Shannon Ethridge's Blog

As I rang in the New Year in 1985, I was a broken 17-year old girl who couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Gary Jarstfer… living alone in Greenville, Texas… all because I’d accidentally killed his wife, making him a widower after 29 years of marriage.

I’d been on my way to school that previous August, putting lipstick on in the rearview mirror when our two worlds collided — literally.  Within seconds a bicycle would burst through the windshield of my Plymouth Champ, Marjorie Jarstfer’s lifeless body would land on the side of the road, and an overwhelming tidal wave of emotion would sweep me up in its unrelenting current.  Shock… denial… anger… grief… self-loathing… they all shrouded my existence for the next several months.  I believed that if I didn’t cave into my frequent thoughts of suicide, what remained of my life would surely be a living hell.  But Marjorie’s husband, Gary, did all he could to make sure that wasn’t the case.

The first invitation into his home came immediately after the accident.

He wanted to personally express his forgiveness and speak blessings over my life, “passing Marjorie’s legacy of being a godly woman” on to me.  I assumed he was simply as in shock as I was, but that he’d soon come to his senses and unleash his wrath over my negligence.  However, shortly thereafter he insisted that all charges of involuntary manslaughter be dropped without a trial.  He also rejected a lawyer’s suggestion to sue my family for more money than our insurance company covered.  Over and over he had opportunities to pursue justice, but he consistently chose mercy instead.

But he didn’t just let me off the hook legally and financially.  He ministered to me emotionally and spiritually.  In the coming months, he visited me at work on occasion.  He sent newsletters keeping me updated on his volunteer work with Wycliffe Bible Translators.  He called one year later to joyfully announce his re-marriage to Betty Ann, a long-time friend who’d also lost her husband in a tragic car accident just weeks before Marjorie was killed.  Together, they “adopted” me into the family.

I have relationships with several of their adult children, and some of

their grandchildren even call me “Aunt Shannon.”   Astounds me every time

I think of it.

Now we’re ringing in 2011, twenty six years after that accident, and I couldn’t bear the thought of NOT seeing Gary Jarstfer.  On our way to Williamsburg, Virginia for the holidays, we scheduled an extra couple of days in North Carolina to visit him & Betty Ann.  We toured the Wycliffe Bible Translators base and marveled at the work the Jarstfer’s have been involved in all these years.

I wish I’d had a video camera rolling when I walked through their front door.  They both beamed with joy, and the twinkle in Gary’s eye made me feel like I was the most beloved person on earth.  I know he doesn’t see a murderer when he looks at me.  He sees a daughter.

Through Gary’s amazing example, I’ve come to believe that surely this is how God sees us too.  No matter what we’ve done in past years… the pain we’ve caused other people… the grievousness of our actions… the consequences of our carelessness… God welcomes us into His heart and home.

May you embrace this truth completely throughout 2011, and every year beyond that!

Shannon Ethridge, M.A.
Author and Advocate for Healthy Sexuality & Spirituality
www.shannonethridge.com
www.sexuallyconfidentwife.com

(an old “Peaches & Herb” song from the 1980s)

Almost nineteen years ago, I eagerly awaited Erin Elizabeth Ethridge’s arrival for nine months, and was delighted when I finally got to hold her in my arms.

I’ve been eagerly awaiting her arrival this time for TEN months, so I’ve felt like I’m a month overdue!  Erin has been studying art in Sydney, Australia since February, and we couldn’t ask for a better Christmas present to have her home with us again!  We basked in each others’ presence over hot tea and chex mix last night, and have spent all day rearranging furniture, unpacking suitcases, and helping her re-establish her life here at home.

The following was written by our dear friend Terrica Smith on her blog, www.terricajoy.com, describing my daughter’s homecoming.  I couldn’t have said it better myself, so I’ll let her say it…

VIVID LIFE

She gets it.  She completely, absolutely gets it.

Last night, sitting in the dark of the backseat, I smiled listening to her chatter.  We had just picked her up from the airport after a 24-hour journey home from Australia where she spent ten months studying the Arts in Sydney.  Shannon and I had both been giddy with excitement for days, anticipating the blissful simplicity of having her back in our world.  We had all been fully supportive (and quite impressed) with her decision to move across the globe in the first place, but there was no denying that we’d missed her desperately.  Skype had worked wonders in keeping us connected, at least somewhat, but to have her home now….sheer, inexplicable joy.

I didn’t need to say much.  She already knew.  So instead we just asked her a few questions about her final days and hours in Sydney, and listened, simply content that she was actually present with us.

I can’t fully explain what it feels like to connect with another person on a soul level.  I think writers and musicians have been trying to express those sentiments for centuries.  It’s something that happens almost magically, and try as we might, we can’t recreate it or construct it on our own.  What I can say, is that when you encounter it, cling to it with all that’s in you…because it’s rare.  And invaluable.

She shared that her last night, she and her roommate didn’t sleep.  They stayed up all night writing going away letters and talking, and then before dawn walked down to the beach to watch the sunrise over the ocean.  And then in a moment of spontaneity, decided to swim.  In the freezing waters of the Tasman sea.  In their pajamas.  As the sun rose quietly and dolphins played in the distance.

And I smiled.  God.  Life.  Love.  Living.  She gets it.  She completely, absolutely gets it.

—————————-

If you’d like to check out some of Erin’s amazing artwork, go to www.burnt-sienna.tumblr.com

The True Test of an Aspiring Speaker:

Walking in My Shoes for a Week

I’m sipping a Starbuck’s vanilla chai latte at the Houston International Airport after a wonderful conference weekend in Guanajuato, Mexico.  The weather in the mountainside city was cool, the hospitality warm, and the spiritual climate hot, hot, hot!  (or caliente, caliente, caliente!)

One of the many things that made this trip unique was that I had a new traveling companion.  Suze Stirling has been participating in the online BLAST mentorship program (Building Leaders, Authors, Speakers & Teachers) since September.  She chose to accompany me on this trip, raising her own financial support to cover the cost of her airfare.  I was impressed with her commitment, and blessed by her presence, both behind the book table and behind the scenes.  And I also enjoyed watching reality hit this aspiring speaker as she got an intimate look at the life of a traveling speaker.

Her previous impressions may have been something like, “Wow!  That looks like a sweet deal!  Fame, fortune, and fun as she travels to interesting places, meets new people, soaks up the spotlight, signs autographs, poses for group photos, and pockets the profits from a plethora of book sales!”  (Actually, I know this Moody Bible Institute grad to be much deeper than that, but I’m pretty sure that’s what a lot of others likely assume.)  But here’s just a few of the things we encountered that’s most likely given Suze a much more balanced view of what’s required of a speaker…

• 5 days prior to departure my laptop crashed, along with all of my Spanish powerpoint slides (which aren’t easily reproduced since I don’t speak Spanish).  After four days and almost $400 paid to the Geek Squad, I managed to retrieve the files and get them updated just hours before heading to the airport.
• The weekend before the conference I realized that the power cord to my credit card machine was missing.  I must have left it in Miami last month.  My husband plays the hero and finds a replacement online.  We pay a small fortune to have it expedited just in time for this event.
• During this same “week-from-hell” we realize we are running low on our Spanish book inventory, so I place a rush order with my publisher and pay a pretty penny for expedited shipping.  (Yes, authors have to buy their own books, just like bookstore owners do.)  It arrived after sundown the night before our departure, so we spent a considerable amount of time in the cold garage counting, packing, and weighing 200 pounds of books, re-distributing them numerous times before we came up with 4 neatly packed 50-lb. bundles to satisfy airline requirements.
• As the clock ticked on that night, I’m crunching numbers on my calculator, auditing and adjusting the publisher’s invoices, preparing the declaration forms, and calculating the import taxes due upon arrival.  The last thing we need after all of this trouble would be for us to get our books confiscated by the Mexican Customs Department.
• We arrive at the airport and are informed by American Airlines that they do not accept “embargo” at this time.  In other words, all of our carefully packed bins and boxes can’t fly.  They have to be in suitcases.  We bat our eyelashes and hope for mercy.  No luck.  We’re 2 hours away from home with less than 2 hours until flight time, so a friend makes a mad dash to Wal-Mart for the cheapest duffle bags made, while we sweat bullets wondering if she’s going to make it back in time to allow us (and our books) to make our flight.  Victory, with only seconds to spare before we get left behind.
• We arrive in Mexico to a warm welcome, and a hefty tax of 16% on all books.  This tax must be paid whether the books sell or not, so it’s always a gamble as to whether or not we brought just the right amount of books – not too many, nor too few.
• So here we are in Mexico with 4 huge suitcases of books and 2 personal suitcases, and two sweet, tiny women arrive to transport us to the hotel… in a Ford Fiesta.  We tip a guy $50 pesos to help us cram 6 suitcases and 4 women into a car built to hold half of that.  Suze and I hold two 50-lb. suitcases in our laps in the back seat.  Ah, making memories together!
• We are taken to a nice Holiday Inn Express.  During our 10 p.m. dinner I offer a praise report to Suze that I’ve NEVER had to miss a speaking event because of sickness.  Not in 15 years.  Suze is amazed and knocks on wood.  Then I awake at 1:50 a.m. feeling sicker than a dying dog.  Nauseous stomach.  Splitting headache.  Watery eyes, cotton mouth.  Room spinning.  Altitude sickness, I deduce.  I drink my weight in water (in spite of all the “Don’t drink the water!” warnings running through my memory bank from previous trips to foreign countries).  I lay there for 3 hours wondering how to say “Do you have any aspirin?” in Spanish before I finally wake Suze up and ask if she knows.  Fortunately she packed ibuprofen.  60 minutes later the alarm sounds, and I feel recuperated enough to shower up and face the world with a dazzling smile (for those of you who remember that expression from the toothpaste commercial).
• We arrive at the conference lugging our 200 pounds of books (in high heels up cobblestone pathways), ready to sell to the 2,000 women in attendance.  Then we discover that our credit card machine won’t work in a foreign country.  Great.  Rushed that danged power cord delivery for nothing.  But with some ingenuity, we manage to process payments online using my laptop.  A borrowed internet stick saves the day.
• Back at the hotel that night, we count pesos.  $24,696.  Sounds like a lot, huh?  Translated into U.S. dollars, it’s $2,002.  Then we calculate credit card payments of around $400, for a total of $2,402.   Then we add together the total amount paid to the publisher for the book inventory, the shipping charges, the baggage fees, the additional suitcases expense, and the taxes paid at customs.  It comes to $2,200, for a net profit of a whopping $202.  Suze is shocked, and I suspect her “fame and fortune” bubble has just been popped.  But we celebrate the fact that we at least “broke even.”

It would be easy for someone to say, “All of those headaches, hoops to jump through, and overhead expenses — It’s simply not worth it!”  Well, if you’re thinking of becoming a speaker or author for the money, you are absolutely right.  It’s not worth it.  You’d do about as well selling corny dogs at the State Fair, or selling junk on E-bay.  But selling corny dogs or junk won’t reap the kinds of rewards that we reap on a weekend such as this.  For example…

• We fell in love with our hosts, Judith Almanza and family!  Amazing how you can spend 48 hours with a total stranger and leave there feeling as if you were surely twins separated at birth.
• I took great joy sharing from the stage about how God has so gently and graciously taught me about sexual integrity, sexual intimacy in marriage, and spiritual intimacy with Him.  The crowd is incredibly responsive, laughing when I hoped they would, and crying more than they probably thought they would when they left home that morning.
• We witnessed a room of over 300 teenagers submit dozens of anonymous questions about healthy sexuality and how to save sex until marriage.  Their hunger for truth and guidance makes us feel as if we’re doing the most important work in the world.
• Through a translator we listen to story after story… from the women who have already read one of the Every Woman’s Battle books, and how they believe it has saved their marriage… or those that have been sexually abused in the past and wonder if Every Woman’s Marriage could really help them overcome the sexual inhibitions that have driven their husbands away… or the ladies who also lived a promiscuous lifestyle in the past, and are wondering if their emotional needs could really be met by the God they’ve perceived as being so distant.  What a joy to watch HOPE birthed in their eyes!!!
• Although we could freely communicate with less than 10% of the women (those who were bi-lingual), we realized that the spirit of God transcends language barriers!  We received hundreds of smiles, hugs, cheek kisses, and teary-eyed declarations of “Gracias!” and “Dios te bendiga!” (“Thank you!” and “God bless you!”)
• Suze snaps photos during our closing ceremony as a “sea of white” unfurls before our eyes.  Every woman in the convention center waves her “white flag of surrender” (a Kleenex) to her Heavenly bridegroom, declaring the acceptance of her role as the beloved bride of Christ!
• We stroll the streets of the stunningly beautiful Guanajuato that night, in awe of the amazing architecture and festive mood.  “Always a party!” Judith declares about her hometown, as a 10-man mariachi band and an 80-something-year-old dancing matriarch entertains us on the downtown square.   Makes us wish our American culture could only be as carefree.  Then we enjoy another late-night dinner at a family-favorite restaurant, and although we discover there’s a BIG difference between “authentic Mexican” and “Tex-Mex” food, we savor the local flavors and soak up the remaining minutes we have with our beloved host family.
• In spite of the rock-hard mattresses and all of the big restaurant meals we’ve ingested, we sleep like babies that night, knowing that we’ve done all we humanly could to advance God’s kingdom on that particular day.  We wonder how many women we’ll see in Heaven who’s read one of our books, or attended one of our conferences in her lifetime.  It puts a smile on our faces, and a deep sense of gratitude in our hearts.  I go to sleep praying, “Oh, God!  THANK YOU that this is how I get to spend my time on earth!”

So if God has put a message in your heart, and you’re entertaining thoughts of becoming a speaker or writer, I’d simply ask you this one question:

Is your goal to be a celebrity, or a servant?

If you answer the former, perhaps you should just consider doing something really outrageous to get your own reality TV show.  Fame and fortune will come much faster traveling that road.  But if your goal is to be a “prophet” rather than a “profiteer,” then look past the hard work, headaches, and overhead expenses and DO IT!

If you’re like me, someday you’ll be so glad you did.

P.S.  I just learned that my connecting flight home has been delayed by 2 hours.  I’ll miss the special dinner outing planned with visiting family members.  Headache #1,001 for this trip.  But who’s counting? 

posted by Terrica

Our thanks to Debbie Chavez for featuring Shannon on her show recently! In case you missed it, you can hear the interview in its entirety here. Enjoy!

Another great resource, particularly for parents, that we know you’ll appreciate! In Shannon’s own words, “you’ll be challenged and inspired.” Check it out:

We recently introduced you to current BLAST participant, Kathy Floyd, and after seeing this post on her personal blog we immediately knew it was something we wanted to share with our own readers. Enjoy! –SEM staff

I was reminded this weekend at my BLAST class (www.shannonethridge.com/blast if you’re curious) of a story about some hot water. Hot water is usually a good thing.  Think lobster.  Showers.  Cocoa.  Steaming your pores.

Sometimes I really like me some hot water.  Other times not so much.

I greatly enjoy a good hot bath.  REALLY hot.  Especially in winter, I love to let the hot water run over my hands and feet while the tub fills up.  If I’m cold and nothing else seems to help, a hot bath will warm me right up.  Putting something fragrant in my hot water just makes the whole experience rich.  Give me some Bath and Body Works Eucalyptus Spearmint products (body wash, foaming bath AND sugar scrub, thank you) and I can turn into a happy, happy girl . . . at least until the water gets cold.  (I like the Arbonne Sea Source scent too, just so you know.  Shameless plug for my sis-in-law’s stuff.)

I (and the other grownup I reside with) like a hot bath so much that one of the things on our house’s bucket list is a tankless water heater.  Those pricey little appliances give you the ability to have all the hot water you want instantly.  No more running the tank dry and then having to wait for it to manufacture more.  Trust me, I can run a hot water tank dry all by myself, no assistance required.  If you want a bath at my house, you better get yours before I get mine.  (That sounded funny . . . I’m hoping none of y’all want a bath at my house.  It was a figure of speech.) It’s great for doing laundry and dishes too . . . like I care.

Hot water can also refer to something that’s not so soothing.  It’s called Trouble.  As in “that girl done gone and got herself in some hot water.”  I’ve done that before . . . gotten myself in a spot of hot water.  You don’t really need to know more than that.  It’s enough to confess that I can understand how lobsters feel.

Of course, like with lobsters, sometimes we don’t crawl into the hot pot ourselves.  We get thrown in.  Or it gets thrown on us.  Guess what?  It’s still awfully hot either way.

I guess that’s a lot of what makes the difference between hot water that is tolerable and the kind that is not.  Did I choose it for myself?  Okay then. Or did I get subjected to it against my will?  I’m still cooked, and that’s just flat-out not fair.

On a side note, there are those who choose the hot water for themselves, and then get irritated about the consequences and think you did it to them.  Shame on you, you lobster-killer, you!  But that would be a whole ‘nuther post for a whole ‘nuther day.

Anyway, here’s the story I was reminded of this weekend (thanks Debbie Heatwole):

A man was trying to teach his daughter about responding correctly to stressful situations in life.  To illustrate his lesson, he brought three pots of water to a boil on top of the stove.  Into one, he put some carrots.  Into the second, he put an egg.  Into the third, he put ground coffee beans.

A little while later, he turned off the burners and let the pots cools down somewhat.  Then he continued his instruction by pulling the carrots out of the first pot.  He asked his daughter, “Can you tell me what happened to these carrots when they were cooked?”  She replied, “Well, they were firm, but the hot water made them all soft, kind of mushy, actually.”  ”That’s right,” the father replied.  ”Sometimes people who are subjected to stress and trouble get mushy and weak.  They’re no longer able to stand firm.”

He then asked her to take the egg from the second pot and describe what she found.  ”I know the egg was soft and liquid on the inside before,” she said, “but when I crack the shell, I find that it has gotten hard.”  ”And that’s what some people do in hot water,” said the dad.  ”They were tender before, but they let the hard circumstances of life make them hard on the inside.  Now, go ahead and tell me what you see in the third pot.”

The daughter looked into the pot.  ”It’s coffee,” she said.  ”Strong coffee.  Hmm . . . so you’re saying that some people let hot water make them stronger?  Like, the stress actually changes them into something good?”  ”You’ve got it!” the father exclaimed!  ”The people who are like the coffee beans may not enjoy the experience of being boiled, but when the process is complete, they have become something that is useful, even delicious.”

“I see now what you’re trying to tell me,” said the girl.  ”I need to always be careful to be like the coffee beans and let difficult times make me strong, not hard-hearted like the egg, and not weak like the carrots.  But hey, Dad, do you see something more in that third pot?”  The father looked at it for a minute and then said, “Tell me what you mean.”

The daughter replied, “Dad, not only did the boiling water transform the coffee beans into something good . . . the coffee beans transformed the hot water.”

So here’s what I have to ask myself . . . when life gets tough, do I get mushy?  (Yes.  I’ve been a cooked carrot mushball lately, and not for the first time in my life.) Or do I get hard-hearted?  (Yes.  Either I look for somebody or something to be mad at, or I throw up a wall to keep from getting hurt by all that heated liquid you’re slinging around.  Of course, it IS you slinging it around.) Or do I get strong?  (Well.  Hmm.  Maybe sometimes?  On good days?  If everything else goes my way?)

Okay . . . so sometimes, on occasion, every now and then, I can let the hot water of life make me into something usable.  If I’m in the mood and it’s not too much trouble.  Like a lobster who stays put in the cookpot.  I’m such a good girl if I can do that, right?  Like, three cheers for that lobster!!!!

Whatever.  But am I satisfied with being a good little crustacean just sometimes, on occasion, every now and then?  Not really. Do I ever go a step beyond letting trouble transform me to where I actually transform my troubles, maybe even making them more tolerable for others?  Not usually.

I could learn a lot from a coffee bean.  Uuggghhh!  Did I mention I hate the taste of coffee?

I leave you with a loose paraphrase from the book of James for your consideration.

“Count it all joy when you fall into hot water . . . “

What is your current hot water doing to you, or what are you doing to it?

(For more from Kathy check out her blog at http://kathyrodenfloyd.blogspot.com/)

(Our friend, Luke Gilkerson, of CovenantEyes.com recently shared this fantastic article with us and we simply can’t keep it to ourselves.  Check it out!)

I love the word “retreat”… or “re-TREAT”… or “retr-EAT!” depending on how you look at it!

With the launch of our first BLAST class this past Sunday (which was a huge adrenaline rush for us all), I’ve spent the past several weeks preparing like crazy. And the immediate future looks just as crazy, with speaking engagements almost every weekend from September 24 through November 15th. SO, I’m taking full advantage of this THIS weekend, running away by myself tomorrow for a private 24-hour retreat at one of my favorite Texas State Parks. Then my family and a handful of dear friends will join me for a camping extravaganza the rest of the weekend – kayaks, campfires, wild-n-crazy card games, etc.!

Thanks for your prayers that this would be an incredibly refreshing time as I gear up for a busy fall, speaking first at the Beyond Beautiful Conference in Oshawa, Ontario, Canada September 24-25th – join us if you can! Go to http://www.shannonethridge.com/speaking.shtml for more information.

Sorry I haven’t blogged over the past week, but last Friday morning I was awakened to the shocking news of my dear friend Ruth’s sudden death, and life spun a little out of control over the days that followed. She was 47, and leaves behind her husband, Kevin, and six beautiful children ranging in ages from 11 to 21. Ruth developed a blood clot in her lungs 5 days after gall bladder surgery. Her family is here with us now, and Kevin gave his blessing for me to blog today about my “sexually confident friend.”

I met Ruth in 1993 when I was a 25 year-old youth pastor and mother of a one-year old. I was in awe of how highly her husband spoke of her, and how she took such loving care of her houseful of children, not to mention how hospitable she was to the teenagers at their church who often dropped in unannounced. She taught me how to overcome much of my pre-company perfectionism and just go with the flow. She taught me how to lift weights properly and make beautiful quilts. But probably the most valuable thing she taught me was how to be a sexually confident wife.

Hopefully, every woman has someone in her life that she can talk openly with about sexual issues. Ruth was that person for me. It’s odd to think that long before I started talking to the whole world about sex, I talked to Ruth, and now she’s gone.

When I was dressing to impress other men, Ruth spoke the truth in love. When I longed to hit the eject button on my marriage and go looking for the perfect lover, Ruth inspired me to create the perfect love — with the man I already had. She’d tell me how she and Kevin could be fussing and fighting all day, but completely put the argument aside when they went to bed. “We can fight tomorrow, but we’re having sex tonight!” was her attitude. Sex wasn’t something she withheld as punishment for bad behavior, or granted as a reward for good behavior. It was her way of connecting intimately with her husband, and she wasn’t going to let petty things cause either of them to miss out on that connection.

In fact, Ruth and Kevin were the first to invite me to speak to their church’s teenagers about abstinence until marriage in 1995. She was also one of the only friends to which I nervously entrusted my first manuscript for critique in 2000. And as they say, the rest is history. With each weekend conference I’ve led and each book released, she’s been one of my biggest cheerleaders.

In honor of my sexually confident friend, I’d like to challenge you to step outside your comfort zone in three ways:

* First, put aside whatever issue is bothering you about your husband today, and connect sexually with him tonight. It would make Ruth proud to know that her memory inspired such intimacy.

* Next, if you don’t have such a trusted confidante who can be a positive influence in your life and marriage, find one. Find a female mentor who will show you by example how to love well, as Ruth showed me.

* Finally, find a younger woman, and model for her what it looks like to be a sexually confident wife. We’re all on this journey called “life” together, and we all need someone to lead us, as well as someone else to lead.

Thank you, Ruth, for loving us all so well and teaching me how to be a Sexually Confident Wife!

Forever grateful for our sweet friendship,

Shannon