Hey guys! Big thanks for hanging in there with me the last month or so while I walked (and talked) myself through what has turned out to be, a more serious issue than originally anticipated. I started this four (is it five now?!)-part series intending to address how I thrived and survived on staying busy, but instead I found myself on a winding path stumbling my way into some deeply rooted issues and fragmented pieces of my identity. The original intent was to write a post about it as a letter to you. A letter that let you know that your incessant pursuit to feel worthy was understood by me. But I’ve come to realize that these posts are instead love letters that I’ve written to myself. Love letters that remind me that I can’t earn self worth—at least not the kind that I’m chasing. They are love letters that gently say, Let’s not run anymore. You’re a little broken, but it’s okay. We can fix this.
So I apologize that these past few posts ended up being about me and for me instead of you. But here’s my letter of love back to you: Let’s not run anymore. You’re a little broken, but it’s okay. We can fix this.
But in the spirit of disclosure, I need a break from the heavy stuff and in true Jenna form, baking a pie seemed like the best way to duck out of the therapy session.
The Recipe
So, hi pie! When I was younger, my dad insisted that I learn how to make pie from my grandma who happened to be an exceptional baker, particularly in the pie category. Strawberry-rhubarb and peach pie are intertwined with some of my most favorite childhood memories. I would like to say that my love for baking came from one grandma or the other, and maybe on some level that’s true, but in all honesty, I think I just really like to eat. I’d also like to think that my dad would be proud that I’m carrying the pie-making torch, but I must admit (with a significant amount of guilt) that I may or may not have used store-bought dough for the crust. More towards the may. In my defense, I work for a baking company that makes pie crust that tastes like it’s from scratch and they just so happened to have given me about six boxes.
I do have a foolproof from-scratch pie crust recipe that you can find here. Making your own crust is super simple so really there’s no reason to ever buy the dough unless you work for a baking company that makes pie crust that tastes like it’s from scratch and they’ve given you six boxes. This Fresh Strawberry Pie comes from Pillsbury.com and appropriately so, uses Pillsbury refrigerated pie crust. I love that it’s only four or five ingredients that you probably already have in your kitchen. Highly recommend buying strawberries from your local farmer’s market for the ultimate pie baking experience, but store-bought strawberries are fine too—just avoid using frozen. The recipe also suggests adding a few drops of red food coloring to make your pie a more vibrant red but I skipped it and it turned out to be the perfect boldness of red.
The Book
I was on the waiting list at the library for over two months for Shauna Niequist’s book Present Over Perfect: Leaving Behind Frantic For a Simpler, More Soulful Way of Living. Apparently I’m not the only one with issues 🙂 or at least, not the only one looking for a different way to live life. As I began dissecting this issue of busyness on the blog, someone suggested that I give this book a read. A few chapters in, I went on Amazon and bought it because I knew the words deserved to be read over and over again. I knew the words needed to be read over and over again. Suddenly there were concrete words to the feelings that I couldn’t quite get a hold of; these words didn’t just connect with my heart, they collided.
She had me at page six: “My prayer is that this book will be a thousand invitations, springing up from every page, calling you to leave behind the heavy weight of comparison, competition, and exhaustion and to re-craft a life marked by meaning, connection and unconditional love.”
To be honest, I never knew that the way I was feeling and how I was coping with it was actually a serious problem. I really thought I was just a highly responsible, ultra-organized, very Type A, go-getting individual and I was kind of proud of that. But the pages in this book tell a very different story, a story that feels more true to me. It’s everything that I feel and don’t want to feel and it’s everything I have to face and don’t want to face. In this season of my life, I’m coming to understand that I’m very, very fragile and to cope with that, I force myself to be very, very tough.
My words to describe the context of Present Over Perfect couldn’t possibly do the book justice, so I’ve included what Shauna says about her book in her own words:
A few years ago, I found myself exhausted and isolated, my soul and body sick. I was tired of being tired, burned out on busy. And, it seemed almost everyone I talked with was in the same boat: longing for connection, meaning, depth, but settling for busy.
I am a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, neighbor, writer, and I know all too well that settling feeling. But over the course of the last few years, I’ve learned a way to live, marked by grace, love, rest, and play. And it’s changing everything.
Present Over Perfect is an invitation to this journey that changed my life. I’ll walk this path with you, a path away from frantic pushing and proving, and toward your essential self, the one you were created to be before you began proving and earning for your worth.
Quotes I Journaled From This Book
“Many of us, myself, included, considered our souls necessary collateral damage to get done the things we felt we simply had to get get done – because of other people’s expectations, because we want to be know as highly capable, because we’re trying to outrun an inner emptiness. And for a while we don’t even realize the compromise we’ve made. We’re on autopilot, chugging through the day on fear and caffeine, checking things off the list, falling into bed without even a real thought or feeling or connection all day long, just a sense of having made it through.”
“I’m not building a castle or a monument; I’m building a soul and a family. I’ll tell stories all my life, writing on napkins and on the backs of receipts, or in books if they let me, but this is the promise I make to my God: I will never again be so careless, so cavalier with the body and soul you’ve given me. They are the only things in all the world that have been entrusted entirely to me, and I stewarded them poorly, worshiping for a time at the altars of productivity, capability, busyness, distraction. This body and soul will become again what God intended them to be: living sacrifices, offered only to him. I will spend my life on meaning, on connection, on love, on freedom. I will not waste one more day trapped in comparison, competition, proving, and earning. That’s the currency of a culture that has nothing to offer me.”
“I believed that work would save me, make me happy, solve my problems; that if I absolutely wore myself out, happiness would be waiting for me on the other side of all that work. But it wasn’t. On the other side was just more work. More expectations, more responsibility. I’d trained a whole group of people to know that I would never say no, I would never say “this is too much”. I would never ask for more time or space, I would never bow out. And so they kept asking, and I was everyone’s responsible girl.”
“What makes sense to me: Pushing. Lists. Responsibility. Action, action, action. What’s changing my life: Silence. Rest. Letting myself be fragile. Asking for help.”
“Now I know that the best thing I can offer to this world is not my force or my energy, but a well-tended spirit, a wise and brave soul.”
“People called me tough. And capable. And they said I was someone they could count on. Those are all nice things. But they’re not the same as loving or kind or joyful. I was not those things.”
“Draw close to people who honor your no, who cheer you on for telling the truth, who value your growth more than they value their own needs getting met.”
“We’re addicted to big and sweeping and photo-ready–crossing oceans, changing it all, starting new things, dreams and visions and challenges, marathons and flights and ascending tall peaks. But the rush to scramble up onto platforms, to cross oceans, to be heard and seen and known sometimes comes at a cost, and sometimes the most beautiful things we do are invisible and unsexy. We love broad strokes, cross-country moves, kickstarter campaigns. But brave these days is a lot quieter, at least for me. Brave is staying put when I’m addicted to rushing, listening instead of talking. Brave is articulating my feelings, especially when the feelings are sad or scared or fragile instead of confident or happy or light.’
P.S.
Oh, and before you go! All images, styling and moral support were provided by Laura Ann Photography.
