I’m not claiming to speak without a southern drawl, or to be the next Beth Moore, but God has put a fire in my heart for the hearts of women and men, and I cannot stay silent. I would love the opportunity to speak to your women and men, inviting them deeper into the heart of the Father. I am passionate about these topics in the light of the Gospel:
Adoption, Embracing Suffering, Grace in the Waiting, Finding Intimacy with the Father, Overcoming Lies, Nothing is Wasted.
Trying to conceive? Grab my book!
Partnering With Heaven is a 28 Day Devotional for Women Trying to Conceive.
This book was birthed from my journal in a season where I partnered with heaven over my fertility. The book is written for women who are trying to conceive but it’s really all about intercession. Listening to the Great Intercessor Himself, and agreeing with every word He says.
The vision of our ministry is to connect women on the broken road of motherhood to healing and wholeness, but the heartbeat of our ministry is to raise up women who understand their identity as a daughter, and good daughters make really good mothers.
Essentially, God has called The Garden to a movement of motherhood.
Jessica has been wrecked by the love of a beautiful Father. She has known the intimacy of Papa God in the midst of the heartbreak of abuse, infertility, and child loss. Because she’s known Him in the fellowship of His sufferings, she’s also known Him in the power of His resurrection. She writes on her popular blog, Grace While We Wait, and is the author of, Partnering With Heaven, her first book. She is the founder of a ministry called The Garden, that connects women on the broken road to motherhood to the Healer. Wife to her life-crush, Brandon, and mama to four (one who now lives with Jesus) through the miracle of adoption and a miracle in her womb. Her days aren’t busy, but rather, full, the very best kind. You can find her curled up on the couch with good coffee and her family or speaking to groups of women all over the nation. Both are amazing, but home is where her heart is.
My children are adopted and I will be an advocate for the orphan as long as I have breath in my lungs. But adopting my children has etched in my heart the process of the Father adopting me. Living in that sonship, and knowing we belong to Him, changes everything. When our identity is secure in Him, we are able to live life freely.
My story is a broken one. A thread of suffering can be found throughout my pages. From a little girl to now a mother, suffering has been my greatest blessing. It’s in that suffering I have found intimacy with the Father. He has taken my ashes and made them beautiful. When we’re in the middle of suffering it’s often hard to see the end. Embracing suffering, being able to lament, and shine in the middle of pain is beautiful to the Father. Others are then able to see His glory on display in the darkest days of our lives.
grace in the waiting
Sometimes God doesn’t answer our prayers the way we think He should. Learning to rest in grace and leaning into Him in the waiting shapes our hearts for what He has prepared. Grace in the waiting forces us to surrender our desires and trust a faithful Father.
finding intimacy with the father
I have walked with the Lord for many years. I met Him when I was five. However, it wasn’t until I walked through a season of infertility and watched a family member become an addict until I really experienced true intimacy with Father. I had seen Him in black and white my whole life, but when I was at the end of myself and desperate for more of Him, I experienced Him in beautiful color. He is waiting, pursuing, inviting us to step in closer and listen to the sound of His heart beating for us. I keep finding more of Him there, nestled up close to His heart. And His heart longs for other sisters to find Him there too.
The garden of our hearts can subtly become full of weeds during our wait. It’s easy to believe lies about ourselves, our stories, and even lies about God. But the Father wants to renew our minds and change our thinking. He’s unveiling our eyes to see the lies we have believed, and calling us to uproot them. In place, He’s planting seeds of truth, making our hearts bloom with beauty.
nothing is wasted
Mary of Bethany lived a life poured out at the feet of Jesus. She didn’t hold an ounce of her love back or care what those around her thought, she just knew she had to get to Him, her Love. The one time she thought He showed up late, He met her in the middle of her disappointment and displayed her miracle for all the world to see. I often find myself standing beside a grave disappointed and heart sore that He hasn’t yet shown up. But every time, He meets me there. I nestle my head in His chest and His hot tears of compassion fall on my face. He grabs my hand and together we walk to the grave. I get a front row seat of watching Him raise the dead back to life. Nothing from Mary’s story was wasted and friend, nothing is wasted in ours either.
I kept thinking if I waited a little longer, I might have more words. But I’ve learned over the years, that most of the time, words don’t come (at least the right ones) until my fingers hit these keys. One of our pastors said on Sunday, “Vulnerability always comes...
Before we get started here, let me be clear about something…I am no home blogger. I just know how to string some words together sometimes. So warning: before you continue, please understand I cleaned up my room AND made our bed for these photos. And if you look real...
“What is it like adopting an older child? Should we break birth order? Do you have any words of wisdom for bringing an older child into our home?...
I was seven days late.
It’s only happened twice in my life. The other time was three years ago. The week before our foster son came home.
I woke up every morning, believing the “in due time” had finally come. That after all of these years, it was our turn. I was certainly going to see my belly start swelling in the next few weeks. I had calculated the due date and thought through every way I would tell my husband, family, and dear friends. I had imagined the look on their faces, like the ones standing around Lazarus’s grave.
Even after all the hoping and all the disappointment, I knew this new season our family has stepped in, has looked so different from the old ones. He’s doing a new thing in us, something He’s never done before. And hope never puts us to shame (Romans 5:5), so I wasn’t afraid to hope. Because my hope isn’t in a miracle, it’s a person, my Jesus.
This was the third test I took that week. All the other ones said the same results. But I wasn’t going to believe it wasn’t true, until I knew. And I knew on day eight.
Right before we looked at the test, Brandon said to me, “You know this doesn’t change a word out of God’s mouth about this.” And I knew that. Still do.
I glanced in the mirror one night when I was putting by children to bed and suddenly remembered that I didn’t grow them in my belly when I saw our reflection staring back at us. It might sound weird that I forget that my children are adopted, but I do.
Because to me, they’re just my children.
Our stories, they both started with brokenness.
Mine looked like month after month, year after year of negative pregnancy tests. It’s all I ever wanted to be, a mama. So when doctors and my flat belly told me it wouldn’t happen, it was a deep pain, probably the deepest of my life. It wasn’t suppose to be this way. My body is designed to conceive and carry babies.
I don’t like to think of your story as painful. It tears my heart in half to think of you being in pain. But the truth is, in a perfect world, before the fall, God intended mommies to carry their babies. Your birth mama, she loved you so deep, she knew she couldn’t give you what you needed. So she made a brave choice, and chose life for you, a life she couldn’t give.
But often, you get the last of me.
I remember you picking me up for our first date. I spent a whole hour getting ready for you. Making sure every hair was in place and my make-up was perfect. When you see me now, at the end of the day, the make-up that is left on my face is smeared. My hair is more than likely in a pony tail or some rat’s nest on the top of my head. And my outfit, 100% has someone’s bodily fluids smeared somewhere.
But there were days when we would lay in bed and binge watch Netflix. They were my favorite. The thought of being with you for the whole weekend, got me through the week. We’d run down the street to our favorite Mexican place, eat until we were stuffed, grab some ice cream, and watch Chuck until we fell asleep. We’d laugh until we cried. And we wouldn’t wake up the next morning until we felt like it.
Remember all those Saturday’s we’d hop in the car and drive? Anywhere. Or we’d call up a few friends and ask them to meet us downtown in like thirty minutes? We didn’t have to be home at a certain time. If we stayed out late, it was fine because we could take a nap the next day. We went on lots of adventures, didn’t we?
And you got all of me. The very best parts.
You do hard things. You stand in the gap for little ones in the hardest days of their lives. You're the middle mom, filling the space between...
A Few of My
This book was birthed from my journal in a season where I partnered with heaven over my fertility. The book is written for women who are trying to conceive but it’s really all about intercession.
There’s nothing special to see here, just imperfection and brokenness. I’m a person just like you. What I hope you’ll find though, is through the pages of my story, you’ll find hope for yours.