The Fam!

The Fam!
All Us Huttons

Saturday, September 30, 2006

It's time.

I looked down at my thighs recently. A mass of what appeared to be tapioca pudding lay where my flesh should have been. I realized with more than a little trepidation that my days of ease were at an end.

The bow flex I begged Robert to sell sits with patience in the Florida room . .

waiting . . waiting . . .

So quiver you tapioca thigh. Quiver with fear.

Friday, September 29, 2006

It twern't so bad.

So here I am, at my 'non-denominational' Bible study. This new-to-Christanity girl asks what is meant by the term, 'gospel'. The leader says that it's "Jesus.'.

'Jesus'? Just the name, like this brand spanking new chick to the Bible (she asked "Who came first, Christ or Paul?" . . k . . . ), would be able to understand what was so special about Christ. Like osmosis. Obviously the lead chick thought the new chick had heard the name so many time that morning, that all truth had absorbed into her very being.

. . k . .

So, Jackie {that would be me}, with gentle speech and tactful words (THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE PRAYERS - - -It obviously was not me that answered her - it was the Spirit through all those prayers!!!) explained about the death, burial, resurrection and the amazing empty tomb and the new chick got it.

It was so cool to be in control, if only for that little tiny while. And it wasn't nearly as bad as I'd feared.

So, don't stop with the prayers, k?

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Mercy in the Middle

Have you ever had one of those 'Down-on-the-floor-crying-like-you-didn't-know-you-had-that-much-in-you-Father-HOW-can-You-stand-me?' kind of prayer? I can honestly say that I have only had it maybe three times in my entire Christian life. It's when you actually dissect a sin so as to: (1) see it for what it really is, or: (2) to explain it to yourself because you can't fathom why you did it, or: (3) you are so horribly disgusted with yourself that you have to . . HAVE to find out why in all that's holy you did what you did?

Is there any way anyone reading this can understand? (In a way, I hope not.)

So here I am, actually vocalizing my repentance and it was like Christ was there every single time I delved deeper into the sin.

"But, Lord, I had to, I didn't want . . "
"Jackie, chill."
"But how can You begin to . . ?"
"Jackie. Stop."
"But I've hurt so . . ."
"Jackie, would you just rest for a minute?"

Every time I went deeper, Christ was there, with His mercy. Until I got the center and, yep. Still there. Still so kind. Still dealing out that mercy. As long as I didn't try to justify, He gave it before I asked. I couldn't escape Him . . like He never left me to face up to it alone.

In the very middle of my sin . . . Mercy.

How in the world do people live without God?

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

bad day

It's been said that we have 2 lives - the one we learn with and the one we live with after that. And while I've always thought that was a cool saying, I never really understood it at all until today.

' . . we've gotta make a decision;
Leave tonight
or live and die this way.'

Those words nudge my memories - prodding that sleeping animal that I would honestly love to kill. Memories of things done I regret with a kind of honest anguish.

Do bad decisions ever really stay buried? Do we always live with stuff we decided and knew was a bad thing to do, but done for the 'right ' reasons at the time? I would go back, see the mistake (I didn't realize would haunt me so thoroughly the rest of my life) and change it. If . . If . .

I realize and am grateful that I have been forgiven by God, but do you ever manage to find forgiveness for yourself? And do I really want to? I told Jennifer Jones once in class that I need my past to keep me humble. I hold it close and protect it, so I don'tgo thinking too much of myself. But, you know what? Humble hurts. I'd forgotten that.

Two lives. I thought the learning was the worst thing that could happen to me. I'm finding out that the living with it is.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Spinnin my Wheels

Have you ever been at a point in a relationship that you realize is dead? I mean, there you are, you've put more prayer and more heart into a person than you have even to yourself and there's no way anything is changing - unless it's for the worst.

So you try harder and the situation gets worse and so you back off, but you can't do that because when push comes to shove and it always does, you love that person. You love them.

Like a ball and chain, you are linked to them, and no matter how much you ache to leave it, leave them, leave a 'pull you down into the quicksand with them' relationship, still, you can't end it. Even when you think you've escaped it, still, one look and the pain that is your failure slams against your insides like a sledgehammer.

Maybe it's blood. Maybe it's cowardice. Maybe it's wisdom. Maybe it's God.

Whatever it is, I wish it would release me. I mourn peace.

And the scariest thing of it all is that I don't know how far I'd go to be free of this love.


Monday, September 25, 2006

A Tesster story

I have always said that of all the horses I mess with, all of them who I've trained and who's thrown me, stepped on me, kicked me and took off under mesquites with me, my Tesster would be the one that would kill me. I am too comfortable around her. She's suckered me in and is just waiting for her shot. Remember that at my eulogy. Let's start from the beginning . . .

There are a couple of things that I am really proud of in life,- besides the fact that I am smart enough to know I'm too stupid to go it without Christ - Tesst is one of them.

Tesster is my horse and I've had her since 1994. I trained her and she is the one thing that just takes me as I am, then won't let me slack and other times she simply lays down in the stall with me, and I lay next to her with my head on her big old belly (she ain't missed a settin in her life).

Because I am such a pushover, I give her horse cookies about 80036 times a day. (Gee, why is she so fat?) I don't do it the smart way, palm flat, cookie on top and no appendages in danger. I just shove it in her mouth, like you would put a letter in a mailbox. A couple of times over the years, she's had to get my fingers out of the way with her tongue.

Well, today when I gave her a cookie, I stuck my finger in too far and this time she didn't even try to get around it. She crunched down and let me tell you, a grazing animals teeth are blunt weapons of mass destruction.

It's all bruised and feels funny, like it's loose. Great. I'll lose my nail and won't that be appealing? Bet Robert will see is and say "Ooooo, baby! Yer makin my mouth water!"

I'll tell you . . she's gonna kill me. And it's gonna huuuurt.

The Invite

Here I am in services, listening to these amazing preacher. (I will be going to Red River next year . . I mean, this guy is three shakes past gifted.) And it occurs to me . . who's feeding him while he's here? So I ask Robert to invite him for dinner tomorrow (that would be tonight). We'll have him and the Lamores over. Yeah. Maybe the Kellys too . . yeah, that's the ticket. So, off goes Robert to invite him. He accepts but the preacher doesn't like to eat before services - who can blame him? Burps.

Anyhow, so Robert says, that's okay, and proceeds to invite three other couples!!!! Okay, cool. I absolutely love everyone he's invited, but have this vision of the bug carcasses in window ledges and lint 'afghans' peeking out from under the couch, and the sprinkled testimony of Brymers manliness scattered throughout. And the vacuum cleaner is at the shop! They'll be here in only 12 hours!

Gotta go.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Pet Peeve #458

Don't you HATE it when you tune into a radio station and the first thing you hear is "We're the station with more music! Less talk!" and then they spend twenty minutes telling you how much they don't talk?

Then you change the station because you just can't take it anymore, and they're spewing all the "We're the 56 minute music station!"

Arrrrrrghhhh!

Hello! Station that play all/mostly music play all or mostly music!!!!

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Another question I can't figure . . .

If someone has hurt you so much that a full day doesn't go by without your very soul freezing up at it's memory . . .

If someone obliterates your trust in them and it's so deep that it actually makes you question yourself . . (I realize that only those that have 'been there' understand that last) . . .

If you have been gut shot by someone so thoroughly, you live in a kind of terror that you might see them and at the same time, you search every crowd on the chance they might be there . . .

If that same someone has hurt others that you love past all reasoning . . .

If you ache to confront them but refuse to because what if . . Oh, Father, what if they actually make it worse by their words or their apathy . . .

Is a blanket apology enough? Or is it a cowardly way out? Or is it the best they can offer and so you should accept it with understanding faith in what they were, and what they will become and what you can help them to achieve?

I don't know. I just don't know.

Friday, September 22, 2006

Not an unanswered prayer.

Okay, so when I went to that 'non-denominational' Bible study thing, I was told that there was a waiting list. Seems everyone want in to this thing. In fact, there was this wonderful older lady who was talking with the chick who held our session (her hair was all spiked and cemented still - it was so SO hedge hog. Is it okay if I go ahead and call a spade a spade?), that she hadn't been placed in a study group yet and was it because she "was a 78 year old woman who had nothing to add?"

Anyhow, Mrs Hedge Hog told her that wasn't it all all, they were just so crowded. So, because I didn't care at all for it, and had more than a few scriptural problems (I blogged about it - remember?), I went away confident that I was safe.

Got the call yesterday that I'd been placed. I was not a happy camper about it and on my way to the stables, I asked God what I should do about it. After all, I told Him, I am just a 'trouble maker' and how could I give Him a good name by being so 'Chruch of Christ' in that pluristic world?

Not 2 seconds, and I mean, not 2 seconds, Mercy Me's song 'Good-bye Self' came on the radio.

I smiled and thanked God for his prompt reply.

Pray, pray, pray for me! I can not, I CAN NOT give my Lord a bad name, or hurt His church. And I have such a problem with people who are not scriptural. Help!

Did I mention that I need prayers?

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

After All



This blog was started with the intention of letting you know more of me and me getting to know more of me. So I'm trying to let as much of myself/life out as I dare. I hope that's okay.

Anyhow . . . It is so super rare to find a song that says something as close to 100% as a secular song can get to a time, a place, or a person in your life.

. . . and then you come across one that takes care of all three.

Ours is by Ed Bruce. This is Robert and I.


There's a parking lot
Where the corner cafe stood,
One of the places we first fell in love.
They've built a waterslide
On the bluff by the riverside
Where we first fumbled our way into love.
And you hardly ever hear it -
It's a golden oldie now
But you and I danced to it at least a thousand miles.
We ran with Bobby and his wife,
Her name I can't recall.
But we had lots of fun in love,
Hardly anything else at all.
All the things we knew
Are turning brown and gray with age or gone
It's funny how the years go by -
I can't help but wonder why.
Sometimes it doesn't seem that long.
After all these years
After all the joy and tears
After all is said and done
After most of everything we knew is gone
I still love you.

Man. So me and Robert.

Non-Denominational - - NOT!

OK. So here I am at this 'non-denominational' Bible study, guaranteed not to push any one denomination's agenda or interpretation of the scriptures, being told that the way to salvation is in this pamphlet you can ask for after class (not contained in the book of Acts), and that 'Jesus' means salvation (Not a derivative of Joseph - average guy), that Paul didn't mean he had to impart miraclelous gifts, but rather he meant he wanted to come teach (ignoring the Greek meaning miraculous manifistation ot the Holy Spirit), man has to do nothing to receive salvation (forgetting all the baptisms, repentance, confessing . . even believing scriptures) and that Gospel means the gift of salvation (not the death burial and resurrection) . . do I need to go on? I was flipping through my Bible like mad - as if anyone around me cared to read my scriptures of refutation.

. . .and then . .

And then I remembered asking Amy Lamore if I was maybe too serious about all this. I'm telling you, it was physically impossible to sit there through it without the whole 'Hey! Waitaminute....Where's the scripture on that?' Why can't I just sit back and enjoy time with those who are trying to learn? I'm not saying those people are all going to hell, but I am saying - - man! Ain't you all ever heard of Nahab and Abihu? They didn't think they were doing anything wrong, either . . . and they were just fine, huh? Not!

I am SO SICK of the sappy Grandfather picture that the world holds of God! Don't these people ever crack the Old Testament to see the real God we serve??? How do they miss Roman 5 about Christ being the only - the ONLY way to have peace with God? (If He was so sappy, what's all that about???)

Maybe I need to just chill. Maybe I'm too church of Christ.

. . . then again, the question remains: is that possible?

Monday, September 18, 2006

I don't get it

A question out into the void . . . why do people choose to be mean and say hateful things when they have the chance not to?

Case in point: In the mini classes, most of the people who show are kids or first time adults - never been to a show, nervous, scared . . you get the idea. They always ask for a walk through (that's when you go through each step of the course so there will be no mistakes about what the judge expects) While I don't need a walk through, still, (because I was and guess ever will be a teacher), I always go with the kids and answer questions. So here I was, going over the pattern for obstacle when the show 'manager' came up to me and demanded (I'd like to say he asked, but that would be a lie), demanded to know why people had to have a walk through. He was very vocal about hating the whole thing . . .hating the time it took, and 'Why are people so stupid they can't read a legend???'

Now, while I understand and even agree with him that it is way simple and is time consuming, still, being that this is an open kids show, what is the big deal? And even if it was, why did he have to come at it with that hateful angle?

I don't get it. Do people really like being so unhappy? Do they detest seeing others happy and feel it is their duty to squelch it? Can they help it, or is it so ingrained that they are past redemption? How in the world do they enjoy life? And how can others enjoy being around them? How horribly lonely is the path they walk, right?

Couldn't he have simply accompanied us on the walk through and seen the fear these kids had? Wouldn't that have made the whole thing more than worth the 2 minutes it took? At the very least, why didn't he go into the mens room and bang his head against the stall wall quietly, leaving the scared kids to their task?

I don't get it. But then, I already said that.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

The show

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I have written a book and am in the process of getting it published with the working title 'If You Wanna Learn Humility, Buy a Horse'. If I have learned nothing else, I have learned that I am a prophetic kind of sap.

Hercules, my . . uh . .'handful' of a miniature horse, has done obstacle 87 thousand 458 eight times. In fact, Rachael and I practiced with him and he was so calm and good I considered taking him to the vet. This was not my snot nosed, biting, head tossing, bolting little skeeze wad of a horse I have always known and periodically thought of selling. He was so good, he had to be ill. Very ill. And when we practiced jumping . . man, I away so happy I hadn't sold him. Perhaps . . prayerfully, he had finally matured into a calm, sensible horse.

. . . and then . .

He refused to turn for the back up, backed up all over the poles, kept bumping into me as we trotted. There was a point where you were supposed to lead them into a box, drop the lead and then walk around the box while they 'ground tied' waiting for you. I saw that and told the ground steward to shut the gates to the arena. Sure enough, he bolted for it, the lead flying behind him like something off a disney cartoon. I could only laugh at that point. This was, after all, the Hercules I knew (who was back on the 'I need to think about selling him' block).

And his jumping? He said, "you must be on drugs, chick. I ain't jumpin nothin!' and then when he finally did, he hopped. It was like he was a flea.

Well, at least he wasn't sick.

The end of the matter is this - If you wanna learn humility, buy a horse.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Gotta 'mini' worry.

Don't you hate doing something for the first time in front of a crowd???

Tomorrow is my minature horse, Hercules, fist show where he does hunter - that is to say I take him around to jumps and he hurls his fat little body over them. We've been practicing, and he's done really really well (considering the jumps are at 22 inches and he's only 28 inches - put that into human perspective!) but he's never done it with the kind of jumps they use at a show and he's never done it in front of a bleacher full of people.

Well, gulp - a- rama!

If I survive, I'll blog about it. If not, remember, Amy Brymer gets the Tesster.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Scrapbook cutter

So there I was, 4 in the morning, still looking for my cutter I use for scrapbooking. Ok. There's only one place in the house I use it . . It's absolutely vital to my work and it just isn't there. I tore that place apart - 4 or 5 times! And it's not there.

How could it not be there? This is insane! There is absolutely no place else it could be in the house - but I still looked throughout the house anyway!!!! - and I am paranoid about keeping it super handy because scrapbooking is like writing - when the mood hits you, you gotta go for it or you'll lose the creative thing.

What??? Did someone break in, bypass the tv's, computer, laptops, guns, money and go straight for the cutter?? Is there a run on the black market for paper cutters? Although you can measure easily, and it has a new blade, still, I can't see why it would be a target.

I think that there are people who live in like this other dimension who come in and move things minute to minute in our lives - we never see them because they're not on our plane, but they must be there, rearranging. And they took off with my cutter . . AAAAGGGGRUH!!!

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Baby Whisper

I was one of 5 kids growing up in the tiny country town of Knob Noster Missouri. In the pecking order, I was #4 and (not on a self pity kick here) not the favorite of anyone, much less my parents - looked like mom so dad didn't like me and acted like dad so mom didn't like me. A lose/lose situation . . Let's not go there.

Christmas's were sparse because of us 5 kids, but I didn't realize it then. Christmas was magic . . a time when I actually got attention from my parents (hey, you go for what you can, right?) One Christmas when I was about 7, I got a doll called 'Baby Whisper. She was so cool. She was all soft, and her eyes closed when you laid her back and if you pulled the string on the back of her neck she would whisper to you. Stuff like; "I love you, mommy." and "Can I have a kiss goodnight, mommy?" For a little girl who didn't know she was a girl (I was a TOMBOY - all caps because let there be no doubt about that.), this gift was like a small piece of heaven. I could cuddle and kiss and be soft/feminue and it was ok. I adored that doll - the first one I ever received.

Maybe it was because I liked her too much that my sisters and brother couldn't resist, or maybe it was because they were jealous that they didn't love something with the intensity I had for Baby Whisper, or maybe they were just cruel. What ever the reason, my sisters and brother grabbed her from me one afternoon. My sisters held me back as my brother took her and buried her somewhere. I didn't find her for months and when I did, she was in shreds and couldn't whisper anymore. Funny, but I can still see her when I dug her up to this day. 37 years have passed and it's stayed with me. I also remember how my siblings laughed while I cried that day.

Ok, so it's a bummer. Ok, so I would have rather lived my whole life and not learned what I learned that day about my family. Ok, so I guess this is one of those things that shaped my life. But it's not all bad. Baby Whisper gave me the first insight into what 'girl' meant. So no matter what, I look back and smile at her memory, the first and only doll I have ever owned.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Pee-uuuuu

K, I'm back and settling in. The jet lag is pretty much past. The dogs are fine (try to get a friend to watch your dogs when you go on vacation. Surgery is less expensive than boarding!) The horses are fine, the house is fine . . Hey, even the grass didn't die.

About the house . . ever notice how funny your house smells when you're gone for a while? Sorta like when you were a kid and went to visit friends. Their houses smelled wired. That's what hit me when I got home yesterday. A sickey 'old' smell. Like some old guy has been working in the back yard with no breeze and no deodorant. This must be a smell that is ingrained into the sheet rock. Robert and I certainly do not have that less than attractive odor.

I made dinner really quick to kill it. And I'm gonna bake cookies or bread today. This place is supposed to smell like me, not like some old guys dirty tee shirt.

Monday, September 11, 2006

Home

Home. Long flight. Saw a lightning storm over San Angelo, got rained on in San Antonio. And I looked out the window into the black and cried because I could see Julie smiling REAL big and heard Jah's 'Ah, Cuul'.

Long long flight.

Saturday, September 09, 2006

Ruby

Two posts in one day? What? Am I sick? Or am I hooked?

Just got to thinking about my oldest, Rob. As usual, we're involved in one of those "I'm grown up now, Momma. Let me make my own decisions." - - - "But, baby, you'd be so much better off if you'd just listen to, adhere to, chisel in stone every single thing I say and then never make a move without me" kind of things. (So what's his problem???)

So here we are, back and forth, and Rob comes out with this; "I love you so much, Momma."

I love you so much, Momma.

He's always said that it is his goal to be just like his daddy. He's so on his way.

And he's called 'Ruby' to me because he is, and always has been my priceless gem. I've called him that since infancy.

Pretty prophetic, huh?

Winding Down

Time in Hawaii is winding down, and of course there are 9065 and a quarter things undone. Oh well, if it all gets done, you're dead, right?

Anyhow, Julie now likes Robert as much a she likes me, BUT James is liking me almost half as much as he likes Robert - hey, that is quite the improvement! He even hugs me!

Also, I'm learning to speak Jah. He's got a good vocabulary goin, if you pay attention. Julie has begun to really coo. And Jaci is goin 90 to nothin on the quilt. There's a lot to miss here.

But I saw the temps are beginning to drop in Texas. Amy said my grass is looking tired. Cheri said the pool is cloudy. I have a horse show a week from today. I have to get to training Chief and reprimand Tess, I have a room to get ready for my exchange student, Nellie needs attention, have to be ready to get to Missouri for Barbara (can't do that from here), Brymer needs cuddling, and I have GOT to get Tornado goin under harness. Time to go home.

Friday, September 08, 2006

I'm Too Fat for Egg Shells

Isn't it rotten to have to spend your life walking on egg shells?

Don't you hate to be in a relationship that requires you to watch not simply every word that you speak, but the tone in which you speak it? I'm not talking about tact. I think we should be careful to make sure we're as uplifting as we can (at the risk of sounding Christian), but to have every sound that you speak - - have every facial tick scrutinized for the slightest possible negative intonation? I mean, how can you enjoy being around a person who does that??

ok, so it goes without saying that you can't be close to every single person you come in contact with. Fine. Still, I hang with a few people who I thought were close friends/family, but then realized (ironically through my little sister) that if you have to be that careful all the time, are you really as close as you thought?

But more importantly, is the relationship worth it? Is it possible to be happy to see that person coming without dreading that you might slip and pay for years?

I don't think so. I really think I am finished with pretending close ties with those who can't handle it.

To quote a song . . "I'm Movin on..."

This from a Howlie

You know how it is when you think something about someone and it isn't a nice thing to think, but every time you come in contact with them, your negative opinion of them is only reinforced? And you hate yourself because not only are those feelings self destructive, they're also totally fatal to any chance you have of showing positive Christian attitudes - - or even showing positive human attributes?

Been there?

I have. For about 3 years I have hated coming to Hawaii because of the people. They are less than nice . . uh . . personality challenged . . uh . . royal creeps. I hate being viewed as scum, hate the 'Great. Here comes another Howlie' smirks I get everywhere, the wait staff hawaiians who think a tip is like air - from God therefore born of grace, not merit and I especially hate the "I live in paradise. And what? You're from . . Texas?"

But today all that changed. All day I was around Hawaiians who laughed, and joked and were so glad to see me. Yeah, I was giving them money, but that didn't even bother me. I saw a whole different people. I loved learning culture. I was in love with the talent of this people. The Pacific was bluer and the mountains were higher. The plumeria smelled sweeter. I mean, how cool is that?

I have been proved wrong -AGAIN. (Happens so often, I don't even blink an eye anymore). And it is with some regret that I leave knowing this is my last trip to this island.

Always leave while you still want to stay. Leaves a better taste in your mouth.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

The music man

Robert was so funny today. Jaci and I were working on a quilt and I asked Robert if he would help download some music from my ipod, mp3 - -whatever.

He was like a kid in 10 candy stores. I don't remember ever seeing his eyes so bright as he was when he found songs from years, years years ago. "Hey, baby! Rmember this one?" he kept hollering, making me come in to hear songs that just rol years back with impressive force.

But the main thing was the little boy inside the man I married was out to play today. And he was just as cute as JAH.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Silence

Forgive me, guys. I feel the need to wax poetic.

Silence is sometimes this comforting quilt. It's peace when it visits after times of great turmoil, or hurt, or anger. All that is needed to give it the 'comfortable' status is reason. Silence is a gift.

. . and then . .

Then again, it can be a cold, merciless master that sleeps in it's apathetic stupor, unaware or uncaring that it's in charge. It can cause more pain than anything that has come before it, because it's existence proves it simply doesn't care.

I'm finding that there is no way to have peace when it reigns.

Monday, September 04, 2006

Fear

The Hebrew (OT) and Greek (NT) defines fear (ie:'Fear the Lord . .' etc . . .) as a 'trembling, running away from, shoot with arrow' kind of emotion. It's not simple respect. It's just minding your p's and q's. It is a picture of all encompassing, 'the world revolves around it' fear. Much different from what I'd studied up until now.

In Church yesterday we were told about how the muslims handle the quran (did I spell that right?) . . how they treat it with fanatical respect. The preacher told about a Christian man who had a muslin friend and he asked that friend to see the quran. The guy went into the back room and came back holding a book with gloves on. He had another pair for the Christian friend so he wouldn't disrespect his god's word.

The preacher went on to say that our Bibles are torn, or door stops or dusty. We have no respect for it. Compared to the muslim faith, it was, he said, pathetic.

ok. See his point.

. . . and then . . .

Then I think, why in the world shouldn't our Bibles be ripped to shreds? Anyone who knows me knows the condition of my Bible. (No, Suzie, I can't give it up! I just can't! I know where all the scriptures are on each page . . how can I live with a different one?)

Yes, it's holy, but it's also study material. It's vital for day to day, minute to minute life. Why shouldn't it be falling apart? I cling to it, depend on it, quote from it, let it condemn my actions, let it comfort me, and sometimes, I just hold it close. Because it's the one tangible thing that's stable in my life as a human. (yes, even above Robert.)

God, I have learned through the Word, is not a Person to be feared like the Hebrew/Greek define it - - - - as long as there's Christ to get between us. So, in essence, Christ took away the fear I read about in the Old Testament. Make any sense?

I say all of that to say this: What in the world do we hold up to the fear we are commanded to have? Really? What do we fear? No, you can't say spiders, or rats or whatever. I'm talking spiritually.

The preacher couldn't come up with a thing. Neither could I.

Now that's scary.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

It's really just a song . . .

Listening to 'When I get where I'm goin' and even though I realize that it's just a song, still, it astounds me how this song seems to get into the very center of me, find that place that is not tired, is not depressed, is not dead . . and it wakes it up, making me cry with the physical ache to get where I'm goin.

There are no words for how grateful I am for that fire that still, somehow, still lives in the middle part of me.

How do people live without that hope?

The Shower

Oh the days of getting ready for Church with babies! Man! I've forgotten so much!

Last night we were at Ceal's (Jaci's mom) for dinner, (and that chick can beat the pants off me at spaghetti. Kinda humbling, let me tell you.) and got home so late that James was already asleep. So we decided to wait until the next morning for baths.

So here we are this morning and I told Robert to just bring him in while I showered. We only had about 10 minutes to get ready to make it in time. So this was a 'time saver', 'kill two birds', you get the picture, right? So we're just showering away, and James is so interested in the spray that he is squirming all over the place trying to play. When I finally put him down to get to serious cleaning, he starts running around, laughing. I have to almost hog tie him, but we get'er done. Rinsing the hair brought on a whole other spasm of play.

ARGHHHHH!

It was 10 to nine when we got out. Class started at nine. So, we put her into high gear, Robert going Mach 8 on the dressing. James is sitting there, shivering in the cold . . Wait a minute. He shivered when he looked up and saw his granma coming out of the shower. I was in a crumpled towel, my hair all everywhere, headed right for him.

Yeah, I'd shiver too.



Robert is in the next room putting Jaci's sewing cabinet together with the mpc player in his ears. Way WAY off key. Love to be taping this.

Saturday, September 02, 2006

Home

You know, I'm loving these babies and Jaci is too cool (I didn't know that. Jarred picked a winner . . .hmmmm imagine that), but still, I find myself thinking of Texas. If I could start a list of people I miss, the list would be long.

But the silly things? The things people roll their eyes about? Oh man, oh man, . . .

I SO miss the Tesster and Chief because they keep me moving, make sure I don't grow lax, and give me a job that requires boots, and jeans and muck rakes.

I miss Brymer, because he is so possessively in love with me and only me. I miss Nellie because she is the definition when you look up devotion in the dictionary. I miss Beulah, because she's so young and I'm afraid I'll miss something.

I miss my house, because you know, when you're visiting, you can't do the things you can do at your own house . . have gas, burp, scratch inappropriate places, pick inappropriate places . . You know . . . (bet Jaci can't wait to do all those things again.) . . . Home is home, after all.

be it ever so humble.

Friday, September 01, 2006

The Power of a Granpa

Well yee ha and amen! Robert's here! He's seen the babies and now knows they're even cuter than I said. And, man, did I miss him. Good to have him back where he belongs . . with me, wherever that is.

When I got off the plane 11 days ago, Jah gave me a less than encouraging look, and flat out pushed me away when I tried to kiss on him. I took my time, trying to coax some affection from him, but he would have none of it. (In fact, if he didn't do what I asked I threatened him with kisses. He always obeyed fast with that looming.) But finally, FINALLY, on Monday, he came to me on his own, and by Thursday, I was holding him and tickling him without the hollering.

So Robert comes through the door. He grins, giggles and laughs when Robert swoops him up into a hug and kiss. They then proceed to play while Jaci and I watch. (Jaci is amused, I am just this side of a good whine.) Robert has been here under 7 hours and he's done more with James than I've done in 11 days! I mean, how wrong is that????

. . . and then . . .

Then I remember, Julie still likes me best.

Until tomorrow.