Amanda Jenkins's Blog, page 4

What Mick Jagger, my shopping cart, and the book of Haggai have in common

My neighbors just bought us a recliner. You read that right. In a world where neighbors often don’t know each other’s names and close the garage door behind them the moment they drive in, mine just dropped off a gigantic box with a gift receipt.

For context, my husband is having shoulder surgery in a couple weeks, and we’re told the recovery will be awful. Lots of pain and little sleep, so our doctor recommends Dallas sleep in a recliner for the first month-or-so. Since we don’t own one, and are in the every-penny-counts season of life, I emailed a bunch of friends asking if anyone had a good chair we could borrow.

Enter my extremely generous and loving neighbors.

But they’re not the focus of this post, because as wonderful as they are, I’m not. In spite of God’s constant working on my materialistic heart, upon receiving the incredible gift, I instantly went to Potterybarn.com for pillows that would tie the color of the chair into our decor. And of course I found the perfect pillows to make everything look, well, perfect. And also a blanket. And also some fall decorations I didn’t mean to see but did, and now really, really want.

Thing is, I’ve been experiencing a lot of victory in the shopping dept, avoiding triggers and praying when lust for stuff creeps in. But suddenly I was clicking all my wishes into a shopping cart and calculating the shipping charges. And then I got sad, because even if I could afford the oh-so-cute-but-terribly-overpriced PB accessories (which I can’t), the shipping costs would put me in the red till Christmas.

To be clear, while sitting in our new chair, given to us by people who expect nothing in return except to bring comfort and rest to my hurting husband, I’m feeling…..bummed.

How is that possible? Lord, have mercy. I seem to invent ways to be dissatisfied and ungrateful. Mick Jagger had it right. And so does the Bible.

Now this is what the Lord Almighty says: “Give careful thought to your ways. You have planted much, but harvested little. You eat, but never have enough. You drink, but never have your fill. You put on clothes, but are not warm. You earn wages, only to put them in a purse with holes in it.” Haggai 1:5-6

A purse with holes in it. So true. I’ve been chasing my financial tail for years, robbing Peter to pay Paul when it comes to making ends meet, harvesting little, and always wanting more--and I’m sick of it. This current season of self-control has resulted in small but solid victories, because all our bills are paid. No credit card balances. No stress about making it to the end of the month.

So how is it I’m being drawn to room accessories like a bug to a light trap? This is what the Lord Almighty says: “Give careful thought to your ways. Go up into the mountains and bring down timber and build my house, so that I may take pleasure in it and be honored,” says the Lord.  “You expected much, but see, it turned out to be little. What you brought home, I blew away. Why?” declares the Lord Almighty. “Because of my house, which remains a ruin, while each of you is busy with your own house. Haggai 1:7-9 Ok, God, gonna do it differently this time. I can’t get no satisfaction (Mick Jagger reference spelled out, just in case I was too subtle before) because there is no satisfaction apart from you. Even when it comes to Potterybarn accessories. Whatever makes me momentarily happy gets blown away.

But not buying stuff isn’t good enough, is it? Because your house is in ruin. Your world is in decay. And because it's not enough to not do the wrong thing; I need to start doing the right thing. Which is why the extra money I’m planning to make on Craig’s List to fund my fall purchases, I'm going to give to you instead.

(Deep breath)


Help me to make you Lord of my heart, my house, and my life everyday in real, tangible ways.
And please make my home in Heaven look like Potterybarn.


 

Camera Lies

I don't usually throw people under the bus to make myself feel better. And that's not what I'm intending this post to be, which is why I included before and after pictures of myself.

(Lord, have mercy. Being authentic is really, really hard sometimes.)

Thing is, we all need to know and accept the truth about the things we see. Because seeing isn't believing--not when it comes to beauty and the way popular culture keeps shoving it down our eyeballs.

But if we can be trained to discern the truth--if we're able to look at a magazine cover, a tv show, a movie, a Facebook or Pinterest post for the fiction they often are--the easier it will become to accept ourselves and our many flaws.

Nobody is perfect.

Nobody outruns old age.

Nobody over the age of 30 should forego foundation.

And everybody needs Jesus; the only one whose beauty lives up to the hype.

 Jennifer Lawrence
 Claire Danes
 Mila Kunis
 Tyra Banks
Katie Couric
 Anne Hathaway
Milla Jovovich
Katie Perry
 Pamela Anderson
Katie Holmes Sofia Vergara Barbie Me

The Elle Train

My sister just adopted an African American baby girl, and Elle is in love.

Elle: Mom, I just love to kiss Kia. I love to suck on her head. She tastes like ice cream. Like vanill---like coffee ice cream.

The Elle Train

Recently, some friends were in town and wanted to visit the Lego Store. I prepped my kids ahead of time that we would just be window shopping. Elle had a particularly hard time, and after asking me to buy her lots of different thing in very creative ways, she said:

Fine. Have it your way. But look at this place! All these toys everywhere. And kids. Do you think other parents are saying "no toys" to their kids?
Me: Some are probably saying no.  
Elle, forlorn, her forehead pressed against the wall of Lego boxes and her shoulders slumped: Fine. We'll make a deal. I'll give you all my coins, and you give me 20 or 30 dollars. That's all I'm asking.
Me: Sorry, honey, not today.
We walked out of the store and stopped at a wishing well.
Elle: Okay. I'm gonna make a wish and pretend this is God's jar. Then all my wishes for Legos will come true. It's just gotta work.
Me: Time to go home, Elle. 
Elle: (sigh) I can't believe my life.

Strong Starts and the Ugly Middle

Growing up, I had my act together at the start of each new school year. I sat up straight, kept my supplies in order, worked hard to stay clean and cute in my new clothes/penny loafers, took detailed notes, and completed my homework on time. Then somewhere around mid-October, the honeymoon would be over and I’d become less motivated.

Now that I’m a  parent, my M.O. is much the same, and the school year ends up looking something like this:


Beginning of the year...About one month into the year...Make lunches the day before, usually in the afternoon while I’m also making the children a healthy after-school snack.Make lunches at 11pm, while mumbling hate for sac lunches under my breath. -or-
Make lunches the morning of, throwing random things into bags and ensuring tardies all around.Lay out the next day’s outfits before the children are in bed, complete with matching hair bows and socks. Grab clothes out of hampers, turning dirty underwear inside-out and removing smeared Oreo from collars with Clorox Wipes. Or maybe my spit. Get up early to make multi-grain pancakes and nitrate-free sausage links for my children because we have plenty of time to spare for a warm breakfast.Feed children breakfast bars on the way to school, barking at them to chew at lightening speed.Drop kids ten minutes earlyMake a rolling stop in the drop-off line, yelling, “GO, GO, GO!,” as my kids try and fail to beat the bell. Volunteer in the classroomsVolunteer and forget I volunteeredRead all handouts, email blasts, and reports on what my precious children are learning during the school dayRead every fourth-or-so handout and rely on what my children tell me they're learning during the school dayPay tuition on timePay tuition after numerous phone calls from the office reminding me to pay tuitionLimit TV/video game time to 30 min, allowing time to read aloud a classic with the entire familyPleaseSet aside plenty of time for homework, ensuring my children understand-not just memorize-everything they’re learningHa

The longer I’m a parent, and the more God teaches me about His grace and relentless mercy, the less guilt I feel for all the times I’m less than perfect. Which is a lot.

So here’s to a brand new school year...the fresh haircuts, the stain-free clothes, the smell of a new pencil box, the zippers on bags and jackets that actually zip, the excitement of making new friends, the new sports schedules and the soon-to-be fabulous fall colors.

And also, here’s to the fast approaching total exhaustion it all brings. Going to lay hold of grace this year, for myself and my little people, knowing my stellar parenting will undoubtedly give way to barely-hanging-on.

And I’ll get to experience grace.

The Royal Baby--and the Crazy--Have Arrived

Gonna repost an article I wrote for Today's Christian Woman, because the royal baby was born yesterday AND because with my kiddos home all day everyday, I've had no time to write anything new. 

A Princess, A Baby, and a Call to Arms

Kate Middleton is one of the most beloved and watched women in the world. People are obsessed with where she goes, who she’s with, what she says, what she eats, what she likes, what she doesn’t. Come July, that public obsession will spill over to the royal baby. 

Poor baby.

And poor Kate Middleton. Of course, her life is inarguably charmed. She’s married to a Prince, travels the world in private planes, wears designer clothing, lives part-time in a castle, and has access to things, people and places most of us only dream of. 

I wonder if she even has a bucket list—at thirty-one, Kate’s already been there, done that. Or maybe now she dreams of walking down the street without being mobbed, or eating a Big Mac without making the papers, or being imperfect without disappointing the known universe. 

Recently People magazine printed “The Pregnant Princess Diaries.” Kate appeared on the front cover, alongside blurbs promising to reveal her cravings, pictures of her growing baby bump, books she’s reading to prepare for mommy hood, and baby names being tossed around the palace—funny because the article wasn’t even based on an interview with the duchess; it was a collection of guesses about all of the above. But why let the absence of actual information get in the way of selling magazines? Better yet, why let reality impact the fantasy that Kate is perfect and radiant and capable of showering starlight on everyone around her?

For real. That starlight thing is a direct quote. And so is this one—“Prince William, get out your sunglasses: It’ll only get brighter from here.” 

Come on now. I’ve got four kids and I love them with all my heart. But the truth is it’ll get fatter from here. It’ll get more wrinkled from here. It’ll get stretch-marked and droopy and cockeyed and sleepdeprived and easily irritable from here. Kids have a way of turning life on its ear and fleshing out the truth, and the truth is that when Kate is described as being perfectly mannered and manicured, dazzling, radiant, philanthropic, wonderfully lithe, always fashion-forward, constantly steady—and the list goes on—she’s being set up to fail. Because (and apparently this is breaking news) Kate Middleton isn’t perfect. 

And she shouldn’t have to be.

But what does this have to do with me? Why am I able to see the ridiculousness of these articles while still being compelled to read every word? Why did I watch the royal wedding, which—aside from the crazy hats—was so boring that even William almost nodded off? Because, embarrassed as I am to admit, I like suspending reality for the sake of believing perfection is attainable. Celebrities appear to have all the things I long for—beauty, wealth, adventure, romance, popularity, the ease of having a staff at their disposal—and freedom. And so I believe my lying eyes and the media, which ultimately leaves me feeling jealous, discontent, and very NOT free.

Truth is I don’t need to compare myself to a Princess to suffer fluctuating self-esteem. I’m a perfectionist who spends time crossing off to-do lists, believing the things I accomplish—or don’t—are in some way a measure of who I am. Keep the house picked up, limit myself to one Diet Coke, spend special time with each of my kids, workout, pray, avoid sugar, call my mom—and on-and-on, each item contributing to my 
overall self-worth which ebbs and flows according to the check-marks on my list. 

Take my appearance. I fixate on a flaw, compare myself to someone else, work hard to change, fail to 
reach my goal, fixate, compare, reach my goal, fail to maintain.

Sigh. I’m a mouse on wheel. 

Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that contentment has eluded me—and that’s not the way God wants my life to be. While I’m chasing impossible goals and searching for value, He’s already ascribed it. So in my exhaustion, I turn to him. He should’ve been my starting place, but alas, too often he’s my last resort instead of my first line of defense. 

We are God’s masterpiece. We are created anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things He
planned for us long ago. Ephesians 2:10  

Kate Middleton is blessed in so many ways, but there’s a catch: the more I’m getting to know my Savior—his beauty, his likes and dislikes, his heart for people, and his hope for my life—the more I’m beginning to have  compassion for the ones who have it all, because they’re in grave danger of believing their own press. Of believing they’re worthy of attention and praise. Of their measly glory eclipsing God’s glory, and of being blind to their desperate need for Jesus. 

I pray it won’t be so for Princess Kate. And I’m praying God would change what matters to me. That I’d get my eyes off beauty, money and impossible goals, and that I’d fix my eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of my faith. That I would avoid triggers like magazines, E! News, and my Yahoo Home page. That I would carve out time every day to read my Bible, soaking up truth that guards my heart and mind in Christ so that I’m ready to do battle against my critical inner voice and a culture that would have me believe the fantasy.

My interview with Australia's Leigh Hatcher

Really enjoyed my recent talk with Leigh Hatcher, mostly because of his accent. I kept expecting him to break into Get Ready to Wiggle. He didn't.

You can listen here:

http://openhousecommunity.com.au/2013/07/amanda-jenkins-2/

Dustin Hoffman' s Beautiful Epiphany

This is profound. And while what Dustin Hoffman shared is a permanent reality of life, our hope is this: God sees us, knows us intimately, and loves us. Just as we are. Even more wonderful, He sees who He's transforming us to be. We're only at the mercy of our shallow, short-sighted culture if we choose to not believe it.

http://www.upworthy.com/dustin-hoffman-breaks-down-crying-explaining-something-that-every-woman-sadly-already-experienced-3

Impossible Goals and the Things I Never Say

Wrote a guest blog post for Margaret McSweeney that went live on her site today. Thought I'd post it here too, in honor of the two year anniversary of our gotcha day of our beloved son, Max.
Impossible Goals and the Things I Never SayI grew up in a Christian home, but that doesn’t mean I’ve always understood grace or what it means to be free in Jesus. I’m a perfectionist, and for most of my life my self-worth has been tangled up in stuff I can cross off my to-do list, which usually looks something like this: keep the house picked up, limit myself to one Diet Coke, spend special time with each of my kids, work out, pray, avoid sugar, read my Bible, read a chapter in a book about something important, call my mom—and so-on-and-so-forth, because even though I know salvation is free, I live like I need to earn it.
Of course, I can’t earn it because perfection is always out of reach. Like in a bad dream when the phone call won’t go through, or I can’t run fast enough, or no matter how hard I try, I can’t get home. Or find my clothes. Bad dreams are full of unreachable goals, but I experience the same thing when I’m awake. I set impossible standards for myself (and everyone else), and I’m forever falling short.
Enter a small Asian.
From the moment my adopted son and I met, nothing was as I expected. Max clearly preferred my husband, and worse, I didn’t feel a connection to him. Nothing between us felt natural or instinctive like it did with my biological kids, and it sent me spinning. I assumed I’d be amazing in our new adventure—I was an experienced mom who’d even risen to the challenge of autism with our third-born, and adopting an older child was our clear calling; and like any good perfectionist, I’m nothing if not obedient. Not to mention responsible and steady and self-controlled and loving and wise—or so I thought.
Turns out, when squeezed, I’m none of those things, because when my well-controlled home was disrupted, I got angry. When my little boy wasn’t loving, neither was I. And when I didn’t feel patient or compassionate or merciful toward my orphan, I was confused and ashamed—which made me resent my new life.
I cringe to admit any flaw, and a few years ago, I would’ve kept them a secret. I would’ve added something like be more awesome to my to-do list. I would’ve lived with tremendous guilt when I inevitably failed, and I would’ve feared other people’s opinions if the truth eked out. But seeing how far from perfect my heart and home actually are has forced me to face my wretchedness. 
And talking about my wretchedness has been the key to experiencing the freedom from perfectionism that Jesus holds outstretched.
Freedom to pour out my sin at the throne of grace, and to receive grace.
Freedom to get help from other Christians who have prayed for me, loved me unconditionally, kept me accountable, and celebrated my victories.
Freedom to accept my imperfections and, in turn, to depend wholly on my perfect Savior.
Freedom to grow Galatians 5 fruit—qualities I can’t produce or maintain without the work of the Holy Spirit in my heart.
Freedom to share my testimony without fear, allowing God to be glorified in my weakness.
And I’m happy to report that Max and I are falling in love, and that God has my perfectionism on the run. I don’t claim to be recovered. There are still days when my habitual sin rears its head and I find myself once again chasing impossible goals. But my expectations for myself have changed. My understanding of grace has changed. My ability to receive and give that grace—to myself and to my precious little boy—has changed. And my willingness to tell the truth about who I really am, and who Christ is making me, has changed.
And now life is a little bit closer to perfect.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

The Elle Train

Elle recently went to a friend’s sleepover. On our way,  I saw Dumbo’s ear hanging out the side of her suitcase.

Me: You’re bringing Dumbo?
Elle: No. I’m bringing Phillip Johnny Bob.
Me: Wait--what?
Elle: I’m bringing Phillip Johnny Bob.
Me: Did you re-name Dumbo, Phillip Johnny Bob?
Elle: Yes.
Me: Why?
Elle: I like that name.