Begging Mr. Jeff Mosley, radio DJ's, and other superiors.

Dear People With Money, I don't like to beg, but...

Can I please, please, please have $5,000 for a really good cause? Please?

You know the auction I'm a part of this week supporting Porter's Call? Well, a new item has been added to the auction and to say that I've been able to divert my heart and soul from thinking about it day and night since I found out about it yesterday would be a complete lie.

I haven't! I have thought of nothing else! Day and night! I cannot eat! I am tormented! I want nothing more in this world! I'm in anguish! Please! I need $5,000! Please!

OK, whew, I'm through with the most dramatic parts of the begging.

Michael W. Smith has put an auction item up for bid.

It's called "A Tennessee Christmas."

It includes lots of things like spending three nights at the Gaylord Opry hotel, eating meals at some of my favorite places in Franklin and Nashville, even meeting Amy Grant and Vince Gill backstage at their Christmas concert. Could the package get any better?

Yes. Yes my friends it could... because right in the middle of all that you get to GO TO Michael W. Smith's farmhouse and his parents, Paul and Barbara, are going to cook dinner (for me) and THEN Michael comes home from his Christmas tour and he starts the fire and we (I am already speaking myself into this dream come true) sing Christmas songs around the stinking FIRE place and have "FELLOWSHIP!!!!!!!!" ("fellowship" is a direct quote from the auction description).

People. Look. I'm not sure what the rest of you did in seventh and eighth grade, but I'm here to tell you that I spent those wonder years reenacting the song Secret Ambition with my sisters in our bedroom.

Melissa was Jesus.

We crucified her on the bedroom wall.

Sarah was one of the Roman guards running around trying to kill Jesus in a loin clothe.

And me? I was dressed up like a rock star.

I was Michael. W Smith singing into my karaoke microphone,

"Nobody knew his secret ambition, nobody knew his claim to fame... he tore the holy veil awaaaaaaaaay."

We would quickly do a set change and go straight into an interpretive dance on roller skates that we made up to our favorite song off his very first album, "Could He be the Messiah."

"Could he be the messiah, miracle man, part of the plan? IT IS HE!!! The MESSIAH!!!"

Melissa and Sarah were angels. I was Michael. We were all pointing at something in the corner of the garage that we'd covered in white sheets to look like a ghostly Jesus blob, and of course, it was He, the Messiah.

We would move through the albums like we were replaying the most brilliant moments in all of musical history. I mean, have you seen the cover of Michael's second album?

It stayed on my bedroom wall for years. And the songs "I am Sure" and "Hosanna" from the ablum- I mean, these are life songs people. LIFE. SONGS.

I 2 Eye? Christmas Album (the best ever written)? Go West Young Man? Change your World? Wonder Years? The First Decade? I mean, I don't want to embarrass Michael so I'm going to stop there because that only gets me to seventh grade...let's just say he's still making hits and I, my friends, have been his biggest, most devoted, loyal fan.

I spent one too many afternoons writing the Mickey Mouse Club asking to spend the day with Michael as part of Wednesday Career Days. They sent a girl to Amy Grant's farmhouse for the day to see what it was like to be a pop singer. And I knew, I just knew they'd send somebody to Michael's place next. So I wrote letter after letter explaining why this would be a perfect career day for me.

Awe- childhood dreams that have been squished. Devastated I tell you. Devastated.

But now Ebay tells me that I can win a trip to sit around the fire place and listen to him sing Christmas carols and his mom and dad will show me baby pictures and cook me homemade food and we shall sip cocoa together?!?

My soul is in a tizzy. An absolute tizzy.

You think Kentucky Rose could be considered a Christmas carol? Rocketown, Place in this World, or I will Be Here for You? I'm sure these could be Christmas carols.

I simply must find $5,000.

End of conversation. I've never needed to win something so badly in my whole entire life.

Do I need a new car or a college fund for Annie? Yes. So, I'm not asking for just any ole' $5,000.

Nope, this goes straight to Porter's Call (remember, the amazing ministry that helps artists and their families deal with our souls? Dallas Diva Day?). I more or less need a beneficiary who already wants to donate to this ministry and at the same time give me the dream vacation of a lifetime!!!

Hot cocoa with Michael W. Smith.

Awe. Bliss.

I'm shamelessly asking all radio DJ's who read this blog to:

1. Mention the Porter's Call auction that is ending this Saturday, September 18Th! With artists like Mercy Me, Natalie Grant, Fireflight, Jars of Clay, Addison Road and many other artists offering up exclusive artist experiences or memorabilia, this auction is sure to get every music fan excited. For more information, people can go to Porterscall.com to see all the auctions they can bid on.

2. Mention Dallas Diva Day! I want my auction to at least double! I'd love for it to triple!

3. And finally, most importantly, just let the world know I need $5,000.

Who doesn't, I know...

But seriously this is important to solving some unresolved childhood issues... like never having my dreams come true on the Mickey Mouse Club and working through the fact that I crucified my sister to the bedroom wall while singing Secret Ambition with slicked back hair...

Mr. Dave Ramsey? Big corporation? Bueller? Mosley?

Mosley

You know you want your favorite INO artist to have cocoa with Smitty?!

INO could place the bid... Lord knows our label uses Porter's Call more than the other label's artists...

I'll even let you come and be a part of the family pictures if you want...

Well, if you wear a toboggan...

Just think about it!!!

Oh! Or take it out of the album budget for next time... so many options Mr. Mosley!!!

I'm done begging world.

Just think about it.

All I'm saying.

I am grateful

~ That I honest to God had never seen Justin Bieber perform until tonight. I would've quit doing music and maybe withdrawn from society during the darker days of my summer had I of known there was a pre-pubescent Mickey Mouse Club boy romping around the stages of America making girls pass out with their pre-pubescent cell phones and teeny bop outfits on. I mean, I'm sure the kid is sweet and his smile is worth a million bucks. But I'm sitting here watching the MTV VMA's and these poor girls (OK and lots of boys too) are loosing oxygen and I am wondering...HOW HAS THIS HAPPENED? There is no hope for an artist like me.

~ For a friend and nanny extraordinaire who suggested that I immediately sign up for Etsy.Com and The Zoe Report's daily emails as a vital part of my soul vacation. These are the kinds of completely glamorous, frivolous things that I am endeavoring to fill my head space with right now. Thank you Lauren for ensuring that during this soul vacation I spend as much money as possible. If not money...at least I will lust and daydream after lots and lots of super cute things!

~ For the five year old little girl who came to our Clarksville, TN show on Friday night and said,

"Next time you're here I really want you to come to my house and play with me."

"I'd really like that!" I said.

"OK good. My address is 1149 B Lowell Street, Ft. Campbell. I'll invite some of my friends over too!"

~ For my mom who has decided that every time I come home she will have a little gift basket waiting in my room with fun things like loofahs and girl magazines. I think this is cute and thoughtful and it makes me smile to walk in and see what she has waiting. I am especially glad for all the Pond's make-up removal clothes. It's hard to wash your face on a bus with a sink that is smaller than the diameter and circumference of my butt. Really. If your butt is bigger than the sink, odds are, your face isn't gonna fit in it either. So thanks Mom, for those little face wipe thingies.

~ For Vonda, a friend who offers to watch my daughter when I am in her town and has made it her personal mission to buy cute "stage clothes" for me. I flew home Wednesday afternoon with only five hours to wash clothes and re-pack Annie and I for the next month or so. I was completely stressed to walk in my closet and realize I didn't have anything "cool" to wear on the fall tour and no time (OK, or money) to buy anything. As if by divine clockwork, Ryan walks in to the closet with a package from Vonda. It includes a note from her that reminds me how lucky I am to have friends. And most importantly it includes stage bling! The chunkiest, coolest necklace I've ever owned. Sparkly earrings. A silver jacket with big buttons. And a shirt to go underneath. I was so excited I modeled the entire outfit right there on the spot and wore it the rest of the night as I cleaned and packed.

"You know you don't really need to wear that right now Jen. Nobody can see it."

"Well yeah, but I can, and I feel freaking awesome in it, so I'm gonna wear it all night!"

And I did. Doing laundry. Taking out the trash and vacuuming. I wore my new cute outfit.

~ For a lady named Norma who accidentally got a job promotion last year when her superior quit a week before their big annual event. She ended up running the Navajo Nation fair, a 60 plus year tradition for the Navajo Nation in Arizona, all by herself. She did such a good job they asked her to stay on and run it again this year. This was not the job she planned on having but when her bosses asked her what new thing she wanted to see at the fair, she realized God had put her in a unique position.

"I want to see a Christian concert," she said.

In the 64 year history of a fair that has never welcomed in a Christian group, in a people group who are known for an absence of God's hope and light, in a work environment where no one cared, everyone doubted, and she was challenged to raise all the money and support by herself... Norma realized her opportunity and planned the first ever Christian concert for the Navajo Nation fair.

"From day one, I faced opposition. Challenge after challenge. It was like everything was trying to stop me. Everything." Norma, a short, kind, intense woman spoke these words to me as we stood in a puddle of water, an hour after the show was supposed to start, with rain coming down everywhere.

I had my girlfriends, and many of you around the country praying for the rain to stop this past Thursday in Window Rock, Arizona. A lot of people were praying for the rain to stop. Not so that Mercy Me and Addison Road could go through with our concerts (muddy rain shows are not my favorite and the way I figure it, our band is accident prone... so we would probably function as lightening rods). But we wanted the rain to stop because, as Norma had already experienced, there was a battle going on. The rain was just another attempt at a distraction. A diversion.

The rain continued, but all the while, people kept filing in. Waiting in the rain. They sang along to the worship music quietly playing on the empty stage. Their voices raised, hands in the air, calling out the name of Jesus...

While so many from their community watched in curiosity.

While Norma's bosses stood in amazement at the amount of people coming out, in the heavy rain, huddling under umbrellas, waiting for the show to begin.

While Norma stood in tears as, an hour after the show was supposed to begin, we took the stage.

I am grateful for a normal woman who inherited big shoes and didn't shy away from a big dream to bring God glory. A woman who took on an insurmountable task... sticking with it even when it got hard and she faced opposition. She fearlessly took a nation to a place they had never gone before and blessed the lives of thousands, and hopefully, started a tradition for years to come that will continue to bless others for generations to come. I am grateful for her inspiration.

~ Finally, for 10 bids on my Dallas Diva Day auction!!! Remember, you have all week to place your bid to spend the day with me in Dallas doing my most favorite things in the city (to benefit Porters Call). Click here to check out the LIVE EBAY LINK now!

Dallas Diva Day!

Join Jenny Simmons, lead singer of Addison Road and author of the blog JennySimmons.com, for an ultimate Diva Day in Dallas, TX!

This package includes roundtrip airfare to Dallas to spend the day with Jenny shopping, eating, talking and being completely pampered. Starting with a professional make-up application from Jenny's favorite local make-up artist and then heading out for pedicures- you ladies will have plenty of girl time together! The package also includes a $100 gift card to Jen's favorite store, Forever 21. She will be your personal shopper as you spunk up your fall wardrobe!

And what day is complete without mexican food and Sprinkles Cupcakes? If you have always wanted to spend the day with the lead singer from Addison Road and you are ready for a new wardrobe... this is the ultimate package for you!

"My dream job is to be a professional shopper, friend, and food critic! Dallas Diva Day is basically every one of my favorite things in the world and I can't wait to share that with a fan to support Porter's Call, a counseling ministry that has literally saved my marriage and ministry time and time again!"

AUCTION BEGINS SEPTEMBER 11, 2010

This LINK to the Auction will be LIVE 09/11!

100% of the proceeds will be donated to Porter’s Call

CLICK HERE to read what Brandon Heath, Michael W. Smith, Steven Curtis Chapman and many other Christian Artist’s have to say about Porter’s Call

http://www.porterscall.com/

Soul Vacation

I have been on soul vacation.

Well, at least I am beginning to take a soul vacation. I am dreaming about what a soul vacation looks like. And I am trying to figure out how to pack my soul-suitcase and go lay out by the beach with a coconut drink in one hand and a good book in another.

In the midst of 55 shows. From New York to Seattle and everywhere in between. In the midst of living on a bus. With my baby. And husband. And eleven other adults. And one tiny bathroom.

Yep, during the next two months in the midst of all that I am trying to go on soul vacation, because, as Nita Andrews from Porter’s Call once told me, “You can’t be everything for everybody. Your soul needs rest. And if you don’t find a way to give yourself rest in the midst of what you do, you will end up a recluse, in a cottage, far away from society, bitter at the world. God doesn’t need you to be a martyr Jenny; a depleted, useless, martyr. Your soul needs rest.”

Burn Out

My soul is a bit burned out.

One too many girls this summer dealing with abuse, one too many preachers with hidden agendas, one too many student pastors with good intentions who end up making my faith feel cheap, one too many online comments written with anonymity and so little respect or personal responsibility, one too many plane rides, one too many books saturating my brain, one too many hugs, one too many autographs, one too many...

So I met my pastor Jackie for lunch recently to get some things off my chest.

I told her that I felt off. I’ve been so tired this summer that I’ve convinced myself I was pregnant... twice. Yikes! I stopped eating healthy and I've taken to eating ice cream. Lots and lots of ice cream. I avoid text messages and phone calls like the plague. And worst of all, I told her, I don’t feel anything when I worship. It just seems fake. And I find myself looking at people who are worshipping like they are foreign aliens.

Crazy. Foreign. Aliens.

I feel removed. I have found myself wondering time and time again, “Is God even real?”

Unbeliever?

“I don’t think I believe in God anymore,” I said in defeat, “And I really don’t like church people they are all giving me the heebie jeebies. And I mean, I have nothing against God. Other people can believe in God but I’m too tired too. I just want to live on an island and work at a coffee shop and play in the ocean.”

She smiled and shook her head. My friend Krista came in to the restaurant and ordered us wine.

“What’s up?”

“Jenny doesn’t believe in God anymore.”

“Oh cool. I’ve done that before,” she smiled.

Jackie looked at me with the most tender eyes “Well, my friend, if you end up a Buddhist or a recluse living by the ocean who doesn’t believe in God, I will still love you. But seriously, I am not going to have that conversation with you today. I think you and Jesus are closer than you care to be at times. But I think your soul is so burned out that you don’t even know how to go home to Him. It’s not that you don’t believe in God, it’s that you need to take a soul vacation. You need to spend some time processing the intensity of this past year with a counselor. You need to shut down for a while. You need to play. You need to not think. You need to go on soul vacation friend.”

Burn out? Soul vacation?

Hearing someone give me permission to take a soul vacation brought me to tears.

Nothing has ever sounded better. I was ready to vacate all responsibility right then and there for an immediate leave of absence.

Her words rung deep and true and I knew without a shadow of a doubt... I needed a break.

So...

That’s where I have been. Taking a break. Defining boundaries for my soul. My family. My time. My life.

I have been on soul vacation. And to be honest, I need to be on soul vacation for quite a bit longer. And once this tour is over, I am going to take time off. Maybe a month. Maybe a year. I’m not sure yet. All I know is that I have started on my soul vacation and I know without a shadow of a doubt that it is exactly where I need to be.

I haven’t read books. Haven’t engaged in anything political or controversial or even slightly related to Obama or healthcare or tea parties or crazy Koran burning pastors. I have not gone there. I have not done anything for anybody. Whew. Let me say that one more time: I have not done anything for anybody, for at least a week or so now, and oh my gosh, it’s been the best feeling ever. No reading the news. No volunteering. No blogging. I really haven’t been a good friend either. No returned text messages. No calling. No emailing. Nothing really. And the thing is...I’m ok with that for right now.

The people who love me the most are ok with it too.

What do you even do on S.V.? I’ve been playing with Annie. Watching her. Taking joy in the smallest things that she does. I’ve been looking at what actress wore what dress to the Emmy’s (I’ve literally never done that before in my life). I’ve traded in my Christian books for magazines about how to make the perfect cupcake and how to help my daughter, Annie, poop better. I’ve taken guilt-free naps and fallen in love with Ellen. Did you know she dances on every single show??? And almost always gives away presents to people? And I promise you that lady owns every cool pair of shoes ever created!

I can’t believe it.

Me, the girl who only watches TV if I am on my death bed. I’ve been watching Ellen and Access Hollywood for fun.

And I love it!!!

I love that everyone in my life has simply let me be. No quoting scripture or looks of disappointment. No one trying to fix me. But just friends being friends. Parents being good parents. Sisters being good sisters. Counselors being good counselors. Pastors being good pastors. And all of them saying.

Soul vacation.

Porter's Call...

The only way I can see a counselor during times like this is because of a really amazing ministry called Porter’s Call.

Al and Nita Andrews realized years ago that Christian artists are often sent out on the road to love on and minister to people, at a break-neck pace, with little pay, and much strain to their relationships back home. They realized artists needed a safe haven. A place to vent. To grow. To heal. To dream. And then to be sent back out again to bring God’s message of hope to people through art.

Al and Nita single-handedly created a place for your favorite artists- and I’m telling you, I don’t know many people in the business who have not been to them for therapy- to receive counseling services free of charge and in untraditional settings and times. Like 8 pm at a coffee shop. Or in their artist retreat center. Or first thing in the morning with your husband or bandmates at their office. You name it, they are there for us and they have single-handedly guided artists through the roughest spots in our marriages, ministries, and band relationships. Free of charge.

They make it possible for someone like me to get the support I need when I have found myself face to face with a desperate need for SOUL VACATION.

This week we are raising money for Porter’s Call through a huge online Ebay auction!!! It is my hope that there are some fans out there who would love to spend a day drinking coffee, eating cupcakes, mexican food, and going shopping with one girl who is officially on SOUL VACATION!

If you want to join me for an ultimate day of pampering and support an amazing ministry that keeps your favorite artists spiritually and emotionally together... please, please, please consider placing your bid first thing tomorrow morning for Dallas Diva Day with yours truly!

A true soul vacation!!!

Sleuth or Worm Farmer... or just plain ole' singer?

It is 5:34 a.m. and I am sitting at IHOP. The International House of Pancakes- for my international readers who may not be familiar with this is amazing 24 hour a day establishment of pancakery bliss.

I have not been able to sleep a wink. At 1:57 I woke up with a million thoughts streaming through my mind. I tried everything to shoo them away. Counting sheep. Counting backwards. Breathing deeply. Relaxing all the muscles in my body. Reciting the sinners prayer, “Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.” And I even tried sleeping in my closet. When that didn’t work, I took out my computer, in the closet, and planned out our set list for the fall tour. It ends with an acoustic jam session and an impromptu choir wearing white robes that have sunshines painted all over them coming on stage with candles, handing out cupcakes to the audience while singing “This Little Light of Mine” with the band.

You’re welcome Addison Road.

Obviously my best moments of creative brilliance comes somewhere between two and three a.m.

Did I mention I’m at IHOP now and my waiter is singing the words to the 80’s power ballad, “Can’t we try just a little bit harder...” I’m trying not to smile, but seeing a guy with dreads and a gold tooth sing this song is really making my groggy morning quite delightful.

Montana One

I have spent the last two weekends in Montana. The first weekend was for a show that didn’t happen. It fell a part in a million pieces and the promoter wasn’t able to honor the contract and pay us. We lost thousands of dollars on the airlines tickets we paid for and the anticipated income that never came in. Am I allowed to tell you that? Well, I just did.

Sometimes people ask how we stay “grounded” and “humble.” That’s when we say, “You remember that time we paid $2,000 to fly to Montana and no one showed up and the promoter didn’t pay us and the ‘chicken dinner’ was a partly-deboned rotisserie chicken with a butcher knife stuck into it and no plates to eat off of?”

It happens to every one in our industry and it’s cheaper not to fight it legally. And, truly, the promoter doesn’t have the money. How can you force a brother or sister to give you what they do not have? Grace must abound. Even in business. At least that is what I keep repeating to myself.

There was some good that weekend though, because I met my first real live worm farmer. Well, he was a worm farmer. Now he’s just a worm poop farmer. He realized that once he and his buddies invested into a worm farm, the grass and makeshift gardens around their land started growing exponentially. It took him a while to figure out it was the worm poop, but when it occurred to him, he started to save the stuff and sent it to a lab to be tested. Sure enough, a little dime bag of his worm poop was more potent than three bags of miracle grow. And so, there he was, at the not-so-music-festival in a tent sifting through worm poop that he would try and sell for four dollars a bag. A fantastic bargain if you ask me.

“Feel of it. I tell you Jenny, just feel the stuff, feel of it, it feels like silk.” I tried to just look with big eyes and say, “Wow, that does look soft!”

“No, really, just run your fingers through it.” He picked up a mound of silky poop in his dry, cracked hands and poured it all over my hands. I had no choice. I was feeling this dude’s worm poop whether I wanted to or not.

So, as a storm blew in and the guys took cover in a dingy, un-air-conditioned RV, I sat and talked to worm farmers. And I felt so much smarter. Like a green, energy efficient, organic scientist that is against all corporate farming; just chatting it up with the other fellas about the evils of mass production, harsh chemicals, and the lack of good worm poop in the world. I looked out over a vast expanse of beautiful land and thought, “What in the world am I doing here?”

What a strange life.

We passed on the sort-of chicken dinner and went down the road to an old green building with no windows and cracked paint. The door was thickly padded, like a football player might want to practice running into it. And an old sign hanging above the door said, “Bar. Food.” So we went in. Two sisters were running the joint. We sat in a room with dear heads and box fans. At a picnic table. And I watched as one sister stirred away at three different pots on a normal white stove in plain site of the dinning room. It was truly bizarre. A bizarre weekend from start to finish. Started with Tiger the day before and ended with worm poop farmers and dear heads in a dark bar on Saturday.

proof

Montana Two

This past weekend we were in Great Falls, Montana and it was quite the redemptive Montana experience.

High of 67, low of 43. I went straight to Ross and bought a jacket. No sales tax in Montana. Gotta love it. Our hotel was in an old downtown area and on Saturday morning they had a farmers market and a crepe-mobile. How cute is that? Quaint stores and a beautiful river. A huge turn-out for the festival and a paycheck in hand before we even played! I was in love with Great Falls, Montana. The people were amazing, the show felt special, and the trip was undramatic. Always a plus in my book these days.

Yes, I was in love with all those things, but to be perfectly honest, I was mostly in love with my mission while I was there.

My mission? I’m glad you asked. My personal mission was to find the escaped Arizona convicts.

Seriously.

They were last spotted in Billings, Montana and I knew they were still in the area. I could feel it. Our hotel was by a homeless shelter, a bus stop, and the river... there were lots of suspicious characters. So, I went to the river one morning. By myself. With a picture of the fugitives pulled up on my phone. And as people slept under the morning sun, I inched up as close as I could to examine their identity. Every car that passed by got a complete stare down. I even found myself on stage that day scanning the audience for persons of interest...

Y’all, I read one too many Nancy Drew books as a kid.

I really believed in my little heart that I would crack the case while I was in Montana. I was being so vigilant. While everyone else went about their normal day, they had no idea I was there for one reason and one reason alone: a citizens arrest.

When I woke up this morning at 1:57 a.m., after reciting the Sinner’s Prayer and trying to count backwards from 100, I crept into my closet and read the news. The Arizona convicts were apprehended.

All kinds of things are plaguing the world this morning. Flooding and a massive humanitarian emergency in Pakistan. A debate over whether our President is a Muslim or not. The indictment of Roger Clemens, the baseball star who may have lied about drug use. North Korea threatening the United States with unseen retaliation. Iran and Israel perhaps blowing each other to smithereens. All kinds of craziness in the world that usually stirs my heart to prayer or urges me to write a congressman about signing off on this or that bit of legislation....

But today I am just eating my whole grain harvest pancakes at IHOP and mourning the fact that I was not the one to find the escaped convicts while they were traipsing around Montana.

I really thought that case was going to be my big detective break. I would make Nancy and Bess and George so proud. But maybe I should pay more attention to my music career. Or worm farming.

Worm farming seems pretty promising.