Rosy Tomorrows, Sacred Cake and Grace

Yesterday  was most extraordinary...made up of moments that you simply have to write about. It was an I-cannot-stop-smiling kind of day. Like a strand of sparkling white Christmas lights; one moment just as bright as the next. One moment today, in particular, had such clarity. It was the kind of moment that makes a little lump in your throat with the gratitude of it all...little bits of serendipity....the amazing grace that God sends in the words, the face and the embrace of a stranger. The kind of moment in which you just know that God is at work in your life.

Those kinds occasions have always been my most favorite kind.

            I am incredibly blessed to have my work displayed in a beautiful shop in downtown Dowagiac, Michigan called “Rosy Tomorrows”. Isn’t that a great name?!

As I tied up some loose ends behind the counter, I overheard a customer in the shop exclaim how excited she was that Rosy Tomorrows had Sacred Cake jewelry…I listened for a minute as she talked about how much she loved Sacred Cake and how beautiful everything was. I told her that I was, in fact, “The Sacred Cake Lady”…and we ended up  meeting excitedly across the shop in a tight embrace…

After that sweet customer left with several pair of earrings that I had made, I said out loud to my friend Claudia (the shop owner), “Is this really my life?!” As the tears welled up in my eyes, and I was met with another embrace; this time from lovely Claudia, I could only think of the mystery and wonder of God’s grace. Just weeks ago I felt a bit (Okay, a lot) lost. Self-doubt became a constant tapping on my shoulder and I lost sight of the truest part of who I am and what I love. I worried about money. I worried about time. I worried about those tough decisions. I worried about the undone things…and the done things that pulled me down like a soaking wet quilt tied around my waist.

            Today in that brief sparkling instant, I was reminded that even though my work does not involve words, quotes or mantras, it still speaks. It brings joy and color and beauty to the wearer. When I teach, my students feel such accomplishment and joy (as do I). It is the work of my heart infused with love. It is about the most important thing in the world---other people. The truest part of me…of all of us…is the part that is priceless. The most important part of us is the imprint that we leave in the hearts and minds of others. We were created with love. We were made to love and we were made to shine to the best of our ability.

            I was reminded today that it is alright to feel lost; but to be open to the gentle unfolding of the hands of grace. I was reminded to remain present, release the worry and bring my awareness back to center. Because grace can show up when you least expect it.

            I am so humbled  by it all.

In my studio, a tiny bouquet from the yard.

Rising

And still.
I rise.
And
I rise
And I rise...

Sometimes when you begin to think that you have nothing, it really becomes everything you ever needed.

Shabby bridal comb

"Little Poetry Leaves" series by Sacred Cake

Wholesale Jennifer Valentine Jewelry (gone but not forgotten.)(I learned a lot)

pink line of Creative Co-op Jewelry (being discontinued)

 With the almost complete  phase out of my wholesale Jennifer Valentine Jewelry line with Creative Co-op, comes the inevitable feeling of total failure. And some tough lessons learned as well...but right now, the failure part and the "what if?" questions that invariably go through my mind.
I was told it was strictly a business decision and not to take it personally...that jewelry lines do not last very long...and i thought, well, no one told that to my idol, Miriam Haskell. Her jewelry line has outlived HER!
     The truth is, if I had it to do over again, there would have been much I would have done differently.  But I suppose that is where that cliché about  hindsight comes from. It is always easier to look back and see where things may have gone awry...but the truth is, that I know in my heart that I did my absolute best. It is really difficult for me because I thought that this "partnership" was going to be the thing that i stayed up all of those nights for, falling asleep with my pliers in my hands...
And that voice in my head that told me to keep going...surely the answer was Creative Co-op. That was the reason. My dreams had finally been realized.
It was all finally going to be ok.
Because the royalty checks were going to be the answer to the financial poverty that is all that I have known my whole adult life. (I say financial poverty, because I have never been impoverished of spirit or joy or gratitude!)
I am right back where I began, wondering what to do. Living below the national poverty line and struggling to make ends meet. Feeling like i have, once again,  failed myself and my children. I wanted my children to see that it was worth it. That hard work pays off. That the underdog can win...That all those nights i worked away at my little table were worth it.
I wanted to be their hero.
I'd be lying if I said that it didn't really sting when my boss asked for more products, only to later say that my line was being discontinued.
I'd be lying if i said i did not take it personally.
I'd be lying if i said i didn't still cry about that loss...and the loss of that identity...that feeling of "Look Ma, I finally managed to make something of myself!"
The truth is though, that i adore my work.
Giving it up, for me, would be like not breathing. 

I just cannot give up.
     I make pretty things that make women all over the world feel better...I create pretty things that become part of their life story.  I bring what one of my customers called "necessary beauty" to her life. That is what keeps me going, when I am doubtful.
I teach local women through the library system, how to make their very first pairs of earrings...i witness the look of joy and accomplishment on their faces.
That is worth more to me than all of the money in the world.
I have to believe that the end of Jennifer Valentine Jewelry with Creative Co-op does not mean that it is the end of the line for me. I have to believe that it is only the beginning of something greater and more significant. 

The Creative Co-op Catalog Jennifer Valentine section photo (the last)

I am so hoping to be noticed by boutiques interested in my handmade work, and I am working on a new collection in antiqued copper to come soon. I have also been working on my website, SacredCake.com, learning as I go!

It has proven to be difficult, as more people go mobile, I have to make the sight enhanced for Mobile viewing as well. WHEW. It has kinda been kicking my butt. I worked for several days just to get as far as I have, but it is becoming more of what I want it to be...to look more like "me". I am using the WIX.com plug in platform, for those of you interested. Be sure NOT to do what I did and build a website using flash.

SIGH.

Not the way to go for mobile formatting. 

Love and Light to you and yours,

Jennifer

First State of Mind

 

     To whomever vandalized the street downtown, I thank you from the depths of my heart. I needed this sign that day...a reminder that love will always prevail, and that ugliness and animosity never does in the end. Love is the only thing that is real.
     Small town life has its many charms. I've embraced my life here and the lovely people I see every day with smiling, welcoming faces...I find comfort in the familiarity. But there are times, when this small town existence feels very very small. Rumors spread. People talk about each other and believe the hearsay. I'm not one to believe a rumor, or perpetuate one. I like most everyone regardless of their faults, because I have insight and self awareness.
I am as flawed as the next person.
     I've been bothered by something that I experienced here recently... The last time I experienced this type of treatment, I was married to an abusive man and I have done my best to forget the way I felt all of those years ago.
     The encounter still brings some sadness to me as I write. My faith in humanity was truly tested. I was made aware that there are still those people in life that will not be satisfied until they see you fall. I was looked down upon like I was a piece of garbage. I was told with a sneer to "just sit down", as I tried to explain my feelings. And as the tears came, and as I sat, the person who resurrected those old, buried feelings of no self worth actually smiled with satisfaction, seeing the pain I was in. I could not believe what I was seeing.
     I was once again, in that place of abuse. The feelings of helplessness and anger and sadness rolled over me like waves, that I had forgotten ever existed, for over 20 years.
I became allowed myself to become, a victim....a cowering shell of the woman that I have spent the last 20 years "working on" to become whole and ok with my past and with my life here in small town, USA.
     My experience that day had me wondering if all the work I have done means nothing...if one person could tear me down so easily. If one person could determine my self worth in just a few minutes of time.
I allowed myself to become a victim again instead of staying strong in my faith that God is always with me and that I am worthy of love and acceptance. Worthy of being heard and seen. Supported by his hands, always.
     All of this from a conversation that was less than a few moments. It stemmed from a misunderstanding that I had already long ago forgotten, but one that had obviously been seething and bubbling in the mind of another who could not wait to get justification and revenge.
     Call me a fool, but I am one of those who believe that even the worst, hardened criminal still has that tiny flame of goodness inside of them. I am one of those who believe that God is present even in the "worst of the worst" because we are all of our creator...I am one of those people who believe that everything that happens, happens for a reason...and that all will be understood in God's time.
     I am not angry with myself anymore for breaking down. For crying as I sat there in public humiliation. Especially laying my vulnerability out only to be laughed at with such smugness and the kind of mean that existed in my life so long ago that I had forgotten how it felt.
     I guess what I am trying to convey is that I can only get up, dust myself off and get back on the horse. Just when we think we have overcome so much, done all the work and covered all of the "stuff", there is always more learning and more growing to do.
And so I am reminded to be gentle with myself, and be continue to be more forgiving because the others that I encounter in this life don't have it all together either. We are all only human. We are humanity. We are all works in progress.

 

Surfacing

It comes when I least expect it. And I am left wondering where it came from. What triggered it...

The feeling that I cannot catch my breath...the feeling of being smothered. The helplessness that comes with a memory I don’t want to remember. The brief bewilderment, the ache and sadness that comes with it. I find myself inhaling deeply. Calming with each free breath.

            I wonder if the memory comes with  stress, or the feeling of not being able to catch my breath, or if it comes after. I just know it arrives.

 No  longer the victim, I say to myself. No more, does he have the power to make me feel afraid. And almost as quickly as it comes, the memory finally fades. We cannot control every thought, or every memory; but we can control how we react to it…

My hope is that by writing these words, those of you who were abused at the hands of those who were supposed to love and cherish you, will find comfort that you are not alone in it. I know the darkness at times can seem overwhelming, and we get weary of fighting it, but there is light. There is hope. Always hope. I believe this with all of my heart.

I find that childhood  memories usually come in the stillness when I am holding one of my children, or one of my grandchildren. Or as I watch my children from afar.

The thought that comes is how? And Why? How can anyone abuse an innocent child? A child like me? A child like mine?

It just seems so easy to love.

Among my experiences as a young girl, one particular moment is emblazoned in my memory, like the branding of cattle. I was held under water in a pool for so long, I thought for certain I would never surface again. I was only seven years old, and I was afraid of the deep end of the pool at our apartment complex.

“Let's jump in together then,” he said.  Reluctantly, I held his hand, and leaped into the pool...only I did not get to surface.

His grip tightened, and I was held under for an eternity. My lungs burned. I remember struggling, looking up at his distorted face through the ripples of surface water…and the sound of the bubbles of my last exhaled breath rumbling in my ears. And it seemed like such a long way up to the surface where that breath awaited. An eternity, it was, for me.

When I was finally allowed to come up for air, I got out of the pool gasping for air and choking on tears of disbelief and hurt.

That was the last time tried to leap fearlessly.

I am not telling this story to elicit sympathy. I am telling it because it is part of my story.  It is a part of the story of my life. Just one of the many many moments that changed me, and my feelings of security and trust for most of my life.

We who are left to struggle with the aftermath of sexual, physical, and emotional abuse often times identify as victims. It becomes our brand. Our excuse. We try to control our lives and our relationships in ways we sometimes don't even realize, because at an early age, we were completely powerless. We were at the mercy of other people and their control over us.

We worry about what people think. We become people pleasers. We demand love on our terms. We live our lives around everything and everyone but ourselves. We feel unworthy. We have inner voices that drag us through absolute hell. We put ourselves last…

And we feel broken.

For years, I lived inside of the brokenness. I lived inside of the feelings of unfairness and anger and resentment and regret. I had no self-worth. I chose all of the wrong men and tried to “fix” them to my liking. I felt absolutely unlovable for the first 37 years of my life.

 I feel like I am finally beginning to surface. Even now, at 44 years old; even when I think I have fully conquered it, it is still here.

I am sometimes still giving my past abuse, and my abuser, the power to determine my self worth. I still struggle. I'm not here to lie to you and tell you I'm leaping fearlessly and to tell you I'm all healed up shiny new and I never make mistakes. I work on healing every. single. day.

What I am here to tell you is that I know it is not easy.

I am here to tell you that we can rise above it.

I am here to tell you that you are not alone in your struggle.

I am here to tell you that we are worthy of joy and happiness and love.

No matter how old we are, we can always begin.

Give yourself the chance to surface.

 

playing with seagulls, 2012