Taking the Leap

What does obedience look like when clarity hasn’t arrived yet?

Love,

Yesterday was a bit disappointing and honestly pretty exhausting for us. I’m feeling worn down by everything that’s been happening, but still holding onto hope. I hope things are going more smoothly on your end.

We tried to do the maternity test, but they weren’t able to go through with it because I don’t have any identification for the boys. But to get any of those, I first need the maternity test to correct the birth certificates. So we’re kind of stuck in a bit of a chicken-and-egg situation right now.

The Lord has been leading me to stay quiet and trust Him to work things out, so I haven’t been sharing much with the Georgia police or the FBI. But I did reach out to them about this situation, and I’m praying they’ll be able to help us get everything straightened out.

My mom and I were talking on the drive, and she mentioned The Joy Luck Club. I’ve never read it, but she said it reminded her that there’s always more to someone’s story if we’re willing to really listen. A lot of the time, misunderstandings come from things left unsaid. But when we’re honest and push past the shame, that’s when real healing can start to happen.

While we were talking, the Lord was bringing to mind how deeply the emotional and physical are connected. I have a few more thoughts about it to share, but I want to take some time to process them first. I was also reminded of a book I started last fall called Feelings Buried Alive Never Die. It’s really insightful, and I thought you might find it interesting too.

We ended up talking about the Enneagram as well. I have kind of mixed feelings about personality tests. They’re great for noticing patterns or areas where we can grow, but if we focus on them too much, I believe they can start to limit how we see ourselves and what we believe we’re capable of.

When I took it in college, I was a 9 with an 8 wing. My mom said that combination tends to be like a quiet teddy bear until provoked, which made me laugh. She also mentioned how nines often accommodate others to keep the peace until they realize their voice matters. Once that happens, it can shake up relationships a bit. It forces people to adjust with you, and not everyone will.

It makes sense, since I’m an INFP. I tend to be peaceful and reflective, always trying to see where people are coming from. But when something feels really wrong, that quiet side disappears, and I won’t stay silent.

She also shared how a lot of these things tend to surface once you become a parent. It’s not just about you anymore. It’s about your children. Your perspective shifts, and you start to see things differently, questioning some of the behavior that was accepted in the past. I used to let people take advantage of my kindness, but motherhood brought out a different kind of strength in me. Because when it comes to my children, protecting them comes before everything else. If anyone were to threaten their safety (physically, emotionally, or spiritually), I’d do whatever it takes to protect them. I can’t remain in an environment that could harm or limit them in any way. And in learning to stand up for them, I’ve realized I’m also learning to stand up for myself.

On the drive there, I called my grandma (my mom’s mom) to thank her for a gift she recently sent me. She’s so sweet, and I always love getting to talk with her. It’s hard to believe she’s ninety-four. She’s doing so well, and in so many ways, she hasn’t really changed at all. My mom and sister are going to visit her at the end of the month, and I’ll admit I’m a little jealous. I haven’t had the chance to see her yet, and I really want to before it’s too late.

This might be a bit of a tangent, but I wanted to share it. My grandma still lives alone, and we were talking about what things might look like for her down the road. My mom mentioned a few people we know who moved into nursing homes and passed away shortly after (within a year or so). Hearing that really made me sad. I started thinking about how hard that kind of transition can be, with all the change, the loss of what’s familiar, and the loneliness that can sometimes come with it.

I’ve always been very sensitive to other people’s emotions, and I couldn’t help but picture what it might feel like to be in that kind of environment. I can imagine it being hard surrounded by so many who may be struggling with anxiety, fear, or loss. It just feels like there has to be a better way. And I don’t think we do a great job of caring for our elders, especially here in America.

Over the past few months, I’ve noticed how much support and encouragement I’ve received from older people. They just seem to carry a certain kindness, humility, and sincerity that’s rare these days. They’ve lived enough life to know what really matters, and there’s so much we can learn from them. I truly believe we need to take better care of them and value their wisdom while we still can. I’m actually getting emotional as I write this, because I really sense that this matters deeply to God, and it’s something we need to address.

We ran into one of my mom’s friends on the ferry, and she started sharing a bit of her story with me. She also told me about her daughter-in-law’s ministry and her son’s blog. They sound like such a wonderful couple with a really beautiful love story. I think you’d enjoy reading it.

Reflecting on all of this has reminded me how important honesty and clarity are, and I feel I need to be honest with you about a few things. The way things have unfolded has made me really uncomfortable. There have been many times I wanted to stop writing altogether. But I’m doing my best to stay obedient to what I feel the Lord is asking of me, even when it’s difficult, and to trust that He has a purpose in all of this.

But at this point, I don’t know if I can trust you. And I’m not even sure what’s meant to be anymore after the way you’ve treated me. When you mocked me in front of everyone, I tried to forgive and move on, but it still hurts that you haven’t cared enough to acknowledge it or make things right. That’s been difficult to understand, and it’s left me questioning a lot. I’ve come to recognize that humiliation opens the door to witchcraft, and I’m no longer willing to accept that toward myself or anyone else.

Since then, God has instructed me to stay away from your community. I also feel led to say that if anyone is using my name or pretending to be me in any way, I urge them to stop immediately and seek forgiveness. God has seen everything, and He will not stay silent. His justice will come, but so will His mercy for those who repent. I’m trusting that God will bring everything hidden into the light and use all of this for good.

I’m not sure what’s been happening, but I want you to know that the original emails I sent you and what I’ve written here are truly from me. Anything else is not. If anyone has said or done something to you while pretending to be me, and it caused you pain or humiliation, I’m so deeply sorry. I truly hope you can forgive me. I never wanted you to be hurt, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure it never happens again.

I don’t often talk about the things that have happened to me in the past. It’s not because I’m ashamed or don’t want people to know. I’ve simply reached a place where I want to focus on moving forward. But I sense God leading me to share a few things with you.

When I misbehaved, the threat was sometimes that my head would be shaved. But it got to the point where I wanted to shave it myself, because at least then I wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of having my hair pulled or being dragged by it. My hair ended up so damaged that when I went to a hairdresser in Alaska, she thought I’d had cancer. She was so kind and helped me start growing it out again.

I had to keep my camera off for work most of the time (sometimes even for weeks) because I didn’t want my coworkers to see the bruises I couldn’t hide with makeup. Or I didn’t want them to see the emotional toll after being verbally or physically hurt right before a meeting.

All of my communication was monitored, and any messages I sent had to be approved first. If I said too much or gave the wrong impression, I’d be beaten. We had a weekly design team meeting where everyone shared personal things to get to know each other, but I always felt so awkward and uncomfortable because I knew he didn’t want me to share anything personal. I never knew what to say. And if I accidentally mentioned something I knew he wouldn’t approve of, I would just pray he wouldn’t notice or ask to listen to the recording.

I’m really ashamed of the way I allowed him to treat my coworkers through my emails and Slack messages, especially during my pregnancy and around the time of my maternity leave. It created so much confusion and unnecessary conflict, and I still regret that.

I told him so many times that I couldn’t keep up with everything, but leaving my job wasn’t an option. When they finally let me go, I was honestly relieved. I had a two-week-old baby, our dog had just passed away, and it was the end of the semester, so I was trying to keep up with papers, projects, and tests. I just couldn’t do it all anymore. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted, and I knew they deserved someone who was in a better place to be a good teammate.

Thinking about all of this reminded me of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and the six pillars of lifestyle medicine that I learned about while studying for one of his Harvard Extension School courses. It made me realize how difficult it is to thrive or even think clearly when your basic needs for safety, rest, and stability aren’t being met. Those concepts feel a lot more real now that I’ve actually been through a season of just trying to survive.

I could go on and on about my side of the story and how things might not be what they seem, but I’m just so tired of it all. I’m exhausted of feeling like I’m not enough or that I have to keep proving my worth. And as much as I love you, I can’t keep doing that anymore. It just leaves me feeling empty and unwanted, like I’ll never be enough.

I was drinking coffee out of a mug from Nepal today. (Sadly, not my favorite. That one’s still at our house in Nashville, and I’m not sure I’ll ever see it again.) But as I held this one, it reminded me of The Last Resort. There comes a time when you just have to trust and take the leap.

I understand if my story or my past feels like too much. I really do. But I can’t keep doing this anymore. At this point, I think you know enough to decide if you want to be with me or not. I want to be with someone who chooses me freely and wholeheartedly. And if you’re still unsure, then I don’t think this is right, and I think it’s best we go our separate ways. I want to be someone’s first choice without hesitation, and I’m willing to wait for that. And from where I stand, it seems like it’s time for me to move on.

No matter what happens, I’m truly grateful for all the love and support you’ve given me through this season. I’ll never forget how God used you to help me break free. Your obedience saved my life and gave my boys a new beginning. And you’ll always have a special place in my heart because of that.

I started writing a letter a couple of months ago that I’ve been holding on to. I’ve been hesitant to share it because it includes some serious things, but I feel the Lord prompting me that now is the right time. I’m planning to make a few final edits and share it soon, as He leads.

I’m also exploring some other creative projects and might pause my writing for a bit. I’m asking the Lord for direction and trying to take each day as it comes. He’s been reminding me to listen for His voice and trust His timing in everything.

Praying that God gives you all the desires of your heart and blesses you abundantly — you, your family, and everything He has planned for your life.

All my love, Jeanie

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” — Proverbs 3:5-6