Still standing.
We have breath in our lungs: still standing. We have people who love us: still standing. We have a God who spends all His hours making broken things whole again: still standing. We are smart and resilient and so very funny and capable, and the days ahead of us stretch unwritten, unsullied, untarnished: still standing. That’s our moxie. We have everything we need.
Sure, these are some of my stories, but really, they are all our stories. They encompass big dreams and home and Jesus and motherhood and childhood memories and husbands and our own parents and church and struggle and triumph. These are ours. And I want you to know I hold your versions with tender hands—in the ways they are similar to mine and in the ways they are polar opposite. Some of you didn’t have healthy parents, and the love note to mine was painful to read. I hold that space for you with great affection. Some of you aren’t married or you’re divorced, and the husband and wife parts in here felt distant or raw. Listen, you may not be a wife, but we are still sisters. I’d previously titled one of the essays “Hiding in the Car Eating Crackers” since sometimes moms can be found doing such scandalous things, and my editor Jessica, who doesn’t have children, wrote back: “I’ve never in my life hidden in the car eating crackers. I don’t even get this.” I howled. Mom Life is so weird.
You have some gorgeous and difficult variations, and this is what makes us stronger together. You are vibrant in areas where I’m weak, and you bring a perspective to the table that the rest of us absolutely cannot live without. You offer depth and nuance and perception to every conversation we share, and the tribe is immeasurably better for it. I am immeasurably better for it. I’ve learned so much from you. You are precious to me, and I count you among my life’s greatest treasure. I sincerely mean that.
So let’s go forth, Moxie Ladies. We have a world to love and a sisterhood to expand, and we’re just the girls for the job.
FOREVER YOUR FANGIRL,
Jen
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to thank my readers first. I cannot imagine a more loyal, loving, hilarious community of (mostly) women. We have been through so much together, and I envision your faces with every word I write. This is for you, all of it, because I love you sincerely. Thank you for being so good to me. My only mission is to serve you well.
Launch Team: you are, as you know, my people. From a ragtag group of strangers pulled together to launch For the Love in January 2015 to what I can only describe as our own little church, my devotion is absolute and forever. Our FTL babies, parties, meet-ups, trips, groups, merch, that time we bought one of our own a car, that time we helped send one of our own to college, . . . you are every good thing. You have all the mess and all the moxie and I adore you. You’ve convinced me the community I’ve always dreamed of is possible.
My team at Thomas Nelson means more to me than I can figure out how to say. Brian Hampton, Jeff James, Karen Jackson, Tiffany Sawyer, Aryn VanDyke, Janene MacIvor, Heather Skelton, my editor Jessica Wong—your belief in me, the way you let me be me, absorbing my suggestion that the cover design include a pin-up girl without laughing in my face, our many, many hours around the table and on twilight cruise—you are my publishing home where I feel safe, loved, and welcomed. And Jessica, this book is so different from the first version I sent you, because you are a brilliant, persnickety, obsessive editor. You made it so much better. SO MUCH. My readers should send you flowers. Thank you. I love you, Team.
All my love and loyalty to Heather Adams, Beth Gebhard, and Kerry Gardner of Choice Media and Communications. For two projects in a row, plus all the in-between, you’ve gone well beyond the call of duty as smart, savvy publicists. Well beyond. You are sisters, collaborators, cheerleaders, and travel partners, including that time we took an “Uber” on a snowy day in New York City, and it was just some random guy driving a Camaro. Good times, girls. Love you dearly.
I cannot possibly, remotely imagine where I would be without my agent, Curtis Yates, and his wife and my favorite reader, Karen (love you forever for the gecko with mouth rot story), and our partner in crime, Mike Salisbury. Someone recently spoke about our relationship and said something about “just business” and I about came undone. You are far more than “just business” partners. Curtis, you are like the most overprotective brother a girl could ever want, and I love you for it. Thank you for the years you’ve guided and stood beside me. I am the most grateful girl. You are so important to me.
To my assistant, Amanda Duckett, I cannot even think of my life without you. Nothing would be done, e-mailed, edited, composed, booked, confirmed, scanned, considered, developed, or accomplished. You and I both know this is true. Your ability to work with an impulsive, unorganized, Big Idea Girl without losing your mind will surely get you straight into heaven. Your ability to speak for me, predict what I need, and communicate on my behalf is so uncanny, it is as if we share the same brain (except yours is organized and systematic and does all the real thinking). I love you, sister.
This is the first book in which I included a few stories about my first family, the one I grew up in. Mom, Dad, Lindsay, Cortney, and Drew: the best, the funniest, the loudest, the tightest, the most obnoxious, the most protective, and the most amazing. You are my safest place, the people I always want, always reach for. We were overloved and overvalued and we don’t even care. Just think: one day we’ll inherit Grandma’s mink, and God willing, the red horse trailer that refuses to go down without a fight. I love you. Our family is what family should feel like.
I can’t not create line space on this page for my A.S.S.S. sisters (don’t ask). Girls, everything. That is what we’ve been through and shared. Everything. Every single thing. Your voices of love and hilarity are constantly in my ears (literally), and I love you so much, I could just freak out. You are true sisters, and I trust you and adore you and need you and would take a bullet for you.