Blog – Page 12 – Jennifer Grashel

A Little Ragamuffin Advent Reading

Welcome to advent, i.e. the season of waiting and preparation leading up to Christmas. It’s a formal observance in some churches, with specific themes for each week. The exact start date varies slightly, as the day of the week on which Christmas falls varies. It always ends December 24 and includes four Sundays.

I have in the past worked my way through an advent devotional book or two. God is in the Manger, a compilation of writings by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, is really good. The one by Nouwen my friend and I tried last year was surprisingly meh. I’m going rogue and swearing them all off this year, though. Right now it feels less like an enjoyable read and more like an obligation and one more crushing weight on top of my overflowing to do list.

Instead, I’m keeping up with my daily devotional, Brennan Manning’s Reflections for Ragamuffins. I choose a different devotional book each year. I suppose I should get around to deciding what 2020’s choice will be. It doesn’t have to be new to me. I might revisit a previous one.

Brother Brennan summed up the advent season in one short paragraph.

Boom. I’m a fan of efficiency. Especially in the midst of the busy, always overfilled with stupid expectations holidays.

“If Jesus is Lord of my life and my Christmas, I am challenged to submit all the priorities of my personal and professional life to this primary fact.” #BrennanManning #Advent #Christmas #Ragamuffin Share on X

I took a slight detour the other day to read Ecclesiastes in The Message translation, dubbed by my advent devotional friend as the groovy version of the scriptures. If you’ve read me for very long, you know I refer to Ecclesiastes as the existential book of the bible. The author repeatedly states that life is meaningless, meaningless … until you get to the last few verses, where he adds that all is meaningless except in light of heaven. I highlighted a few key verses along my journey, and they seem particularly fitting for the advent season.

Maybe the writer of Ecclesiastes was also a fan of efficiency.

While we’re speaking biblically …

On the subject of seven deadly sins, did everyone get their selfie with the giant sloth in Kohl’s during their Black Friday shopping? I’m curious how many of the furry creatures have been sold.

Also seen while shopping. We used to call this pleather, but vegan is all the rage these days.

I’m going to wrap this up so I can go for a walk before the sun sets. Prioritizing self-care is high on my advent to-do list, as it is on all my to-do lists.

Peace of Christ, ragapeeps.

Gratitude

I wasn’t sure I was going to post anything this week. I usually post on Thursdays, and the Thursday that happens tomorrow is Thanksgiving. We’re supposed to spend the day eating and being grateful.

All while plotting our Black Friday strategy, right?

The original plan for today – best laid, no doubt – was to hit the zoolights with friends this evening. My family has in recent years simplified the Thanksgiving holiday by picking up the Bob Evans Feast and reheating it for our midday meal. Our bigger gathering(s) and out of town guests happen in December. So Thanksgiving Eve is free from food prep obligations.

The weather forecast changed today’s activity forecast, however.

I thought I had enough stress and anxiety on several fronts in my life, but wait there’s more!

Whatever weather front is moving through with sustained winds of 25 mph and gusts to 50 or 60 mph has jacked my anxiety level another notch or two. I’m not sure why. Have you experienced anything similar? I’m pretty fearless as a general rule. I paused to ponder why I was so stressed, and I realized the crazy wind really was adding to the problem.

A couple of us with lingering sinus issues said nay to being outside at the zoo and rescheduled our friendsgiving activity for later in the week. Ah relief! I now don’t have to figure out how to catch my breath in extra ugly conditions, plus I have a few extra hours to devote to my to do and want to do lists.

I’m always praying without ceasing, but sometimes I get behind on my devotional reading. This morning I declared a hard stop so I could read two days at once and all of Colossians 3. The Almighty had a message for me. Maybe you’ll get something out of this, too.

I was looking specifically for this passage:

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” ~Colossians 3:23-24

I hate doing shoddy work. (The Message translation uses the word “shoddy” in the next verse.) I have let go of much perfectionism in my life, but I hate not at least striving for excellence. Some of you may be “amening” (amenning?) those statements as they apply to your own life. Others may be listing off reasons why excellence is not possible.

I’ll display some grace and stop short of calling them excuses, but note I said striving for excellence.

We’re not necessarily responsible for outcomes. God is.

Today I am grateful for coffee as I write this, God’s grace, peace, and provision, and the anticipation of large amounts of potatoes tomorrow. For release from a long list of things weighing me down. And for the hope of excellence that follows.

Milky Gray

I cannot get warm today.

It’s in the mid-50s in Ohio, so either I’m getting sick, the planets are misaligned, or I’m anticipating opening weekend of Frozen 2. (I have no plans to see Frozen 2 this weekend, so … dunno.)

I mean, it is overcast and a few sprinkles of rain have fallen.

But still.

I was out for a walk the other day and snapped pics of the sky. If you know me well, you are aware this is not an unusual phenomenon. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of pics of the sky on my phone. The color of the atmosphere struck me that day. What do you call that color???

I contemplated for a few moments and then I had it.

Milky gray.

Which some might say should be my new rap name, but I’d maintain it’s more of an Irish wrestler name.

Shoutout to the ancestors. No idea if any of them were wrestlers.

“It rises at one end of the heavens and makes its circuit to the other; nothing is deprived of its warmth.” ~Psalm 19:6

Surprisingly the next verse doesn’t say, “unless it’s an overcast autumn day in Ohio, then you’ll be deprived of its warmth.

It rises at one end of the heavens and makes its circuit to the other; nothing is deprived of its warmth. ~Ps 19:6 Unless it’s an overcast autumn day in Ohio, then you’ll be deprived of its warmth. Share on X

I’m gonna go drink hot tea and hide under a blanket. Give me a call if you see the sun.

Trust & Let It Go

I want to write something meaningful and profound today, really I do. I started with a quiet, calming instrumental soundtrack in my earbuds, but it was insufficient to drown out what seems to be a b@!%h session occurring at the table next to me in the coffeeshop. Story of my life and certainly a cultural phenomenon as of late.

Oblivious noise invading my personal space, that is.

I have shifted the music to something louder with drums and lyrics.

A couple weeks ago I received some good news. I’m still not sure what to do with it or about it. If anything. Like many things in life, it was an if/then. If x happens as expected, then y. If x stays the same, then y.

If … then … else …

Hey, you’re talking to someone who created a training class to teach engineers how to draw logic diagrams. For all the current conversation about non- binary, I’ve been thinking in 1s and 0s for decades.

Many things aren’t quite so black and white, of course. This particular occurrence felt like a, “See? I told you to trust me,” message straight from the big guy. I guess I’m still struggling to believe it. To trust that x will happen in such a way that y is still the outcome. To discern whether x/y is really the plan.

To, let’s be honest, figure out how to contingency plan to cover myself in the event x/y blows up.

Part of me is chuckling over how good God is.

Another part did a search on “trust” in the NIV and got 170 hits.

Yet a third part is still laughing over the best text message I’ve received in a while. “Let that @#$!?*% go,” sent while I was sitting in I don’t remember now which airport. While they explained they were quoting, the text came from someone who doesn’t use a lot of profanity.

So I let that @#$!?*% go.

Wonder if I should share that advice with the next table.

Maybe not.

In case you were wondering, they’re still going strong.

Humility

“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven , and I will forgive their sin and heal their land.”

~ 2 Chronicles 7:14

A friend called me humble recently. In a public setting. In front of a group of people.

I think I kept a straight face and silenced my internal hysterical, incredulous laughter sufficiently, but there wasn’t a camera on me at the time as far as I know. If you ask me what sin I struggle with most, that’s easy – pride. I don’t think I’m alone in that struggle. It goeth before a fall and is usually regarded as the root of all other sins.

Maybe I’ve made some progress in my efforts to work on that issue? Maybe as I age I know what I’m good at and what I’m not. Maybe it’s that I’m not afraid to fail and I’m not afraid to admit what I know and don’t know. The older you get, the more you realize you don’t know, right?

If you never fail, I’m not sure you’re ever learning anything. There’s a difference between learning and education.

A while back I fled a situation that was feeding my pride and drawing me into prideful environments I wasn’t comfortable around. I knew something about it was weighing on me, I just hadn’t quite put my finger on it or named it. A few years ago at a national conference for missionaries, I listened to a woman who had served in a predominantly Buddhist country. She was speaking about spiritual warfare – a term that in conservative traditions like ours can be regarded as akin to voodoo. In white bread western suburbia, is spiritual warfare even a thing or just a fairy tale? I remember clearly this woman talking about visiting with monks in the local temple every week, after the Sunday church service she attended. They would talk about life and their views and beliefs. The sort of thing one might do as an ex-pat seeking to learn local culture, and the sort of thing one might do as a Buddhist monk showing hospitality to a foreigner. The woman found she was exhausted after every meeting, sleeping for hours and taking a day or two to fully recover her energy. Eventually she recognized there might be a spiritual warfare element and asked her supporters and prayer partners to pray for her. Life got better after that.

I had noticed my energy being sapped more than I would expect. When God woke me up and plucked me out of the situation – precipitated by an act of pride on my part, interestingly – I quickly felt a sense of peace. Blissful quiet. And peace. It was a little scary.

I shared my story with a fellow believer a day or two later. The startled, knowing look on his face told me I was probably on the right path. Thank you, God? Message(s) received.

I’m fond of remarking about the self-help title You Are a Bada** that I’ve been walking past at the bookstore for a while. There seem to be several offshoots so far. It’s becoming the modern, profane Chicken Soup for the Soul. There’s also an accompanying journal, calendar, and – as I learned from a search just now – a set of inspirational posters.

I don’t need to read that book. Duh. I know I am. ~Jennifer Grashel #YouAreAWellYouKnow Share on X

The secret to my success, though?

My God is the bada**.

I seriously feel like I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time. Even when I know what I’m doing.

Chew on that one for a while.

Peace out, girl scouts.

I don’t know, I guess he heard there was birthday cake.

Snow

Ack! I need another bonus day.

Well actually I guess I’m entering the midst of a few bonus days. I was supposed to be off to the Big Apple tomorrow, but now I’m not. A fortuitous occurrence, especially since I always underestimate how much recovery time I need following our annual retreat.

I’m sure I’m still decades from reaching keenager status, however.

Ragamuffin Camp was amazing like usual. Although we intentionally move locations around the country, this time we returned to the YMCA of the Rockies in Estes Park, Colorado, where we met two years ago. A week later than we’ve done in the past, so the weather was, ummmm, interesting. My shuttle van driver left a message the night before my flight to Denver, letting me know we were going to try to depart the airport early due to the snow forecast in Estes Park. I may have immediately texted my ministry partners lobbying for a warmer climate next year.

I arrived in Estes Park with no incident, and a few inches of snow fell overnight. A few inches is really nothing there. When possible, I like to arrive a day before we kick off and stay a day after. We prep like Martha so we can retreat like Mary, leaders included. So I had a few hours before all my little ducklings arrived.

Great speakers, great musicians, great discussion time. I loved seeing small groups form spontaneously to go on adventures during the ample free time we allowed each afternoon. (Something we’ve learned to do, especially in such a beautiful setting like the Rocky Mountains.)

A funny thing happened on the way to the home stretch, though. Alerts about the impending doom of Snowmageddon, i.e. a winter storm warning, started popping up. Friday night we announced the forecast so everyone could make decisions about adjusting travel plans if needed. Up to sixteen or eighteen inches of snow were predicted starting overnight Saturday night and lasting into Monday.

Some did leave early. My partner in crime and I planned to be the last ones standing, even if it meant getting snowed in for days. By the time we dismissed midday Sunday, though, it looked like we probably would still be able to depart as planned on Monday.

And then there were three. We met up with friends in town for lunch, stopped by the general store at the Y for whatever souvenirs we wanted, and then returned to our lodge with plans not to step outside again until morning. We had ample snacks and WiFi. We took long naps. I chatted in the lobby with a family I was surprised to see walk in – the place was, blessedly, quiet and fairly deserted and more and more and more snow fell. We had learned earlier in the day that this was the last night our lodge was open for the season. I guess that says something about how common large amounts of snow are this time of year.

Monday morning we got going in what I heard was fourteen inches of the white stuff. After taking copious amounts of pictures of the beautiful surroundings, of course. One four-wheel-drive led the way with me taking pics from the passenger seat. We seriously said “wow wow wow” around almost every curve. The second car followed as far as Denver before continuing on their way.

The road looked like this pretty much the entire way for nearly two hours.

No man left behind, right?

As for now, I need to head home to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters.

Keep looking up, friends.

Bonus Day

I’m coming at you live this week from a Praise Jesus jury duty was cancelled day. My schedule runneth over, I didn’t really have the time to spare, and my prayers have been answered.

I’ve accomplished a much overdue oil change and rotation of tires on my car. I even accomplished a wee bit of work while waiting. And the important part … I dropped off a couple things at my storage unit and picked up my winter boots.

Like usual, the weather in Ohio can’t make up its mind, so I find myself needing warmer attire. Mostly it’s that in less than a week I’ll be at eight thousand feet in Colorado, where it has snowed already this season. No, I don’t ski. My doctor would have a giant cow over that one. “You know, broken limbs can be very serious for you.”

Well actually I’m quoting his sermon on poison ivy, but one can extrapolate.

The older I get, the more I understand why people retire to the South. I foresee being at least a snowbird. I feel the cold deep within my bones. It’s not a good feeling. I feel like I probably should be telling someone to get off my lawn, too, with all the complaining, so moving on …

I think the design is supposed to be snowflakes. Perhaps abstract snowflakes.

I’m experiencing attacks of the enemy this week. Nothing unusual or creative of him, just things that make me roll my eyes. Way, way, way back up in my head. It’s a good thing I’m sitting while writing this. Otherwise my eyes might keep on going, and I might topple right over. And, you know, break a limb or something.

When I try to be a morning person and forget hairspray … frizz happens.

I think I’ll keep it short this week. I need to continue channeling my inner Martha so I can channel my inner Mary at the appointed time.

Channel your inner Martha so you can channel your inner Mary at the appointed time. Share on X

Keep looking up.

My Brain is Full

I reached a point earlier this week where my brain just ceased to work.

I am, as a general rule, what they call a high capacity person. High potential or highly competitive in corporate speak.

Perhaps it’s a sign of dementia and senility, but more than likely it’s middle aged overload and a desperate need to unplug for a bit. I had recovered physically from an intense week of travel, although admittedly fall allergies are kicking my behind.

If you’re a parent or aunt/uncle or hang around kids much at all, let me give you a tip. I have the best conversations with kids sometimes. Case in point, the joke telling that started with me sharing this one …

Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?

A: To get to the other side.

Q: Why did the turtle cross the road?

A: It was stapled to the chicken.

… turned into a series of poop jokes made up by a five-year-old.

Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?

A: It fell in a candy bag.

Q: Why did the rhinoceros cross the road?

A: It fell in a candy bag, got pooped on by a bird, then fell in the pool.

It ended up lengthening to six or eight steps per joke, always with an animal being pooped on by a bird or even five hundred million birds and occasionally catching on fire.

#hazardouswaste

#noonecalloshaortheepa

#purecomedygenius

Sometimes an eight-year-old tells you their original stories about Pokemon characters for the entire two hour drive home from Granny’s house.

In both those cases I didn’t cut things off. But if you ever reach your limit … where even a great capacity for love and patience is starting to run out … or you’re becoming too distracted from driving or the task at hand … or – gasp – if it’s bedtime, here is what you say.

Aunt Jenn’s ears are full. #parenting #parentingtips Share on X

Mommy’s ears are full.

Daddy’s ears are full.

You may have to actually add that this means we need to stop talking for a bit, especially the first time you use it.

You may be asked approximately two minutes later if your ears are still full.

But it’s a powerful, powerful phrase. Hat tip to my sister for sharing it with me years ago.

As of this week, Jenn’s brain is full.

I’ve been attempting to plow through a book I promised to review. I love it – I read an earlier draft months ago – and it’s actually a quick read. I finished it last night, but as of about Tuesday this week, I just couldn’t do it. There are five hundred productive things I could and probably should be doing – reading, writing, editing, spreadsheeting, phone calling, organizing, cleaning, fall decorating. But meh, Jenn’s brain is full, reboot required.

For now, let’s just keep looking up.

Not so much up, but … are they having a bonfire or are they just trying to be clever?

I’ve been doing this long enough I don’t need much extra brain capacity at least. Just need a few minutes to build some muscle memory.

California Dreaming

Are you singing it with me? I had to learn that song on the Hammond organ as a child.

#JennIsSoCool

The leaves aren’t brown with a gray sky quite yet, but the oppressive 90 deg F temperatures I returned to in Ohio are predicted to go bye-bye after today. Praise Jesus. And no, I don’t like pumpkin spice lattes. I love me some cinnamon and nutmeg, but you can keep your sugar water.

I do occasionally try a pumpkin spice thing. There was a Greek yogurt recently that was pretty good. And I need to see if the grocery is stocking pumpkin gnocchi again. Delicious with sautéed onion, zucchini, and a basic white sauce with a dash of nutmeg.

Em, we can make a roux!

Last week was a wild one on the movie set. Circa 1200 Assisi, Italy was reconstructed in my buddy’s backyard. Why? Because we can.

I worked long hours, didn’t get much sleep, and the schedule changed. Exactly as expected.

New friendships were made and I learned lots.

I nearly passed out from the one day of 90 deg temps. I was drinking lots of water, but can you really drink enough in those conditions? I learned to snack more often and had Sbux throw a banana in my order every day.

New inside jokes were created.

This guy was always ready with a dad joke.

My feet got spray painted.

I got to use my just-enough-to-be-dangerous knowledge of Latin.

The funny thing is … I did a Google image search as instructed for an example of what to copy. I kept saying, “I think this is Genesis, I’m not sure.” I understood just enough of what I was writing to catch the occasional, “And God said,” or something about light. Several days later I went back to the webpage I bookmarked. It says “Genesis” at the top.

I may be able to translate Latin in the middle of the night, but don’t expect me to notice the obvious, I guess.

I added new music to my phone.

Folk/Americana awesomeness that you want to download.

I visited the beach three times. Because what do you do when wrapping for the day (night?) at 7:30am when you’ve been there since 4pm? You stop for coffee and then go sleep a couple hours on the sand.

The Elvira stripe has since been addressed by my hairdresser.

I got to bring home avocados.

By the time all was said and done, I helped with sound … set design (arts & crafts time, just my speed) … random errands … and slate. Slate as in the person with the clapboard who says, “Scene blah, take whatever.” Look for Super Slate Girl in the outtakes.

For now it’s onward to Ragamuffin Camp planning … pre-production for the next phase of the St. Francis movie (oh wait, there’s more!) … adjusting to re-entry from a mountaintop experience … and attempting to catch up on sleep. Am I on Eastern time? Pacific time? I have no idea. Pass the coffee.

Ragamuffin & Beyond

My next two travel excursions are Rich Mullins’ fault.

For that matter, so was last weekend’s day trip.

I drove to see a girl in Frozen Jr. who, in terms of acting and singing ability, aged about ten years in the couple of months since her last performance. I probably would never have met her and her dad if not for the movie Ragamuffin made about Rich’s life. Unbeknownst to us until two-and-a-half years later … her dad and I were in the same screening of the movie in a church basement in Columbus, Ohio on a random Monday morning in 2014. We think I was sitting directly behind him.

Let me fill in the details.

I never met Rich Mullins, but growing up playing piano and organ in church, I was aware of his music. Yes, that’s right kids, I am a trained church organist. Witness my coolness factor rise several notches and/or make your own joke. Anyway, if you ever set foot inside a church, especially in the 80s or 90s, you may have sung songs like Awesome God or Step by Step. After seeing the movie, I attended a Ragamuffin Retreat a few months later and, as they say, the rest is history.

Next week we start shooting the third movie in the series, this time about St. Francis of Assisi. Perhaps everyone’s favorite Catholic saint, but we like him because he was good at pointing people to Christ. Period.

How can you help? Pray for us. We are not okay. Although in many ways we have never been more okay. I’ve said that if you don’t have haters and trolls, you probably aren’t doing anything of importance. Likewise, the enemy likes to derail kingdom work … discouragement … distraction … logistical snafus … the aforementioned trolls who feel they have a scriptural and righteous obligation to jump down one’s throat over a difference in theology. Some discuss differences lovingly (or, shockingly, face to face or privately), some blessed souls do not.

We can use lots and lots of prayer.

You can also help financially. Our nonprofit is crowdfunding St. Frank, with any proceeds going toward mission work on the Pine Ridge Reservation. I sometimes say there is an emphasis on the non in nonprofit. Indie filmmaking in the faith-based space, although rewarding in its own way, is not as glamorous or lucrative as some might think. But we are, to invoke a giant Christianese cliché, stepping out on faith and starting this thing.

Want to be more involved? We don’t know for sure, but we think we’ll probably do a tour of churches like we did with Ragamuffin and Brennan. I say tour of churches meaning churches, colleges, bars, coffeeshops, prisons, and pretty much anyone who will have us. In the past we have sold low-cost tickets and offered discounted buyout deals to venues who preferred not to deal with ticketing. (We do pair those with a no-cost outreach opportunity when we can.) Stay tuned to the Ragamuffin TV Facebook page for announcements when we’re ready to book the tour, and drop us a line at info@colorgreenfilms.com if you know for sure you’re interested in hosting.

Want to hang with us in person? Come to Ragamuffin Camp! The writer/director of all three movies is one of the featured speakers. Register here and book your lodging here . (We’ll meet in the Wind River Lodge.) That’s how I got involved in this crazy ministry. I watched a movie and I went to a retreat.

Yes, the elk freely roam the grounds. This low-res pic was a drive-by snap.

Speaking of movies, Ragamuffin is free to stream for the next week, in honor of Rich Mullins’ homecoming twenty-two years ago today. Go watch it now. I need to get busy packing a suitcase.