Funerals

Went to a funeral today and got to thinking about what I would do if it was Robert who had passed. Funerals ARE for the living . . . I'm not about to tell Robert what to do at mine. (He told me he'd have congregational singing of 'Mansions Over the Hilltop' and 'Just a little Chocolate Jesus' and then talk about the answers I'd given in 'Loaded Questions'. How right is that?)

There is absolutely no room for much beside joy at a Christians funeral. Although you'd get run out of town for it, I really think there should be a lot of laughing and more than a little bit of envy. Even if the Christian will be missed, it's really no different than a long vacation - we all will be home together eventually.

I ain't saying not to cry - I would bawl my eyes out at Roberts because I would have to go it alone whereas they'd be lined up for him - the scum. But don't cry in misery for the one gone. They sure aren't crying at all anymore.

My Dana

I remember Dana sitting in class on Sunday mornings, quiet, but attentive. I remember her evaluating what was said, turning it over and over in her mind, searching (I'm sure) for scriptural verification. I remember her disagreeing, her voice all soft and respectful. Although I am WAY older than her, I always admired her maturity in the way she communicated. It was never a hot headed angry thing that got blown out of hand with Dana.

So here we are last night, 10 years and a million experiences since those Sunday mornings and Dana and I are still disagreeing. Although I was so against the things she was asserting, I never once felt defensive or attacked - just engaged in an intelligent discussion with a amazing woman. I pray that she felt the same way about me - that I wasn't attacking, that she didn't need to be defensive.

I've never had a problem talking about anything with Dana, good or bad. How many people can you say that about?

He-Man, Master of the Universe

When Rob and Jarred were little, they were ballistic for "He-Man, Master of the Universe' stuff. If it had anything to do with 'He-Man', they were all about that. And that really really bothered me.

He was, after all, a fictional character, the 'savior' of the world, and it goes without saying that I had a BIG problem with the whole mess.

. . and then . .

And then one day Jarred asked me to play the 'He-Man song. I asked him what he was talking about and he said, you know, "He-Man-u-el." He was talking about the Amy Grant song, "Emmanuel' on her Christmas album. This entire time the boys thought the He-Man was Christ. Rob told me that 'He-Man' was in charge. And I was blown away.

I've always pictured Christ as this guy walking around just this side of breaking into tears. A sad sort of man. Never thought of Him as a muscle man. Evidently, my kids expectations were higher than mine.

The day before Christmas Eve

It feels like God has given south Texas a present - rain. All day long yesterday it was raining. And it was a cold rain - which was like a gift to me. I always miss cold and snow - everyone thinks I'd love it until I'd have to shovel it, but I grew up doing all the snow work. I like snow work.

But the cold dreary rain allowed me to stay in front of the fire, and Robert dozed on and off most of the day. It was so 'Un' Hutton. It was great.

Except Brymer is acting really odd. Walking in circles slow and he keeps his head cocked to one side. We had Blane and Megan over for dinner and he cuddled up to Blane (ANYone who knows Brymer knows that is just wrong in every way. He's a little better today. We'll see .

But, other than that, it was an amazing Saturday.

Carols

Since I've become a Christian, about 24 years ago, I have always been bombarded with the "We don't celebrate Christmas as a religious holiday" stuff so much that my kids had no idea what 'Silent Night' sounded like - I'll never forget Rob coming up to me and asking me if I'd heard that one. I've shied away from Christmas carols like opposite ends of a magnet.

But tonight . . tonight Cissy led us in 'Hark the Herald Angel sing' and I thought my heart would bust flat out of my chest. It was amazing. The harmony, the strength, the spirit of the voices belting out that song! All out of ladies - most of whom you never hear anything save a muted laugh.

Rob and Jarred, I am so sorry. I SO blew it.

A Parade of Homes - AHHHHHHH!

I was all freaking out because ladies from the Church are coming to my house tomorrow. There's like 4 houses that people are visiting to chat and look at decorations and stuff and I was all freaked because I am not a decorator. People think I have taste because my house is so cute. Open the door and that idea is blown. I was in Stess villa. Big time.

Then Betty Rachley came over and told me that my house was warm and inviting. That's all I ever wanted my house to be. A place to put your feet up and feel free to laugh or cry or nothing at all. I've never wanted to impress anyone. I just wanted a place that was 'safe' from the world. Now, I am just going to enjoy seeing my sweet sisters tomorrow night. Betty, unknowingly, said exactly the right thing to get me back on track.

Think maybe that was God doing some work through someone?

Paradox

The hardest thing (to me) in the entire world is doing right when you flat out do not want to. You smile when you want to scream and take the chewing when you know you're innocent. To be silent before false accusations, to speak out when it will only bring angry confrontations, to love when you ache to belt the person smack in the face. It's called a paradox. And it messes with my head.

We are an odd people, us Christians. I don't enjoy it all of the time. Sure, that doesn't change the way I react, sure I will continue to go against the ole base instincts . . but still, it ain't a picnic all the time.

My Turn to Ramble

Sometimes I write things that are, at best, vague. Confusing, odd, downers . . all that comes to mind as well. But at best - vague.

Some of it is writing therapy, and I don't want any feedback. Sometimes I just like messing with words - I am trying to be an author after all. Sometimes it's because I am vague, confusing and certainly odd. (And proud of it.)

But most of it is a desperate attempt to ask for prayers without being specific. God knows what I want/need/ask for so why put a name down and flirt with gossip? For example, I have right around 4 things that I am desperate to have God help me with - at least so I can see His work. But to ask specifically? No way. Too personal.

But God knows. And hears and understands even when you pray for me for;"The stuff that's heavy on Jackie's heart." I sure would appreciate it if you did that.

Christmas baking

I'M FINALLY DONE WITH COOKIES!!!!

Been at the oven since around noon, making cookies for Amy's party tonight and you'd think I'd be ruined to eat any of them, wouldn't you? Haven't had the 'no bakes' since rob and jarred were little little and man, did I luck out with the fudge this time (some batches are better than others.) Been making sure nothing is poisoned all after noon.

Hey, it's not for nothing that I've got a weight problem.

Heavy

Erin made the comment that I sounded 'heavy'. How accurate . . more than she can begin to realize.

Life has become a sort of suffocating wave - the kind that rolls in and knocks you around. God is using me in ways I hadn't ever envisioned myself being used. And while I'm thankful, I am still having to struggle to breathe. It's cool that I'm being molded, but I don't enjoy the force of it.

The heart has gone out of me

You know how it is when you want something and want it so bad that you re-arrange your life to make it happen and when it does, you end up having to fight and claw your way to keep it until you wonder if it was really worth having at all? I mean, is anything worth all the trouble it causes? Is it possible that things are really 'in the cards' or not?

And most frightening of all, what if it's time to let it go?

Father, what if it's time to let it go?

My take on PC

Was reading in this magazine about a school in Maine that has banned 'Tag' from it's recess activities - along with dodge ball and anything else that reeks of team, or winning/losing, or the chance of a skinned knee. There is discussion about banning the whole recess thing. How unreal is that?? How far have we come to shelter' our kids? Knee pads? Helmets? Wrist protectors? 'Participation' awards? None of that was around when I was a kid.

If God had put Joseph in a bubble, where would the entire known world be during the famine? If God had cupped Elijah the palm of His hand and held him against His chest, where would the nation of Israel be? If God had sent His 10 thousand angels while Christ hung on the cross, where would be the hope of the world?

Like it or not, adversity builds character, hardship tempers souls and tears cement humanity. These are good things.

Maybe people should crack a history book and do some study on the Roman Empire.

Another Tesster Story.

Was at the stables, and told Meg to saddle up Buster. He's this 15.2 astonishingly built, and just as astoundingly gorgeous foundation quarter horse buckskin. Buster has all the energy of a rock at the bottom of a hill . . in a ditch . . .under the hind end of a poet. And I got to thinking that he would be a good horse to show. He does everything and stays clam and is just this side of conscience as he does it. (Absurdly, that is the kind of horse that wins in pleasure classes.)

So there I was, trotting along (as long as I kept up with the cue - he took every opportunity to give me the chance to have him walk) while Megan trots and pivots and laughs on the Tesster. Meg kept telling me that Tess was really wired and I didn't have the heart to tell her that that was Tess. Tail up and wringing, nostrils flaring, begging to go into a run, but ready to spin at the crook of a finger or the twist of your head. (Do I sound proud, or what?)

So I made her switch. We side-passed up next to each other and just hopped from one horse to the other without dismounting. Then I began to ride.

Dana told me that I'd get it back. And I think she might be right.

Mannheim

When the boys were small, we had a few of 'Must Hear's Christmas CD's. All the Amy Grant stuff, of course, Narada and the best of the best - Mannheim Steamroller. Rob, Jarred and I used to make up little senerios for the music (the battle on the ocean comes to mind instantly, huh guys?). On one CS of Mannheim Steamroller is a song called 'Christmas Memories'. It's a song that just leaks warm fuzzies all over the place without being sappy.

And I am getting ready to get in the car with Robert, pick up the Lamores and go see Mannheim Steamroller at the AT&T center!!!!!

It's been a great day. Class, a short sermon (Ray was sick), a baptism, a potluck, and now dinner and a concert (we've got GREAT seats) with two of our best friends in the world. Do it get any better than this on earth?

Christmas Cards

When I was a little girl, we got Christmas cards from everyone - I didn't even know most of them. Mom and Dad would hang them up around the door post going into the kitchen and I always just took it for granted.

But now, man, did I ever take it for granted. I have come to the conclusion that sending cards is a dying art. No, I am NOT begging for cards, but am I the only one who really loves to get those things? We have 4 of them. Four when we used to get about 20 or 30. I always send them to my family - every year, and only my dad ever responds (and he's only good for one in three.)

So this year I made all my cards myself. See, I figured if they saw how much time and attention I gave, they'd break down, buy a box of 30 for $4.00 and put out the 39 cents. Sent them out three weeks ago. It ain't lookin good.

Who Encourages the encourager?

Where is it written that I must ALWAYS be in a good mood?

Have had a lot of things knocking around in my life lately and just ain't feeling 'spunky'. So I get 'friends' who tell me to get over it and cheer up. Well, sometimes (maybe because I'm human, perhaps??), I can't 'move on' or 'cheer up' as fast as they think I should. I was told recently that I have to explain it when I'm in a bad mood, or when I'm not even up to the level of 'spunk' that I normally show. Now, why in the world is that right?

This blog is for no one in particular - the people who have questioned me don't read my blogs. But rather it is thrown out there in the hope that it's read with the understanding that the encourager needs to be encouraged - at least as much as anyone else.

Erins list

Wadda great list!!! Ok, I don't know how to paste anything so I'll just try to answer.

Egg nog or Hot chocolate? It depends. Hot chocolate on a cold night and egg nog every other time. (Gee, why do I have a weight problem?)

Presents wrapped under the tree come from people/family and can appear the second the tree is put up. Santa's gift is unwrapped, with your full stocking leaning up next to it on Christmas morning. (Or you do the scavenger hunt thing. More on that later.)

I think a tree has to have as many different lights and as many loud ordaments as possible. All mine are hand painted or gifts from special occasions. I like to look a t the tree and see something different every time.

My favorite memory is one morning when we lived on Coughran, Santa had the boys go all over the farm looking for clues to find their present - the BIG one. They had to go to the tank where one was time to the end branch of a mesquite tree, into the chicken coop and get one off the roosters leg and under the feed in Tesses stall as she ate. It was COLD and the four of us could've cared less. I am smiling real big as I type this.

I was about 9 when I learned the truth about Santa. I woke up to an outfit (an 'outfit'?) - it was the one sitting out by my stocking. Mom asked me how I liked the pantsuit she got me. Bummer.

All gifts are opened one at a time on Christmas morning. It lasts a good 1 to 2 hours.

I put on Amy Grant (all 3 Christmas CD's),Manheim Steamroller and George Winston 'December' while Robert does the lite thing and I unwrap all the season paraphinilla (did I murder that spelling or what??).

I have a snowflake on top of my tree - wishful thinking.

I LOVE to give. I stink at receiving. Ask anyone. I never know what to say.

My favorite some is 'Mary's Song/ Breath of Heaven' by Amy Grant. Traditional is 'O Holy Night.'

Candy canes are ok, but I wouldn't write home about them.

I shop all year, am done by September so I can spend the last month or two just getting little fun things.

My favorite movie is a tie between 'National Lampoons Christmas Vacation' and 'A Christmas story.'

Wow. That ended up being long. Sorry!!

WHEW!

Yee ha! Nothing happened last night. Other than the fact that I couldn't sleep. Guess it's time to make an appointment.

But nothing weird. I often think that if I really just want to be published, I should write about our past experiences. But, you know, besides the fact that I HATE thinking on that and I hate the fact that it keeps my attention off Christ, most of all, I'm afraid it opens doors that are better left shut.

Deuteronomy 29:29.

This ain't funny

I got really mad at Robert last night because I have problems sleeping and we woke me up three times, just to be cute - he does that sometimes. (Married 26 years and he still ain't caught on that I am not laughing, go figure.)

Anyhow, once he finally decided to go to sleep, he started to snore. I am, of course, awake and when I tell him to turn over or flop like a fish, he stops for a good 10 seconds, then starts up again.

Fine! So I stomp downstairs (The creep slept through my tantrum) and bedded down on the couch where it was quiet. It got cold, so I pulled the cover over my face. I heard him come down and sorta sensed him watching me while he thought I slept. I figured he woke, found me gone and wanted to talk me into getting back upstairs. I was still ticked about the 'waking up' thing, so I ignored him. He kissed my forehead and I heard him go back up the stairs. Serves him right, I thought.

This morning I got repentant and I thanked him for coming down. He looked at me like I was a three headed goose.

He never came down. He never woke up. He never kissed my forehead.

For those of you who know my past, this ain't funny.

I miss the Tesster

Was watching Tesster at her new home - we moved stables. And while I love her just as much, when Chello and Megan asked me to go riding, the answer was a fast "no." and man, did I mean it. I used to LOVE riding, used to LOVE being on that snotty black and white monster. I miss my Tesster as she stands in front of me.

I hate the ranch and the business for killing that love in me. But most of all, I hate myself for allowing it to happen. The work, the worry, the money, the unending day to day 'slog' of it all . . . It's been 7 months and I still have to force myself to saddle up.

Where is that passion? Will it come back? Please, oh please, let it return.

Scrooge

I was watching a movie ('Scrooge') and saw this guy (Albert Finney/Scrooge) watching his past, and his concentration was so intense, it actually made my eyes smart. To actually watch our pasts with no ability to change a thing . . .

The ghost of Christmas Past asks him why he let her (Isabel) go and he says; "I've never been quite sure", and then he is made to go see exactly what happened. At one point, he cries; "No! Don't go! It's a mistake!" and then, glaring at the young man who made those huge errors (ie; himself) he sneers; "You fool!"

How foolish is it to venture into the 'What-could've-beens'? That is a place that lives in defeat and tears.

I think that will be part of hell. Pictures of chances lost, salvation offered but ignored, and the chance to be benevolent given, but rejected. To me, that would be worse, or at least as bad as intense fire and separation from God. "No! It's a mistake!"

I have no intention of finding out.