And then there are songs that choose you.

In 2015, we lost our teenage son, Jacob, in a tragic accident. Three weeks before his death, he stood in our church and shared how God had worked in his heart at youth camp. He challenged adults not to give up on his generation. We had no idea that testimony would become one of the last times we would hear him speak publicly.

When it came time to plan his memorial service, everything felt unreal. Our older son was in critical condition from the same accident. Hospital rooms, medical updates, and the fog of shock swallowed our days. Friends from our church stepped in and lovingly created a slideshow of Jacob’s life because we simply could not.

One of the songs included in that slideshow was “I Am Yours” by Lauren Daigle.

I hadn’t heard of her at the time. I didn’t choose the song. In fact, I remember feeling a flicker of irritation that something had been added that we hadn’t personally selected. Christian grief does strange things to our sense and desire for control. When everything else has shattered, even small decisions can feel sacred.

But then the song played.

And a line about seeing God’s fingerprints — the evidence of His hands — pierced straight through the numbness.

In the middle of shock and chaos, those lyrics declared something my heart desperately needed but could not yet articulate: that God was still over the storm. That nothing was left to chance. That we were still His.

For those navigating faith after loss, this tension is familiar. We know the theology. We’ve sung the songs. But when the worst happens, belief and breath do not always move at the same pace.

I didn’t know it then, but something was being planted.

Years later, I would write GodPrints: Finding Evidence of God in the Shattered Pieces of Life. Only recently did I realize that one of the earliest seeds of that language may have been sown the day that song played at my son’s memorial.

It wasn’t dramatic. There was no lightning-bolt revelation. Just a quiet impression that even in the wreckage, God’s fingerprints were still there.

Ten years later, I still see them.

Sometimes they are faint — a conversation that comes at the exact right moment. A memory that feels like mercy. A strength I know I do not manufacture on my own.

Sometimes they are unmistakable — the survival and healing of our older son. The ways Jacob’s testimony still echoes. The unexpected doors that opened for ministry and writing.

Music has a way of slipping past our defenses. It can carry truth into places our theology hasn’t caught up to yet. That song did that for me.

The artist who wrote and recorded it never knew my son. She didn’t know a grieving mother was sitting in a memorial service, bracing herself for a slideshow she wasn’t ready to see. She simply stewarded the gift God gave her. That obedience carried us in a moment when we could barely stand.

If you are walking through Christian grief right now — planning a memorial service, wrestling with questions, or simply trying to find God after loss — I want you to know this:

The fingerprints may not be obvious at first.

But they are there.

If this resonates with your story, I share more about tracing God’s presence in the shattered pieces of life in my book, GodPrints: Finding Evidence of God in the Shattered Pieces of Life. It was written for those who are learning to look for evidence of grace when everything feels broken.

You can learn more about the book here.

You may not have chosen this storm.

But you are still His.

And His fingerprints are closer than you think.

The post The Song I Didn’t Choose appeared first on Jenny Leavitt.

Instead, I watched a moment unfold two hours away—at my granddaughter Olivia’s house—when her mama, Crystal, captured a video of Livie discovering their tree and shared it in our family group chat.

The moment she spotted it, her whole body leaned forward with wonder.
Wide eyes. Open mouth. Slow, deliberate steps toward the glowing branches as if the tree itself was calling her name.

And then, of course…

The reach.

Crystal told her gently, “You can look, but don’t touch.”

That’s all it took for a tiny storm to roll across her sweet face.
A deep grunt.
A frustrated squeal.
A little foot stomp.

She toddled away for a moment—just long enough to pretend she was done—then circled right back again.

Her eyes lifted to the sparkle. Her fingers twitched.
And the cycle began again: desire → resistance → tiny rebellion → gentle reminder.

When she finally grabbed an ornament, Crystal immediately walked with her—hand over hand—back to the tree to return it.

It wasn’t punishment.
It was guidance.
It was patience.
It was teaching.

Something about that moment caused me to pause and ponder. Because watching her, I didn’t see just a toddler learning boundaries.

I saw myself.
And like Eve in the Garden, I saw every one of us who feels drawn toward things that glitter beautifully… yet lead us away from God’s heart.

Lesson 1: The Forbidden Thing Always Looks the Shiniest

It’s remarkable how many toys Olivia has.
How many safe, fun, perfectly allowed things she can hold and enjoy.

But the one thing she couldn’t have suddenly became the thing she had to have.

Somewhere deep in that tiny heart, the sin nature was already whispering the same lie Eve heard in Eden:

“This one thing is what will satisfy you.”

The longer Livie stared at the tree, the stronger the pull became.

Isn’t that true for us?

The more attention we give to temptation — the more we justify it, circle around it, admire it, imagine it — the louder it sings.

We rarely fall all at once.
We fall one lingering glance at a time.

Lesson 2: God’s Boundaries Flow from Love, Not Cruelty

There was such tenderness in how Crystal handled the moment.
She didn’t yell.
She didn’t shame.
She didn’t swat her hand.

She simply stayed close, consistent, and kind.

“Look but don’t touch.”

When Livie grabbed an ornament anyway, Crystal walked with her to gently put it back.

In that simple scene, I got a fresh glimpse of God’s Father-heart.

We often imagine His “no” as harsh—limiting, frustrating, even confusing.
But His boundaries are protection, not punishment.

They are the guardrails of love.

That tree was meant to be beautiful.
To bring joy.
To celebrate Jesus’ birth.

The boundary wasn’t about withholding good—it was about safeguarding it.

And God does the same with us.

Lesson 3: We Cannot Resist Temptation Alone

My granddaughter didn’t have the strength to resist the tree.
She’s only one year old.
The desire was bigger than her willpower.

In that moment, I sensed the Lord whisper to my heart:

“You’re no different, Jenny—except you have My Spirit helping you.”

We can’t resist on our own.
We weren’t meant to.

Just like Olivia needed her mama’s presence, consistency, and hand-over-hand guidance, we need our Father’s.

We need His Spirit nudging us away from danger.
We need His truth drawing us back from what glitters but cannot satisfy.
We need His mercy when we circle back again… and again… and again.

A Question for Your Heart This Christmas

As we enter this season with all its sparkle and noise, I find myself asking:

“What’s my Christmas tree?”

What is that one thing that keeps pulling my attention—tempting me to reach for it, even though it isn’t God’s best for me?

Maybe it’s comparison.
Maybe it’s control.
Maybe it’s worry, people-pleasing, resentment, or overwork.

Maybe it’s something no one else would ever guess.

But here’s the invitation:

Don’t just stare at it.
Don’t circle it over and over.
Don’t try to fight it alone.

Turn toward the One who loves you enough to set boundaries.
Turn toward the One who stays close, consistent, and kind.
Turn toward the One who guides your hands back to where they belong.

He isn’t withholding good from you.
He is protecting the good in you.

This moment with Olivia reminded me of how often God uses family milestones to teach me. Back in April 2023, after Caleb and Crystal’s wedding, I shared a post called Lessons From Our Son’s Wedding — a glimpse into the things God was shaping in my heart during that season. And now, as a Grammie, He’s still teaching me—through tiny hands, bright eyes, and moments just like this.

👉 Read that earlier reflection here:
https://jennyleavitt.com/2023/05/lessons-from-our-sons-wedding/

A Prayer for the Season

Father, thank You for loving me enough to say “no” when my heart reaches for what cannot hold me.
Teach me to trust Your boundaries, to listen for Your gentle guidance, and to turn toward You instead of circling the things that glitter.
Help me recognize temptation quickly and give me the strength to walk away—not in my own power, but in Yours.
Protect my heart this Christmas season, and keep my eyes fixed on what is truly good.
Amen.

The post My Granddaughter’s Christmas Tree Temptation appeared first on Jenny Leavitt.

The post Bible Verses for Grief and Anxiety: Find Peace, Comfort, and Strength in God’s Promises appeared first on Jenny Leavitt.

This little book doesn’t rush you. It meets you where you are and breaks big feelings into small, livable steps. It also reassures you that you’re not “doing it wrong.” There isn’t a single timeline for mourning; there are compassionate tools you can try, one day at a time. garyroe.com

What stood out to me

• Kind answers to common questions
  If you’ve ever wondered, “Am I normal? Why am I so angry? Will I ever feel better?” you’ll find clear, compassionate responses that lower the pressure and quiet the shame. The tone is gentle, not clinical—like a conversation with a caring friend. 

• Practical helps for tough days
  Suggestions like tending to basic needs, journaling honest prayers, or simply allowing feelings without judgment can make the day feel more manageable. Small steps count; they add up.

• Realistic hope for the long journey
  Healing takes time. Scars remain, yet with God’s help the pain can soften and you can move forward while still honoring your love. The guide normalizes this—and walks with you through it. Gary Roe – Caring for Grieving Hearts

If your heart is weary, this resource is a breath of fresh air. Use it straight through or open to the question that’s loudest today. Either way, you’ll feel less alone and more equipped for the next step.

The post A Gentle Resource for Hard Days: Why The Grief Guidebook Can Help You Keep Going appeared first on Jenny Leavitt.

Living forward isn’t forgetting.
When your life begins to include new responsibilities, relationships, and rhythms, it’s natural that your thoughts won’t stay anchored in the past all day long. That’s not betrayal; it’s the gift of being human. You are still loving, still remembering—just with more room to breathe.

Guilt visits gentle hearts.
You might notice a day you didn’t cry and feel a pang of guilt. Early on, that can feel shocking. Over time, as you process honestly, the intensity often softens. There are still waves—unexpected songs, anniversaries, or scents that bring tears—but the waves don’t always knock you down like they once did. Softer doesn’t mean smaller love. It means your heart is healing around a sacred scar.

Honor by how you live.
One of the kindest ways to remember is to live a life they’d be proud of—loving your people well, showing up for today, and choosing purpose. This doesn’t push the past away; it carries their love into the present.

Simple practices that keep memory close—without getting stuck

• Create a gentle “memory anchor”: a photo, a keepsake, or a short story you revisit on meaningful days.

• Journal a letter when you miss them; write what you wish you could say.

• Tell one small story at dinner each week; let ordinary memories breathe.

• Mark dates with simple rituals—light a candle, share a favorite song, do one act of kindness in their honor.

• Notice the guilt voice and answer it with truth: My love remains. I’m allowed to keep living.

A word for early grief
If the idea of lighter days feels impossible right now, you’re not doing anything wrong. You’re early. Our family is ten years out, and this softened space took time. There is a way forward. Hope is not denial; it’s courage for the next step.

A gentle next step
I created a free resource to support you on tender days—practical, faith‑rooted help when your heart is heavy.
👉 Download your free grief resource: https://BookHip.com/GFKWFTK

The post Will I Forget My Loved One? How to Live Forward Without Losing the Memories appeared first on Jenny Leavitt.

In this gentle Q&A drawn from my recent video, I’m sharing honest answers I wish someone had handed me in the early days after we lost our son. My prayer is that something here brings you comfort, clarity, and a little light for your next step.

How long does grief last?

There isn’t a single timetable. Scripture reminds us there is “a time for everything… a season for every activity under the heavens.” Grief is one of those seasons. It often softens, but the love you carry means the ache can visit again on ordinary Tuesdays and sacred anniversaries. That doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means your love is real.

Time alone doesn’t heal. Time and the work of processing—talking, praying, journaling, counseling, remembering—can make space for healing. You’re not moving on; you’re learning to live with your loss in a way that honors your story and your loved one.

How do I find hope again?

Hope often begins as the faintest glimmer—a small light in a long night. You may sense it in prayer, in a quiet assurance that God is still with you, or in the steady presence of people who love you. Hold the small hope you have. As you lean on God and trust His promises, that light can grow. You don’t have to manufacture a feeling. You can receive a Presence.

Try this simple practice: at day’s end, name one glimmer—a kindness you received, a breath you didn’t think you could take, a memory that made you smile. Let that small seed of hope be enough for today.

What do I do with anger toward God?

You’re not wrong for feeling it. Even the psalmist cried, “How long, Lord?” God is big enough to handle your questions, your grief, and your anger. Bring what you’re truly feeling to Him in prayer—honestly. Many people find it helpful to write their prayers like letters. Putting swirling thoughts on paper can make room for God to meet you with perspective and peace, just for the next step.

How can I honor my loved one while moving forward?

Honoring doesn’t mean holding on to pain. It means carrying love into the life you still have. Consider simple, life‑giving ways to remember—a tradition on their birthday, a scholarship or small memorial fund, a service project in their name, or a story you tell the next generation. Moving forward doesn’t erase your person. It’s a new chapter where their memory travels with you.

How do I lean on God when I feel so weak?

Grief often reminds us we are not in control. The good news is that God does not ask you to be strong enough; He offers His strength in your weakness. When you feel like you cannot go on, ask Him to carry you. Ask for the courage to take one more step—then one more after that. Often the miracle is not in the sprint, but in the next faithful step.

“When you feel like you can’t go on, ask God for the courage to take one more step.”

If today is heavy, let this be your prayer. You don’t have to do the whole journey. Just the next step.

A gentle next step
If this helped, I put together a free resource to support you as you navigate grief with God. It’s practical, faith‑rooted, and designed for tender days.
👉 Download your free grief resource: https://BookHip.com/GFKWFTK

The post Moving Forward After Loss: Christian Grief Q&A on Hope, Anger at God, and Honoring Your Loved One appeared first on Jenny Leavitt.

When we worship—especially in pain—something holy happens. Our focus begins to shift from our sorrow to the greatness of our God. In that place we find healing and peace. Lifting our hands can be a simple, embodied way to say, I’m not holding anything back. I surrender. It’s the universal sign of release and trust.

Worship gives us room to express our pain, questions, and doubts, while it gently reminds us of God’s goodness, faithfulness, and love. The Psalms were written for this—songs that carry both lament and praise. “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Psalm 147:3)

Choosing to worship in grief is a declaration: my pain does not have the final say—God does. Worship lifts our eyes from what’s temporary to what is eternal; from our struggles to our Savior who overcame them.

Ways to weave worship into your healing

Begin the day with worship. Let one song or a few quiet minutes set the tone. Sing if you can, or simply sit with the lyrics and breathe.
Let worship help you process emotions. When waves of grief rise, turn on a worship song in the kitchen, on a walk, or in the car. Let the words say what your heart can’t yet articulate and meet God right there.
Create a worship space. A chair by the window, a spot on the back porch, a path under the trees—keep your Bible, journal, and headphones nearby so it becomes a little sanctuary you return to.
Worship with others when you’re able. Corporate worship reminds us we’re not alone. Close your eyes and listen to God’s people sing; it’s a small echo of the day when every tribe and tongue will worship the King together.

A reminder for tender days: worship doesn’t erase pain. It invites God’s presence into the pain, and where He is, there is always hope and peace. Everything God touches, He changes.

A gentle worship playlist for hard days

These songs echo surrender, trust, and the presence of the Healer. Let the lyrics wash over you.

• “It Is Well” (Bethel Music) — a strong declaration of trust in God’s sovereignty in every circumstance; consider reading Horatio Spafford’s story behind the hymn.

• “Raise a Hallelujah” (Jonathan & Melissa Helser) — praise in the face of fear.

• “Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)” (Hillsong) — when you feel overwhelmed, step out in faith and let God hold you.

• “Goodness of God” (Jenn Johnson) — a testimony of God’s faithfulness even in the hard.

• “You’re Gonna Be OK” (Brian & Jenn Johnson) — reassurance for nights that feel impossible.

• “Reckless Love” (Cory Asbury) — the relentless love of God when you feel unworthy.

• “Broken Vessels (Amazing Grace)” (Hillsong) — the timeless grace that restores what’s shattered; John Newton’s story of redemption adds fresh depth.

As you listen, remember God’s promise: “to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.” (Isaiah 61:3)

A prayer for your next step
Lord, meet me here. Receive what I cannot carry. Trade my heaviness for Your presence, my sorrow for Your joy, and my ache for Your peace. Amen.

When you’re ready for more support
I created a free grief resource to help you breathe through hard days with simple prompts and faith‑rooted encouragement. Keep it on your phone, and share it with a friend who needs it: https://BookHip.com/GFKWFTK

The post Worship in Grief: How Surrender Heals the Brokenhearted appeared first on Jenny Leavitt.

Grief can be loud—or silent. Constant—or crashing. It doesn’t follow a schedule, and healing rarely looks how we expect. But God doesn’t wait until we feel “ready” to begin His work. He often starts deep inside us—quietly, gently, faithfully.

In my latest YouTube video, I shared several ways you might begin to notice that God is healing your broken heart. If you’re grieving, these are signs to hold onto—not as pressure, but as hope.

His Peace Comes Gently

You might still be carrying deep pain, but every now and then, you notice it: a flicker of peace. A sense of calm in the middle of chaos. The Bible says in Philippians 4:7 that God’s peace transcends understanding—and it will guard your heart and mind.

That peace isn’t something you earn or create. It’s something you receive. And even just one quiet moment of it might be God reminding you: “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

You Begin to Loosen the Bitterness

Maybe you’re starting to feel a little more open to forgiving—yourself, someone else, even God. You’re not ignoring the pain or pretending it didn’t happen. But something inside you is softening.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean you’re over it. It means you’re ready to release the bitterness that’s been holding you back from moving forward. Even just being willing to consider forgiveness? That’s a powerful sign that God is doing deep heart work.

You Feel Ready to Be Around People Again

When grief is heavy, it’s natural to isolate. But maybe lately, you’ve found yourself wanting to text a friend. To sit in church. To tell part of your story.

That’s God nudging your heart back toward community. Hebrews 10 encourages us not to give up meeting together—but rather to encourage one another. When you start wanting connection again, even in small ways, it’s often because healing has begun.

Gratitude Flickers Through the Fog

You may still feel the ache of what you’ve lost, but you start to see what’s still good. A kind word. A beautiful sky. A hot meal. A child’s laugh.

Gratitude doesn’t erase grief, but it gently shifts our eyes. When you begin to whisper thanks—even for tiny things—it’s a sign God is reorienting your heart toward His goodness.

You Begin to Hope Again

Hope may feel risky. But if you’ve caught yourself thinking, Maybe there’s something more ahead, that’s God breathing into your future.

Romans 15:13 says, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace… so that you may overflow with hope.”

Even the smallest glimmer of hope is sacred. It means your story isn’t over. It means healing is already underway.

Your Story Is Not Finished

Isaiah 61:3 speaks of a God who trades beauty for ashes, joy for mourning, praise for despair. And He doesn’t do it all at once—but He always finishes what He starts.

If you’ve begun to see glimpses of peace, forgiveness, gratitude, community, or hope—hold on. They are not accidents. They are signs that God is healing your heart, even when you don’t feel whole yet.

📺 Watch the Full Message

This post was inspired by insights I shared in my YouTube video, Signs God is Healing Your Broken Heart. If you want to hear these signs unpacked gently, with real-life examples and encouragement, watch the full video here.

And if you know someone in the thick of grief, feel free to send it their way. One whisper of hope can change the course of a hurting heart.

💌 Free Grief Resource for You

I’d love to give you a gentle, faith-filled guide called Sources of Hope—it’s a free gift filled with Scripture, reflection prompts, and comfort.

🎁 Download it here: https://BookHip.com/GFKWFTK

The post Signs God Is Healing Your Broken Heart: Gentle Truths for Grieving Hearts appeared first on Jenny Leavitt.

There’s a kind of helplessness that comes when someone we love is in deep pain. We want to fix it. Say something comforting. Offer a solution. But grief doesn’t respond to solutions—it responds to presence.

When I lost my son, the people who helped the most weren’t the ones who said all the right things. They were the ones who just showed up—quietly, consistently, lovingly.

In my latest YouTube video, I talk about the simple but powerful ways you can support someone who’s grieving, even if you don’t know what to say.

What Helps Most (and What Doesn’t)

Let’s start with the hard truth: sometimes our best intentions come out wrong. Phrases like:

• “Everything happens for a reason”

• “At least they’re in a better place”

• “God won’t give you more than you can handle”

…can land like emotional daggers.

Instead, here’s what grieving hearts need:

💬 Words that Help:

• “I’m so sorry. I don’t have words, but I’m here.”

• “I can’t imagine your pain, but I care deeply.”

• “You don’t have to talk. I’ll just sit with you.”

🤝 Actions that Matter:

• Drop off a meal without expectations.

• Text: “I’m at the store—what can I grab you?”

• Invite them to walk or sit outside. No pressure to talk.

• Mark their loved one’s birthday on your calendar—and reach out when it comes.

Grief is heavy. But when we carry a corner of it with someone, it becomes just a little more bearable.

Faith-Based Support Means Listening First

As believers, we often want to offer spiritual comfort—but sometimes we rush it. Instead of quoting Scripture too quickly, let’s model Jesus: He wept first. He listened first.

If you’re wondering how to pray with or for someone who’s grieving:

• Pray with them silently, holding their hand.

• Pray for them later, when they’ve gone quiet.

• Ask: “Would it be okay if I pray for you right now?”—and accept “no” with grace.

Grief rarely needs answers. It needs presence.

From the Video: A Gentle Reminder

This post was inspired by insights I shared in my latest YouTube video. If you want to hear more examples and ideas for how to truly show up for someone in grief, watch the full message here. And if it encourages you, subscribe for more faith-based content on grief and healing.

You Don’t Have to Do It Perfectly—Just Faithfully

Supporting someone who’s grieving is holy work. It’s not about performance—it’s about love. The kind that sits in silence. The kind that shows up with soup. The kind that remembers.

So if you’re wondering what to say, say this:

“I don’t know what to say, but I’m here.”

That’s more than enough.

💌 Want More Encouragement?

If you’re walking with someone through loss, I’d love to walk with you too.

🎁 Download my free grief resource, Sources of Hope, here:
https://BookHip.com/GFKWFTK

You’ll find simple encouragement, faith-grounded insights, and space to reflect—whether you’re the one grieving or the one standing beside them.

The post How to Support a Grieving Friend Without Saying the Wrong Thing appeared first on Jenny Leavitt.

Grief doesn’t follow a timeline. It doesn’t care how strong your faith once felt—or how much you want to “move forward.” But here’s the good news: God meets you where you are, not where you think you should be.

This post was inspired by insights shared in my latest YouTube video. If you’re interested in diving deeper into this topic, you can watch the full video here. Don’t forget to subscribe for more content on faith, grief recovery, and hope-filled living.

💔 Why Faith Matters in Grief Recovery

• It anchors you when emotions are unpredictable.
  Faith reminds us there’s a God who sees, hears, and understands—even when no one else does.

• It gives your pain purpose.
  Scripture doesn’t promise ease, but it does promise presence. And presence changes everything.

• It reminds you: You’re not alone.
  From the Psalms to Jesus’ own tears, grief is not foreign to God’s story.

⚠️ Signs You’re Spiritually Stuck in Grief

You may be spiritually struggling if:

• Prayer feels impossible or empty.

• You’re angry at God but feel guilty about it.

• Worship feels hollow or forced.

• You’ve pulled away from your church or spiritual community.

If that’s you—it’s okay. You’re not broken. You’re human.

✨ 5 Gentle Faith Practices for Grief Healing

• Write it out.
  Pour your prayers, questions, and memories into a journal. Raw honesty honors God.

• Create sacred rhythms.
  Light a candle. Listen to a worship song. Walk while you pray. Let faith adapt to your grief.

• Find one safe place.
  Whether it’s a support group, a quiet seat at church, or an online gathering, community matters.

• Talk to someone wise.
  Pastors, grief coaches, or trusted mentors can help you hold space for your pain and faith.

• Be gentle with yourself.
  You can be sad and still believe. You can feel numb and still be loved by God.

💡 When You’re Drowning Emotionally, Try This…

Sometimes, emotions feel like tidal waves. Here’s how faith can meet you right there:

• When you feel angry or confused → Whisper a prayer, even a short one like, “God, I don’t get this. But I know You’re near.”

• When you feel isolated → Reach out. Even just one person. God often works through people.

• When you feel numb → Start small. A song. A verse. A breath prayer.

• When you feel hopeless → Hold onto a promise like Isaiah 41:10:
  “Do not fear, for I am with you… I will strengthen you and help you.”

🌱 A Word From My Journey

After my son’s death, there were days I didn’t know how to pray. I sat in silence, tears doing the talking. Over time, I learned that faith isn’t pretending everything’s okay. It’s daring to believe you’re still loved when it’s not.

You Don’t Have to Grieve Alone

If you’re walking through grief, I’d love to walk beside you.
Join my email list for weekly encouragement, resources, and a free gift to help you start healing:

🎁 Download Your Free “Sources of Hope” Guide Here

The post How Faith Can Guide Your Grief Recovery Journey appeared first on Jenny Leavitt.