Friday, April 10, 2015

observations and actions

i woke up this morning at 
around 7:45.
i talked to jesus about a dream i
had because it kind of freaked me out
a little bit and then grabbed my
phone to turn off the alarm that was
set for 8:15. 

i had two new text messages from one of my
best friends, chris, both sent around 1:30 a.m. when
i was sleeping.
i think i muttered something about
"crazy college kids."

eventually (cough, like at 8:45), i 
rolled out of bed. 
like, literally, rolled off my bed onto 
the floor.
this is pretty easy, because my bed sits
on the floor hehe.

anyway, rolled out of bed,
washed my face, brushed my teeth, the usual.

and then i

started a pot of coffee
threw away the trash on the kitchen counter
started a load of laundry
rinsed out the popcorn bowl that sat on the living room floor
made sure the cat got fed (even though
i hate cats with a fiery passion)
gathered up the pillows that 
somehow always end up thrown anywhere
but on the couches

and i realized something.
i was pretending to be my mother.
(she's currently out of town for a few days).
i was doing all of the things i've watched her do 
for the past 20 years.
and it wasn't like i planned to do it, either,
because Lord knows that i, jennifer noel, would
never get out of bed and think 
to start laundry on her own.
but it just happened, because it's what 
Moms would do if she were here, and she isn't, so 
i just did it.

and it made me think about being observant.
i call myself an observant person.
i notice things about people that a lot of other people
don't notice. 
i get great pleasure out of sitting in one spot for
an extended period of time and just watching

but i realized that watching someone for ten minutes
doesn't show me who they are.
it can tell me a lot about them.
(especially in airports. goodness, the things
i have seen in airports).
but at the end of the day, watching someone for five-ten
minutes doesn't tell me who that person is.

i only know that Moms would do those things
in the morning because i've spent my 
entire life
watching her do them.
i know Moms because of years of 
observations and conversation. 
(that was unintentional rhyming haha).

and as i stood in the kitchen, going
through the motions, i thought about jesus.
 i stood there, putting half and half 
in my coffee, and i teared up a little bit
and thought about my life.
because i'm so guilty of observing 
and not acting.
see, we have the perfect role model. 
we are to "be holy because he is holy.
but observation isn't enough.
you have to act based on your observations.

i like making people smile.
it's my favorite thing, i think,
and so i compliment people constantly.
and usually, i compliment them based on my
for example,
you can tell from a mile away if a girl has low
self-esteem. i target that hardcore and basically 
give them as many compliments as i can without being weird.
i act, because i've observed.

and it should be the same with jesus.
i know about jesus. 
i've read the bible through five times.
i've read the gospels countless times.
i can quote lots of things jesus said.

but do i actually know jesus?
has it just been a five-ten minute observation,
or am i actually pursuing the knowledge of
him and who he is,
so that i can act on those things?

at the end of the day,
knowing about someone isn't enough.
love is a choice. 
action is a choice.
if we don't act, our observations
are useless and don't matter.
i think it's time some of us
(myself very much included)
stop just observing 
and start acting.

"his divine power has granted to us all things 
that pertain to life and godliness, 
through the knowledge of him 
who called us to his own glory and excellence..."
2 peter 1:3

Monday, April 6, 2015

emotions on my skin

i always talk about wanting to be real and
raw and vulnerable on social media and here on
my blog.
i want to be relate-able. 
i want to help people by being open and honest.

and i always think i'm doing a good job
and then i had this conversation the other day
and realized i'm actually doing
a really crappy job.

it started out with the usual,
"so, how are you doing?"
and i said...
"not too good actually."
and they said...
"from your instagram and facebook posts
i thought you were fine!"

i realized that for all my talk about
being open and honest, i'm not doing
so hot.
like, at all.

there's a dead giveaway for me.
you don't see it, and that person didn't see it
but i see it.

that birthmark on my hand.
i used to hate it.
oddly enough, it only ever seemed
to show up when i was extremely nervous
or cold.

now, it shows up when i'm cold,
nervous, or especially worried, sad, anxious or
so basically, it's my emotions on my skin.

that birthmark has been extremely visible for
the past month-ish.
and it hasn't been because i'm nervous or cold.

it's because life is hard.
it's because i have cried a lot.
it's because i've said things like "can
i run away from home now?"
it's because i've been so ridiculously angry.
it's because i have hardcore questioned God.
it's because i have been sad and tired.

and those are the things i should be sharing.
those are the things i want to share.
yeah, there's nothing wrong with a selfie because i'm having
a good hair day, or pictures of my coffee,
or sunset pictures with quotes (i love quotes, y'all).
but those aren't the posts that are going to
encourage or be relate-able.
those aren't the posts that will help you be open
and honest with me.

so here's the truth:
my name is Jennifer Noel Mole.
i'm 20 years old and i
have cried almost every day since March 6th.
i haven't slept through the night in weeks.
i have yelled a lot.
at myself. at others. at God.
i've locked myself away and not wanted to let anyone in
because i don't want to risk getting

and that's my life.
yeah, i still have good hair days.
and i get coffee pretty often.
and i smile sometimes.
but i also hurt,
and i want you to know that.
and if you're hurting, too, i'm here for you.

"so this is my life, and i want you to know that i am
both happy and sad;
and i'm still trying to figure out
how that could be."

(please know that this isn't a cry for pity
or sympathy, because i don't
need that. really.
i just want you to know where i
am, and maybe it'll help you realize that
it's okay to hurt.
maybe it'll help you open up and share, too.
and if you want to share with me,
please do. email me at and i'll
listen to you. promise).