Jeromy will be on the Focus on the Family “Your Family Live” pod cast this Wednesday, Sept. 1 at 12:30 pm MST/1:30 pm CST. They are accepting questions from listeners, so we’d love for folks to call in. Mary Beth Chapman will also be a featured guest…

You asked for our stories and boy do I have a lot to tell you.  However, right now, on my heart are my grandparents.  My grandfather is 93 yrs old and when my mom say’s she is the “Milkman’s kid” it’s true.  Grandpa has had many jobs over his 93 years.   Milkman, mechanic, janitor, farmer, father, husband…  but none as big as just being a huge influence in my life.  I think God knew we would be the perfect combination of granddaughter and grandfather.  In a family where we are always misunderstood by others, we (grandpa and me) were perfectly understood by each other, never in spoken words, but in the art of just being together.

When I was little, Grandma and Grandpa’s farm was my favorite place on earth. Getting up early every morning to feed the animals and collect the multi colored eggs was a joy not a task. Grandpa and I enjoyed some good old-fashioned oats with raisins and whole-wheat toast for breakfast. Then I would go collect a mid day snack from the garden, before heading out to discover the lay of the land.

I would ask Grandpa, “Can I ride Oaky?” He always responded the same, “yep”. Then he would quietly fall asleep in his chair watching PBS. I’d go play with Tola, (the Alaskan Husky) chase the chickens or go on hunt with one of the many barn cats for a while, then return with the same question, “Grandpa, can I ride Oaky?” He would respond with, “What? You don’t have her saddled yet?” He always expected me to go ahead and just do it even though I didn’t have the first clue as to how to. He wanted me to try to figure it out. This was probably one of life’s biggest lessons he taught me, and it was taught with loving, quiet strength.

I eventually did learn to saddle a horse and ride like the wind, with a little safety check from Grandpa before I took off. However, more than just riding, it was in his quiet strength that he taught me to try, and then try again. To be comfortable figuring things out because people telling you what you should do, and being confident knowing how, are two totally different things. Very early he was teaching me to rely on the gifts and the knowledge that God instilled in me from conception, to look to God for my guidance. People would be there to help with the “safety checks,” but they could never write my story as well as my Arthur.

I am so blessed by him. In his quiet strength I learned so many things from the art of just being together. He showed me that enjoying ones company does not always include chatter. As a matter of fact, chatter simply amplifies challenges. It doesn’t solve them. It is the actions or steps taken that resolve life’s biggest challenges.
And speaking of chatterboxes. My sister and Grandma could chat all day and night, not letting anyone get a word in! I remember being reprimanded on several occasions for saying things that were not exactly on topic. I laugh about this now, because as I recall, my comments were usually on topic of something discussed an hour before. It just took that long for either of them to breathe so I could speak up. My sister was such a blabbermouth that Grandma even nicknamed her “Gabby”.

It was through this, that I learned that communication was important. The art of communicating clearly could be an effective tool in changing the world around me. Grandma taught me to speak up in a timely fashion, speak clearly, and get to the point. She taught me that words can be just as important as the actions behind them. That I could, “catch more flies with honey than with vinegar”. Her words were always an extension of grace.

When it came time for me to grow up and find out who I really was, and what I was supposed to be doing, they again impacted my decision. I decided to become an herbalist. I am completely comfortable in the role. When I look back on my childhood, I realize I had been exposed to this my entire life. I watched Grandpa grow things in the green house, or on the farm, and watched him take a handful of supplements daily with his breakfast. Though I never fully understood at the time, I did know he was never sick. I was able to succeed because Grandpa had taught me so well not be afraid of the challenge but to tackle it head on. Grandma had taught me well to communicate clearly and speak timely. When it came time to pick a business name, I chose “Grace”. Art and Grace taught me many of life’s great lessons and the biggest one being the “Art of Grace”. I use the love lessons of both of them as daily reminders to myself and as a message to my clients. It is “The Art of living a life of Grace.”

Grandpa has just been diagnosed with lung cancer in it’s advanced stages.  Because of his age, there is little the medical profession desires to do for him.  This doesn’t stop him.  When he was asked if he wanted a biopsy – he responded “Absolutely!”  The doctor looked puzzled and asked, “why are you so sure?  There isn’t much we can do for you.”  He responded, “Because when I find out exactly what it is, I am sure I can find a God Created solution.”  Of course his physician chuckled and responded, “When you find it, let me know what it is.”  Grandpa and Grandma still live by themselves in their own home and Grandpa still drives them to church every Sunday.

We are waiting for that biopsy to be preformed as well as a new pacemaker put in.  In the meantime, grandpa still fights for every breath with everything he’s got.  He knows where he is going and has no fear about death.  He says, he has a good life here and likes it.  Although he would love to meet his maker, he is not ready to go home just yet.  He loves his wife (she’s 92), he loves his kids (2 daughters and 2 sons) He loves his grandchildren (I am the special one, at least he’s always made me feel that way. There are 8 of us.)  He loves his great grandchildren. (There are 5) and his great great grandchild. (There is 1).  He has seen the time of horse and buggy (that’s how he delivered milk), never really much cared for computers or automated machinery, and remembers the day when government really was, “for the people by the people”.  He remembers when our environment wasn’t so polluted and when you could trust that farmer next door would not kill you with his produce. He remembers when people came together to solve everyday issues because it is just the right thing to do.  More than anything else he understand, his actions speak volumes and words only speak chapters.  Though he will not be remembered in history books as anything special – He will be known as the greatest man in my history.

Kristina J. Wood is a Wife, Homeschooling Mom, and Natural Health Specialist in Hesperia, Michigan. She and her husband Mitch have two sons, Jayke and Brandon, and a daughter, Jazmine, and a granddaughter, Ava Lee. When asked about herself Jennifer says, “I am a firm believer in using the things God blesses us with. Sometimes that is food/spices for our health and sometimes it’s looking at a pile of junk and turning it into something beautiful. I am married to a musician, my children are artists (sketching mostly), me .. well, I cannot sing or play a note and can only draw fine looking stick people. However, give me a piece of clay, a pile of junk or a broken spirit and I will let God do what he does to make it something beautiful. I am always amazed at how He uses these hands to put broken pieces together.” Kristina can be found on facebook at facebook.com/naturalhealth4U.

Jennifer and I chose this story to be the first TRAVELERS IRL post because we, like Kristina, appreciate our family heritage so much. In a culture that glorifies the young just because they are young, it’s nice to hear from someone who still nurtures and relishes a connection with a precious older and wiser family member. Sometimes we criticize our elders because they don’t “keep up” with modern technology. I wonder if that is the secret of simple happiness that many of them seem to possess.

Our house in Franklin still sits vacant as we await our mold settlement process to begin. Our consumer advocate is telling us to plan on at least six months of limbo. Numbers with a lot of zeros are being tossed around and it makes me nervous. In a way this is even more unsettling than our move to Africa. When we moved there we had a plan. We knew where we would be and for how long and how much it would cost. This is different. I haven’t the foggiest idea where we will be in six months or how much, if any, money we will have left. It’s easier to live life one day at a time when you sort-a know what to expect from each day.

Some of you know how we feel cause you’re walking the same season right now. We’ve read your stories as they have come in and have been really blessed by them. Shortly flowing this blog post will come the first edition of TRAVELERS IRL (in real life). The concept is still in the development stage but we are genuinely excited about connecting people who have our music in common with one another to share their lives.

Here’s how I’d like you to help…

I’m looking for stories, your stories.

Over the next couple of weeks I’m imploring you to email me your stories of hurt, love, hate, life, and experience. Maybe it’s a story of redemption, or an account of how our God has put the pieces of your life back together. Maybe it’s your story of love and faith and perseverance. Maybe it’s about a friend of yours or a parent. It can be funny, serious, silly, or sad. It doesn’t matter, as long as it is true and honest. Jennifer and I will sort through (and pray through) your submissions and pick one each week to post on FFH.net and FFH Facebook. For now we’ll call the blog “Travelers IRL (in real life)”.

Six thousand (or so) web surfers hit our sites. By sharing all of our stories, not just the escapades of our family, we’ll all benefit from one another. This is the kind of community Jennifer and I hope to enable through our music. Let’s give it a try. Send your stories to us at ffh@me.com. All messages come right to my laptop and cell phone and nobody else. Don’t worry about perfect spelling or grammar. I’ll make sure to let you know if your submission is chosen for the weekly post and you’ll have a chance to make any changes.

Cool?

Hope so-
Have a great week-
Jeromy

The Els boys have made an unmistakable mark on the community and the people with whom they lived and worked and played. Most of the folks I’ve met in the times I’ve spent here in Hillsboro have multiple stories about Ken and his dad and brothers. The longer I stay here the more I understand the deep family history of this place and that of the people who live here.

When I traveled to South Africa for a week and a half in March of 2006 I got a taste of African culture, I experienced it as a visitor. Then, that following October, we moved there and bought a car and rented a house. We unpacked and settled our family down for a while. We made friends and began a work and established a routine. Only then did we begin to live Africa, to become part of it’s history. That’s what we are experiencing here in Missouri, only this time it is unplanned and unexpected. It’s a bit strange to wake up day after day in the same house where Jennifer grew up and where she and her sisters spent their days playing and swimming and talking about boys. Jennifer’s mom is cooking meals for everyone just like she did back then and my kids are doing the things Jennifer did when she was little. History is repeating itself. The longer I’m here the more of that history I feel seeping into my being. This isn’t just a visit anymore. Friends and family have gone back to their normal lives and we are beginning to lock into the rhythm of this house. We’ve even made a couple of new friends and Jennifer has reconnected with some old ones. I’m resisting it a bit because I know it isn’t our home, it’s not our rhythm, and we’ll be breaking away soon enough, but it’s been nice in many ways to be part of something larger, something not so temporary.

If I get up early enough I like to sit at the kitchen table alone and read my bible and look through the sliding glass door that proves a view-from-above of the farm and the barn and the garden that I helped plant this spring. Vegetables are popping up everywhere, the tomato plants are yielding buckets of fruit everyday, the trellis that supports the bean vines is buckling under the weight, and the sunflowers at the south end of the garden are over ten feet tall. Across the valley through the cedar trees I can see the top of Jennifer’s sister’s house, about a five-minute walk from here. She and her husband Cameron bought the property from Grandpa John about ten years ago and build the house by hand. At the base of the valley where the creek divides the property is the old milkhouse. Jennifer’s dad converted the milkhouse when Jennifer was a kid so she had a place to board her ponies and horses. As a teenager, Jennifer spent most of her free time in the pasture adjacent to the milk house riding horses. Her most trusted companion was a quarter horse named Merchant. We went down to the milkhouse the other day and Jennifer told me how the stalls still smell like they did then. I can tell she misses those quiet days. She mourns the innocence lost with growing up.

In an odd way, Jennifer and her Dad have a uniquely similar childhood, one that was filled with quiet and animals and dirt. Whenever Jennifer daydreams about her “perfect place” it is a wide-open space with animals and land and a huge family table piled high with fresh organic produce and homegrown vegetables. She loves the sounds of cicadas in the cedar trees and screen doors clapping shut and kids playing in the yard. I wonder why God took Jennifer from this place, one of such relaxed solitude, and put her into a life that doesn’t have so many of the things she has always loved and longed for.

This morning I didn’t get out of bed until 6:45. Hutch was already awake and playing with his birthday toys. I sat in what has become my usual chair overlooking the farm and tried to read and pray while he and Iron Man battled under my feet. My prayer book’s theme for this week is “communion” and included in the selected readings is an excerpt from Henry Nouwen’s “The Life of The Beloved”. In the opening section Nouwen writes, “I would like to talk a little about how to live the life of the beloved. There are four words that I want to use, words that come from the gospels, words that are used in the story of the multiplication of bread, words that are used at the Last Supper, words that are used at Emmaus, and words that are used constantly when the community of faith comes together. Those words are: He took, He blessed, He broke, and He gave.”

Nouwen goes on to explain that all of us who choose to follow Jesus walk with Him in the perpetual process of being taken, blessed, broken, and given. As I look back on the past few years I can see how Jesus has taken me out of situations at times when I lest expect it and how he has been leading me into brokenness and blessing me with experiences that are changing me and somehow blessing others. None of it is my doing or a result of anything good I’ve done. I’m just bread. (Today I’m grumpy tired bread) I’m sure it was God’s best for Jennifer to be taken from her home as well, but when we’re here I can’t help but wonder how.

I wonder what in the world God is up to with us. Why did He choose to have us leave our home at this time, just as we were finally settling down? We were so excited to be in Franklin this summer, to be “Normal”. Why were we taken now? What is it he wants me to learn here? Last week I wrote about God’s “Grace in the Wilderness”, and I’m no less aware or appreciative God’s blessing but I’ve got more questions. My heart is not settled. I feel that our story, my story, is getting buried in someone else’s. That’s the breaking that I can’t find reason for. And I can’t help but be a little nervous about where the giving is going to take place. The last time a major change like this happened in our family we ended up in South Africa and I ended up with MS and Jennifer ended up pregnant. All of it has been God’s best and we’re so much better off now than we were then. I wouldn’t trade the past five years for anything, but I’m still “me of little faith” and I get nervous when I can’t see what’s coming.

I’m looking forward to heading back to Franklin later this week to lead worship at Fellowship and do some songwriting with some friends. I’m also going to spend some time looking for temporary housing for us to live in while our house is being restored. I can’t help but feel a small twitch that tells me we may never move back into that house. It may just be a fleeting notion, I get those a lot. I remember when Jennifer and I were dating being sure that I was going to die before we got married. So I’ve learned to not pay too much attention to the whims of my heart, but still, something is going on. Something is being put to rest, being allowed to wither and die, and something new is coming to life. I’ve been inspired while I’ve been here in Missouri. Inspired to write, to read, to get dirty, and to get off of some of my medicine. But I grieve not having my own space, and time alone with Jennifer and the kids, and my sleep number bed. I miss my Jeep and Merridee’s, and I’m tired of wearing the same clothes over and over again. I’m growing weary of being a visitor.

Even as I sit here complaining I’m reminded of my own words to audiences this year. I’ve been urging people to follow God into the unknown, telling them not to be afraid to go wherever Yahweh leads them, even if it seems extreme. I’ve been imploring people to go “away” with God, to be still, to be quiet, to be “different”. I guess if that’s going to be my message than I’ve got to be that guy: The traveler. The sojourner. Like John the Baptist, who lived his life in the wilderness. I’ve been telling people how great the wilderness is because Jesus is there and He is uniquely close to us when we go there with Him. Why should I be surprised that Jesus is again taking us through the unknown? Maybe our experience will become bread that will be given to others through this. I guess I just need to own it, to settle into it, to realize that this is our story, our adventure, unique to us. That this is who we are and who we are going to be, for now anyway.

Jennifer keeps her books on the floor beside the bed. (She’s right-handed and sleeps on the right, I’m left-handed and sleep on the left. We tried to switch once. It lasted one night.) This morning I noticed she’s reading a book about “The Valley”. She must be feeling the same way I do. We’ve been together a lot but not really alone for long enough to talk about deep stuff. I’m sure being here for this length of time is stirring up feelings and emotions in her heart that have been asleep under the surface for a while. Plus, her Dad, (we all call him Pop Pop now) isn’t doing well. The inflammatory disease that he’s battling is causing blood flow to his legs to be stifled. His legs are getting weak and he’s walking less and sleeping more. This has to be on Jennifer’s mind. Plus, Pop Pop has been a lot more sentimental lately, which lets us know that he’s probably feeling worse than he even lets on. We’re all hopeful that this is just a temporary relapse and not a sign of things to come.

Jennifer doesn’t complain that I don’t have a plan past next week. She’s never really pressured me to have the long-term figured out. I’m so thankful for that. This morning she recognized that I was in a rough spot and has giving me all day to think and process things. This is how we live now: day to day, hour to hour. Our counselor told us to try to live in the moment, to think about the next ten minutes. It’s hard, especially when the system we live in tells us that we need to have our ducks in a row. Sometimes Jennifer and me talk about this and she reminds me that there’s not a retirement plan anywhere in the Bible. She’s right. She usually is. Don’t tell her I said that.

After being on the road for 10 solid years, the group decided to hang up their road sign and take a breather back in 2006 for a bit. No timeline. Just an extended break so everyone could be with their families and take on some new experiences for a spell.

But husband and wife Jeromy and Jennifer Deibler couldn’t have known what journey they were to embark upon when the decision was made to step back and stop touring for what was meant to be for a number of months – not years – at the time.
Jeromy shares, “We really never put a timeframe on the sabbatical or anything, we simply said it was time to invest in our families. Putting a timeframe on it would have placed a hold over everyone, placing a post in the future that we would have continually been forced to deal with. So we didn’t do that.”

“Jennifer and I brought the subject up to the other guys, because they needed to be involved in the decision making process. So we continued to do touring for another six months after that, making good on our dates we had already set up and then stepped away from everything that was tied to FFH.”
As they walked through that tough decision, the obvious conversation turned to the “What do we do now” question, which he and his wife saw as an opportunity to explore a new frontier.

“Earlier on I had gone on a 10-day mission trip to South Africa and while there I was invited to come back at some point in the future for a longer stay,” Jeromy states. “During the process of setting a cut-off date for shows, Jennifer and I decided that we would spend some time in South Africa. I felt like God was telling us to go, and we could use some of the time to rest from the touring lifestyle; so we went.”

He tells of a much simpler life while moving his family and serving at a Church in South Africa for a planned six month visit. A time of wide open spaces, a slower pace of life, and a more relationship-driven atmosphere altered the mindset of the Deiblers while there, and upon their return to the States.

“People who haven’t been there can’t really comprehend the free feeling that environment brings and even get annoyed when we bring it up. I don’t know if we’ll ever go back, but it made us crave for the simple form of life they live over there,” he says. Little did they know that while Jeromy was experiencing little nagging pinches and mild numbness in his hands and arms from time to time during and before their South Africa experience, internally his body was doing things that would cause havoc once he arrived back stateside. He explains, “ We ended up coming back to the U.S. a bit early because Jennifer was pregnant with our second child and she really wanted to be here during that whole process. So while rejoicing with that scenario and coming fresh off of our break, we decided not to go back on the road right away and concentrate on family for a bit longer.”

That was another tough decision for the family however, as they hadn’t done any shows for several months. Contrary to popular belief, artists don’t make a lot of money when they take extended breaks from doing shows and music. Even with a successful career behind them. And FFH continued to receive plenty of offers to get going again with shows around the country. That made the decision to hold off even tougher.

Once they got into their ‘new normal’ as Jeromy put it stateside, his nagging pinches and numbness was getting worse and spreading. Three months before their daughter was born, he was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS).

“I had not felt right for almost a year,” Jeromy looks away with a bit of concern on his face. “So the final diagnosis was both a relief and a bit of shock. I was getting numb in different parts of my body and didn’t have a clue why. I would wake up with my left arm a little numb, and then by
the end of the day would be in terrible pain. We went through checking for pinched nerves, and a few other things, but nothing made sense. Being a guitar player, it wasn’t really convenient to have that going on either. Finally the doctor did an MRI of my neck and ended up having that appointment that nobody wants to have. After showing me the slides of the MRI he basically said he didn’t know what I had, but there was very visible plaque in the middle of my spinal cord. That was the first time any doctor had told me it could be MS.”

He went through bouts of both hands being completely numb for weeks, then one month where one of his legs would just do strange things making life anything but normal. One night his stomach and ab area went numb, making him and his family perplexed and scared about his future. He even spent one month on the couch in serious pain. But Jeromy says that wasn’t the worst part of their now forced extended sabbatical.

“The waiting was the worst. After knowing you have MS, and I had stage two of the disease, you normally go right into treatment. But my doctors were unsure of what to do right away, so they did more tests and debated on whether I should join a clinical trial. But the approval process of what they were talking about couldn’t take place for another six months. All the while Jennifer was going through the pregnancy,” he shares.

Jeromy’s clinical trial finally started, and after a few treatments he felt pretty good. Another ‘new normal’ stage he mentions with a smile. Once the immediacy of not having to deal with the MS situation wasn’t taking place every day, in late 2008, they decided to try to get back out on the road on some level and begin communicating with people about what God allowed them to walk through since their last tour a few years prior.

But getting back out on the road after a very long break isn’t easy. “You can’t simply jump out on the road again one day and resume your tour schedule,” Jeromy says with a grin. “You have to notify a lot of people and then kind of wait and see who responds. We really didn’t get back on the road for months until sometime in 2009. That was obviously tough financially.”

So why go back to music after walking through the valley of not knowing what was happening, and then facing a debilitating illness? “Every time I got to the point of giving my music back to God, I couldn’t shake my role in the Kingdom, beyond being there for my family, was to communicate to people. To be one of His communicators,” he states.

“Some of us are supposed to communicate with written words, while others tell stories, and others have the opportunity to build things. I simply asked for confirmation to do something else if that’s what God wanted me to do throughout the whole experience. But He never took my gift back. He simply wanted us to wait on Him and His timing.”

Once the cobwebs were shaken off and they were ready to resume singing live, the couple quickly came to the conclusion that they were to do it as FFH, not as something else. “There was no need to reinvent ourselves,” Jeromy admits. “The story that we wanted to tell was part of what we had walked through. As the primary writer for FFH over the years, the lyrics sounded like the band and not something from a brand new entity.”

Jeromy and Jennifer made it clear that facing MS was not the headline or the main reason why they took so much time off or out of the spotlight. That was part of the process, but waiting and asking, and waiting some more, was the real headline that they now share out on the road with all who will listen.

And now, as the Deiblers are experiencing their own Wide Open Spaces in life and the pursuit of what God has before them, they seem content. Not with what could happen in the future, but with what is happening – today. With no strings attached or any outlandish expectations.

Jeromy admits he really doesn’t have a favorite track on the new project that came out in May. With all that they have lived through over the past four years and him actively writing along the journey, that’s not all that surprising. “It’s a retrospect of where we have been, but also where we are going. We didn’t know if there would ever be another record to produce honestly.”

He continues, “The thing that we now try to apply the most to our lives is the relationship-driven lifestyle that our friends in Africa showed us while there. What might be a 15-minute meeting here turns into an afternoon get together over there. They love to meet and have tea together. Even people you don’t even know will show up and stay at your place for hours simply learning things about you and enjoying your company.”

As we begin to leave the coffee shop I ask him one more question, asking him if he had something to share with radio and the industry as a whole. He pondered that for a moment, then sat up and said, “Radio has always given FFH great support throughout our time as a group. We were on radio before we signed to Essential and had a charting single before that all came down, so we are very thankful for the radio stations that played our music and help us impact people’s lives through their station.

“I would love for radio to play a role in our reemergence as we reach out to people in a fresh way. Radio is already helping us get the word out that we are back and recording music again. People wouldn’t know that without the support of Christian radio. And now that we are an independent band again, it’s even more vital to field some support from radio. So for those that have given us a voice on your station, we are very thankful.”

by Rick Welke, Christian Music Weekly (CMW)
Subscribe for free at www.christianmusicweekly.com/newsub.shtml

We’ve now been at Jennifer’s family farm in Missouri for almost a month. We are still not able to go home because we’re waiting on results from the specialist as to the extent and severity of the mold in our house. It’s been hard on our family and an unexpected stress for Jennifer’s parents. Jennifer’s sister, Jannell, has been here as well with her two kids (3yrs and 8 weeks) while her husband is out on a three-week tour with another artist. It’s ten people in a house built for five. Jennifer’s Mom takes it upon herself to cook huge unnecessary meals for everyone, which seems to keep her moving more than she needs to and Jennifer’s Dad is still battling health issues and all of this excitement seems to be extra taxing on his body.

Jennifer and I didn’t expect to be here nearly this long and we only have a couple of suitcases full of clothes for all four of us so we’ve been buying things we would normally have brought with us. We’re pooling our money for groceries and trying to respect each other’s privacy. There’s no Internet access at the house so I have to drive into town to do anything productive. Furthermore, since we are staying in St Louis we’ve had to fly to most of our concerts because they’ve been too far away to drive. Flying has made it harder to take the kids with us, which is something we have committed to do whenever it is at all possible. The emotional strain of leaving the kids is something that we’ve not been faced with since we returned to FFH, and it’s brought back lots of unwelcomed emotions from several years ago.

Hutch turns seven years old this Wednesday and he won’t have his usual “buddies” at his party. He may not have a party at all. In less than three weeks the boys in the neighborhood will go back to school and Hutch will have missed out on a lot of bike and scooter time with his friends at home. Sadie has been sleeping in a pack-and-play next to Hutch’s bed and they keep each other up at night and wake each other up in the mornings. Plus, we have the stupid dog to think about.

HOWEVER.

Because of our extended stay here the kids have had a chance to spend time with their Mimi and Pop Pop and their cousins that they wouldn’t have been able to if we’d been permitted to go home, and Jennifer and her sisters have been have had the chance to be together at their home for the first time in years. There’s a pool here so Hutch has become part fish and Sadie-Claire is now jumping into the water with floaties on and no one to catch her. Pop Pop still isn’t feeling completely healthy but he’s been well enough this summer to work with the kids in his shop building toy robots out of scrap metal and wood and piddling around with tools and such. This is something we’ve wanted for Hutch for a long time.

This morning just after breakfast Hutch asked me to go outside and throw Frisbee with him. Normally I’d already be heading out to write songs or on the computer working, but since there’s no Internet access at the farm and no co-writers within three hundred miles, I was physically and emotionally available to just play.

We’ve hated leaving the kids to go perform and miss them dearly when we’re gone, but the times away have given Jennifer and me chances to talk, and there’s much to discuss right now. We’ve really enjoyed the hours together and we’ve even seen a couple of movies while we are out. Our availability to audiences before and after concerts has been greater as well because we don’t have to hurry back to the hotel to put the kids to bed. This has been refreshing.

Back in May, when we were here for a visit, we helped to plant the garden. Vegetables are popping up like crazy now. Everyday buckets of fresh squash and tomatoes are brought in and we eat them for supper. Jennifer has always wanted to learn how to plant and cultivate a garden and this summer she’s getting hands-on experience. Meals are mayhem but we’re all eating most of them together, like families used to do it. We go through about forty paper plates everyday. Pop Pop takes them to a burn pile so his dumpster doesn’t overflow.

It’s a pain to go to McDonalds to work but I’m thankful to have a job where I can connect to people through the Internet. Our booking agency and publicist are in Nashville, our radio promoter is in OK City, our road manager is in Tulsa, and our band guys are traveling in other parts of the country when we are not together. We usually connect like this anyways and I’m realizing how blessed I am to have a job that doesn’t require an office. Plus, Brian Smith, my longest and closest friend lives down the street from me in Franklin and has been checking the mailbox and sending me the important stuff. It’s nice to have a friend you trust enough to go through your mail.

Another blessing about being “stuck” here… A friend of Jennifer’s is going to get Hutch and I some tickets to a Cardinal’s game at the new Busch Stadium. The Phillies are in town this week and it will be Hutch’s first Major League Game, perfect for his birthday. A few years ago Nashville decided they’d rather have an NHL Team than a MLB franchise so we don’t ever get to see baseball games. Plus, I think given the choice, Hutch would rather be here with his cousin Elias for his birthday than at home with his street buddies. Transformers and Iron Man action figures adjust to any environment so they will help make the party better.

Mimi and Pop Pop like the dog more than they’d admit. He’s allowed in the house, which is shocking to Jennifer who was never allowed to have indoor pets when she was a kid.

Jeremiah 31 speaks of God’s people who find Grace in the Wilderness. Another translation of the same verse says that they find Favor in the Desert. In Jeremiah 31:2, the words “Wilderness” and “Desert” come from the Hebrew word “Midbar”. Strong’s concordance explains that Midbar’s meaning denotes a “driving out”. Like sheep or cattle that are driven to pasture.

God is driving us all into some great wilderness. The unknown is uncertain, inconvenient, and at many times scary. But He who drives us is also with us, and where He is will be favor, grace and rest, even where we’d least expect it.

The kids are having a great time at the farm and being able to stay here for these few weeks is a blessing, but it’s still a strain. We’ve put our lives on indefinite hold. All of our plans for this summer have been thwarted. We know that God is good and He knows the future and there’s a reason He didn’t stop this from happening. We know that this will ultimately work out for our best and God’s best and our family’s best. Nevertheless, we are a little depressed about the whole thing. It’s all quite unsettling, especially the waiting for results we have no control over.

Last night before bed Jennifer did a timeline of what our lives have been like since the fall of 2005. There’s been joy, hope, sorrow, suffering, birth, death, peace, and pain, and a move to Africa and back. Through it all we’ve only been permitted to see just a few feet in front of us on the path. God completely shut the blinds to the distant view. It’s been hard but good. And I know this time away from our home will prove to be the same. I just don’t get it right now. We seemed to be in such a good groove at home. I seem to so easily forget that this journey with Jesus is a path through the wilderness and a good groove isn’t always best. Jennifer and I pray for God to take our family on an adventure. We ask him to not let us get stuck in “normal”. We have to believe this is part of the answer.

Hope your week is an adventure too –
Peace and rest,
Jeromy

For the past several years Jennifer and I have been patching and re-patching an annoying roof leak around our chimney.  During the flood things got really messy and bucketfuls of water leaked into our bonus room.  We were away at the time and our AC was off.  When yet another contractor opened it up to find the source of the leak he discovered mold.  When the mold “specialist” came to remove it last week he took a sample to have it tested.  Turns out it’s a very toxic strain of black mold called Stachybotrys.  It’s nasty stuff, causing all kinds of health problems with prolonged exposure.

Three nationally recognized and trusted mold experts told Jennifer and I yesterday that we CAN NOT go back home until the entire house is tested and every room containing traces of the mold is cleaned with a bio agent.  Anything in that room will have to be either thrown away or bio-cleaned, whatever that means.  Best-Case Scenario: it’s all contained in the bonus room and we can move back in as soon as the things from the bonus room are either throw away or deemed safe and the rest of the house is proven to be mold free.   (The furniture and kids toys are being thrown away today)  Worst-Case Scenario: The mold has traveled through the HVAC and has infected the whole house in which case we lose most everything.  Chances are we will land somewhere between the two extremes.  Either way, we can’t go home until we get the process going which Jennifer is beginning today with a Consumer Advocate mold specialist in Atlanta.  He will be coming up to Franklin to head up the project.

Right now we are in St Louis at Jennifer’s family farm.  This was a planned visit.  I’m driving back down to Nashville tomorrow to get Fritz and lead worship at Fellowship for the weekend.  I’ll stay at Brian and Jannell’s and will likely drive back up here and we will commute to our shows and to Nashville from St Louis at least for the next three weeks.  Our Consumer Advocate told us that as soon as the house is assessed and tests are completed and results come back we will know the next step.  It may mean renting a place in Nashville for a couple of months while we get this all sorted.

WISDOM is what we are asking you to pray for us to receive.  WISDOM and PATIENCE to walk in step with Jesus as he opens and closes doors for us, and to not get ahead of ourselves but take it an hour at a time, reminding ourselves that “it’s just a house”, we’re safe, kids are healthy, etc.

Thanks for listening and thanks for caring.

The ten or so people I sent to message to were kind and generous in their responses, several offering their homes to me for the weekend while I traveled back to Franklin to lead worship. I was able to stay at Jennifer’s sisters place but the additional invitations were nice nonetheless.

It was strange to come home and not be able to really go home. Our mold adviser strongly discouraged us from even entering the house briefly so I just stopped over to get the dog and a few things from the garage and left. Fritz had been being let out by a friend for about a week and was so happy to see me that he peed. He and I went over to Jannell and Brian’s and got settled and then went to Merridee’s for a salad and then up Main Street to Starbucks.

Under normal circumstances this would be a night I’d look forward to, even if I were by myself. I was at my favorite bakery, having my favorite sandwich, walking to my coffee shop having my favorite drink. (Grande – Decaf – Mocha – Frappachino Light – With Extra Ice – In a Venti Cup – With Whip) But it wasn’t fun at all. It was depressing. I saw some friends and walked the other way. The whole weekend was like this. Same town, same car, same dog, but no Jennifer, no kids, no house. Everything was turned on it’s head. I know it’s “just a house” but it’s what happens there that is special. It’s where our life happens and I felt like an outsider not being able to go back.

The only time I felt normal all weekend was at Fellowship. The Body of Jesus really is a family and I felt at home when I was there. I only know a handful of people at Fellowship really well. Most are loose acquaintances and lots more I’ve never even met. None of that mattered. I was with family, I could tell in my spirit, and it felt good. Again God used something hard to show me something new.

Have a restful week. If you have any black mold experience we’d definitely appreciate hearing about it. Be safe –

Jeromy