It's All About Him (2 page)
Not long after we married, I came home one day with a high-performance off-road motorcycle I had taken on trade. Denise asked if she could ride it. I tried to explain that this was not some typical little scooter. But she hopped right on and took off like a pro across the pasture joining our home. She's a rare combination: a gorgeous blonde with a “tomboy” attitude, who can make homemade biscuits just like my mama's.
I have watched this woman give birth to three daughters with no medication and never utter a sound. I have watched this woman of Southern grace, charm, beauty, talent, and integrity stand in the shadows of my overwhelming career and success while quietly serving as the rock I lean on day after day. I have watched her grow from a young girl who looked at me as part husband, part father figure into a beautiful, confident woman, wife, and mother.
Denise and I look back at the meandering path that has led us to this point in our life together and realize that all the wonderful moments, tragedies, disappointments, challenges, good and bad decisions have given us the opportunity to grow, heal, and develop as human beings and as children of God. We have experienced so much together. I'm so proud of her for putting our story into words, and so thankful that she has found a platform by which to live, and that her spiritual connection with God has truly blessed our lives and enabled us to survive so much.
There are many people, every day, who overcome more difficult challenges and hardships than you'll find in this book. But I believe and hope that this story, without all the celebrity pros and cons, can easily be appreciated and adapted within any relationship. When I first read it, I could not stop turning the pages even though I know how the story ends! Exhausted from tears and laughter, inspired by Denise's strength and ability, I sat down and wrote a song of the same titleâ“It's All About Him”âto include with this book, hoping musically to add a little icing to an already uplifting story.
Images from our lives have always found their way into the words of my music, so I'll end this foreword by quoting one of my more recent songs that mirrors some of the same feelings that I wrote about in the song for our tenth anniversary, but written a million miles later!
“Remember when 30 seemed so old
Now looking back, it's just a stepping stone
To where we are, where we've been
Said we'd do it all again
Remember when.”
I love you, Nisey!
Livin' on love, buyin' on time
Without somebody nothing ain't worth a dime
Like an old fashioned story book rhyme
Livin' on love
It sounds simple that's what you're thinkin'
that love can walk through fire without blinkin'
It doesn't take much when you get enough
Livin' on love
Alan Jackson,“Livin' on Love”
I
n some ways my life feels like a fairy tale. I grew up in a little brick house with a gravel driveway in Newnan, Georgia. My daddy was a mailman. As a small girl I'd help my mother can green beans from our garden. I never dreamed that one day I'd live in an immense castle, showered with jewels by a handsome prince.
But that's what happened. Today tour buses pass the perimeter of our gated estate; people hang out the windows and take pictures of our mansion. Private planes, boats, and dozens of cars stand ready to take me wherever I want to go, anywhere in the world. Three lavish vacation homes are staffed and available to enjoy at any time. Employees cook, clean, shop, and run errands for me.
I've been photographed in shimmering designer gowns on more red carpets than I can remember. I've spent time with actors, musicians, celebrities, and presidents. Reporters have interviewed me, eager to portray my private life for newspapers, magazines, radio, and television. Strangers often ask if they can have my autograph, or if they can have their pictures taken with me.
Why have I received all these benefits?
It's certainly not because of me or anything I've done. It's because I'm married to a country music superstar named Alan Jackson. Alan's award-winning, multiplatinum albums and his enormous career success over the last two decades have made him wealthy beyond his dreams; he's a celebrity whose fans adore him.
Because of our relationship, I receive these gifts as well. Out of Alan's graciousness and love for me, he has showered me with extravagant pleasures I haven't earned. I am richâbecause of him.
Riches Anyone Can Have
Recently it's struck me how all this so closely parallels my relationship with Jesus Christ. I enjoy
spiritual
riches, not because of who I am or what I've done, but because of who God is and what He's done. I'm rich in love, joy, and peace because I'm in an intimate relationship with a gracious God who loves me just as I am.
Obviously this parallel isn't exact. As Alan would be the first to say, he's human, full of flaws, weakness, and sin. So am I. We've gone through hard times, when each of us hurt the other. We've struggled in our love and commitment. We've fallen apart, separated, and come back together again. We've experienced the raw fact that wealth and fame really don't buy joy and peace.
We've learned in hard ways what is truly important: the priority of faith and family and the ties that bind us to the God who is always faithful, even when we are not.
That's why I've felt that perhaps it's time to share some of our journey. I don't know why you've picked up this book. You may be a fan of Alan's, and you're curious about his private life. Or maybe you've never heard of Alan Jackson and couldn't care less about country music . . . but you're curious about how God really works in people's lives, and how He might change yours.
Wherever you're coming from, our story is here to let you know that regardless of your situation, you can have the very richest blessings we enjoy. This is because the best assets aren't houses, planes, boats, cars, and diamonds that only the wealthy can possess. The very best gifts in this life are absolutely available to everyone.
Recently I met a woman who asked if she could take pictures of our estate. She was a Sunday school teacher, and she'd been telling the kids in her class about how Jesus said that He was preparing mansions in heaven for them. Since these kids had never laid eyes on a mansion, she wanted them to see pictures of one so they could better visualize the wonderful splendor of Jesus' promise.
I'm grateful for our beautiful home. Every time Alan and I drive into its big gates, we're floored that we actually get to live in such an incredible place. But it's made of bricks and mortar, and it will one day crumble. Christ's
heavenly
mansions will be more beautiful than we can imagine, and they will last forever. And they're available not just for the select few who make it big in this world, but for all who look to Jesus.
Better Than Material “Stuff”
I've learned through a lot of tears, over a lot of time, that possessions alone will never satisfy the hunger we all have inside. The only thing that can fill us up to overflowing is a real relationship with Jesus. That's not just nice religious talk. It's true. While material stuff is great fun, and I enjoy it and try to share whatever I have, I could give it all up tomorrow. But I could never give up Jesus, and more important, He will never give up on me.
Softly and tenderly, He calls each of us, His arms flung wide to hold us tight. He can give us real joy, true peace, and fulfillment forever. This isn't about religion or going to church or looking holy or trying to do all the right things. It's about being in an unbreakable bond with Jesus, living with Him in a cherished connection of love. He longs to bless us abundantly, beyond our wildest dreams.
As is pretty obvious, I'm no theologian. This book isn't a sermon on prayer,God's will, forgiveness, trials and temptations, or any of the other big topics on which it touches. I'm not trying to instruct anyone as if I'm an expert; many excellent authors have written with great insight about these subjects.
But I do know what I know. I'm like the blind man Jesus healed in the Gospel of John. When he was questioned as to exactly
why
this miracle had happened, he said, “I don't know!” Then he went on, “One thing I do know. Once I was blind, but now I see!”
That's a little bit like my story in this book. One thing I do know: Even though I had all the material things we chase after in this world, I once was miserable, full of uncertainty and fear. But now I have real joy and peace!
This transformation is why I have felt so strongly about writing this book. A life lived in the sweet riches of God's amazing grace is far better than any so-called fairy tale you could ever imagine. I know this firsthand. So can you.
It's all about Him.
Chapter 2
LITTLE BITTY BEGINNINGS
A good ol' boy and a pretty little girl
start all over in a little bitty world
a little bitty plan and a little bitty dream
it's all part of a little bitty scheme
Tom T. Hall, “Little Bitty”
I
t all started with a little bitty look, when I met Alan Jackson at the Dairy Queen in Newnan, Georgia. It was a warm Sunday night in 1976, and after the local Baptist churches in town finished evening services, all the teenagers went out for ice cream. I was sixteen years old, green eyed,my long, blonde hair parted in the middle just like all my friends.
But somehow Alan picked me out of the crowd. We were all chatting and laughing, and suddenly this tall, blond guy was standing at our table. He was looking down at me in a sort of sly way, and then he flipped a penny down my shirt. Smooth move.
Though I'd seen Alan at school, he was two years ahead of me, and he went to a different church, so we'd never met. He sat down and talked for a while, and then he ambled away. He was nice, but I didn't think much about him.
I SCREAMED AND NEARLY DROVE OFF THE ROAD, MY HEART IN MY THROAT, AND THEN SLAMMED ON THE BRAKES AND WHIRLED AROUND.
IT WAS ALAN JACKSON . . . AND HE'S BEEN SURPRISING ME EVER SINCE.
Much later, the rest of us said good-bye as we headed toward our cars. I popped open the door of my mother's old brown LTD and slid onto the vinyl seat. I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, thinking about what I'd wear to school the next day and wondering where that penny had ended up.
Then I heard an odd, rustling noise in the back, and all of a sudden this long, lean, blond person popped up from the backseat, where he had been lying down, waiting for me. I screamed and nearly drove off the road, my heart in my throat, and then slammed on the brakes and whirled around.
It was Alan Jackson . . . and he's been surprising me ever since.
Newnan, Georgia
Actually, what was surprising was that we'd not really met before. Newnan, Georgia, was not exactly a booming metropolis. It was the county seat of Coweta County, about forty miles outside Atlanta. Founded in 1828, it had been the home of lawyers, doctors, and merchants whose income relied on slave-grown cotton.
