places, Peace...

I smell rain and I love it.  It's after five in the morning, and I have already been up for over an hour.  Crickets are singing their songs, the ground is lightly dampened from the night's showers and the light rattle of the neighbor's dog's collar jingles every couple minutes. I could not be more at ease.  It is the morning of an anniversary of a very tragic national event, however, I am awake and grateful to be alive.

This is early for me.  Not being a usual early riser, I find myself remembering how much I love this time of day.  It makes me want to jump in my car and drive down the Natchez Trace and watch the sun rise. 

As I sit on this old screened porch (the one I fell in love with eight years ago when I took the first look at our house), I am in love.  I love the fact that I need a light sweater to knock the chill off of the air that seeps through my body.  I love that I have a load of laundry in the dryer.  I love that my bones and muscles ache from actually doing yard work yesterday. I love that I am not meant to live here forever. I love the fact I just made myself a cup of tea and could savor a flavor one last time because the blend is no longer made to purchase anymore.  And I love that I was awakened so early because of a wonderful dream...

If you know me, I do tend to over think, over analyze and have great expectations for the ten million things I long to do while I am still on this planet.  As the summer fades, I know I have dipped my soul into more longings than imaginable without quite touching the surface on giving enough action to those desires, especially this year.  This is not an atypical path for me.  I let my mind virtually run over things before I even start.  Realizations of how much my ego gets the better of me most of the time are ever present and acute.  Funny, I was shocked that I told a lady yesterday that I was 32 years old even though my 32nd birthday isn't for another two months.  Now, it is clear to me that this small, seemingly commonplace slip-up was reflecting a huge part of my personality that I am just beginning to understand.

I am getting better at the whole "just being" thing.  That has been my goal this year.  Some of my closest confidants would even say I do it all too well for the fact that I can let my mind just go for days. But, my "letting it be" has been void of the major character that builds alongside Be.  John Lennon's words come to mind, and especially on this tenth anniversary of such a violent, non-peaceful act, I am ashamed that I haven't given Peace much of a chance my whole life.

A sound I have become quite accustomed to is piercing my thought process. The train whistle is blowing and the trees surrounding my little writing nook this morning create silhouettes for the scene of the time. Birds are joining in tune with the crickets. Daylight is pushing to make its entrance stage east, and gray clouds hover as if they know they are about to exit. 

Peace. Peace.  You are being summoned for your curtain call... 

The Drive to “Be”…

Once again, I was without a reliable vehicle. My grandfather had a car in mind that was not on the same wavelength as my own thoughts concerning new wheels for myself. The bronze 1991 model thunderbird had been my Nana’s last vehicle before she passed away. It had been sitting patiently in the backyard of my Poppaw’s house, just waiting for me to need it. My Poppaw Aubrey had been lonely for my Nana every single day since she left the human world and this particular car he had hung onto mostly because it had been her car. There, along with scattered parts of other automobiles, engines and hubcaps, it had stayed for years. I had looked it over before getting the car that was failing me at present, and turned my nose up as soon as I opened its heavy metal door and the automatic seatbelt propelled forward. THIS was NOT my kind of transportation. Surely, there was something else, ANYTHING else…and in the past, there was, but now, I had no choice. This was a car to get me by and overall, a good car for getting me from point A to point B in my daily routine of my seemingly “sordid” life.

I was stuck in a job and a relationship that would take me another two years to get over, and neither one was going to buy me another car. I was frustrated. However, there was not a way out of accepting this offer, when I so desperately needed a car. So, the deal was made and the title would be put in my name when my Poppaw’s ideal vehicle for his granddaughter arrived in Nashville.

“Goldie” as I not so admiringly named her, moved from Reeds, NC to Nashville, TN in the summer of 2008. She was a two-door machine that was larger than almost any other car I had ever owned. Her massive doors creaked when opened, and shortly after arriving, her thermostat, automatic windows and radio stopped working. Despite this “minor” lack of amenities, her engine was good and she could fly down the road, and I got used to the automatic seat belts. I just had to warn my passengers about them before they got in the car.

As Goldie and I warmed up to each other, she became a character in my life. I hung a cowbell on her rearview mirror as a tribute to one of my many nicknames I had received while at my current serving job. We made it through the summer months, even though I could tell her air conditioning was getting to the point of non-existence. Goldie made what would be her only road trip to Virginia and North Carolina in August and that was her first flat tire. When we got back to Nashville, she got another flat and then it was assessed that she had some major front end damage and apparent rusting on her undercarriage. Quick fixes were performed for lack of money and common sense and I still kept on driving her. Another year would go by before I would begin to realize that I was going to need another car- again.

As 2009 drifted aimlessly by, my own body had somehow coincided with that of Goldie’s. Certain parts of us were great- we had amazing strength we didn’t know existed and definitely had character. However, there was a mess of brokenness unseen to the naked eye in both of us. Yes, Goldie could roll to 60mph in seconds flat and I could work doubles all weekend and still manage to get up (sometime in the afternoon), but we were running on wounded parts that weren’t getting fixed properly. For old Goldie and myself, we were in need of some major repair work by a PROFESSIONAL. We were both getting more broken with every mile and I was completely oblivious to the destruction. By the beginning of 2010, the relationship and job were over, and Goldie and I were hanging on by threads- together.

As it was, Goldie was now completely air condition free and Nashville would have one of the driest, hottest summers approaching. A flood came and pushed me out of my house for the summer, which meant even more time spent in the hot metal machine. For a gal who once loved to be in the driver’s seat, I was relying more on my friends to be designated drivers when I would need to get somewhere that required interstate travel. I became unsure if I would make it from point A to point B. How many times the angels spared me, I will never know, but the risk factor was higher than it had ever been.

Driving Goldie was a chore towards the end of her time with me. I would get in the car and pray that she didn’t fall apart, kind of like the prayers I would put forth about my own body. In the stickiest part of the summer, I would be uncomfortable in my clothes as they soaked into my skin as I drove to work. As much as I disliked driving her, I started to become extremely grateful for the little things- like the fact that I was able to arrive safely at my destination. It was this time that I would begin to learn gratefulness- true thanksgiving for good friends and family.

While I was losing control with Goldie, I started to hand over more control with my own life. Slowly, as I felt the relief from the prayers from family and friends, I started to float back to reality with my own spirituality. Discovering I actually liked suffering- that I was addicted to it- and just “being” was something I did not do well, I realized I was not grateful. I found I was not giving up my suffering to God because I didn’t want to give it up. My problems, including that ol’ car, were a part of my crutch to allow me to stay in the water and drown. I was unknowingly shouting “Hey! Look at me and my crazy life! Aren’t we a sight to behold?” I was making a joke out of my existence because it was the only logical thing for me to do in the state I was in. Talking myself and Goldie into a comical matter was my last reach for control- as well as the first move in my journey to letting go of my beloved pain.

My grandfather, who had had so much pride in me driving old Goldie, became increasingly ill throughout the spring of 2011. He let go of life on earth completely on the year anniversary of the flood in Nashville. At the same time, I had reached a point in my faith that allowed me to let go of a lot of my own pride that had been holding me back from my truest self. I have come to terms with the fact that my struggle will always continue between my love of suffering and my love of the desires I have to accomplish my dreams. Goldie decided to let go too. It was time for all of us. The drive proved eventful and long. The scenery and characters were unforgettable…the road ahead is…to “be”…

The “new” old car is half the size of Goldie- a 2005 Chevy, with four doors and a working a/c and radio…it even has a CD player and imagine this, windows that roll down without me pushing them! The first time I drove it down the road, it was like a burden had lifted from my soul. Despite the vendetta I was sure Goldie had against me for my lack of care for her, the new ride has a lot of livin’ up to do! It has already been named the Little Red Clucker. I will say she has made the road trip to North Carolina twice already, both times to give me a chance to say and sing my farewells to my Poppaw. I know he and Nana both are looking down from heaven today, shaking their heads and saying, “she should have gotten a Ford!”

The drive to be continues…

wait.weight...

Here I am, seven days into February and it is my first blog of the year. Happy Birthday Mama…I love you. This one is dedicated to your incredible life that you have chosen to live so humbly and gently. You are more of a big deal than I could ever hope to be! You would be saying “Ahh, no I’m not,” right about now, and that is even more reason why you truly ARE an amazing woman. Thank you for sharing your gifts with all who know you.

Psalm 63:1, "O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water." (NIV)

Psalm 107:35, "He turned the desert into pools of water and the parched ground into flowing springs." (NIV)

I have been procrastinating to write for the whole month of January- and actually, I can track the “putting off” back to last year if you look at the last update on here. My explanation behind the waiting was always finding the perfect day and time to express all of my new growth- perhaps Thanksgiving- to show my extra gratitude, then my 31^st birthday to tie in the growing even more appropriately. Finally, it was Christmas and I was visiting my family in North Carolina. No doubt, the holidays are always a good time to catch up, and I had failed to snail mail out Christmas greetings for the second year in a row…still, my public writing was put off another day, another week. New Year’s Day came and I was certain I would get it together. After all, January of 2010 was the beginning of a complete shocker of a year for me and I definitely had “felt” the need to tell anyone and everyone who was willing to listen about my heartbreak and continuing life story at the beginning of last year. Why not start up the same way in 2011 to contrast the paths my life had taken from one year to the next? It wasn’t like I was waiting for the perfect time due to lack of material.

However, the last day of January was the day I was finally pushed head over heels into my words again- today was the day I was confident enough in my work to post. Yes, the little clicks bouncing from my fingers onto the screen have felt almost as awesome as my le pens remembering my handwriting in my many journals. I have survived another year of Jennie Lee Frank and I am kicking myself for not delving into my creative self more. I have been lazy and oh, how I have missed you, my beautiful word friends. I hope this is the beginning of the end of my absence from writing, but you never know what is coming and the resolutions will make their somersaults, fleeing as the minutes of my ever-changing tale tick by. I will not make any promises, but I know my soul longs for the words to appear, for my voice to sing through the words. Not only am I tired of the desert, but this feverish raconteur also knows she is not the one writing her story anymore. I am embarking on two secret projects, which will remain unrevealed until I have consistently stuck with them for ninety days. I am praying the drought continues to be over by the revelation of these new creative outlets. It is not up to me to decide what comes across the page anymore. This is completely a God thing- Higher Being, Spirit moving blessing to me. This is your invitation to come share in my adventures and it is my goal for you to be in active in your story alongside mine. It is absolutely amazing to be a character in the plot and not just watch the scenes from the easy chair.

So, I’m back on the blog and that wait IS indeed over.

Over the last twelve months, despite my creative lackaday, I have noticed that I have been constantly gaining “wait weight”. Yes, you read that correctly. My “wait weight” consists of both positives and negatives- a somewhat physical and spiritual accumulation of good and bad habits. Add to it about 40 pounds of extra Jennie since July, and days upon days of questions, answers, and spent time, and there you have it- WAIT WEIGHT. And yes, I am still in a wait of sorts, but that is another thought for another entry.

Oh, the “wait weight”….

Two weeks ago, I looked over my goals that I hoped to attain over 2010. These goals usually spurt out like a fountain at the crack of a new year and I spend hours writing them all out, hoping I haven’t missed one. From inspiration to perspiration, I am driven with a stinging energy to get them all down. Last year’s list was quite different than previous years. At the kick-start of Jennie’s 20Tenacity, my pastor had preached an inspiring sermon about the importance of a mission statement and specific year assessment. Filled with tenaciousness (seriously, no joke, I WAS Tenacious J), I was very eager to make my own Q&A and fill in the blanks. As I reflected upon 2010, I mourned over the goals that dropped off my year. However, for the first time in a very long time, I was able to look at that list I energetically spout off each New Year’s and actually say, “Hey, I did that!” It felt real good.

So, here is where I would normally insert my ebb and flow of the past year and show off my growth spurt. But, I’m not going to do that. I am going to tell you that I have so much to learn despite my tremendous leaps and bounds over the incredible amount of changes that have made their presence known in my life. I know this will never end until my life on earth is no more. I hope this entry is an introduction and invitation for you to follow me through another year while I am inspired to write about my own battles and experiences with my “wait weight” and it is my hope that you are inspired in return. I hope you are challenged to find your own “wait weight”. You might not understand that you are in a wait, but you ARE. Everyone is waiting for something. You might not think you have gained or lost or become stagnate with your weight- “weight” pertaining to your human trifecta of spirit, mind and body. But you have and you continue on…

"In the beginners mind there are many possibilities, but in the experts there are few." Shunryu Suzuki

One of my goals from 2010 was to learn more about my spiritual gifts. If you do not share in my faith, you might not understand what I am speaking about. However, I believe that every single person has gifts to share with the world and I didn’t know very much about mine until I leapt into them last year. I only scratched the surface, but I did find out what my spiritual gifts were. My person requires three actions every week in order to function my life in this world to the truest degree of being able to give and share these gifts with others:

#1- I must hear and/or participate in a live, organic relationship with other people and with music.

#2- I must listen in prayer and meditation, to my God and to the Spirit.

#3- I must create and share my creativeness with others.

In conjunction with those three things, I am striving to seek the truth and try my best to speak the truth each day. This is so hard, especially with the push and pull of every day’s battle. And I fail just about every day, but I strive nonetheless.

"I have chosen the way of truth; I have set my heart on your laws." Psalm 119:30 (NIV)

Mmmmmm, you must be wondering why that is so profound to me? Maybe you already recognize your spiritual gifts and it is quite easy for you to use them. I have been on this earth 31 years and counting and it is very difficult for me to use mine. This is mere miniscule poundage on my scale of “wait weight”. Even more humorous is the fact that I have always had various friends and family try to tell me how to use my gifts. While this has been loving advice, I have realized that you can’t really use your gifts when you have no idea what they are, and even when you begin to understand them, you must approach them with consistent thought, prayer analysis and seriousness. Oh, and get down and dirty!! Playing with the grit that comes with these gifts is no game, but the process gets messy and often times, I wish it were just a game...

Again, here I am, blog on. I am joyfully overweight in my trifecta and I am writing to tell you, you aren’t alone in yours. Let’s inspire one another to giving instead of taking with our “wait weight” and actually make decisions to input delightful food (pertaining to our spirit, mind and body) to feed us while we are striving to feed others (or when we unknowingly feed others). That is my sincere mission statement for 2011. I am the most indecisive person I know, so that is going to be a true challenge this year.

"Real transformation is the process born out of the fires of life when we choose to embrace suffering and deeply trust God with our entire inner being, let His love, grace, and truth touch our deepest fears, hurts and desires, and then begin to live from love filled hearts." (Larry Bolden)

**A lot of my spiritual references (quotes, subject inspiration) are taken from my pastor's sermons. If you would like to experience these for yourself, check out http://www.westendcc.org/3312279 .

in truly Love,

jennie lee