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Jessica Fralin

Jessica Fralin

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Category: make Monday kind

Posted on March 13, 2017

#makeMondaykind: An Introduction

Last week's giveaway was so much fun for me - not just because I got to share some of my favorite products with y'all (congrats to Lauren from Texas for winning!), but because I saw you guys get on board. You're ready to share kindness & kick start your week with a dose of encouragement. …

Continue reading "#makeMondaykind: An Introduction"

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Before these girls showed up, I didn’t know friendship could feel this much like family. People who meet us now don’t know about the lonely years. But gosh, we all had them - living in a city with lots to do and no one to do it with, with a hundred new contacts in our phones but no eat-pizza-and-cry-on-the-couch friends, which is the kind everyone really needs. Being in a new city is hard. Being in the same city, but in a new season, might be even harder. If you’re feeling the weight of loneliness on this random Tuesday, keep showing up. I know it’s hard - but keep saying yes to coffee dates and drinks after work and house parties and lunch after church. And if you’re not getting invited to those things, create things, and invite people to them. Some of those friendships won’t go anywhere, of course. Not every person you meet is your person. But one day, you might host a party in your living room and walk away with people you want to hold on to for life. That’s what happened here. And I’m grateful every stinkin’ day. We might be all over the map these days, but they will always feel like home.
Can confirm.
Living in that weird space where a lot’s going on in my world, but none of it feels like it’s meant to be posted online. ⠀⠀ I think formational seasons are like this, sometimes - meant to be held close to the chest, shared in living rooms and coffee shops instead of in stories and captions. When things are shifting, whether that’s really hard or really wonderful (or, in this case, both), I’m finding that it’s good to focus less on sharing life here and more on living it, out there, flesh and blood. ⠀⠀ This is not an apology post. I’m spending less time online, but I’m certainly not sorry about it. I’ve been knee deep in my own life, creating new things and sifting through family shifts and working really hard and talking to Jesus out loud and sitting down at tables with people I like a lot. The weird precedent of reporting our days on the internet is not one I want to buy into - and if you don’t either, here’s your permission slip to check right out. You don’t owe the internet anything. And it’ll be right here when you feel like coming back. ✨
T MINUS ONE WEEK UNTIL THE HUELS WEDDING, PEOPLE. Can’t wait to watch my best gal marry her best guy. Please send dancing shoes and tissues. We’re gonna need both.
Hey, you. Let’s have a little talk about why we post. Here’s the thing: your people are not the people you have to chase down. Especially not on social media. Posting curated little snapshots hoping that someone will notice — that’s pretty taxing, on your time and on your soul. Be here because you want to be here. Be here because you have words you’re bursting to share. Be here because getting creative online fuels you to create good stuff offline. Be here because the sunrise was gorgeous this morning and you want us to see it, too. Don’t show up hoping that your ex checks in to see that you’re doing well, or that this will finally be the post that goes viral, or that your social media hero will notice how great your content is, or that your crush will slide into your DMs. Sometimes, we post just to prove that we measure up. That’s a whole lot of pressure for these little squares, you know. Life’s too rich and too wild and too good to waste it playing social media games. I’m preaching to you AND to me when I say — stop placing your hope in the wrong stuff. You’re already worth whatever you’re trying to prove.
Surrender makes me anxious some days. Is that weird to admit? I truly, genuinely believe that I’ve got a good father holding it all — but my gosh, I try to take things back into my own hands a lot. Some wild thought will slide into my mind about relationships or finances or future plans, and I’ll feel it. That bubble of mild panic, that “I’ve got to do something about this” whisper. My heart rate speeds up a little. I’ll only feel better if I take action. Or at least, that’s the story I used to tell myself — that taking action kills the anxiety. That grabbing the pen to my own story means I can actually write it better than the God of the universe. I hate to be the bearer of terrible news, but you and I were never in control. And grasping at autonomy just sends anxiety off for a quick nap, only for it to return hours or days or weeks later. Sometimes the diagnosis is bad and the finances fall apart and the dreams don’t come true and the heartbreak hits. This all happens, no matter how hard we scheme and plan and strive. Now for the good news: peace doesn’t come from control, or from springing into action to regain it. It comes from resting in the fact that you never had control, anyway — and that the one who does is pretty good at his job. Will hard moments still come? Of course. But so will the healing and the blessing and the joy that comes from being a kid who sticks close to her good dad. So now, when anxiety comes knocking, when unmet desires stir up, when things feel impossibly hard, I just tell him about it. My old way: feeling out of control? Act. My new way: feeling out of control? Pray. I can’t explain how it works, but pouring myself out to God brings peace in a way that hustling to fix my life never did. That’s the mystery of it all, I guess. But I’ll keep leaning in, because his ways are better. Today, leaning in looked like praying out loud while I stood at my stove cooking lunch. It looked like trusting that he’s listening and he’s good and he’s working even when the horizon looks eerily still from where I stand. If something’s weighing on you, try unloading it on God. I bet peace will follow close behind.
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