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jesselaine.jolley

It’s officially rainy season in 🇰🇪 😬😅 Luckily this is our office on our compound and not our house! 💦💧🌊

The privilege is not lost on me Merely for the lig

The privilege is not lost on me
Merely for the lightness of my skin; The ease of my passport; The accessibility of my language; The gift of a family, whole
The me, a minority in this foreign land
A minority here that is but wished upon rather than judgmentally whispered about

It's not lost on the me who has seen where privilege is so lacking
Where tired feet walk
And poverty encompasses
The ones whose governments, circumstances, or philosophies show their hand of unreliability
Proving their darkened, hopeless thoughts—
‘You see? No one to count on but yourself. Find your own way.’

This is not all there is! my heart longs to scream
There is more than this hopelessness you too often feel
More than empty plates, empty hopes, empty religions
Or the magnitude of emotions felt down somewhere deep, from hurts and brokenness imposed by circumstances of no fault of their own

But all they see are my rosy, white cheeks resting easy atop plush pillows
A life so different from their own
'She doesn't understand,' they surely must think
And they're right
How could I?
*
But then enters a different privilege...

(Continued on Substack post. See link in bio)

FOUR. You teach me that time is fleeting, wildly

FOUR.

You teach me that time is fleeting, wildly unfurling as days stretch on and stretch me with them. A continuous, needed undoing of what I thought life should look like into all that it actually could be.

You teach me to pause — Come play with me. Come build train tracks. Come look at this, mommy. Come be with me.

You teach me to enjoy life, to wake up ready, to see creation and really notice.

You love and live big, keeping us always on our toes in both exhaustion and joy. You are light, fun, adventure, curiosity, cuddles.

I love you more than you know, my sweet boy. Happy birthday, once again one week later 🤪

There are blessings everywhere, if we but have the

Celebrating people’s big life moments is an impo

Celebrating people’s big life moments is an important value to our family, so we came Stateside yet again this year to be present for our teammates getting hitched. And of course we threw in all sorts of craziness before and after (I mean, we took over 100,000 steps and walked almost 50 miles in one single week. Disney is no joke, y’all!), but we wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. Not even the heart-wrenching goodbye parts.

To be honest, missionaries don’t often share about their times of fun for fear of others’ perceptions, opinions, and all sorts of other unfortunate but true-to-reality reasons. So a video of our week at Disney World is a bit risky! But I just can’t help myself—it was a gift far too magical to not forever have on this little space 🥰🥹💥

I don’t say this for pity, but serving cross-culturally—the constant goodbyes, the pitiful sobs from my 5-year-old as we give one last hug to her grandparents at the airport, myself silently wiping away my own tears, the wanting to be in two different worlds at once (my dream of a superpower will always be teleportation 🦸🏼‍♀️), the never fully belonging anywhere anymore, the navigating customs different from our own—it can often wear on us. Even just this week I’m missing my Aunt TJ’s funeral and not being there for my family. We will continue to give the Lord our yes for as long as he has us here, but our yes in no way makes life easy. Jesus simply makes all the hard worth it.

So we cherish months like this of actual, physical hugs and conversations apart from broken-up FaceTime calls even more deeply because we recognize they’re such a rarity… even if our hearts rip wide open after it’s over and we get on long flights back across the ocean.

But now, it’s good to be back in our nyumbani. Our home.

Hard, but still good ❤️🇰🇪

💫 Stealing back the already -as we await the n

💫 Stealing back the already
-as we await the not yet-

I want to steal the time
To take a breath and take it all in
This gift of a life
That I get to live

Otherwise it seems
Time will keep passing
Hurriedly crashing by, soundless
Day by day, without a warning that it has come and gone, already
Where I've been too distracted to even notice
The beauty, or at least flickers, of the earth's Creator in each moment

Let me slow down, stop right here and—
⠀⠀⠀Steal a kiss
⠀⠀⠀Steal a smile
⠀⠀⠀Steal a minute
Before it all slips through my busied fingers

Though Christ has the ultimate victory,
There is an enemy lurking
A deceitful beckoning into the less thans

But we point to the manger, the tree, the empty tomb, the identity in which we now hold
For our Savior entered the broken world
And allowed the breaking of his own body
So that we can now enter and take back
What is his... and ours... in him alone
A king who let himself die for humanity that groans deep for this knowledge
this love

This life filled with a giving and taking away
Can I all but yet say:
I will find my joy in him alone
While awaiting his perfected, never-ending eternity
Where our joy will be made complete

And though Hope lies ultimately there
It steals back time here, too
If we but steal the moments to notice
Where that Hope is at work

I could linger at what is not
Stuck in the hurt, the mayhem, the sharp stings of a world tainted
Or I could ask for eyes open to his redeeming fingerprints
Grieving where he grieves
But still also stepping into the trodden dust of life
Leaving a glimmer of his heart in it all
For he who is in us is greater than
he who is in the world

So I join with my humbled Lord come down
In partnership of his 'on earth as it is in heaven'
Where the
⠀⠀⠀stealing of a kiss
⠀⠀⠀stealing of a smile
⠀⠀⠀stealing of a minute
Is stealing back the truth of our Father's goodness
And infusing it into this glorious and messy earthside season
Until the perfected time to come
Where we will spend an eternal forever
With perfection himself
//

Subscribe to my Substack Entrusted With Grace to read the full post & other similar musings ❤️ Link in bio

Sometimes I... ...correct with strained patience

Sometimes I...

...correct with strained patience, over and over
But sibling screams reverberate through the house and I
‘Hold it in, hold it in, hold it—‘
Explosives release from my mouth,
Spewing over my fellow sinful but precious image bearers

...wrap my boxing gloves tight
Ready to deal my other half his next verbal blow
In this unfruitful attempt to be—understood? right? justified for my selfishness?
‘But you never...’ I claim
I forget all the good and focus only on his imperfect humanity
Criticisms flowing with every new, stinging punch toward the one I cherish most in the world
…
**

But also, sometimes I...

...lay down my to-do list, steeling myself to the moment with my family
Belly laughter echoes through the hall as we “settle down” for the evening
My husband shoots me a quick glance
His impish grin clearly exposing his joy at their chaotic cackles
The ‘nuisance’ to my desired peaceful routine dissipates at all three of their beaming faces

...pick up actual pages that evening
Over reaching for the remote
I dig deeper into what will draw me deeper into him
Rallying my heart and mind and realize—
I had more in me after this long day than I thought
…

Sufficient grace in all of the changes made, good and bad—when I set myself up for greater ‘success’ and also when I gave in to what was easier. My standing with Him never once changed. Never severed. For I am His.
…
**
(Some thoughts on these kinds of little changes, striving, and God’s grace. Read the rest on my substack. Link in bio 🥰)

It's been a bit since my last Substack post thanks

It's been a bit since my last Substack post thanks to some difficult adoption findings this month, and I accidentally sent the email before working out the formatting kinks (it's fine, it's fine, it's fine... haha), but you can read my latest piece in the app ❤️ Link in bio.

Switching over to Substack (a platform for writers

Switching over to Substack (a platform for writers to post their work) to share my writing, and would be honored for you to subscribe to receive future posts in your email inbox or through the app ❤️ It's kind of scary, this raw unveiling of my innermost thoughts and wrestlings with the Lord, but perhaps they could be what someone needs to hear. First words heading your way in a few hours... Link in bio

I’m rustling through hundreds of papers, scrolli

I’m rustling through hundreds of papers, scrolling through countless emails. I daily use the kids’ naptime for the infamous “paperchase.” Does that form need to be an original? Was that the correct medical documentation? Can we get that done here in Kenya, or do we have to DHL that to the States?
 We are adopting internationally. And we also live internationally. Better yet, we are adopting from a different East African country than the one in which we are residing. More complications on top of an already very complicated topic. I feel both steadfast in the decision yet all so very confused how to enter into it well. I start reading every book and listening to every podcast I can find, from trauma to attachment to transracial brokenness.
 I read, “As adoptive parents… it is vital that we see our children’s ethnicities because they are God-ordained, beautiful expressions from a good and holy Creator.”*
 Will we exemplify this as a family?  —  We are sitting together on the carpet in her room. This firstborn mini me and I cradling baby dolls. Dolls of various colors, some with long hair, some completely bald, some with dark braids, every single one with a name. 
She smoothes out ‘Mercy’s’ African kitenge skirt, this doll the namesake of one of our closest Kenyan friends. The colorful pattern a vast contrast to the plain pink shades of ‘Lindsey.’ 
“Mommy, you be the daughter. I’ll be the mommy.” Her big blue eyes squinting into an anticipatory smile as they peer up at mine. 
“Ok, honey. Are these my sisters?” I motion toward to my comrades, and she emerges from her pretend play for half a second with a sheepish smile, thrilled I’m truly leaning into my appointed role. 
The light escapes from her barred window and splays across her cheeks and the one tangled dreadlock that’s formed from too many days without a bath. Her own baby doll face still visible through her early preschool aging.

We continue playing, she teaching her dolls (us daughters) how to pronounce letters, me wondering, ‘How can I teach her something here?’

— Read the rest on my blog. Link in bio. 💕

The bitter sting of Friday did not hold the final

The bitter sting of Friday did not hold the final word.

The shadowed wait of Saturday was not left unanswered.

For Sunday was coming, with glorious life eternal in His hole-stricken hands and arisen body. The same body that was crushed and broken for a crushed and broken world, now made alive by the power that even death cannot touch. Because of a perfect love that cannot be quenched.

What Good News, dear friends. On bitter Fridays, shadowed Saturdays, and joyful Sundays alike. He is there and true in it all, with arms outstretched, beckoning us all near to the Lamb who was slain and the Lion who is forever victorious.

If I have learned anything from this man it has be

If I have learned anything from this man it has been this truth: Raphah- Hebrew for…
“be still”
“release”
“let go”
“cease striving”

Taylor reminds me year after year that we can let go and “know He is God. That He WILL be exalted among the nations and the earth” (Psalm 46:10). He exemplifies through his life how to take a deep breath, to truly trust in the Lord, and to then step forth in faith.

@tjolley2 thanks for the tattoo idea and then agreeing to get matching ones for your birthday 🙌🏾🥰🖤

Love you more than you know and beyond proud to be your wife. You seriously blow me away

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