Author: Jess Boctor

There is something miraculous which happens when you are truly known.

It takes time and intentionality to be known. It requires hours of hard conversations, seasons of laughter, and commitment to another person. However, if you are willing to put in the time, the results are amazing.

I have been facing a difficult decision recently. In this time of my life, I am so thankful there are people who really know me. People who understand my character and care about my heart; so much so they hear the things I am not saying. They hear my fears and self criticism. They are able to read between the lines of text and see through the brave mask to me. The brown eyed girl who doesn’t want another mark of failure on her life story. The girl who will always be homesick, no matter where she lives. The adventurer who chooses the narrow path. They see me. They love me.

Since they know me so well, they are able to reach out with their words, their love, and their prayers. Even when I am far away, they comfort me and speak truth against the lies which would paralyze me if I were alone. It is beacuse of the freedom these people give me that I am able to continue adventuring. I am able to delve deeper into who God made me to be because they remind of who I am.

Thank you loved ones. You should know who you are.

Continuing the adventure, 

Jess

 

Sometimes…not always, but sometimes…God speaks to me in poetry. This is what He has been saying the last few weeks.

Dear brown eyed girl

Who dares to dream so big

In every tiny seed

You see a tree

Please learn to wait on me.

 

For every seed has it’s purpose

A season it is meant to grow

Some are only a summer long

Others mark maturity

So please learn to wait on me. 

 

Because, no matter how hard you work

Or how you turn the soil

A rose cannot be forced

A bounty tree to be

So please learn to wait on me.

 

Though thorns may prick

The bloom’s fragrance is still sweet

While you may feel ethereal

Your suffering I do see

So please learn to wait on me.

 

Let my Spirit rain upon you

Dig your roots deep in my Truth

Under the boughs of my grace

Seek answers; make your plea

And there learn, to wait on me.

 

Continuing the adventure, 

Jess

 

Dear “Blech” and his stag party comrades,

On Friday, I was enjoying a quiet afternoon at my place of employment when your party entered the establishment. To summarize the experience, I found you to be obscene and base in your behavior.

Since this was not my first experience with an English stag party, I was perpared for the usual behaviors. Namely, lots of rounds of drinks, shouting and singing at an ear splitting volume, and unwelcomed advances. However, your party took the goal of behaving badly to a new level.

I did my best to be a gracious hostess throughout. I sidestepped your repeated requests for Karaoke. I smiled and laughed off your drunken compliments. I ignored you when you flashed your ass and disceretly turned away when the groom’s friends exposed his genitals.

Admitedly, a few of the group deserve a nod for trying to reign in the overall reproachable conduct of the party. It was very considerate of the groom’s cousin, and I believe, uncle to make the man who shit on the floor come back and pick up his own feces. It was also a nice gesture of the red haired gentleman to offer to mop up the groom’s vomit, though it lacked follow through. There is one man in particular whose behavior I would like to single out.

This person started out the afternoon commenting on the fantastic nature of my breasts. I agree, they are fantastic and my husband finds them equally so. I let the observation go and continued on with serving drinks for the group. Later, the same man expressed his wish to ejaculate on my breasts. Since your party was leaving, I simply wished him a safe day. I could see he was drunk and had the intentions of continuing to drink. However, it was his final comment which has inspiried this letter and incited my justified anger.

“Hey Jess, can I fuck you in the ass?”

Upon reflection of this entire scenario my only conculsion is that this person was seeking to establish some sort of power structure through his behavior. He wanted to set himself up as a dominate strong man and place me as a subjugated weak women undreneath him. He attempted this through increasingly suggestive and violent language. Each time I refused to respond, it required him to increase the bullying behavior until he finally recieved my angry response when I told him he had to leave.

Here is the truth of the matter though, this bastard has no authority over me and I refuse to give him any power to affect my identity. I know who I am. I am a strong, beautiful women created with purpose by a loving God. Since I am shielded by this knowledge and my savior’s abounding grace, this person’s actions are turned against him. Rather than defining my character, his verbal assult and sexual harrassment have exposed his character. It has proved lacking.

As much as my anger tempts me to respond by assualting this person (for a few hours I admittedly wished I had simply sauntered up to him and responded with my knee to his groin) I realize it would be ineffectual. It would be like prescribing asprin for the headaches of a brain cancer patient. In the moment it may be relieving but doesn’t deal with the acutal problem. This primative-small-penis conduct is only a symptom of a larger cultural issue. It is the lack of respect for another’s body, agency, and value (as well as his own) which is evidenced by his behavior. As a culture, how are we attacking this cancer?

In closing, I would like to say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I can’t. If you or any of your party come back to my establishment, myself or any of my coworkers will be happy to escort you out. We don’t need to subjugate ourselves to the dreadful experience of your company.

Sincerly,

Jess 

I’ve never really been much of a regular walker. However, living with Sabine in an apartment has necessitated a change. Today, I brought my camera along with me on our walk. This is what my lens caught on this lovely May morning.

Continuing the adventure, 

Jess

This piece is inspired by a quote from a song by Thrice. “There is no promise of safety in these second hand wings but I am willing to try and find out what impossible means.” 

The background I started during a workshop at Mosaik. We all painted for a half an hour with live musicians played in the background. It was a really great experience.

This is the beginning of a new journal I am making for a friend. I hope it comes out well!

Some days, I just have to get the ideas in my head out and onto paper. Otherwise they just roll around inside and drive me crazy!

Continuing the adventure, 

Jess

It occurs to me that life oftentimes gives us a glimpse into the future. The purpose of these momentary visions is unknown to me. My guess is they are opportunities to let us learn and prepare for what may come.

With Aunt Gerry we were given a glimpse into Grandma Wren’s future. Now, as Grandma Wren begins to need full time care I don’t doubt that the plauging thought, “Could this be us?” has entered your minds.

This letter is to definitively answer that question.

No.

I promise your futures will be different. I promise not to be scared of difficult conversations. I promise to poke my nose into how you are taking care of yourselves. I promise to kick you out of bed and make you get dressed. I will drag you out to see rose gardens, taste wines, and to make you LIVE until you can no more. I promise not to let any sentimentality over objects outweigh your best interests. I promise to be the smart ass daughter you raised me to be; and to be her with respect for you. I will not let you abandone yourselves to a darkening mind.

And if the dreaded day ever comes when you forget me; I will remember you.

All my love, 

Jess