Addressing Change and Our Fundamentalist Past

Exploring The War

Jennifer and Jeremy explore the explosion that rocked their marriage. For a Long, Long Time I was Unwilling to believe You were telling me the truth That you loved Were thinking of me Selfish was the word I thought you were Like all the rest, I’d heard Greedy and self-serving Out for power Out for over I lay it all down I apologize Don’t let it be too late To know you love me To know you’ve loved me For a long, long time Wave the magic wand Tug hard, ‘til the walls come down I want to see outside Want to soak in the horizon Want to run Without slamming into stone Want to fly away With you So I lay it all down Hold my hands high, apologize Don’t let it be too late To know you love me To know you’ve loved me For a long, long time I see you now I see you I believe Help my un-love Disappear Melt into the dust Wash away in the flood As I lay it all down Lay myself down I know it’s not too late To know you love me To know you’ve loved me For a long, long time. You have loved me For a long, long time. Jennifer Boynton 2023

Learning How To Live!

Join us as we dive into the third installment of Jeremy and Jennifer's story, as mediated by Jacob!

Into the World

The Slow Dawning This is the way of it, I think How life and breath is meant to happen It’s like Emily Dickinson said— “Tell the truth But tell it slant Or every man be blind.” And so God deals Kindly and patiently with us humans Who are on the hunt For the real It’s even better than the Matrix And much more full of heart And blood And joy And beauty And if. What will the flower-opening reveal Today? Something so unique and personal and stunning And now That it’s painful to keep my eyes On it. But it is not possible to look away. And so I want To live Eyes and heart Agape. Jennifer Boynton 08/01/2020 Maybe that’s why I crave the sunrise. Because when my eyes soak in the dawning, I can see what it looks like inside my heart, my mind, my spirit. All life long. So much to learn. The whole way. Until the end. How exciting and delicious and satisfying. One feast of beauty and knowing after another. Fed continually. So interesting that Jesus calls himself the Bread of Life. If one comes to him, he said, then—What?! How?—never hungry again. Fed continually.

Addressing Change and Our Fundamentalist Past

Today's episode is the first part of a conversation between Jacob (our producer), Jeremy, and myself that unearths and establishes the environment we grew up in, specifically the conservative, fundamental church and school we attended. We’ll look at some of the things we were taught and how we absorbed it. Laying down this groundwork will allow us to explore our relationship in later episodes - none of it makes sense without this context.  This unearthing has been a years-long effort - and I know we’re not done discovering. But here we are looking across the table at each other, amazed at who we are. We’re different than we were. The word metamorphosis comes to mind. I know we’re not done changing. It’s just time to tell the story. Jeremy and I renovated our house and are in the process of moving back in. Talk about work. External change is such a laborious process. Internal too. Connecting the dots, from past to present. Figuring out that some things don’t fit. Figuring out how who and where you used to be affects who are now. What walls are now moved? What pathways don’t exist anymore? What new pathways beckon into a new and open space? Re-learning is the work of a lifetime. But I’m finding Help and Strength all along the way. HERE’S ME AND HERE’S WHAT’S HAPPENING (PHYSICALLY): Right now, I’m laughing at myself. I try to get out of (or through) transitions as quickly as possible. Have I learned nothing from these true and beautiful stories? Haven’t I waxed poetic about the need to press myself into discomfort and how important that is for growth? Yet… here I am just really needing things to get back to normal. My family and I are in transition again, and I just want the CHAOS GONE. Transitions are so messy and sticky and full of discomfort and the unfamiliar. We moved back to our house the week before Thanksgiving. It is fantastic to be home and back in our neighborhood. The only thing is… that home doesn’t feel like home yet. Jeremy has walked into my new closet a couple of times expecting to find the bathroom. My daughter bumped into a wall upstairs because she took a wrong turn. The old pathways don’t exist anymore. It’s a new space. Everything is different. Everything has to be relearned. That takes energy and time that I don’t want to give. I just want the dust gone and curtains hung and boxes empty and everything in its place right now. It’s frustrating that I have to wait. And work toward re-homing this restored place. I have a hard time holding a heart of gratitude and a feeling of discontent at the same time. I think, “How can both be true?” I struggle with wanting to deny the feelings of dissatisfaction that surface. I think, “How could I dare to be anything but grateful? This house is a gorgeous gift. How could I be cranky about anything?”  I am learning to acknowledge - It IS difficult to learn a new space. It IS difficult to cope when things aren’t working right or are unfinished– that’s an important step. (And acknowledging that truth doesn’t negate my gratitude). When I’m honest with myself about my emotions, I can then begin to figure out how to address my needs. What can I do to care for myself during this transition? For instance, at one point what I needed was to leave the house and the noise and the workers and find a place of quiet. I got into my car and closed the door. The unexpected and sudden stillness was sublime. Shortly after we moved in, Jeremy said, “Babe, you're going to have to change your expectations. One month. It’ll take a month to feel settled.” And that helped, actually. To hear that my expectations were not reasonable. Because then I changed them. Or at least reminded myself that I needed to.  That’s all life is, really. One change after another. Or maybe even several things changing at the same time. I find it fascinating that, seeing that this is our reality, God offers himself as someone who doesn’t change.  “I am the same yesterday, today, and always,”  he says. And that feels like a rock-solid place to put my feet. It helps, too, to have your people around you to help navigate the maze. My sister was here and helped me organize my new bookshelves. She made breakfasts for me. She gave really great hugs. My son said one day, “Mom, you’re doing great,” and held me close for a second. Those beautiful acts of love helped lift me back up so I could keep going. They helped my spirit breathe. And sometimes we just need someone to put their face six inches from ours and remind us to “breathe.”

Taking Rest

It’s 12:45pm and I’m sitting in my bedroom, typing this. I can see the back and side of the house next door out of my window. Beyond and above is something that catches my heart and gives me such joy. The color of sharp blue autumn sky creates an infinite canvas for the trees. Their leaves are gold now, and the breeze pulls them down one by one. Gold against the sky’s blue is one of my favorite color combinations. It is simply so breathtaking. What aches my heart is that this beauty is as full as it can possibly be - even though it is only here for a short time. Even now, the light is changing. I’ve known Mary since before I was aware of that knowing. Our parents met when we were toddling around on tiny feet and baby legs, when thoughts were beginning to form into words. When we were just making our acquaintance with the world. That length and strength of connection is a total gift. Right now, right this second, I am thanking God. I appreciate Mary. The fact that she is so herself. She runs on a different kind of motor than I do. She’ll say her life is busy. And it is. Not a lot of down time. But she uses her down time. She reads. She thinks. She plans. She gathers people. She connects. There is a fullness there that makes me think– 1) How does she do it? 2) Can I? Do I have my own version of “fullness” too? What you see when you meet Mary is total engagement. She spends her time, her days, her talents, her passions, her heart. > “Go up into the gaps. If you can find them; they shift and vanish, too. Stalk the gaps. Squeak into a gap in the solid, turn, and unlock–more than a maple–a universe. This is how you spend this afternoon, and tomorrow morning, and tomorrow afternoon. Spend the afternoon. You can’t take it with you.” –from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard