Jenny Simmons | The Becoming

Running, Birds and an Evil Hawk

jenny — Mon, 20 May 2013 13:36:23 +0000

It is 6:59 a.m. and I am sitting on my front porch watching birds.

Annie, my four-year-old, is still sound asleep. I’ll admit. She sleeps in late everyday. Most days I have to wake her at about 9:00 a.m. But if you have a child, please don’t be jealous. In her waking hours she runs laps across parks and fields for fun. Then she does it again and again. Then she doesn’t nap. She doesn’t even honor “quiet time.” Instead, she sings at the top of her lungs in character voices. Strange characters that she has made up. Then, when quiet time is over, she runs more laps. And she always, always wants me to run with her. And I do. Because I don’t have a desire to produce a sibling for her to run with. So I run more laps out of guilt that she’s not going to get a real-life-sister-in-a-cage for Christmas like she really wants. And I dance. And sing in character voices and then run some more.

And she unfolds this way with gusto, passion and slightly creepy superhuman energy each and every day. She is a freak of nature.

Generous People Are: Part 3

jenny — Sat, 18 May 2013 20:23:57 +0000

I met Scott the summer after fourth grade.

We became the best-est of friends. And luckily, we have stayed friends. He is a brother to me. An eternal part of my story and my family’s story.

Recently, Ryan and I were at dinner with he and his wife Jessica. Jessica began to tell about a funny moment she had at work while on her lunch break. She recalled checking Facebook and seeing that I had posted a message that went something like, “A dear friend of mine since the 4th grade just bought 25 copies of my new CD to give out to his friends and family. I hope I’m as good of a friend to other people as they are to me.” She immediately knew who that friend was and called her husband.

“Hey- what are you doing?”

“Not much,” he replied. “What are you doing?”

“Well- I’m just at work, checking Facebook, wondering if we are the proud new owners of 25 copies of Jenny’s new CD?!?!?”

We all died laughing as we sat around the dinner table hearing this story. And Scott said he couldn’t help it. He had to support me.

Generous People Are: Part 2

jenny — Wed, 15 May 2013 16:46:37 +0000

A few years ago I wrecked my dad’s truck. In the Target parking lot. I wrecked into a parked car. I pulled through a spot, turned left, and somehow- in a stroke of mind-boggling science- I hit the car to my right and jacked it up into the air. Straight up into the air, with my truck pinned underneath its driver-side hood. Kids and old ladies gasped and everyone else was looking at me, smirking, as if I was the most stupid girl they had ever seen in real-life-action.

Who hits a parked car? Seriously Jenny?

I called my dad crying.

And he replied the same way he has my entire life. “Are you hurt? Are you OK?”

And I replied the same way I have my entire life. “I’m fine. I just _____.”

Wrecked your truck.
Caught the microwave on fire.
Spilled nail polish all over the carpet.
Broke all the glasses in the top of the dishwasher.
Burned a hole in the carpet with my curling iron.
Locked myself out of the house. Out of the car. With Annie inside.

You know- the normal issues a girl like me has.

Generous People Are _________.

jenny — Tue, 14 May 2013 13:55:34 +0000

Three years ago- in the springtime- there was a big explosion, followed by an epic fire on the RV we (Addison Road, my former band) were traveling in. We weren’t on the RV at the time- and for that, I am forever grateful. But all of our stuff was. And by stuff, think everything you use to make it through the day. Like clothes and laptops. Then think of everything you use that makes it possible for you to work and earn a paycheck. Ok- we lost all of that stuff. Not to mention the actual vehicle.

It feels like a different life time- an eternity has been lived since that moment- an eternity learning about how good people are, how perfect God’s faithfulness is and what generosity really looks like.

I’ve learned a few universal characteristics about generous people these past three years.

This week, I want to share those with you.

Generous People Are ________.

Making it through the fire and maintaining our business required a short term loan. But banks don’t really give loans to semi-successful bands whose stuff burns up and gets stolen all the time. We are sort of a risk, you know?

Why I Like Her.

jenny — Sun, 12 May 2013 04:34:57 +0000

I just got off the phone with my mom.

She is currently, at this very moment, sitting on her back porch coaxing the largest raccoon I have ever seen into eating bread out of her hand. She gives me the play by play.

“OK. He’s getting closer. And closer. Can you believe this?!? He’s not even scared of my voice!”

“No SIR. Do NOT eat from that bird feeder! Do you understand me? That is not yours. Do not eat from the bird feeder.”

“Mom,” I try and get her attention, “Who are you talking to now?”

“Oh- still the raccoon. He knows what I am telling him. He understands my voice.”

And somehow you get the feeling- listening to my mom converse with this wild raccoon- that perhaps it actually does speak her language and does understand her voice.

Her. The lady who talks to- and names- wild raccoons. The one who fearlessly sang Jesus Loves Me to an angry longhorn who’s horns were pointed straight at her, because she was sure this was the best way to calm him down. The one who decided to rent a sheep from the neighbor down the street, to bring to church and use as a sermon illustration.

Just To Be is a Blessing

jenny — Wed, 01 May 2013 18:37:20 +0000

Guest blog and photography by World Concern Staffer- and my dear friend- Kelly Ranck.
To support Kelly and the work World Concern is doing in Africa, please click here!

An aunt of mine quoted Abraham Heschel in one of her recent letters:

“Just to be is a blessing.”

She could not have been more timely.

I’ll admit it, first half of March I was a bit anxious. I was ready to be back in the field, meeting beneficiaries, learning about our projects, and taking tons of photos. I was ready to be ‘working’ again. And then God, pleasantly, reminded me that I can always be working. I was reminded of the importance of being present.

Three years ago I participated in a semester study program in Mukono, Uganda. I spent five months studying at a Ugandan university, living in the dorms, staying with Ugandan families, and traveling around the country. Though this semester completely rocked my world, the overwhelming lesson was the value of being present.

As an alien to the culture and language, the semester consisted of many moments where I was unable to communicate with my colleagues, my host families, or my friends.

Human Beings- Boston- Backstage

jenny — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 04:51:04 +0000

Sometimes I am reminded that God is real simply because we have not all pulled the trigger. That we are here- and that the best shines forth during our darkest hours- is a testament to the God who shows up and does exactly what he promises to do in the holy scriptures... He walks through the valley of the shadow of death with us. You may not see his face. You might just see a police officer. Or a pastor. Or a stranger. But when you do- remember- God shows up. Now one way, now another. Want evidence of God today? Look at HIS people. That humanity thrives- loves-cares-gives-rebuilds-rebuilds- and rebuilds is evidence that where evil shows its face- holiness answers back. Always. "Evil does not define humanity. If it did- we'd all be cowards and murderers. We are not. Don't lose heart. Evil does not win." @jennysimmons

Simplifying War

jenny — Tue, 09 Apr 2013 21:45:40 +0000

No parent wants meaningful public discourse and policy to come at the cost of their own child.

At the end of the day I would love to see tighter gun control measures, less boots on the ground in Afghanistan, a cure for cancer and a better understanding of mental illness and the possible treatment approaches for depression; but not at the expense of Annie’s life. My heart breaks for parents who champion change in their child’s absence. Theirs is a job of constant heartbreak and courage.

To the parents who so fearlessly continue to give voice to the evil which robbed them of the very babies they created inside their bodies: I am forever grateful to you and forever in awe of your bravery.

You are an army waging war against enemies many of us have never had to look in the eyes. You do not quit. Your tears have run dry and your resolve has intensified. You look deep into the eyes of the enemy and you don’t break your gaze.

You put on your fatigues, pick yourselves up by the bootstraps and head back into the trenches with demons no momma or daddy should ever have to fight.

Even the Sparrows

jenny — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 03:35:25 +0000

Several months ago I met a spunky, gentle, confidant, peaceful, dying woman.

Her skin was sunken and all her hair gone. She walked with the help of nurses and friends. She wore a mask protecting herself from the inevitable- but it was more out of duty than desperation.

“I have made peace with my passing,” she told me with a settled smile.

She attended a free concert I performed for military families at Madigan Medical Center in Tacoma, Washington. She was the last person I spoke with that day. She loved the song, Heaven Waits for Me, and wondered when it would be available to purchase.

Without thinking, I told her it would come out in February or March. As soon as I spoke it, the truth of the matter hovered in front of my eyes and I felt sick to my stomach; ashamed that I had spoken so carelessly and assuredly about the future.

We both knew February wasn’t in her future.

And yet she smiled. A deep, generous smile. And she told me:

“When I came to this place and I was diagnosed- I went outside to the courtyard to pray.

Candied Carrots, Ham and Jesus

jenny — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 15:15:14 +0000

As I was listening to the radio yesterday, the station was giving tips on how to get ready for Easter. The tips included a lady with a Southern-sweet-tea accent talking about cooking up the perfect ham and candied carrots and wearing those bright pastel colors on Easter Sunday whether it felt like Spring or not!

My heart ached for more.

Don’t get me wrong: I am avidly scouring allrecipes.com to try and figure out how to cook my very first ham and what the heck it means to candy a carrot. Annie has a cute, pastel-colored dress hanging in the closet and we will be decorating eggs and going on an epic egg hunt. Today I will conquer Target and every ever-lovin’ aisle of spring time happiness.

But God forbid that’s what it looks like for my family and I to get ‘ready for Easter’.

Because that is not Easter at all. That is a celebration of spring time and American holiday traditions. Traditions which I will be the first to celebrate and uphold as magical childhood rites’ of passage. Because honestly, you can hardly finish the school year and head into a summer of honeysuckle and forts, if you have not first scoured the earth for eggs and eaten your momma’s ham!