2021 Stretched Me Beyond the Vision Board: FINALE (4 of 4)

**If you missed “Part 1” "Part 2" and “Part 3” of me retelling some moments that occurred during the last six months of 2021, trust me, you want to read it! This blog post is a continuation of such.

Our insurance paid for us to stay in a hotel near our home and provided funds for food that went beyond any normal grocery costs.  

The day before we were set to go to the hotel to stay for one week, my husband came home from work with a FEVER.

“Not again,” I thought to myself.  It had been three months since my husband’s water fast which meant that it had also been three months since my husband’s sickness—the sickness that led him to the doctor’s office. With everything going on, I didn’t have as much empathy this time around.

I went in on my husband.

“Have you had any water today? Did you eat? Have you been taking your zinc and vitamin d3? What about those multivitamins I bought you? Ev, ev, ev….you can’t live off coffee. And you’ve been staying up late at night too. I make you so many vegetables and you go all day without eating. You can’t live off coffee forever,” I berated in frustration.  

It was the end of August and at this point, the Delta variant was sweeping its way across Memphis. I emailed my son’s teachers to let them know that my son wouldn’t be attending school until we all got tested in case my husband had Covid. My husband stood confident that it wasn’t Covid, considering how mild his sickness initially felt.

The next day, my husband,  two kiddos, and I all sat in a long drive-by testing site to get tested. Two hours later, we had our noses swabbed. (At-home antigen tests were not available during this time.)  

That night we packed up our bags, put on our masks, and checked into our small hotel room. My husband and I were both exhausted. From packing up our home and moving furniture aside for the workers to begin renovations, to packing up clothing and food for our stay, we were both tired. 

With only one month until my baby’s due date, the thought of eating takeout and not having to clean an entire home seemed nice. I looked forward to our mini staycation. I readied myself towards kicking up my feet and watching as much cable television as I’d like. 

That night I slept hard with each of my kiddos at my side. My husband decided to sleep on a pull-out couch to keep distance from us.  Around 2 AM, I got up to use the restroom. I checked on my husband who slept across the room. 

“Evan?” I lightly touched his back.

I lurched back in shock.

Water soaked through my husband’s entire shirt.  He was dripping in sweat, despite me keeping the room exceptionally cold. His fever had definitely gotten worse. I stripped him down and gave him a cold bottle of water and some meds.  He didn’t look well. 

I went back to sleep. 

In the wee hours of the morning, my husband shook me awake from a deep sleep that only a third trimester woman could experience. 

“I just got the email love. I tested Positive.  I’m going to go to my parent’s home to quarantine,” he said with a sense of urgency. 

I don’t know if I was more shaken at the news of my husband’s positive test or of the fact that my husband was about to leave me in a small hotel room… with two small kiddos…one month from my due date. 

Kiddos sleeping in the hotel room.

The next few weeks tested me beyond what I thought possible. 

I learned patience. Complete dependence on God. Gratitude…even for the less than ideal scenarios. And how to pray short prayers. Constantly.

My husband quarantined for ten days at his parent’s home. In those ten days, my one-year-old daughter tested positive for Covid. Then my three-year-old son tested positive. And then I myself tested positive. Due to our hotel’s policy, my two kiddos and I couldn’t step foot outside of our hotel room. So my mother, mother-in-love, and sister dropped off groceries, diapers, and freshly washed clothes at our hotel door for two weeks. The renovations went longer than we anticipated. 

One night, while stuck in a less than 150 sq foot hotel room with two very busy children, I began to experience contractions. No, not Braxton Hicks. But contractions. From 11:00PM to 4:00 AM, I had contractions every hour.

At this point, I broke down crying. I texted my very wise and Godly doula. She assured me and told me to try to sleep and not to worry. I was full-term (i.e. 37 weeks pregnant) at this point and had no reason to stress. 

But I was not about to have my baby in a hotel room. I was not about to have a natural birth, while also recovering from COVID. 

I took some magnesium and pleaded with God.

“Lord, I don’t know what Your Will is but I don’t want to have a baby right now. Not like this, Lord. Not like this.” 

My contractions stopped completely (Praise the Lord!).

I stayed in the hotel room for a few more days since our renovations were still not done. 

At this point, I felt my body beginning to go under. Chasing two kids around while pregnant and while recovering from Covid began to tax my body. I knew that I needed to leave that hotel room.

I was eating takeout and hadn’t had the luxury of breathing in fresh air from outside. I strongly felt that if I didn’t do something, things would take a turn in a less than satisfactory direction. 

I went to sleep one night and felt the Lord speak. I needed to leave the hotel. 

My mom knew I had reached my limit. Despite my kiddos having only quarantined for 7 days (at this point the CDC recommended 10 days of quaranting) she offered to take the kiddos home with her so I could rest. My mother-in-love offered for me to stay in she and her husband’s home since my husband had recovered. So I packed up my bag and went to stay at my in-loves home. My husband packed up his bags and went to stay in our hotel room until the renovations were completed on our home.

I felt better within a matter of days. Being in quarantine proved to be the best vacation to date for this stay-at-home mom and introvert. Due to not having to care for my precious kiddos, I slept, ate home-cooked meals (served and delivered at my door by my AMAZING mother-in-love), watched HGTV, and took many walks outside alone.

My kiddos ended up staying with my mom for one week before we all moved back into our newly renovated home.

When I stepped inside our home and saw the renovations, I couldn’t believe that what I had prayed for over a year actually happened.

It took me another five days to get the house back in order-exactly to my liking. (At this point I was past my due date.) 

After feeling satisfied with our home, I went to sleep one night and thought to myself, “Okay Lord, I’m ready to have this baby now.” 

Elena Grace Stephens came 12 hours later, in the comforts of our home. 

Y’all. God. Is. Just. That. Good.

But, actually.

She was born with a head full of hair. We love her so much.

2021 Stretched Me Beyond the Vision Board: (3 of 4)

**If you missed “Part 1” and "Part 2" of me retelling some moments that occurred during the last six months of 2021, trust me, you want to read it!  This blog post is a continuation of such. 

That night, I went into my prayer closet and pulled out my journal. 

“Lord, thank You for our health. 

Thank You for our home. 

Thank You for my marriage. 

Thank You for these children. 

Thank You for the AC Unit that is allowing us to stay in our home.

Thank You for allowing us to be home to quickly catch this leak. 

 And can You give us $12,000 in the next few days?

 I know You can do it. 

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.” 

Over the next few days, it appeared that the water leak didn’t cause any noticeable damage.

I was thankful because it didn’t feel like I had any more room to add to my plate.

We were still waiting for our AC to be fixed. At night, we’d carry a AC window unit to our bedroom, and my husband, myself, and two kiddos would all fall asleep in the same room (our three-year-old son loved this), and then during the day, my husband would carry the 60-pound AC unit downstairs to cool the downstairs while I stayed home with our two kiddos.  

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that I discovered a musty smell coming from underneath our kitchen cabinets. I knew I smelled the beginning stages of mold.

With me being pregnant and having small kiddos, I knew it was only a matter of time before things could possibly escalate into a dangerous situation. 

I called a mold specialist to come out and evaluate our home. 

On the morning that the mold specialist was scheduled to visit, a bathroom tile fell from our bathroom wall fell while my husband was showering. 

“******,” my husband yelled in frustration. “That’s it. I’m so done with this house.”

I knew that my husband was joking (maybe he was slightly serious), but if we had a nice little down payment sitting in our bank account and if I weren't pregnant and well into my third trimester, I would have begun packing myself.

By this point, despite our inward thoughts and frustrations, my husband and I tended to abide by an unspoken rule between the two of us: when issues arise, keep your head down, refrain from complaining, and move forward by focusing on the solution rather than the current problem.

Within a few minutes, the mold specialist arrived.

He only confirmed what I knew to be true. The molding at the bottom of our kitchen cabinets were beginning to rot and we most likely had mold growing underneath the cabinets as well. The only way to verify this suspicion would be to completely gut the entire kitchen in order to mitigate any potential mold.

I braced myself before hearing the cost to do all of this.

“I’d have to go back to the office and run a few numbers before sending you a quote,” the mold specialist said with calculation. His eyes held empathy as I noticed him glancing every now and then to my growing womb, my messy living room filled with overflowing children's books, and my two small kiddos who found it perfectly fine to continue spewing out their morning demands in front of a complete stranger. 

I took a deep breath. 

“Okay cool. Hey, before you go, do you mind looking at our master bathroom? We had a bathroom tile fall from the wall, and I just want to make sure that there isn’t any mold there too.” I have no idea where I got the idea to ask this.  

“Yeah, of course,” he complied.  

It didn’t take the mold specialist long to give his analysis. We definitely had black mold in the wall of our bathroom shower. This mold had nothing to do with the water leak we’d experienced weeks prior. The mold specialist theorized that the mold had probably been growing behind the tile of our bathroom wall long before we even bought our home, which was less than two years ago at the time, due to a lack of sealing around the tiles of our bathroom wall.

Here we were…requesting a mold specialist to review our kitchen for mold, not knowing that we had mold growing in our bathroom shower all along. What stunned me was that we wouldn’t have known that we had mold in our bathroom unless a bathroom tile fell on the exact morning that the mold specialist planned to come to our home. 

You can’t make this stuff up.

 God seriously takes care of His children. 

The mold specialist awkwardly smiled before leaving. He was young and newly engaged. I hoped that the very felt chaos witnessed in our home didn’t traumatize him from ever wanting to have kids. 

Before stepping out of our front door, the young man turned around and tried to piece together a word of encouragement. 

“You know…I noticed that you have a lot of scriptures up in your home. You guys are doing something right,” he said without really pausing for me to reply. I knew this was his way of saying that everything would be all right. His pace picked up as he walked back to his truck. 

“Thank you,” I said, whether to him or to God…I’m not sure. 

A few hours later, we received the quote from the mold specialist. 

I braced myself. After reading the report, I told my husband the amount to simply treat the mold (never mind the cost to repair and buy new cabinetry, countertops, backsplash, and bathroom tiles, etc. after treating the mold).

“Okay,” he said. 

My husband didn’t flinch upon realizing the scope of work that would need to be done. He didn’t say anything either and just nodded his head as if to note that this was beyond his control and that he wouldn’t worry about it.  

His response felt reminiscent.

It reminded me of the time I sat on the barstool of my parent’s kitchen counter as a little girl. At the time, both of my parent’s cars had just broken down. It was a Sunday evening and I vividly recall my dad sitting at our kitchen table figuring out how his four little girls would get to school in the morning, as well as him and my mom to work. 

Even as a little girl, I knew that my dad’s demeanor didn’t make logical sense. It just seemed like one bad thing was happening after the other, while he seemed like a little bird perched on a frail branch, singing to his heart’s content without fear of falling.

I sat at the counter confused. 

“Daddy.” 

My dad looked up from his notepad. 

“How are you not worried about what we’re going to do?” I inquired with genuine intrigue. I anticipated a concrete answer, as I would if I had asked, “Where does rain come from?” 

I don’t remember what he said, but I recall the instantaneous smile that swept across his face and the sheer calm that illuminated his eyes.

Yes, a familiar calm pierced my husband’s eyes too. 

What do they call it? A peace that surpasseth all understanding (Philippians 4:7)?

I went to sleep and my husband and I didn’t speak any further about the matter. 

The next morning, my husband asked me to reach out to a family friend who was a contractor. 

“Ask her for advice, Jess,” my husband casually requested the next morning while walking out the door. 

I texted our older family friend and she called shortly after. 

“You need to file a claim with your insurance,” she advised with a sense of urgency. 

“Oh. I know we have a pretty high deductible. I ruled out this option.”

I told her our deductible and she paused. 

“Still call your insurance company and file a claim,” she advised. Her tone was that of a mother instructing her daughter. 

“Okay. I’ll do it right now.” 

I called our home insurance and filed two separate claims. Our insurance scheduled a time for an adjuster to come out to evaluate the damages. Come to find out, our deductible was much lower than I initially suspected but still high enough to make me think that this process was a lost cause. 

After a few weeks, we received the adjuster’s final assessment.

I called our family friend again for advice.

“Oh, no! ” she exclaimed after reading through the report. She began rattling off terms that I knew nothing about. 

“We will fix this,” she assured. 

And she did. 

After much back and forth with our insurance company, we received a check for close to $30K six weeks before my due date.

Instead of $12K, God blessed us with MORE THAN double the amount that I requested of Him that night in my prayer closet. Praise God for the wisdom, counsel, and work done through our family friend. She was literally a God-send to us.  

 In December of 2020, I placed on my vision board to have a new backsplash and countertops in our kitchen in 2021. My husband had just left his corporate job and was starting his own business. With the uncertainty that comes along with beginning a business and with the instability of the market during a pandemic, I wasn't quite sure how we’d possess these tangible items in 2021. All I knew was that I was tired of looking at our old tile countertops. I was also tired of scrubbing the grout hoping to get rid of stains, dirt, and bacteria.

Do you know that the Lord blessed us with every material item I placed on our vision board (except for a used piano for our son, but hey, the year isn’t over!)? My vision board included large sections on what I planned on doing in 2021 and prayers for the woman I desired to become. But to be honest, I most enjoyed writing my “what to have this year” portion of my vision board! From a specific vacuum cleaner that I wanted us to have… to a particular map of the world…to funds for an incredible family photoshoot. The Lord blessed us! The largest of all was a new kitchen entirely. I had no idea the Lord would provide a new kitchen for us…by means of a frustrating water leak. 

With six weeks left until my due date, we prayed that the renovations could be done speedily. 

Again, I didn’t predict what was about to transpire next. 

Before

After

(*This picture was taken before our drawers and cabinet doors were installed. ’ll update this when I get a chance).

Click Here To Read The Last Part of This Story

2021 Stretched Me Beyond the Vision BOARD: (2 of 4)

**If you missed “Part 1”  of me retelling some moments that occurred during the last six months of 2021, click here. This post is a continuation of such. 

 It was over. I propped up my slightly swollen feet and breathed a nervous breath.

“It” was over.

What was the “it”?

The influx of physical ailments witnessed on my immediate family? Perhaps. 

My husband sat on the couch, still weak…not really watching my recommended musical but happy to see me smile. 

Something felt all too spiritual about the days. The timing of sickness right after my husband’s fast. The random texts received from those who knew nothing of our situation-commenting “thinking of you” “just calling” “on my mind.” 

I thought “it” was over. But things were only beginning. I felt warm air. Not exactly warmth as in the sweet presence of the Holy Spirit－although He was definitely there. 

24 hours later, upon one of the hottest weeks in Memphis, TN, our AC went out.

“Ev, our AC is completely out,” I yelled back, after walking in the door. Evan approached our door from the garage and let down our daughter from his arms to get a better listen to what I said. 

“Aw dang, you’re right. Okay,” he responded. 
A few hours passed. 

“We’re not staying here tonight. You can get ready to go. I’ll call my mom so we can stay with my folks,” my husband spoke with a sense of finality. 

Didn’t I tell you that my husband doesn’t like to be hot…or hungry? 

One day of being away from our home quickly turned into ten days. COVID delays had the part for our AC unit on back order. Praise God that we had a place to stay. Not just a place, but my in-laws were and are always perfect hosts－ensuring that our every want and need are always met. Despite such accommodations gifted to us,  I began growing anxious with each passing day that we were away from our home.

By the ninth night, I couldn’t sleep. I needed to get back into our home quickly. I didn’t quite know why, but I could tell that my growing anxiety had the potential of impacting our precious child growing in my womb. 

“Love, we need to purchase an AC window unit until our AC is officially fixed. I can’t spend another night away from home,” I nagged my husband…more than once. 

Tired of hearing my incessant request,  my husband compromised by offering for us to stay with my parents, who lived only a few minutes from my in-laws. He  thought I’d feel more comfortable if we stayed there since…well, I grew up there. He didn’t see the need to doll out more money when our home warranty was in the process of fixing our AC unit any day. 

“Our home warranty keeps delaying and I really need to be back in our own space,” I tried convincing once again.  

He listened and insisted that staying with my parents might quell my anxious thoughts.  We packed up our kiddos and went to stay with my folks. But within two hours of arriving at my parents, I knew that I’d probably have another night of not sleeping－not due to a lack of luxurious accommodations provided by my parents but due to the fact that, for whatever reason, I really needed to get back to my own home. I grew tired of explaining to my husband as to why. I just knew that I needed to be home and couldn’t sleep restfully until I was. 

Without feeling the need to explain further, I packed up my personal bag and let my husband know that I was leaving my parent’s home…that same night.  

“Where are you going?” my husband asked when seeing my back packed and sitting at my parent’s door. We had just gotten the kids ready for bed and settled for the night.  

“I’m going home. The low for tonight is in the 60s. I’ll take Ada with me and put her to sleep (I still nursed her at night). But I’m going home. I can’t sleep here and I can't be in someone else's home  for the unforeseeable future. It’s stressing me out.”

Something was off and I couldn’t place my finger on it. All I knew was that I needed to get back to our home. Did I say that already?

My husband looked at me and didn’t say anything.

“Um…okay,” he cautiously retorted. He gave me the sort of look he’d perfected when he was utterly confused and could only explain away my actions by pinning them to…hormones.

My parents were even more bewildered than he. I just told them, without explanation, that my husband and our son would be staying with them while I went back home.  

My amazing parents on the night of my college graduation. Posting this dated picture because I knew my Mama would approve of this one lol. Her beauty is flawless!

That night, in the comforts of my home,  with all fans on and windows opened, I slept fitfully like a newborn babe. 

The next morning, I woke up in peace and then did something I’d never done in our marriage. 

I purchased a large window unit－a hefty cost－while knowing that my husband did not stand in agreement. 

“You have every right to be upset,” I texted my husband, before sharing what I’d done. Due to our shared accounts, I knew my husband had already received the notification for the purchase without me needing to share. 

“Lol…I’m just happy you are okay,” he gracefully replied. 

I could see his concerned look for my emotional well-being from afar. 

My actions did not appear stable to the naked eye. 

I didn’t understand my actions myself. 

My one-year-old daughter and I went to Costco during the senior hour and purchased a very large AC unit. I went home, dragged it out of the car, somehow, and installed it myself without blinking an eye. I would not be spending the night in anyone’s home. 

I could finally breathe. 

High off of being in the comforts of my own home again, I began cleaning our kitchen with a new melody in my heart. I felt so elated to be home, to have everything I needed at my fingertips, and to begin cooking as much delectable food as I’d like. 

Within a few hours, I heard a strange sound in the kitchen. After briefly looking for the source of the sound, I figured it was the refrigerator making ice and went on with my morning chores. 

I fell into my usual dance of wiping down counters, scrubbing dishes, sweeping, mopping, and adding essential oils to my diffuser. What I once thought were mundane chores suddenly felt therapeutic. I was grateful to be back in my regimen-a regimen that I didn’t know that I’d miss. Towards the end of my missed routine, I looked down.

And that is when I saw it. Water coming up from underneath our kitchen floorboards. 

It began from the laundry room and spanned the width of our entire kitchen. I soon realized that we had a leak coming from the dishwasher. I waddled to our kitchen sink and shut off the water valve connecting to the dishwasher. The strange sound instantly ceased. But the water continued to seep its way through our luxury vinyl tiles. 

 I looked around me and fell to my knees. We had a water leak.

“Lord, please. Please, not this. Lord, I need….I need…. a break. Just a moment. This is too much.” 

We had just replaced our entire downstairs with brand new flooring less than one year prior…and here I was standing in the midst of a water leak. I knew we didn’t have the funds to do a quick repair. And the potential for mold loomed over my head. I was in my third trimester, planning for a home birth in a few weeks. And here we were, dealing with a water leak. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. 

My one year-old daughter quickly brought my dramatic display of despair to an end. I needed to get up and keep going. I’d have a moment to cry when my kids went to sleep. 

Our precious daughter.

That night, I went to my closet and pulled out my journal. 

“Lord, thank You for our health. 

Thank You for our home. 

Thank You for my marriage. 

Thank You for these children. 

Thank you for the AC unit that is allowing us to stay in our home until our AC is fixed.

Thank you for allowing me to be home to quickly catch this leak

And can you give us $12,000 in the next few days?

I know You can do it. 

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.” 

What the Lord did next…blew me away.

Click Here to Read —>Part 3

Also, check out my latest book, “God, Princeton, & My Pondered Thoughts: A Memoir of My Encounter with God at an Ivy,” on Amazon.

2021 Stretched Me Beyond the Vision BOARD: Here's HOW Part 1

I wonder if I can write a blog post within 30 minutes. 

I’ve never done so in the past. 

But this is also my first time writing a blog post while having three children aged three and under.

This is new. So, here we are.

If you’re curious to know how the last six months of my life have fared, join the adventurous journey by reading along. It’s been…. “interesting” to say the least. 

In late December of 2020, my husband and I wrote out our visions, placed them on four large whiteboards, and hung them up in our office. I took the extra step of typing them, printing them, and laminating them to be fully displayed in our kitchen for a constant reminder. 

We had plans. Rather we had a vision.   

Therefore, by the end of May 2021, still high on what 2021 could bring, my husband shared with me that he would be embarking on a 3-day water fast with a group of spiritual brothers to pray for the remainder of the year. More specifically, my husband determined himself to pray for our family’s spiritual growth and for wisdom regarding preparation for what was to come.  

“Pray for me love, seriously, while I fast,” my husband said in passing while pouring a blueberry smoothie into a sippy cup while not stepping over our recently turned one-year-old daughter who still loved to crawl. Completing the latest feat, my husband straightened out his navy blue suit pants and gathered a list of items to rush out the door for the morning. 

“I got you, bae,” I said after receiving his distinctive goodbye kiss.

At the time, I was in my third trimester, very much pregnant, and tested daily with a 3-year-old and one-year-old at home. 

“I should be the one asking for prayer,” I thought, while staring at our beautiful children and wondering what the coming day would hold. 

My husband’s  water fast began. 

And so did our year…it seemed. 

Let me give a disclaimer. The second half of 2021 proved trying, but it wasn’t bad. I prefer the words “adventurous” and “glorious.” So if my tonality conveys anything less than…consider that I’m typing feverishly while it’s “nap time” for the kiddos.  

It started with a small cold caught by our one year-old daughter, Ada.  That cold soon spread to her older brother. No, I wasn’t panicking at this point, nor tired after nursing them to health for a week. It was at the “one week and one day” mark that tested my limits.

On day 8 of being sick, my son gripped his ear and began tugging it in clear discomfort while my husband and I took a casual Sunday drive to grab food. One look at our son and I knew this was serious. 

“Bae, he’s in a lot of pain. Go to Whole Foods. We need to get some raw garlic and one raw onion ASAP,” I griped. All plans for a quiet Sunday evening were put on pause. 

It didn’t matter. It never does. 

My husband, at this point in our marriage, rarely looked at me crazy upon hearing my strange medicinal requests. Instead, he kindly did what was instructed when it came to me nursing our kiddos to health ( as long as my husband had a full stomach..please don’t catch him hot or hungry). 

We made it  home and I immediately began making garlic and onion poultices to be placed on my son’s ear. I think this is the point in which I began showcasing my third-trimester waddle in full force. My husband placed a movie on for our son to watch while I carefully placed the poultice on my son’s ear. 

Instant relief. (Weeks later my son would pull at his ear in hopes that I’d put a movie on for him to watch.)

I could breathe. No mom cares to see any of her children in pain. I waddled upstairs with our daughter to change her diaper. By the time she and I made it to the top of the stairs, my daughter began projectile vomiting. 

“What in the….” I stared in disbelief, as her vomit settled more firmly into our carpet. 

“EVANN!!!!” I yelled. 

Her temperature then spiked. For the next 4-5 hours, our daughter would nurse (yes I was breastfeeding and very pregnant) and would then throw up an hour later. We called our pediatrician.

“Has she stopped vomiting? Okay, good. Give it another 48 hours.  As long as she can keep a good amount of  liquids down…” our pediatrician graciously instructed.

And thankfully, our daughter did just that.  

Except her temperature remained the same for the next two days. 

I made a same-day appointment. 

Her diagnosis? A double ear infection. 

I broke down in the parking lot of our pediatrician’s office in tears. Later we discovered that Ada had a severe food allergy to peas. She’d been drinking pea protein milk for weeks. I thought I’d done well in finding her a drink she liked. I didn’t know. 

I grabbed my daughter’s prescribed antibiotics from Walgreens and drove home, following the smell of normalcy coming within a few days. 

I closed our garage door and grabbed our two kiddos out of the car and walked into our home, only to see my husband sprawled out on the couch in the early afternoon on a weekday. 

He had a 102 °F fever. 

I became the nurse in the house. Going upstairs, downstairs. Touching foreheads. Giving out water. Studying all behavior like a scientist in a laboratory. 

My husband's fever continued to spike, at one point in the night,  going up to 104°F. We couldn’t go to an urgent care clinic, at the time, lest we had a negative COVID test. I called my mother-in-love for help. She brought over the entire Walgreens cold and flu section late that night. The very next morning, I drove my husband to get a COVID test. We waited a few hours and found out it was negative. I scheduled an appointment for him to see our primary care doctor the very next day. All the while, his fever continued to spike the moment any meds wore off. 

My sister rushed over the next morning to watch our kids while I took my husband to the doctor. I drove while saying prayers over my husband, who was ready to take whatever pill to make his sickness go away. At this point, my concoctions of cayenne pepper, apple cider vinegar, raw garlic, and ginger made him look at me with the utmost distrust. 

I knew he was really sick, considering he obliged to sit in the passenger seat while I drove him to the doctor.  

It took only one look from my husband’s primary care doctor for her to know that my husband was seriously sick. She hooked him up to an IV to receive fluids, fever reducers, and antibiotics. A few hours later, we picked up my husband’s Z-pack and went home. I walked in the house. Empty cups of cranberry juice and crackers sat on the counter, reminders of how many times we did communion and said prayers over the course of a few days. 

I could sit and rest. 

Okay, Lord. You are so good. We passed these tests. My husband was not yet 100%. My daughter's ear infections weren’t all the way healed. And my son still had a cough… but God was good. 

The year could now begin.

The blessings could be poured down. 

We made it. And I could sit down and stop showcasing my perfected waddle.

 I watched the premiere of Washington Heights and smiled.

I didn’t care if the house was in complete disarray, or that the kids hadn’t bathed, or that I could barely walk across our living room floor due to miscellaneous items encroaching my every step.

I could sit and laugh with my husband, while we stared at the music scenes beautifully displayed across our screen. 

 It was over. I propped up my slightly swollen feet and breathed a nervous breath. “It” was over.

What was the “it?”

The influx of physical ailments assailed on my immediate family? Perhaps. 

My husband sat on the couch, still weak…not really watching my recommended musical but happy to see me smile. 

Something felt all too spiritual about the days: the timing of sickness right after my husband’s fast, the random texts received from those who knew nothing of our situation—commenting “thinking of you”, “just calling”, “on my mind”—and the severity of my husband’s sickness (one in which had never occurred in my thirteen years of knowing him).  

I thought “it” was over. But things were only beginning. I felt warm air. Not exactly warmth as in the sweet presence of the Holy Spirit—although He was definitely there. 

24 hours later, upon one of the hottest weeks in Memphis, TN, our AC went out…

Click Here to Read —>Part 2

BTW, it took much longer than an hour to write this lol.

Also, check out my latest book, “God, Princeton, & My Pondered Thoughts: A Memoir of My Encounter with God at an Ivy,” on Amazon.

That day I tried to feed a man in need...

I glanced at the clock on my Macbook. 4:00 PM on the dot. After reaching for the keys on my desk, I turned to grab my bag behind my office chair. My feet preceded my thoughts as I headed straight through the classroom door. After a full day of teaching, I was free to focus on my evening plans.

But that line of thought, which was in the direction towards the comforts of my couch, was halted when I realized that I was hungry. Such hunger pangs couldn’t wait for a 30-minute commute home. Of course, it didn’t help that I was PMSing, which ultimately led me to make the final decision to splurge on some unhealthy treats. So coming to a logical conclusion, I drove off my school’s parking lot and headed straight to Jewel-Osco, a well-known grocery store in Chicago.

Once parked, I stepped out of my car and freely left my colossal winter coat in the back seat. There was a surprisingly warm break in the streak of cold weather.

Walking towards the front door entrance of the grocery store,  I noticed a man sitting outside the sliding electric doors. He was asking incoming patrons for any spare coins or cash. I had neither.

Cautiously coming  up to him, I said with a little base in my voice, so as to  be heard over the very brisk Chicago winds, “I can get you something to eat.”

Huh?” he replied.  

“I can get you something to eat inside... if you want?”

“Oh okay... Yeah... yeah,” he said.

The man sat and waited for me outside the store. For whatever reason, I felt an unexpected surge of excitement once I walked inside. I wanted to get him something really good.

Hot broccoli cheddar soup or chicken tortilla soup? The choices the choices.

“Hi,” I said to a complete stranger, who proceeded in scooping some soup into his paper bowel.

“Is this soup good.. or is it just okay?“ I asked the man while giving a conspicuous look, demanding the utmost honesty.

After hearing his feedback, I made my final decision and poured the broccoli cheddar into my container.

I really hope he isn’t lactose intolerant.

Then I headed to the bakery section to grab some bread. I envisioned this older man dipping this bread into his hot soup and having it melt in his mouth.

Okay. Let me stop before I get ahead of myself. I’m all set. Actually, wait... who eats without getting something to drink?

Before I knew it, I almost forgot my reasoning for coming into the store in the first place. I said “almost” right? Because to be honest, the idea of eating some quality dark chocolate had been on the back of my mind all day. My hunger was just the perfect excuse to go out and buy it.

I scurried to the check out line and prayed that the gentleman hadn’t thought that I’d forgotten about him. By this time, I’d been inside the store well over 30 minutes.

Bags in hand, I walked out and saw the man in my periphery, seated in a different location along the perimeter of the store.

Excitement quickened my steps.

“Here you go,” I said while proudly  extending the brown paper bag towards him, replete with eating utensils and napkins.

“What's this?” he asked.  

“It’s some soup and…”

What I thought would be a grateful exchange, turned sour very quickly. The man began cursing and stating words not worth mentioning. From the little I gathered, this man didn’t approve of the bag being too bulky.

I snatched my hand away and walked towards my car with his food still gripped tightly around my fingers.

If you’re beginning to feel sorry for me and think I’m a saint and he a jerk, eh thank you, but keep reading.

I prayed in frustration:

Unbelievable God. I mean really. I thought this was something that You wanted for me to do. I thought...well maybe next time. Actually, I’m not done talking. It’s like, he just wasn’t thankful. Man Lord, I can’t believe that though. Here I was trying to make sure that this man could eat and that he had a nice meal.  Father, I got sourdough bread. I didn’t just get regular bread...but I got sour…dough.

By the time I reached my car, my spirit was light after rehearsing to the Lord my frustration. The situation actually became comical the more I thought about it.

While driving away, I called my girlfriend and rehashed to her the story. We laughed and went on to discuss different topics. But once I hung up with her, the imagery of this man’s look of grimace and disgust remained etched in my mind. I kept replaying the situation over and over again. And so I began praying for him.

And that’s when the Lord interrupted my thoughts.

The Lord began to remind me of all the detailed thought I executed when deciding this man’s meal.

From wanting to make sure his soup tasted good, to choosing the perfect bread, to carefully pondering a drink to wash down both, to ensuring that this man had all the right eating utensils and napkins, to desperately hoping that this man had waited patiently for me outside.

All this thought. All this time. All my inner excitement to give him what I’d prepared. And for him to complain about the bag being too bulky. I was frustrated. And honestly, even though he was a stranger, I felt hurt.

Remember this, Jessica?  I felt the Holy Spirit pressing in on my feeling. But I didn’t understand why.

And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. The thought came out of nowhere, but I knew the Lord was speaking directly to me.

Every time you compare your husband to someone else. Every time you complain to me about what he’s not doing, what he doesn’t have etc., you’re telling me that the gift that I’ve carefully assembled, treasured, and equipped to handle you… is not enough. Consider how much thought and perfection I’ve placed in handing you over to your husband and your husband to you for your possession. Stop comparing. Stop complaining. And thank me for him. His gifts, his talents, his personality, and even his flaws... are meant for you.

I held no anticipation that the Lord would use this strange man to show me myself.

This man was me. God showed me that I was him.

Every time I complain about my husband. Every time I pray to God to make my husband more this or that–prayers stated with nothing to do with God’s glory, the advancement of God’s kingdom, nor growth in my husbands spiritual vitality for the benefit of our family. But selfish prayers uttered with the only motivation to benefit me. When I do this, I’m basically waving my finger at God saying ,“What You have given me is not enough!”  

Whereas I walked away from that incident saying to myself “Ungrateful, ungrateful, ungrateful…” I do the same and often mask it as a prayer request.

The day I tried to feed a man in need, I walked away with a changed perspective.

PonderedThought: Maybe you aren’t married, or perhaps you can’t relate because you and your spouse are simply perfect. But if you can relate, stop selfishly complaining in your head against your spouse. Because when you do, you may be hurting the very heart of God by implicitly saying, “what You gave me wasn’t  good enough.” Instead, pray fervently for him or her. For God loves your spouse just as much as He loves you. Ponder on that thought.

(Blog post describes a memory experienced years ago, and yet still reflected upon due to its received revelation.)

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Why do we (women) hide so much

I walk into a social setting amongst other women. There, I see a pool of lovely ladies called my friends.

“Wow, Jess you’re hair looks so good.”

"Thank you!" I respond. 

But I’m not going to tell you that I stayed up watching natural hair videos on YouTube (for days), stayed up until 3:00 AM trying to perfect the three-strand twist out, and then pretended I was asleep at 6:00 AM so that my hubby could grab baby when little one began to cry.

“Your husband always showers you with compliments. You guys are so in love.”

….uh yeah. We just got into an argument on the way here. And yes, we love each other deeply-but trust me, it’s by choice every day. And speaking of choice, do you know why he’s complimenting me so much? Because he knows he needs to reassure me of certain truths due to my own personal insecurities. But nobody needs to know all of that. Let’s keep it light. So I’ll respond instead with...

“Yep, he’s a keeper!”

Why is it that when we get together, I’m not going to tell you that our light jokes are making me laugh and at the same time causing me to slip something “else” out due to subtle incontinence post pregnancy? Or that from the time you walked in, I’ve been sizing you up, unconsciously comparing my body, hair, and child to yours? Or that I canceled our last lunch date because I was simply “cramping,” when I really wanted to say that I felt like I was dying and felt all alone and just wanted my mama and questioned why the good Lord had to give us cycles every month?

I am being a bit dramatic, but then again, am I?

That day I wore my 4-inch heel. Let's just say, I haven't worn them since.

As women, I think we’ve made it our job to keep it together. From the time we were young, we’ve trained ourselves to go to school and hide the pain inside when we were cramping. We’ve held our breath when getting that first perm that felt like fire or those braids that felt much too tight, or when getting our eyebrows threaded or that wax down there. We’ve mastered the “walk,” even when those 4-inch heels were killing our feet.

We hide pain well. Some of us are better at it than others.

So you may be wondering, "what are you getting at Jess? All hese things aren't necessarily bad." You're right.  Ladies, I’m not here to tell you to stop. Do as you please. However, I am here to warn you of something much much graver.

When we take our ability to have it together physically and begin applying it to our inner lives, there will be trouble.

1 Timothy 5:24

"The sins of some are obvious, reaching the place of judgment ahead of them; the sins of others trail behind them."

If I can be honest, my "mom" friends and I do not struggle with sins that are obvious and outwardly seen. We are not sleeping around, drinking heavily, partying into the night, watching porn, or posting provocative pics on social media. In fact, most of us look “well put together.” We go to church, take care of our husbands, children, and homes. And responsibly take care of whatever else needs to be taken care of.

But if I must be blunt.

We (seemingly well-put together women) are the ones that you really need to watch out for.

For we struggle with sins that can’t be seen. Sins that no one will ever know about, if not confessed. And these, my friends, are much deadlier.

They can lurk behind the shadows and fester. They can wreak havoc in our hearts without anyone ever knowing. They can lead to thoughts that we’d never want to utter. And they can destroy our lives with one spark of a match.

These are the sins of one’s inner life.

It’s pride, jealousy, slander, adulterous thoughts, discontentment, judgment etc.  No, you may not see us downing a bottle of Hennessy, but drinking from the pool of evil thought and lies is just as worst.

So ladies, walk like a model in those heels, knowing good and well you will change into your flats as soon as you get into the car. I’m not mad at you.

But, I plead with you. Do not take this same kind of conditioning when it comes to your inner life. Be honest with your girlfriends, husbands, sisters. Confess your sins and ask for prayer. Because if you don’t, these untouched sins could destroy the fruit that the Holy Spirit wants to do in and through your life. Transparency is key.

Lately, there have been sins that I’ve had to confess to my husband that I am really ashamed to share. But in confessing, I have experienced the freedom of Christ in a way that is so powerful that Satan cannot hold me in bondage.

PonderedThought: You’re not perfect. You’re broken just like the next, so don’t take yourself so seriously that you feel pressured to keep upholding an image that is simply false. Humble yourself. Confess. And embrace the fullness of the cross. Yep, we all are in need of the Blood. You ain’t no different.

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