My staff of fact-checkers informed me that in my last blog post I wrote that 42 million babies were aborted in the US last year. That statement is inaccurate. 42 million babies have been aborted in the USA to date, 1.3 million of those we last year. Please forgive me for the mistake.
Thanks to my brother-in-law Brian for noticing the error. I must now add “Research Consultant” to his job description of drummer, tour manager. He will probably want a raise.
Categories: Blog@11:19 am Where do we go from here?
I’m arriving unusually late to the bakery today. On days that I plan to write I try to get here early because my mind turns to Jell-O later in the day, but Jennifer had to take Hutch to his tutorial this morning and I offered to stay home with Sadie for a while. I’m usually out the door by nine, even though I don’t have an official office to go to. It’s a routine both my doctor and my painter friend David recommended. David’s studio is just off of his back deck, about twenty feet from his kitchen, but he still gets up and puts on a dress shirt and tie to go to “work”. My doctor says that this kind of schedule will help with my depression. On top of all that, Jennifer says that homeschooling doesn’t work with me in the house, so I have to get out. I’d leave earlier if I had the choice. My most productive time is 6am-12pm, which puts me on a very grandpa-like schedule, which includes an early lunch and then supper around five. I remember eating supper with Abe and Mable (my Dad’s grandparents) as early as 4:30pm some nights. Then they’d sit around the table and drink coffee and talk about the world was coming to.
This past Sunday we had a dinner party with some friends at the Breen’s house in Brentwood. We’ve known Shelly and her husband David for almost as long as we’ve lived here, but we became close when we went on tour with her and the rest of Point of Grace. We shared a manager back then and were always bumping into each other. Now our kids take lessons at the same music school, and when see each other there we feel old. Rob, our worship pastor (and my boss), and his wife Kirstin, were there too, and we all enjoyed freshly smoked ribs and chicken while our kids, all six of them, practiced an after-dinner performance for us. Rob is an aspiring chef so the meal was exceptional, and we all sat around afterwards grumbling about how full we were and talking about life and technology and “What the world is coming to.” So this is what that feels like.
This morning an NPR program discussed the topic of tablet computers replacing text books in public schools. It’s already happening and most experts agree that it’s inevitable that within the next few years schools nationwide will be replacing textbooks with iPads (or something like them). I hadn’t thought much about it until Shelly mentioned it on Sunday night. Now I can’t stop playing the scenario out in my head: kids cutting and pasting their notes and emailing their homework, research on the Cloud and Google searches instead of encyclopedias, and the control of “factual” information by whomever is writing and constantly amending this content. And what happens to those of us who like to write instead of type? When these kids graduate we’re going to have to adjust our culture to the new age of typed communication and abbreviated language. “What is the world coming to?”
Yesterday Chris Fabry, who has been having some extremely relevant and controversial shows lately, was discussing the topic of abortion. I’m embarrassed to say that I hadn’t remembered that this Sunday is Anti-Abortion Sunday. I got on the Internet to check the latest statistics and was crushed by where we’ve come. Last year, 42 million (42,000,000) unborn babies were legally aborted in America. Of those women who had abortions, 37% identified themselves as Protestant and 31% identified themselves at Catholic, proving that self-admitting followers of Jesus are responsible for over 60% of all abortions. Interestingly enough, only 23% percent of women who had abortions claimed to not have any religion at all. Furthermore, more than a third (38%) of all abortions were performed on women whose household income was between 30K-60K per year. Another 13% were performed on women who come from a household with an annual income above 60,000k per year. The most stunning statistic, in my opinion, is that 43% of all women will have at least one abortion before the age of 45.
I don’t feel compelled to release the total readership of this blog, but as I write I’m calculating in my head the percentage of my readers who are possibly battling with this issue right now, and I’m a little stunned. For goodness sake, any of you who are considering abortion, please know that a child will be a blessing to you, probably the biggest you will ever know, not the baggage that you might be dreading. This may seem like a dark tunnel with no end, but there will be light again and you can do this.
I hate to end such a serious letter so abruptly, but I’ve got to go pick up our dumb dog from the groomer and get to a meeting. I didn’t mean for this to be depressing, but we are responsible for knowing the truth, and the truth, even hard truth, will set us free… free from fear, free to fight, free to vote, free to finally take a stand and say “no more”.
May the Lord remind you of His presence as you walk in the tension of life in America today,
Jeromy
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*Here’s the song I was telling you about. It’s especially pertinent for those of us who are in or who have known times of utter darkness. Those times are lonely and hard to describe, but sometimes a song can help. As always, I’d appreciate your comments. FFH@me.com comes right to my phone so email me anytime.
Categories: Blog@10:46 am It’s a Beautiful Thing
I remember when Florida was relaxing. Early on in our careers, Jennifer and I would plan a couple of extra days after our concerts just to chill whenever we were invited to play in a Florida town. We didn’t have kids then, and since we were on the road almost all year, there wasn’t much for us to rush home for. Orlando has always been our favorite Florida city. Orlando’s Z88.3 was one of the first radio stations to play FFH, even before we were signed to a record deal. Back then, Scott Smith and Lisa Williams were there (both are now at K-LOVE) and we all became friends. (Jennifer and I seriously toyed with the idea of moving there in our twenties) And whenever we played a concert in one of the theme parks they would let us ride a couple of rides for free before the show. We have a lot of great memories in Florida, and in God’s kindness, we continue to get to make more. It’s different now though. Florida isn’t nearly as relaxing when you bring your kids, as we were reminded again this week.
Sara’s wedding was beautiful and we all had a special time, even though I messed up the words to the song I wrote for her and Vince. (I recorded a scratch version on my phone and included it at the end of this letter) Sadie-Claire found a friend at the reception and they danced all night long. Hutch was very handsome and mature as well. Jennifer and I got to reconnect with some old friends and had a genuinely nice time. The Bristol family is very generous, and when they invited us to be a part of the wedding they also offered to bless us with a few extra nights at the hotel and a couple of days at the theme parks. Rick is well connected so he asked a couple of his friends who work at the parks to comp us in. Where he didn’t have a connection he just paid for us. Hutch and Sadie made sure he got his money’s worth and Jennifer and I used the opportunity to have our new press picture taken…
I thought I might get a little time to think about the future this week and maybe get into the Clear Air that I talked about on Tuesday… Nope. When there are princesses to meet and a Lego park to get to there’s no time to think. I tried to read my Bible in the mornings when I took the kids to the lobby for breakfast, but It was nuts there too. It’s summer break in South America and much of the continent was at our Hampton Inn. Once breakfast was over we left for the parks and came home just before bed. So not-relaxing. But the kids loved it and that’s what matters now. I couldn’t care less about seeing Mickey or riding a ride, but when the kids light up, I light up and all of a sudden it doesn’t matter how bad my feet hurt or that I just bought a six-dollar soft pretzel. So this is what that feels like.
We’re starting our descent back into Nashville and back into our “normal” lives. It snowed while we were gone and I’m glad we missed it, but I remembered this week that the back window on my Jeep is unzipped and I’ll probably have to scoop slush out of it before I drive it. It’s going to get busy again but I’m thankful that God allowed us a few days of distraction from what has been a very heavy season for the kids and us.
Stay warm,
Jeromy
Here’s the song for Sara and Vince (recorded on my iPhone) Jennifer and I played and sang it right before the “You may kiss the bride” part of the wedding, then again at the reception; along with several other FFH songs that Sara has loved since she was in junior high school. Sara had sent me the story of her and Vin’s relationship and some of the specific things that they’ve been through and what they call each other, etc. That’s where I learned that Vincent was Sara’s first kiss, that he calls her his “Jewel”, that he’s a Fireman, etc. That will help it make more sense. Enjoy!
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Categories: Blog@10:41 am Clear Air
The pilot just indicated that it is safe to use Portable Electronic Devices and Sadie-Claire is immersed in another episode of Angelina Ballerina. It was cloudy on the ground in Nashville, but we’re above the weather now and in blue sky. That’s my favorite part of any flight, climbing through dreariness to get above it into clear air. I wish I could do that in my life.
This week, my guys and I were together at Merridee’s for our first meeting of the New Year. As we went around the table and talked about our Holidays, some of us shared what they thought 2012 holds for them. I hate that conversation. I feel like I’m supposed to have some epiphany over the Holidays and know by January first exactly what I’m supposed to do the coming year. Truth is, the Holidays were a blur and I don’t have a clue what is in store for us in 2012. In fact, I don’t even know what I want in 2012, so I don’t even know what to pray for. My “normal job” friends talk about their goals and expectations, and use phrases like “hitting the ground running”. Even some of the artists I mentor have gotten some clarity about their direction for 2012. But I don’t know. And for some reason, when we made our way around the table and the guys asked me what I had coming up in the New Year, and I said “I don’t know”, I felt shame. Like I was something less because I didn’t have any clear-cut goals. I could have made something up, like I probably would have done a couple of years ago, but I didn’t. I just said “I Don’t Know”.
It’s not that I’m not thinking about it. There are all sorts of things swimming around in my mind this week about the future. (I always have big idea’s for things I think everybody needs) I’ve more than enough songs written and ready to go for a new recording, but I’m not sure we’re supposed to start it yet. I’ve also been thinking about other projects; like kids music and hymns recordings and trying to find more ways to help my friends get their music heard by more people. Then there’s the book I’ve been writing for over a year and the orphan care ministry we want to work with. Plus, I have my guys that I love walking with and the mentorship at Belmont. But all of that is just career. More importantly, what about my family? I want our little flock to grow closer to each other and closer to God this year. I want us to be more grateful more often. I want to put the house repairs behind us and figure out where we are going to live for the next season. I want to move on. And I want for Jennifer and the kids to have their wants and dreams to come to completion. But still, if you ask me what 2012 holds, the answer is “I don’t know.” I know my wants, but they aren’t plans.
Last Christmas Jennifer told us that she felt like each of us in our family was to pray for a “word” or a “theme” from God for 2011, something He wanted us to remember and work on throughout the year. It’s not so much a prophetic word as it is just something to remind us and inform our decisions. Jennifer’s was “Gratitude”, Hutch’s was “Contentment”, and mine was “Keep it Light”. Throughout the year the Lord reminded us of those things and we tried to keep them in the front of our minds.
Before Church last week I was reading my Bible and I sensed the Lord saying that my theme for 2012 is “Move on”. I’m still contemplating it to make sure it was His voice and not mine (it’s amazing how alike they can sound). But here’s the thing, I have NO IDEA what I’m supposed to be moving on from or moving on to. So I’m waiting for Him to make sense of it. People have told me, “God can’t direct a ship that’s not moving, so just get moving.” I get the premise; in fact, I might have even said that before. But I think a guy should have some inkling of a first step before he takes one.
Before we left our meeting last week, Boski looked at me and said, “I think it’s ok that you don’t know, and I think you need to not worry about that.” He sensed my disappointment in not having a headline answer to Next Year. It was encouraging, and I’ve gone back to it several times these past couple of days.
So here’s what I do know… In about 10 minutes the pilot is going to tell us to prepare for landing and I’m going to have to pry the iPad from Sadie’s hands. We’re going to enjoy the day in Orlando and then head to our friends wedding tomorrow where we are going to play songs that we haven’t played in several years, songs that Sara (the bride) loved when she was in Junior High. We’ll have a little fun in Orlando courtesy of the Bride’s generous family, and on Saturday we’ll come home for the weekend and I’ll lead worship music at my Church. Then, on Monday, Home School will start on Monday. Jennifer and I will resume our roles as taxi service for lessons and classes, etc, and we’ll probably have friends in our home a couple of nights next week. I’ll try to remember to floss and stay away from Diet Coke, and Jennifer will continue to look younger while I look older. And on Wednesday, I’ll meet with the guys and we’ll talk about the good stuff and the hard stuff of the past seven days. Maybe I’ll have more direction about the future, maybe I won’t. Either way, I’ll keep walking in the only direction I know how, taking the steps I do know to take, and hopefully I’ll hit some clear air.
Peace and Vision,
Jeromy
Speaking of Clear Air, Boski has a new recording of his own and his song “Daylight” is included in this post. He’s a fellow Pennsylvanian so he and I have a connection on several levels. You’ve seen him out on the road as our bass player, but he’s an aspiring artist as well. His full name is Brian Yakaboski. Some people call him Yak, others call him Boski, Sadie-Claire calls him Yaboski. He’ll answer to just about anything. If you’d like to hear more of his music go to http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/blood-cries-out-ep/id485033105. I could totally hear this song on the radio some day. If you’d like to send him some encouragement or just chat, email him at Brian brianyak72@gmail.com.
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Categories: Blog@11:25 am Small World
It took everything I had to get out of my pajamas this morning and out of the house and over to Merridee’s to get some work done. Jennifer and I are completely spent from such a busy season of touring and socializing and spreading holiday cheer. I walked in to the crowded bakery in a daze and realized that every table was taken. After wandering around for a minute I ran into my friend Ruth. She had two seats open at the end of her six-top and offered to share the table with me.
I haven’t known Ruth for long; we met one Wednesday morning a few weeks before Christmas when Ruth approached the group of guys I was with and asked if we were musicians. It’s a hobby of hers to try to pick out the “music people” in the bakery. She says she’s hasn’t been wrong yet. We told her that her instincts were correct and she introduced us to her husband Don. They live a few blocks from the bakery and come for breakfast several times a week. Don is excellent at small talk and he went on to tell us that he’d been a jazz trumpet player most of his life. We were genuinely interested in hearing more about their lives, but they are in their eighties so we were only able to scratch the surface that morning.
We did find out that they’d lived much of their lives in Sudan, ministering to the people there in less than comfortable conditions, and I shared how Jennifer and I had enjoyed an extended stay in Africa a few years ago. Don asked where I was from originally and I told him that I’d moved to Nashville from Pennsylvania when I was twenty-one to be involved in music. Don shared how they’d lived in Long Island for many years, but actually moved to Pennsylvania after their long time in Africa to be with their daughter and grand children. They lived not far from my hometown and their son-in-law was the soccer coach at the college where my girl friend studied. I explained how I started coming to Merridee’s soon after I moved here because the owner, Jim Krieder, was a family friend of my family from Lancaster, and that his family owns a dairy farm there. Don laughed as he told me that he’s had Krieder Dairy milk many times.
We talked for another few minutes and at some point in the conversation I asked if the name “Jerry Rineer” sounded familiar. It was a long shot. Jerry and his son Mick and their families are friends of mine from Pennsylvania who have spent most of their lives serving in Africa. Jerry’s wife died a few years ago and he’s back home in PA, missing her dearly. I see him once a year at the Camp Meeting we attend. Ruth and Don about came unglued at the mention of Jerry. Turns out they were close friends for many years in the mission field. Eventually I told them the story of how Jennifer and I met Mick’s best friend while we were in Cape Town in 2006. Not long after we moved there a group of America missionaries who were serving long-term in Africa had come to the Cape to have a retreat and were staying at the guesthouse next door to our cottage. One night they invited us to climb over the wall and join them for dinner, and sometime during the meal I told one of the guys that the only Africa connection I’d ever had was my friend Mick in Namibia. He said, “Mick Rineer?” I said, “Yes, that’s the one, you know of him?” He went on to tell me that they’d been best friends for years, and we both sat there amazed at how, out of seven billion people in the world, we were connected through this one mutual friend.
At that same dinner, one of the guys asked Jennifer where she was from. “Missouri”, she answered. Then the guy said, “Oh really, where abouts in Missouri?” “St. Louis,” Jennifer replied. He said, “I knew a girl from St. Louis once.” Jennifer told him that she was from the small town of Hillsboro about an hour south of the city and that he’d probably never heard of it. He said, “No, I actually think the girl was from Hillsboro. Her name is Shantel Els, do you know her?” Stunned, Jennifer said, “That’s my sister!” Turns out the guy had been at Shantel’s wedding and that Jennifer and he probably saw each other that night.
(That kind of thing happened several more times while we were living in that small African farm village. I actually met a distant cousin that I never knew I had who was there doing mission work. And amazingly, towards the end of our stay, a ministry team from a church two miles from our house in Franklin came to stay at the guesthouse next door. They ended up helping us transport all of our bags back home. It was another unexpected blessing, but by that time we were coming to expect the unexpected)
During the two hours that I shared Ruth and Don’s table this morning, ten minutes didn’t go by without someone stopping to say hello to either myself or the two of them. They’d introduce me to their friends and inevitably we had someone in common that we knew. At one point, my friend Thaddeus, who is also a Merridee’s regular, saw me and came over to say hello. I introduced him to my new friends and he and Ruth talked about New York, where they are both from, and their connection to Word Of Life School in Schroon Lake. I had no idea that Thad had ever beet to Word Of Life and I told him how I’d been to youth camp there one summer when I was a kid, and that later my Aunt and Uncle offered to send me to school there if I wanted to go. Thaddeus and I figured out that he might very well have been a counselor there when I was a camper. Ruth took Thad’s number because she knows someone who really needs his counseling services.
I remember being younger and listening to conversations like these between older people as they connected the dots between relationships they didn’t realize they shared. Inevitably one of the old guys would say, “Small World, huh?” I think I understand the amazement now; how God can connect people across family lines and distant generations and oceans, and make us wonder at His divine guidance. It just took some life experience for it to happen to me enough to know that I’m part of something planned out, not a series of coincidences. So this is what that feels like.
This morning I came into the bakery in a bad mood, feeling tired and down. Talking to Ruth and Don got me out of myself and into the larger web of life that God is weaving in us and around us, and helped me snap out of my funk for a little while. It’s always that way for me, the smaller I feel the more comfortable I am. Maybe that’s why I like the mountains so much, because they return me to my smallness. In the Bible Jesus talks about how he does His Father’s will, as it is written of Him in the scroll of The Book. My problem is that I get to thinking that The Book is about me. When I remember that I’m probably just in a couple of sentences, and that The Book is about God and His Kingdom, I lighten up a little.
At my birthday sleepover this past August a few of us were sharing road stories. Someone brought up how, when you mention you are from another state, somebody will inevitably say “Oh I have a friends in Tennessee (or wherever). Do you know so and so?” In your mind your thinking “There are six million people in Tennessee, I’m pretty sure I don’t know so and so.” But instead you politely say, “No, that name doesn’t sound familiar.” My friend Carl was there that night and told us about the time he and his wife Heather were in South America playing music on a street corner, when a girl came up to them and asked where they were from. When they told her they were from the United States she said, “I have a friend in the United States, here’s her picture, maybe you know her.” Instead of reminding the girl that there are over three hundred million people in the United States, Carl politely answered, “Sure, let me see.” Not only did he recognize the girl in the picture, he’d actually grown up not far from her in North Carolina!
Small world.
Writing about Carl this morning reminded me of this song. He asked me to stop by the studio last year when it was being mixed, and I knew it was great from the first listen. He was totally cool with letting me send it to you for free. If you like it, you can get the whole album at http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/forgiven-forever-ep/id448789347.
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Have a great New Years Weekend,
Peace and Rest,
Jeromy
*Oh, one more thing. Can a few of you email me at FFH@me.com and let me know that the songs are coming through ok? I want to be sure things are working properly. I do NOT get your email address when you subscribe to my blog (I actually don’t even get to see how many subscribers I have) and I will NOT use it or distribute it if you send me a message. Thanks.
Categories: Blog@12:17 am When I Was Their Age
I just sat down at my favorite table at Panera Bread, the one by the fire, on a very rainy, not-at-all-Christmassy, Thursday in Franklin. I prefer Merridee’s, but Panera has carpet and a fireplace and Caffeine-Free Diet Pepsi, so I often end up here on colder days. Matthew West must use the same logic. We ran into each other at Merridee’s yesterday and he’s over here at Panera this morning too. I’ve been trying to sit down and write this letter all week but life and Christmas have been getting in the way. Jennifer and the kids are out shopping for me this morning so I’ve got a small window.
I’ve mentioned to you a few times about the young musician friends I’ve been spending time with, helping them find their way in the weird world of artistry. (We’ve been together every week for a year-and-a-half-now and it’s starting to feel like family) I’ve been thinking about the guys a lot lately and it’s caused me to remember many of the people who helped me when I was their age struggling to make sense of what God had for me.
I just used the phrase “When I was their age,” and something got sort-of tight in my chest. So This Is What That Feels Like.
I was fortunate to have a few guys really care about me when I was in my early twenties. Some of them took pity on me, some saw potential, and others just knew I needed some good honest friends. Many of them did whatever they could to help my fledgling little band get going. I recently found this picture of FFH in the mid-nineties floating around on Facebook. I think Jennifer and I were still dating when this was taken. She and I would get married the next year and she’d join the band a year after that.
That was a fun but scary time of life. I was making up the rules as I went along. I heard fifty “Nos” for every “Yes”. I was borrowing money from parents and friends that never made me pay them back and I was practicing and playing music almost all of the time. I didn’t really care about being famous, but I wanted desperately to be able to play music as my only job. I’d dropped out of college after a semester, so for me there was no Plan-B.
My guys are in that stage now. One of them, Brett (the one we are always trying to find a wife for), has just finished a record and is on the verge of something new. None of us know exactly what it means but we’re doing all we can to support him. He moved here from Alabama a couple of years ago and has been busy writing music and leading worship whenever he’s asked, mixing smoothies at 9Fuits to pay for it. This latest record is a big step for him. The recording is finished and he’s trying to raise money to complete the artwork and packaging and get his CDs pressed so people will hear it. It reminds me of when we made an album called One Of These Days back in 1997 (I think). We put all we had into it, and with some generous help from some friends it turned out great. The radio back in Lancaster started playing it and told some others about it. A few months later a record company signed us and released a re-named version of the album nationwide. Today that album has sold 500,000 copies. All because some people believed in us.
Attached is one of my favorite songs from Brett’s new record. It’s free to you with absolutely no strings attached, I’m just proud of him and want to help him get the music to others.
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If he comes to mind, please pray for him. And if you feel led to help him with the last bit of funding you can support him with a gift at http://kck.st/sj70sh. I think he’s close to his goal but he’s only got a few days left to make it. (If you help him fund the CD you get a free copy of the album when it comes out) Where was this stuff when we were their age?!
Please know that there is positively nothing in it for me. I told you I wouldn’t use this platform to sell you stuff and I won’t start now. I just want to help connect you with some good music from some good friends.
If I don’t talk to you before Sunday, have a very restful and merry Christmas.
Peace and rest-
Jeromy
Categories: Blog@6:50 pm Manna
A friend of mine gave me a gift this morning. It was unexpected and generous and I didn’t know what to say. I like to give gifts but I’m not good at receiving them. My friend tried to make light of the gift, saying that “Thank You” was enough. It doesn’t seem like enough to me though.
As I’ve mentioned a couple times in my blogs, these past eighteen months have been a journey in the wilderness for Jennifer and I and the kids. In June of 2010, a small patch of mold was discovered behind one of our walls by a contractor that was repairing our home from some flood damage. We hired a mold removal specialist who assured us that the mold was harmless. He haphazardly removed the mold before the test results came back revealing that the mold was extremely toxic. As a result of his carelessness, the rest of our home was contaminated. We’ve been waiting for a settlement ever since, moving five times in a year and a half.
In God’s great kindness, we had saved enough to be able to pay for the extra expenses of moving and renting for a while, but we had no idea it would drag on this long. The response to the Christmas album has been great as well, which has helped a lot in this season, but we can’t keep going like this forever. To make matters worse, we planned to take next month off to rest and really concentrate on the detox that is necessary because of the mold exposure in our bodies. These realities began wear on me this fall. My Mom used to say that God would give us what we need when we need it. I’ve been telling myself that, mustering my faith.
I’ve heard lots stories of God providing money for people at just the right time. Several of my friends live on missionary support and we’ve listened to them tell touching stories of how money would just show up in their mailbox or their bank account from the most unexpected sources just in the nick of time. Jennifer and I, for whatever reason, haven’t found ourselves in that place of immediate financial need for over a decade. In fact, we’ve been blessed to be the ones with means give to those needs at certain times. But things are different now, and I’ve been wondering how God was going to sort out our necessary time off next month.
Then God drops a gift out of the sky.
So this is what that feels like.
Categories: Blog@2:55 pm I’m at Cracker Barrel this morning. The other worship leaders from Fellowship and I meet here every Tuesday at 730am to talk about life and Church. I’m an hour early this morning to write and have a couple minutes alone. The coffee is good here and the fire is cozy and Willie Nelson is singing Jingle Bells. The kids begged me to turn on football last night at about seven o’clock and it wasn’t on yet so we ended up watching America’s Funniest Home Videos. I fell asleep about halfway through the show and never really woke up after that, so at five-thirty this morning I was wide-awake. While I was in the bathroom taking the handful of pills I take for MS and the related symptoms, Sadie-Claire came in fully dressed in her ballet outfit ready for a recital. I put her in bed with Jennifer and showered and left.
I’m tired from the drive home yesterday from St. Louis, where we spent the Thanksgiving weekend at Jennifer’s family farm. Our DVD player in the car stopped working so we had to talk to each the whole seven hours. Jennifer’s whole family was at the farm for the Holiday and it was a nice time, except for Sadie’s few injuries. She and her cousin Joshua collided while dancing around the shopping mall on Friday morning, busting her lip. Then, later that same afternoon, she and Joshua were playing baseball with a stick and a pretty big rock and she was hit in the face by the first pitch on the same lip. It was pretty swollen for a while. This all happened while Jennifer and her two sisters were out finding Black Fridays sales. This is them picking out hats…
While I was sleeping last evening, Jennifer was busy on her laptop trying to find the perfect advent calendars for Hutch and Sadie. I’ve been pushing hard for us to celebrate the whole Advent Season this month instead of just focusing on Christmas morning. The dictionary definition of Advent is “the arrival of something awaited (especially of something momentous)”. We’re trying our best this year to remember and celebrate the longing the Jews had for their most-awaited Messiah and his arrival. I want us to join in that some longing in some way.
When I was young I didn’t long for Jesus to come back at all. There was too much life to be lived and my sketchy images of Heaven didn’t seem very appealing. I remember older people talking about how they wished for Jesus to come back and not understanding the hurry. I wanted Him to wait at least until Jennifer and I were married and we’d had sex. Then, after we were married, I wanted Him to hold off till we’d had kids. Now, at thirty-seven, I think I’m beginning to understand. The realization that life is broken, I am broken, has settled in and has produced the flicker of longing for the suffering to end. So this is what that feels like.
Our friends, Jon and Alli, who you probably know from our concerts (Big Jon is our guitar player), emailed again last night with more hard news. After loosing Alli’s dad a few weeks ago to a sudden heart attack, they had to say goodbye to Alli’s aunt yesterday. It was her dad’s only sibling. The hole in their family this holiday season will be even bigger than they thought, especially with the absence of the baby they lost a year ago. They understand the longing.
Jesus probably won’t come back to make everything right in the world between now and December 25th. He’ll can still come to us though, each of us, as we stop long enough to see our brokenness and long for Him to enter it. He may not fix the brokenness the way we’d ask Him to, but He can give us something else in the middle of it while we wait. It’s both now and not yet.
We celebrate the now but not yet during the Advent. Jesus came to us, He comes to us, and He’s going to come again to us.
Peace and Rest,
Jeromy
Ps. I’m going to be sending you a few emails over the next few days about ways to get the free music I want to give you. Like I told you a while ago, I’m not going to use this blog to sell you stuff. This is no-strings-attached.
Categories: Blog@3:35 pm My Sadie-Claire turned four years old this week. She wanted to have a dance party and Jennifer threw her one that she will always remember. I left the house at four o-clock that afternoon to take Sadie out to get her nails painted and kill time so Jennifer could set up, and when we got back home an hour later the house had become a dance club. Purple streamers and balloons were hung everywhere and twinkling lights refracting off the disco ball circled the room in soft bubble shapes of blue. Sadie was impressed. Later she told us that it was exactly what she wanted.
The kids all danced and beat each other up with balloons until it was time for pizza, then more dancing, then cake and presents. A little later Sadie did something that she’d never done before and we’ll never forget. She told Jennifer that she wanted everyone to sit and watch her do a special ballet dance in her new black ballet outfit. So we put on a slow song and watched in amazement as she danced around gracefully like no one else was in the room. It was like watching time-lapsed photography of a flower coming out from the ground and bending towards the sun. Jennifer and I had seen this Sadie, but no one else had. It was the first time we’d ever seen her come out of herself in front of anyone and really enjoy others enjoying her. I videoed the whole thing on my phone, peeking over the lens several times to see all of our friends watching and videoing and enjoying Sadie as well. I was so proud. I looked hard at Jennifer to see if she was crying. She was holding it together. I was struggling. I just kept thinking of the day she dances one last dance with me and then spins away with her new husband. I hate him already.
As I replayed the video before bed I realized that I’d crossed over into a new life, a life in which I’m not nearly as concerned about my own success as I am of my kid’s, a life that is consumed with pride in my kids and their achievements instead of my own. It’s happened so gradually over the past eight years that I didn’t even notice. But now I see it – I must become less and they must become more. It’s the way it’s supposed to be.
I’ve seen our parents show this kind of pride in us, they still beam when they come to one of our concerts the way I do when Hutch does something amazing on his bike and I notice others watching. I’d noticed it, but I didn’t understand it like I do now. So this is what that feels like.
Jennifer and the kids are helping her sister Jannell with her garage sale this morning and Sadie is there in that same black tutu trying to stay warm. She hasn’t taken if off since the party on Wednesday night. She argued with us about wearing it until we just caved in and put clothes on her over the ballet suit. Jennifer was there only minutes until she was down to just the tutu again. She has her mother’s will.
May you live fully awake and alive today, Jeromy
SO THIS IS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE is the newest blog series from Jeromy Deibler. To receive all posts and free music please click “subscribe” at www.ffh.net.
Categories: Blog@2:37 pm Hoosier Edition
I was planning to write this letter yesterday, but by the time afternoon came and I was alone I couldn’t muster up the energy to do it. We (FFH) spent this past weekend on tour in Indiana and it was more tiring than normal. The concerts were a lot of fun, but the weekend was grueling. Hutch and Sadie-Claire were with us this time along with the other guys in the band, our tour manager Ally, and my mom, who came to help with the kids. We were nine in all. Jennifer and I decided several years ago to take the kids along with us when we’re going to be gone for more than one night. They usually roll with it pretty well, but for whatever reason, they were more high maintenance this time than in the past. As I type I’m taking long breaks to think about them and what’s made parenting such a labor lately. A couple of my friends are feeling the same way. I guess it’s normal. I’ll brood on these thoughts and then all of a sudden Sadie will come dancing through the kitchen in her ballet outfit twirling like she’s on stage in front of thousands, or I’ll hear Hutch playing quietly in his room pretending to blow something up, and the heaviness will lift and I’ll remember to be thankful. Forgive me Father for loosing perspective.
As I spin the wedding band around on my finger I ponder the road we’ve walked to get here. It doesn’t feel like sixteen years since Jennifer and I were married. So much has happened that we’d have never expected. All of life is like that, that’s probably why Jesus told us to only consider today. Even our best laid plans for tomorrow can be thwarted in a heartbeat, or the absence of one…
Our shows this past Thursday and Friday were promoted by our friend Tom Roberts and his family. We first met them many years ago when we played at his church in Anderson IN. We remember it well because of the bright blue wall-to-wall carpet that blanketed the sanctuary. Tom later moved on from that church and booked us for concerts in other places. This past weekend he was joining FFH with CSI (Christian Services International) to bring awareness to the Bell family and their work with unseen children in Kenya. What most people didn’t know was that Tom and his family we’re dealing with unseen hurt of their own. This past summer, their son Jeff went to bed feeling a little sick and didn’t wake up. His brother discovered him in the morning and the family’s world was turned upside down. Things went from normal to tragic literally overnight. After the concert on Friday I spent a couple of minutes with the Roberts’ listening as they recounted what happened. The hurt was still fresh, still very near the surface. They remembered Jeff with joy though, and told me of miraculous things that happened as a result of Jeff’s passing. I marveled at their sprit and their faith as they laughed and cried at the same time. It’s amazing how joy and sorrow can fill up the same teardrop.
(As I’m getting ready to post and send this letter I receive an email from Tom…)
“Jeromy, I felt you really struggling with the loss of our son, Jeff. Believe me, it was a CRISIS of Faith! I was at a crossroads of Belief. Did I truly believe what God’s Word says? We have had many people come to us and say that they have never seen anyone with a faith as strong as ours going through something like this. This is what I know….it has nothing to do with us. Jesus is carrying us through this time. We would not make it otherwise. Nothing, absolutely nothing, has to do with our strength. Left to ourselves, we would have been a total wreck. One day I was talking with God about this so called strong “Faith”. He just reminded me of the story about Doubting Thomas… Remember this was after the resurrection of Jesus
(John 20:24-2924) Now Thomas, one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. 25 So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” 26 A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” 27 Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” 28 Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!” 29 Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”
So God says to me, these small little trinkets of treasure that I have shown you the last few months to comfort you and to show you just a very small part of how I am using Jeff’s passing for my Glory….remind you of something Thomas? It is the one ………who never sees any fruit……..any sign that He is using a situation for His Glory……and still continues to hold on to the Faith……that is a strong Faith. Pause…………….He was right again as always. Tom
Have a peaceful week, one day at a time-
Jeromy
Categories: Blog@2:26 pm 
One Silent Night Releases Nationwide Oct. 18
(NASHVILLE, Tenn.) Sept. 30, 2011– Best-selling pop group FFH will usher in the holiday season with its first Christmas album. One Silent Night, available Oct. 18, is a mix of original songs and Christmas classics.
Produced by FFH founding member Jeromy Deibler, One Silent Night has been four Read More
