellar's jay, nine banana slugs (including the one I put on my nose) and a lot of moths."

And I think I'm just going to leave it.

It's camp in a nutshell.

Waxy beds and banana slugs.

She is my favorite writer.

End of fifth grade calls for lots of fun activities.

Marie Antoinette took names during a class History presentation.

"Why so serious, Kayla?"

"You'd be serious, too if your head was chopped off, mom."

She looked like a tore up Dolly Parton by the end of the day.

I didn't realize wigs need hair spray.

And the two-sizes too big dollar store bridesmaid dress didn't help.

It's milestone central around here.

She has two teeth.

She crawled for the first time on Easter Sunday.

And she slept through the night.

Once.

She's babbling a TON.

Good news.

Ashlyn's not blind.

Bad news.

She lied to the school nurse during her routine eye exam.

And again during a second follow up.

"I WANT glasses, mama."

"They're cool."

No.

Hope ditched Wednesday service for an impromptu church BBQ.

My favorite.

It was 87 degrees in April.

Also, my favorite.

This is me doing my child's homeschool homework while they are at public school.

I'm sure there is so much wrong with all of this but I can't really put it in words.

I do know that peregrine falcons are the fastest animals on the planet.

And my girls rock the public speaking triangle.

One last thing.

I need you to make these cookies.

I'm on my 17th batch in as many days.

Really.

You won't be sorry.

Well, you might be a little sorry.

Blame the Russians.

Behind the {New} Name.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Mon, 05 May 2014 14:19:00 +0000

A few years ago I wrote a guest post on a friend's blog about Ashlyn.

It sparked a little idea in my head to change my blog name.

And then life happened.

And I was overwhelmed at all that would be required to make the switch.

So it remained on the back burner.

And then Russians hacked my blog with questionable ads.

So I took it as a sign from the heavens that it was time.

My grandmother told me it was time, too.

"Honey, thank you for such a sweet story about Holland's birth. But why are you selling Viagra?"

I'm blaming Putin.

Anyhow.

I'm so excited about this change.

More excited than she is about sweet potato puffs.

And thankful to my friend Katy for understanding my little vision.

And creating this most beautiful new design.

Without me even having to say much.

She is brilliant.

If you subscribed to my old blog and want to continue receiving posts, you'll have to resubscribe.

I'm sorry.

Take it up with Vladamir.

You can click on the "behind the name" tab below the header to read more.

When God is doing one thing, He's doing a million.

My Baby Girl and I

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Tue, 25 Mar 2014 13:07:00 +0000

I had lunch with a new friend last week.

Who happens to be a photographer.

She snapped these pictures of Holland and I.

And they are such treasures to me.

Had I known she was going to share her skills, I probably would have brushed my hair a little more.

Or at all.

Worn earrings.

And not dressed my baby like a boy.

But such is life right now.

Not much time to primp.

Or worry about what my kids are wearing.

I'm lucky they are dressed.

But, really?

All that doesn't matter.

I just want to remember being with her.

In God's glorious creation.

The way she makes me smile.

A few frozen minutes that seem to float in time.

A tiny part of a season that passes all too quickly.

I am so thankful for these moments captured.

And for friends that take the time to capture them.

Our babies are our best gifts.

Photographs with our babies are a close second.

6 Months.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Tue, 11 Mar 2014 14:04:00 +0000

She laughs when I yawn.

So she's laughing lots lately.

Our baby has decided she's a night owl.

I know it passes fast.

And she nurses and falls right back to sleep.

So I cherish it.

And yawn a lot.

A funny, little personality is starting to emerge.

She makes this silly grin quite often.

Dave says Kayla used to do the same but I don't remember.

Because I'm up at 10 PM, 12 AM, 2 AM and 4 AM.

She is rolling much more quickly now.

And just starting the pre-crawl booty rock.

I think she's going to be fast once she takes off.

I'm hoping that skill takes a few months to perfect.

Because I'm too busy yawning to chase after a baby that moves.

She had her 6 month check up yesterday.

50% in weight and 85% in height.

Tall and lean.

All that power rolling has thinned her out a bit.

And this is my favorite picture of her so far.

I love her smile.

She's such a happy, easy baby.

She's social and friendly and a big, giant flirt.

Taking her new world in.

All day and all night.

Happy 6 months, little girl.

I love you.

Yawn.

Bringing Back the Rainbow Chart. And Are Terrible 6's a Thing?

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Tue, 25 Feb 2014 13:00:00 +0000

I know my girls will read this one day.

So I want to be gentle.

But, Ashlyn Grace.

2014 has been a sassy year for you so far.

And it's time to regulate.

Discipline is a tricky thing.

Personal to each family.

No one has all the answers.

But this system worked well for Kayla years ago.

And we started back up again today.

And we've had the smoothest morning in months.

I will speak for my children.

They like structure and organization.

They like goals.

They like clear rules and consequences.

They like reasonable rewards for doing good.

This discipline system incorporates all of these things.

And makes me sane.

So I thought I'd share it.

Right click above image, save as, print and have at it.

It's pretty simple, really.

Kids start on green each morning.

Each child has their name written on a separate magnet.

Break a family rule?

Have child move their magnet to yellow.

Break another family rule?

Move to red.

Choose from consequence jar.

Consequences are written on large popsicle sticks that we keep in a mason jar.

Obviously, these will be different for each family and each child even.

No iPad time for that day.

Early bedtime.

Time out in room for 30 minutes.

Your choice.

The thought of no iPad for a day sends Ashlyn into a frantic tizzy.

So that's her button.

So her jar has about 10 of those.

That's another great thing.

You can choose the amount something appears which will increase the probability it is picked.

Same goes with rewards.

Catch them being kind and nice?

Have them move their button to blue.

Catch them again in the same day?

Move to purple.

Chose a reward.

These are also written on popsicle sticks and kept in a separate mason jar.

Be sure not to mix them up.

Because that's future therapy for sure.

You don't have to go crazy.

Extra book at bedtime.

Extended bedtime.

A movie on Netflix.

Special dessert or treat.

You know what your kids love.

And hear me out.

The goal is not to create greedy, performance-based robots.

The goal is that my girls grow to understand and live out the verse at the top.

I want our home to be one of love.

Joy.

Peace.

Patience.

Kindness.

Goodness.

Gentleness.

Self-control.

And when it's not, I want to take action to fix it.

I recognize that they are little humans.

And have bad days just like adults.

So grace abounds.

Much grace.

For them and for me.

Every day is a fresh start.

And this little bugger was up all night.

So she's on red today.

Thursday.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Thu, 06 Feb 2014 11:30:00 +0000

It's raining.

It's pouring.

Our dog is snoring.

I feel like he can rest a little easier now that his fur has grown back a bit.

He's no longer pink.

And doesn't need sunscreen during walks.

Dave is speaking to me again.

This is all good news.

Kayla is kind of serious about this violin business.

I love that we might have a band geek.

I pray for a band geek.

Band geeks stay out of trouble.

Unrelated.

I'm just wondering if the Superbowl could have been any more boring?

At the last minute Dave put together a friendly survey.

We had a variety of predictions to make.

Over little details of the game.

I've NEVER heard a group of people cheer so loudly over a coin toss.

Or gasp in disgust when the national anthem presenter didn't wear gloves.

Or be so concerned over the Red Hot Chili Peppers attire.

"YES THEY HAVE NO SHIRTS!!!!!!!!!!!"

Jumping up and down and screaming like we were in Sochi or something.

Anyhow.

Yesterday was a marathon of hectic.

Minimum day.

Speech and debate class for the girls.

We crashed a homeschool class.

Cochlear mapping for Ashlyn up at UCSF.

During commute hour.

With my baby on the floor of the sound booth during testing.

Evening service.

Today I'm choosing to be less crazy.

The girls are off to school.

After Ashlyn's Missing Lion King Umbrella Crisis of 2014.

She settled for a Dry Bar one.

She doesn't know that one day she will love the Dry Bar way more than Mufasa.

I'm getting a haircut this afternoon.

And my mom is cooking dinner for us.

Thanks, mom.

Thursday night family dinners are pretty much the best.

I'm Fitness Palling again.

Which makes me want to murder everyone.

But I went bathing suit shopping yesterday.

And that also made me want to murder everyone.

So.

To prevent deaths.

Egg white breakfast sandwiches and iced green tea for days.

And just in case you were wondering?

She's not interested in making any Fitness Pals.

And don't touch her chips.

Stay dry, folks.

I missed these puddles.

Things I Want to Remember About a January That Felt Like September.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Tue, 28 Jan 2014 10:57:00 +0000

Our winter has been more of a summer.

And I love summer.

So no complaints here.

Hope started a junior high Sunday school class.

And it has my heart.

Dave and I met in junior high youth group.

After he hit me in the face with a dodgeball.

God is good at bringing us full circle.

We watched the Niners win some.

And lose some.

And we're officially Denver fans next week.

Kayla's just happy to root for horses.

We tried pear/mango/papaya.

She agrees with me that papaya tastes like the smell of feet.

We like sweet potatoes with cinnamon better.

And we feed ourselves, I guess?

What four month old does that?

We spent Saturday mornings watching America's Funniest Home Videos.

Also, I felt the need to throw in a "before" pic.

Because we also got an accidental summer cut.

I'm still getting the hang of the goldendoodle fur.

And waited too long to call the groomer.

He had legit dreads.

One Love, Linc.

We've been up to our ears in schoolwork.

Researching.

Writing.

Memorizing.

Ashlyn had a presentation on snow last week.

She was able to read the whole thing.

After we practiced the word "temperature" a few times.

And was upset the snowflake I helped her make did not have six sides.

"But that's fiction, mom! We said right here it has six sides and this only has four sides."

"It's not supposed to be FICTIONNNNN!"

I'm so proud of her.

And want to run and hide from her all at the same time.

Kayla has a presentation next month on a topic of her choice.

She went to the SPCA with her dad yesterday.

I was a little worried they'd come home with a friend for Rastafari.

But they stayed on task.

Research only.

I'm proud of them, too.

We spent time swimming in Nan and Pop's pool.

Often.

We had play dates in the park. And know how to take selfies, apparently.

We've been practicing our jumping.

Well, or just drooling on our seat.

We found our toes.

And clothing has been pretty optional.

For the baby, obviously.

I still can't believe she's nakie in the middle of winter.

We've spent time on the coast.

Adventures on the Pacifica pier.

We saw a sea lion.

We've witnessed some glorious sunsets.

January, you've been full and fun and different this year.

Thanks for the sunshine.

Four Months.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Thu, 16 Jan 2014 15:06:00 +0000

Our baby girl turned four months on the 9th.

I get that time flies extra fast in motherhood land.

But this is kind of ridiculous.

She's still a peach.

A giant peach.

At her recent check up we learned that she's doubled her birth weight.

16 pounds of chunky monkey.

That's what we call her.

Which will probably have to change before junior high.

Ho Jo is another nickname that's likely to stick.

That's a little cuter, I think.

She's still sleeping in our room but is close to outgrowing her bassinet.

And I don't really have a plan for that yet.

So I'm hoping she takes a little growth break.

Is that such a thing?

We just started solids on Tuesday.

Which probably won't help with the break.

Brown rice cereal?

Not a fan.

We added apples and strawberries.

And a feeding assistant.

Fan.

She spends her days being rotated around various locations in the house.

The activity mat station.

She likes to look at herself in the mirror.

The Rock and Play station.

Where Lincoln steals her toys.

And the Bumbo station.

Although her ever growing thighs are about to make that last one obsolete.

She's just starting to roll.

But gets stuck on her tummy so she doesn't travel very far.

She loves her big sisters and her puppy.

She is smiley and drooly and cooing like crazy.

They are the sweetest sounds in the world.

She's also a Niner fan.

I think it's just the bright colors and fast motion.

But her dad is pretending it's more.

Kayla has zero interest in the old pigskin.

Ashlyn minimal.

She's mainly concerned with the opponent.

And says that Satan likes them.

I'm not making that up.

Anyhow.

Littlest sister may be his golden ticket.

Or we can just pretend.

Also, of note.

It's 72 degrees here today.

Crystal clear, bright shiny skies.

In January.

Happy first third of your first year, Holland Joy.

You bring us sunshine.

10 on 10. December.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Wed, 11 Dec 2013 10:58:00 +0000

10 photos on the 10th day of the month.

Or maybe 5 because I forgot to take 10.

Pintertest Kitchen 27: Sweet and Sour Chicken

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Wed, 04 Dec 2013 21:34:00 +0000

This will be short and sweet.

And sour.

We love sweet and sour chicken.

Well.

I won't lie.

Dave and I do.

My children have questionable eating habits.

Kayla will not touch chicken unless it is pink slime and breaded.

But eats her weight in raw oysters and vegetables.

And Ashlyn survives off apples and rice only burritos from Chipotle.

It's just a long and complicated story.

And I don't care enough to fight them about it.

All that being said.

When I saw this pinned I had to try.

And I'm glad I did.

Make this chicken.

Adults and normal children will love it.

Pinterest win.

Original recipe here.

Our Perfect Baby. And Winner Announced.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Fri, 22 Nov 2013 07:52:00 +0000

Sweet little miss has reversed her nocturnal tendencies.

So I am officially declaring her best baby ever.

Although I did say the same thing about her brother puppy.

And he promptly ditched his kibble for a steady diet of My Little Ponies, toilet paper and underwear.

So I'm not holding my breath.

She is mellow.

Relaxed.

Flexible.

Praise Jesus because she pretty much lives in the car.

She has started smiling.

And cooing.

And it's the sweetest sound ever.

She's living up to her middle name quite nicely.

She's a joy.

And we really love her around here.

She also likes give-a-ways.

And her Auntie Julie who is the big winner this month.

Jules, Starbucks and Pen and Paint happy mail are en route, my friend.

Thanks to everyone who linked up this month.

That was fun.

November 10 on 10: Any Given Sunday

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica Johnson) — Sun, 10 Nov 2013 20:09:00 +0000