Ok . . . this is scary

Have 'finished the book . . am allowing Amy to read it so she can edit it for me. And I am SO scared I think I'm gonna be sick. Although I know it's not her kind of book, still, I hope she isn't bored to frustrated tears.

This putting yourself out there stinks. Wish this wasn't so important to me.

. . and then . .

And then I remember what Amy told me a while back - "Even if I end up with only one book to pass to my grand kids, it will be worth it."

She's a smart chick.

Ruby

My boy is 26 years old today.

Man! Rob's birthday has been buried all the lint of my life lately, but when I allow myself to remember back on that day I have to grin. I was 19 and scared to death. Robert was in Omaha Nebraska, fresh out of boot camp. God knows I can't handle pain, so the labor was only 4 hours start to finish.

He was supposed to be named Lauren (I hadn't realized then that 'Lauren Hutton' had been taken) because the doctors said that his heartbeat was that of a girls. (This was obviously before the sophisticated ultra sounds of today.) I thought if I had a boy, I'd call him Brandon, but when I saw him, it wasn't a Brandon that looked back at me. It was a Ruby. He was and has remained my priceless gem.

And Mom was there. I'd forgotten that. She was there for me when he came into the world and he was there for me when she went out of it.

Jaci, Jah and Julie left this morning at about 3 am. I've been busy getting the house ready for a showing, wiping fingerprints off the glass in the flordia room and watching the swing sway with the wind. Wadda bummer.

But, on the "Johnson" side, I think we've been adopted by this red heeler. Don't know if it's a boy or girl, just know it has a lopsided ear and a great face. And it's asleep on the front step.

Hey, it's not Jah or Julie, but at this point I'll take what I can get.

Writing Therepy

Things still going mach 8. Everyone tells me that to enjoy all the hub bub now because when it all settles, I'll have to face what's happened.

Right now I can look back on it all with this kind of dispassionate attitude. Like a book you read even through the really slow parts to reach an ending that is less than satisfying.

Interesting, but not worth reading again.

Is that what I have left of her?

8 days

Man. Has it been a week already? Over a week. The funeral for mom was three shakes past horrible and I had the flu during it all. Now, we're all sick sick sick with the flu, Jaci, Jah and Julie included. Robert was REALLY bad - about 104 degrees for like 3 days. But James was almost admitted with pneumonia.

And then the big freezer broke. There was blood everywhere in the garage.

. . . and then . . .

It rained. And it's supposed to keep up. And Robert had to change a 'blow up' diaper. His face when I walked in was great.

(Insert heavy happy sigh here.)

Home

Time heals all. Right. I understand.

Hopefully, as long as there is nothing more to wound it, it will work . . . I will be able to get past this.

Eventually.

Rest

Don't you just hate 'courting' sleep?

You lay there, forcing yourself to relax, thinking of quiet things, (I always like to do the 'thanksgiving prayer' thing) but like some guy who won't commit, you just seem to flirt with sleep, falling in and out, having those fuzzy half dreams. And you wake up tired.

Smell no evil

One of the biggest worries I have about showing the house is the smell. You know what it's all about. Every time you went to peoples houses when you were a kid their houses smelled weird. Sometimes bad - I'm reminded of once visiting my friend Deanna and I smelled this AWFUL smell. So after we went to bed, I decided (for some reason) to get up. I opened a door to the outside and almost ran smack into a skinned coyote that was hanging there in the breezeway right outside her bedroom. GAG!!! That stink mystery solved.

Don't you hate it when you clean and scrub and think it's ll good and then there comes a humid day that releases scents you thought best left in the sewage pool? So I'm walking into the kitchen for my coffee today and it hits me. I have to walk past the flordia room that now holds memories of the cat I've given away. What a thoughtful sap.

Hope I got a lot of fabuloso.

Hmmmmmmmm

Wadda trip! I have a million things involved with getting this book published and I'm shaking the entire time. I guess it's the 'putting yourself out there' that bugs the mess out of me. That and the fact that there's too much going on in my life right now.

Anyhow, the thing I'm wondering is why is it so hard to draw when you think about it? I usually just spit out cartoons left and right with these snappy sayings and now, sitting in front of a blank page to have illustrations for my book . . . it's weird, but I keep messing up the pictures.

ARRRRGGGGHHHH!

The Office of Motherhood

Robert has always told me to "Respect the office, not the man." We were, of course, talking about Clinton and the office of the presidency. I never understood that. In fact, I vehemently disagreed with it. It appeared to me that when one dishonors the office (as was so in his case) the office itself had become corrupted, unworthy of even common courtesy.

. . and then . .

Mom was aware of all that was around her. She couldn't verbalize it, but you could tell in her eyes that she knew - knew people, events, had a train of thought going that was connected. All weekend I was surrounded with "Darlin" and "Sweeties" and obnoxious baby talk and patronizing tones. I was encouraged to 'sleep in', 'go shopping' and 'take it easy'. It's like all this that had happened with mom was orchestrated so us sisters could all get together.

All I could think was: 'My mother is dying, and you're ushering her out with no dignity.' All of Roberts talk became instantly crystal. No matter what, she has earned your respect. No, it demands it. You must respect her position.

And all my problems with my mother were so secondary to that.

She dodged the 'death' bullet, I think. Time will tell. But she took the 'nursing home' shot full force in the chest. I have no idea what my feeling are.

?

I saw this storm approaching. About February 6th. I thought I was ready to face it.

But are you ever able to prepare yourself for a '5' tornado?

And do you ever get the feeling that God has overestimated you?

While I was at the Stables Feeding . . .

I have come to realize that consequences for actions only sleep when it appears they have been dodged.

Things happen and acts done for whatever reason give me a sigh of relief as the morning dawns and all is as it was. Birds sing. The grass still needs to be mowed, animals need to be cared for . . the wind still blows. How can anything be wrong on a day like this? The very world is ignorant of sin, and death, and pain. It's like you were duped into believing that all was well.

But God doesn't work that way. Wherever you are, there you are and God has been there the entire time. You really can't 'get away' with anything . . .

I rest in the peace of that.

See If You Can Follow Me On This One

What if what you're afraid of is exactly what you wanted but turns out to be what you only thought you wanted because hope is merciless?

What if you prayed for something and it didn't happen, and so you accepted that only to have it come back with a faint glimmer that what you prayed for IS possible?

So what happens to the new life that replaced the old? What about the acceptance you have come not only to live with but actually find peace within?

A new lanuage

At the stable, John and Alendro are trying to teach me Spanish. they take off on some wild tangent, and quiz me (in Spanish) and I fail every time. Although I can catch a word or two . . . that's all I catch. I just end up feeling stupid.

So many things coming to me at once. The more I see of life, the less I like it. And forget understanding most of it. I have come to realize that I am a true weirdo. I just don't see things the way most people do. And while that is a good thing, it also gives me an uneasy pause. I feel out of place - honestly a foreigner in a foreign land.

While learning Spanish is a good thing here in South Texas, I don't think I'm cut out to learn "Secular". Just wish I didn't walk around in this constant fog of puzzlement.

And I wish I could visting with Andy and Amy without spending all that time venting.

Brymer's Breath

Brymer has really bad breath. Ask anyone. He loves to lick and pant and it's like this rotting corpse spills out of his mouth as he does. His bark actually pushes you back, and if he licks you . . . gag! The stench adheres it'self with disgusting tenacity.

Both Brymer and Nellie sleep up on the bed with us. So I'm in bed this morning, laying on my stomach to keep the smell of Brymer from hitting me - it seems to be a little lighter than the surrounding area . . . . you can lift yourself up into the funk. So I'm laying there and I can smell him and he's close. Everywhere I turn my head, that wall of decaying poo poo is there. So I yell at him to get off the bed, and I hear his bark - outside.

It was me! It was my breath! As soon as I flopped onto my back, the stench headed up and away.

No wonder Robert won't kiss me good morning.

Heavy Sigh

I sit here, staring at my mothers hands that somehow got attached to mine, as I ponder what to write today. My hands are scarred with a thousand barbed wire cuts, and cat scratches and rips from sharp edges all on top of this 'rice-paper'-like skin that seems oddly fragile. My veins are all plump, my cuticle's ragged. The joints on my right thumb and left ring finger are stiff and refuse to bend.

It has occurred to me lately that there are fewer days ahead than behind and life has never been better. Sure, the bumps of life keep you awake, but that don't make'em a bad thing - see the blog entitled "Jackie Blows it Yet Again". Amy's home, Brymer hasn't stroked since Sunday, it's chilly outside, there's a new carrot cake in the oven . . .

Just wish I wasn't ending up with my mothers hands.

The guy who fell of the motorcycle was somehow okay. Unreal, because he hit and rolled HARD, but he was wearing all his gear.

So this is Why Jarred wants to Come Back

I told Robert that if I died in an accident, that to make sure Amy Brymer got my horse Tesster. Then, this guy in a car pushes a guy on a motorcycle in front of me, the guy flies off the motorcycle, I lock up the brakes and his motorcyle skids all the way from the old Golden Corral almost to the stop light. So I jump out of the car, into the traffic of 97 hollering at the man to just stay down while I'm dialing 911. My car is on the street, running, the guy who pushed the motorcycle is in the middle of the road, blocking traffic and the rubber neckers are going ballistic. I'm trying to make the guy chill out when I get a phone call. It's from Susie Pursch. Stoma got a call from someone who saw me and was worried about me. When I got home, there were calls from Alice Lester, The Norwoods and Curves. They all loved me enough to call.

Man. How cool is that?

Jackie Blows it Yet Again

If you're really really sick, miserable sick, and have to wait for medicine, but finally you get it and then you take it and it's bitter and gagging, but it's the cure, so you swallow it, grimacing but thankful - - -right?

So with God. While trials make me wince with pain, still, I am happy to go through them, for Christ is on the other side. I don't think I'm being dishonest by saying I welcome trials.

That was one of the things I was trying to get across yesterday, Dana. Sorry I can be so obtuse.

Brymer

My dog, Brymer, has cancer. And it didn't hit me until the doctor said that it didn't look all bad. How weird is that? I just started crying, putting my face into his black fur . . he didn't even growl.

The people reading this understand how this is affecting me. All the "It's just a dog!" remarks are not appreciated. Too much time, too much love wrapped up in that ball of black/tan/red. And the thing that keeps on slapping me is the fact that he's not 'my' dog - I'm his person. The world revolves around me . . . I must be sought for and protected above all else.

He's on antibiotics for a month and we'll see how he responds.

What Goes There?

Whenever there is a storm headed our way, I can always tell whether it's really coming, or if it's just teasing. I get these horrible headaches. They start out while the front is still a ways off, but depending on the intensity of the headache, I can tell if we'll get hit or side-swiped. Usually I take aspirin and it makes the pain whisper instead of bellow, so it's no big deal.

You ever feel there is something on the horizon, and it's not a good thing and all you can do is wait for it to arrive - - you're powerless? Once when I fell off a horse going 90mph, I remember thinking; "Man, this is gonna hurt." but there was nothing I could do to prevent myself from slamming into the ground. Powerless.

This headache has been here for a while now, and I'm afraid it has nothing to do with thunder and lightning. Whatever, it's gonna hurt. I just know it. It's still a ways off, but there's something there.

The Song Remembers When

I remember sitting in the wet heat of central Missouri when I was about 14 years old, listening to "Dream Weaver" and Boston and Styx and Heart and Chicago. As vivid as if it were an hour ago, I can feel the heat sear it's way into my stupidly exposed shoulders (but I didn't know that then). I lived through an amazing part of history . . . infamously so I think. But I didn't know that then. I was blissfully ignorant of Iran and Jimmy Carter and free love. Life was . .well, life. I simply occupied a piece of it. I never thought it worthy of memory.

The reason I bring it up is because that part of my life is so dormant 99.9% of the time. Then comes a song. And I'm back. WHAM! Like 30 years haven't gone past, like innocence hadn't died, and like my body was yet unaffected by UV rays. And it's a good thing.

If you can use your mind to travel back in time, back into a 'tangible' life . . . then I believe in time travel. I do it all the time.

Phobias

Susie Pursch thinks I am such a baby! I told her about my 3 phobias and she said that I just need to face them. In fact, she said that it was something she HAD to help me with.

But, you know, this isn't simply 'fear' we're talking about. I am almost immobilized by 1) Wide open spaces, 2) long needles and 3) Super loud noises. It's not even something I can control. I just keep clear of those situations. I guess you can say that they control me. So? Is this a big deal?

Why do you have to face things? I don't stop living because I'll never go on a cruise, I just never go on a cruise.

It's not a matter of salvation, is it?

What is the definition of "You"?

A question out into the void: Is there something in your life that defines you as you? I mean, when you think of this thing, it's your name that comes to a persons mind. This is something that defines you as you.

For example, I was putting up with all the stable work and I realized that enough was quickly becoming enough; the horses would have to go. And I stopped short because I realized that 'Jackie' was so interwoven into that life that I wasn't quite sure who I was, or would be without the Tesster. She's the back to my front, the left to my right. It's the same with Robert. What am I without him? It was odd to think of what I would be. No, it's impossible.

But more than a horse or a husband, is Christ. If He was gone . . .man, does that give you the shakes or what???

Bible Study

I have to admit, I wasn't very excited about last nights Bible Study. I was all 'blah' and really just wanting to watch 'Wives Swap' and go to bed. (I do LOVE Monday nights.)

But, man, it was a great time and a great study! People talked and I learned all kinds of stuff that I need to know to build relationships. Best of all, there were people there who really needed to come, and it was so nice to see that. AND I ate 2 pieces of pizza AFTER 6pm. I am such a wild thing.

Anyone got property for sale???

I have GOT to find some acreage. The horses are having to stay on sand, I'm putting out tons of hay for them, and when I am late, the guys who work there throws hay and while that's nice and all that, he gives huge amounts that the horses trample and ends up getting thrown out because they won't eat 'peed on' hay, and I end up wasting lots and lots that cost $9.00 a bale now, I can't afford $9.00 a bale when I go through 6 bales a week - Now, THAT was a long sentence - - sorry Amy. Anyhow, you do the math.

But if I buy just land and build a barn then I have to worry about neighborhood thugs . . uh, children exercising their freedom from their parental controls, messing with the mini's. Then there's the horse gets impaled on top a t post and is ripped open (been there, done that) and is injured up until I come back out to the property, be that 5 minutes or 5 hours. And what about coyotes? And bobcats? Nope. The only hope for it is to move lock stock and barrel back to the country or sell this house. I'm beginning to comprehend that I can't have both.

I just wish I didn't love this house so much.

Sugar

There must be something in your brain that screams: "SUGAR!!" sometimes. I'm going along, all not hungry and smiling when I must have something sweet. It's like I'd pull a knife out of the sink that I used to spread jam for the remnants that might remain on it (actually getting a jar out and spreading it on a piece of bread would take too long.)

I don't even care if it's healthy . . . I want sweet and if you're wise you won't stand between me an it.

Specific Prayers

Betty Rachly told me Sunday as I chomped on DQ chicken strips, that she wants to pray and be really specific. That kinda threw me for a loop.

First off, how in the world can we know what is the best and right thing? Isn't God the only One who sees the whole picture and knows what He wants/needs me to do? Isn't it selfish to diss God for the sake of things that you want - - The "God, I'll use it for You!" - sort of mentality. How can you lay it in God hands and pray specifics at the same time?

. . .and then . .

Then isn't just 'praying for God's will' a cop out? Isn't that like telling your kid, "I could care less what you want, I know what's best and am not even interested in your thoughts"?

We're human. So, is it really selfish to ache for something? Aren't we being unfair as all get out toward God to think that He doesn't want to hear from us?

What if it's not want God intended? Won't God work through any decision we make, even the bad ones? (Rahab/Ruth/Bathsheba with David).

So where does that leave prayer? Especially specific, "Lord, I need You to put a good Christian man in my sisters life and let her actually see it and see You through him" prayers? To quote a brother of mine; What are your thoughts? Share them with me.

What is the real Issue?

I think it's not how you feel about a person that is important, it's how you allow those feelings to affect your actions that constitutes prejudice.

Race is such an issue - and you can scream about it being justified, or reversed or excusable or whatever . . . it lives and it's healthy. But I look around at the world today it appears that we may not like a certain race (for example, liberals . . is that a race?) and we realize that they will see things different, and act different. So you take that into account, help them, while you grumble at their politics.

They will always be what they are, however, their race doesn't define you.

Animals react to situations. Then they go on. They ponder nothing abstract. They just do what they do. Humans, however, are not unreasoning reactionary beings. I wish the world would realize that.

Friday, January 19th

Wadda great day.

I got Cynthia early this morning and got to keep her until about 5:30. I got to see Amy Brymer and she fell head over heels for Cynthia - and backed me 1000%. Saw my little sister for lunch and she was floored by Cynthia and backed me 1000%. Had Megan come over and she was totally in love with Cynthia and wanted to trade places with me 1000%. Had the Lamores, Kellys and my sweet Roxanne over for dinner and 'Loaded Questions' and had a GREAT time. the Spurs won, Brymer didn't stroke again, and it's 42 degrees with a constant mist outside while there's a fire inside.

Wadda great day.

The State that Begins with 'Tex' and ends with 'Us'.

It has been SO AWESOME to sit in front of the fire with popcorn and a good movie. Being from the north, I am so tickled at this weather. It represents so much security against the cold of winter that it makes me all cozy and lazy.

. . and then . . .

And then I realize that I am ready to get the tomatoes in the ground and the sod in place. I'm ready to mow lawns and drink ice tea in the shade. I want to feel the heat on my skin and smell Tess's sweat. I'm ready to go 90 to nothing in the pool.

Oh my word! I've crossed over.

Big Brothers

"A sister? I'm gonna have a sister?" Jarred said when I told him about Cynthia, the 3 year old little girl we're trying to adopt. Both him and Jaci were coming through the phone because they were so excited. Then he said; "Man, I feel sorry for the boys who try to date her with me and Rob around." When I told Rob about that, he said, "You got that right."

I have great kids.

My sweet Friend

Here we are, both 45, on our own, loving the empty nest thing. Who would want more? We do.

Robert and I are trying to do this huge, life changing thing - adopt a 3 year old little girl. And I know people think we're nuts. But Amy Lamore looked at me with this amazed sparkle in her eyes and said; "How wonderful for you!" I didn't know how much I needed to hear that, but God did and used her to tell me. And I was reminded again of how much I thank God for her, my ever constant, ever accepting friend.

Please pray that this happens.

January 12, 1981

26 years ago today.

On this date, 26 years ago, I was very pregnant with Robby (obviously not a Christian at the time) and working an 8 hour board shift at KFBD radio in Waynesville Missouri, watching the clock. Robert was going to pick me up at 6 and we were headed to Rolla to my brother's trailer. My sister had arranged to have a preacher meet us there and we were going to get married. He'd already questioned us the day before, so I wasn't all freaked about it, but I was nervous as all get out. What was I doing??? Robert was this deadbeat guy, who was shipping off to the far away land of San Antonio Texas to go to Basic. All I could think was that I really should marry the father of my baby. A divoce was an easy thing for a later day.

Robert comes to pick me up with his mom, Barbara, and brother, Richard, in the car. (Robert's dad didn't come. It was bowling league night.) For some reason lost to time, I sat in the back with Barbara, while Robert and Richard sat up front, playing a video game as we drove the 30 odd miles to Rolla.

WHAT WAS I DOING?????

We get there and every one - Me, the preacher, Mom, Cheri, Barbara, Richard, Debbie (my brothers wife) and Robert are all doing the small talk thing when I hit my wall; If we didn't do it quick I was outta there.

So we get married, Robert all serious, me snorting because the ring (I bought it at Walmart) wouldn't go over my swollen third finger. We received a set of glasses. And Debbie made a cake.

26 years ago. So many ticks of the clock.

I liked him then, now I love him only second to God. I didn't really give him any credit then, now I respect him and his opinion more than my own. I didn't give him a thought most of the time then, now I trust him with every part of me. He was cute then. Now he is handsome.

How in the world do people live without God?

Just Jackie Rambling - And I do Mean Ramble.

I must really have great insulation in my house. It's 80 degrees outside and I need a coat on in here because it hasn't heated up yet from the night low of 40. Wish that would reflect on my bill.

Robert if really cool and I love him and all that, but if he don't do something about his hearing, I think I'm gonna start popping him upside the back of his head. The rest of my life will be a picture of me repeating EVERYTHING to him . . . And he always says; "What did you say?" when I tell him that I'm tired of his deafness - my kingdom for a new line!!!!!!!

I'm worried, worried, worried about Ceal, Jaci's mom. Something's up with fluid getting into her head . . . scary. I so wish I could be there for Jaci and Gen right now. For those of you who don't know her (which would be most of you) she is an awesome person. I always thank God that He gave me in laws that I really like. Ceal is one of those people that I think I would try to get real tight with even if her daughter wasn't married to my son. And now she's sick. And I'm an ocean and 2/3rds of a continent away.

I am so ready for spring. Just the garden thing. I seem to think a lot of getting dirty lately. It's nice to want to work at something instead of too tired to care.

I am so ready for winter to begin! I LOVE fireplaces and cold rain and herbal tea. And quilting. And movies. And Spurs games. And the way Nellie snores when she's curled up next to me on the couch.

I love my house. I don't know what I'd do to have it in the country (no more than 15 acres, thank you), but I so enjoy just sitting in it, listening to the three squirrels that live in our oak tress sprinting across the roof.

I have something big on the horizon and I have something HUGE on the horizon. Can't think long on either of them . . . I'm too thankful for my life right now.

Heaven

What is your view of heaven?

I have always heard the 'streets of gold' stuff, and mansions (not over the hilltop), and to be honest, those descriptions don't mean much to me. Streets of gold would be notoriously soft - they'd rut easy, right? And I hate big houses.

But the thing I do love . . the thing I feel closer and almost euphoric about is that feeling when you're at a Church function, surrounded by people who love God and love you totally. All the politics and gossip and anything negative simply doesn't exist. It's about living love - making love tangible. If heaven is about that, I will pray for Christs coming with zeal. That and I can't wait to be able to sing and hit an e without my voice cracking.

Don't talk down to me

The pat Christian answers just don't cut it most of the time and, in fact, infuriate you should someone condensendingly murmur one to you. I hate being patronized.

I guess we really don't want to hear when's and why's and whatever's when it comes to being scared, or worried, or the spiraling downhill plunge into blind faith.

. . and then . . .

And then you realize that's all some people have to offer and they ache to be of help in any way. It's a sobering thing to be helpless in the face of a sister who tells you she's scared in a soft voice. Helpless stinks.

None of this make sense, except to those of you who've been there.

Resolutions

My resolutions - and like Andy, I need to be held accountable if you see me blowing it.

1. No soda (High fructose corn syrup, see ya.)
2. More water.
3. Nothing to eat after 6pm - ever.
4. Be a better housekeeper.

Now the important ones . . .

1. Pray lots more.
2. Study more books of the Bible.
3. Always ALWAYS stop and think how I come across.
4. Make Dralena Kelly laugh out loud more often (she did on Christmas day and I really liked the sound of it)

I'll probably think of more later. Don't worry, I know where to find you if I do.

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.

Time and Memories revisited

I have often felt as if I was being watched. Not so much a scary thing, but a certainty that I am not alone in a room. It occurred to me tonight that it is probably someone I know and know well doing the watching; Me.

How many times have I looked back to a time in my past and begged God for another chance? A chance to change something. Or do something? Or how many times do I look back with longing? Look back on when I was free and happy and full of hope?

I am convinced that time lays in layers. I am 80 years old rocking great grandchildren while I am eight and running my little tri colored pony down an embankment - as I sit and type this blog. We are spiritial beings.

Who's to say that we can't dwell on more than one layer of time? Sure, what's done is done. You can't change stuff, but maybe, just maybe, that's me in the corner of the living room, looking back with a strong good memory of now? Isn't it just possible that feelings leave an imprint that is stronger than time? Stronger than the physical world?

Heavy thoughts for a Thursday.

The power of Bad

You know how it is to realize something that you don't like? And you want to talk about it because you're human and that's what humans do. But to speak it aloud gives it a kind of 'wrong 'power. (Is there any way this make sense to anyone except me?) To vent it helps no one. It would only hurt people to have it voiced. And it would destroy me. It's evil. And a selfish part of me wants to spread it.

In the Fifth Element, the president is told not to fire on the ball of pure evil because 'Evil begets evil'. Makes it stronger. Gives it power. And evil never uses power for good.

So I'm gonna shut up and color.

The Prodicals Father

I was thinking this morning that the holiday season must have been doubly awful for the Father of the prodigal son. Waiting for the lost to come home is hard enough without adding all the gaiety and joy that circles around Him as He does. (I realize that there was no 'Christmas' back then, so insert any Jewish festivity here.) He probably dissed the whole holiday thing, politely turning down the eggnog, and smiling faintly at the carols that are sung behind Him while He stands vigil at the window. His concentration wouldn't be on parties, gifts . . it probably wasn't even on 'good will toward all men'. It was centered on His lost boy.

So while Christmas swirls around us all, I think on my God. I can see Him, staring out the window, His focus intent on the road just out side the house. He never sleeps, He never moves from there. Because maybe, just maybe, that kid will turn that corner. Maybe He'll get him back. I think this season means nothing to Him, save how it can bring the lost home. While we live our lives, He continues His love with a terrible but 'beyond words' beautiful patience.

Wow.

Loaded Questions

We were at the Lamores playing a game called 'Loaded Questions' on Thanksgiving. It was an eye opening game. If you want to really get to know a person, play this game. It would be hard to come away from this unscathed - - if you are totally honest.

The questions is asked, the players put down their response, turn them in and the 'Asker' has to guess who answered each. You get points for the correct response. The people who answer get a point too - I guess to encourage honesty. And the questions! 'What is your greatest fear?', 'What is the most frightening thing ever?', 'I am smarter than _______'. and so on. These are not shallow questions. Some of them, in fact, we had to skip on, because there's only so much you can allow people to know. I mean, you are much more comfortable around some people than others.

Like I said, it really aids in learning, and knowing, and daring to reach out. But I'd only tell you to play it if you're willing to let people in. And if you are sure you want to know truths about others.

Thanksgiving day

J to the forth (Jarred, Jaci, Jah and Julie) are in England, spending Thanksgiving with Brandee, Rob and Kaia. And I am watching their kids play, seeing Jaci and Brandee get to know each other (How weird - they're sisters now.) and seeing Rob and Jarred actually enjoy each other - they never did that when they were here.

Have any of them got a clue about the amazing time of their lives they are living now? Never again will things be so new and fresh. Never again will they lay foundations that they will live with the rest of their lives.

I can see them reading this, saying: "Huh?" But for us who have been there (and are working on 26 years together or more), we know. Things I did when I was 19 still haunt me. And some things still make me smile.

Youth is SO wasted on the young. Just ask me.

I Must Be on a Driving Slant

Or how about the cop who rides in the slow lane on a 70mph road going 65 - I imagine just to flex his arrogant muscles, because there's a line of cars behind him about 3 miles long of people too paranoid to pass him?

What? Are they that unsure of the accuracy of their speedometers? Come on! If your speedometers is wrong, so are the other 89 thousand people too chicken to get in the passing lane! Plaaaa-leeese!

I always put my cruise on 69 and pass them up, making sure to give them the "Would you get out of the junior high school mode?' jeer. They always grin at me.

The 'Less Than Wonder Public Servants' - that's the politically correct term for 'Creeps'.

Don't You Just Wanna deck'em?

I don't speed unless it's an emergency. I would love to say that the reason I don't is because of my high moral character, but that wouldn't be true. The fact is that I am a cheap person - 'frugal' for the politically correct. I don't wanna be payin no tickets.

So I set cruise control (especially in Poteet and Pleasanton - do those guys get a commission on tickets?), and stay at or below the limit. So I make people mad. Fine. Let's face it, I'm going slow enough for them to go around.

Here I am, 'obeying the law' along, and these police cars consistently pass me. I know they're breaking the limit, because of the cruise (Chris Morlock has tested the speedometer - it's correct). Fine. Whatever. I personally don't think that is that big a deal.

Until my friend gets a ticket for going 4 miles over. FOUR miles over?

Come on!! Is this a case of do as I say, not as I do? Do the rules not apply to everyone? What's up with this stuff?

Guess I'll add that to my 'Abhor List'.

It's like something off TV

Time ticking and I watch the events of my life unfold, like a spectator at an odd soap opera. I mean, this crud isn't really happening, is it? Like some corny re-run of Knots Landing, I have to make sure I keep my jaw closed because all it wants to do is hang open in disbelief.

I have found myself in the middle of a snarled mess that just keeps getting more surreal. And as I watch it all, wincing as I see someone I love take blow after blow after blow, I wonder (not for the first or last time) why in the world do people choose to live without God?

Question - not rhetorical

If "All things work together for the good of those that love the Lord." (Romans 8:28) then what if the person who it's all happening to doesn't love the Lord? How is a Christian to make a non Christian understand that?

Mondays

Monday is the work day of work days at my house. I have a lot to do, and I kinda flatter myself that I'm pretty organized.

For example, each Monday I put on my music throughout the house then do the laundry, re-writes on the book, work on cards, wrap Christmas presents and clean. I give myself "stations" and time allotted for each and end up making a loop two or three times around the house. It's great because you never get bored, but still are productive.

. . and then . . .

Then if Robert is home it's all out the window. He's helping Lee with peanuts this week, so he's here all morning. He watches TV (no music) he wants lunch (I skip lunch) he wants me to talk to him (there goes the work) and when he tries to wrap presents to help, he goes too slow. I love him to death and wouldn't change him for the world, but can't he find something to do on Mondays?

Oh well. Proof positive that you can be great together and pretty decent apart too, huh?

da Spurs

Amy told me that she couldn't believe that I hadn't blogged about the Spurs game we went to on Wednesday. and I got to thinking, what can you say about a game where you sit 8 rows up from the court, have Manu and Timmy, Parker and Steve Nash just that close, and it's the kind of game that tedders back and forth until it goes into overtime where da Spurs do it with a vengeance, Nash or not? What can I say?









Like, wow.

Results

I heard the gasp from the bleachers when Hercules got second place in his obstacle run. It was a gasp because he was flawless.

I kid you not, every single other participant (there were 11 in all) did not back. Not a one of them. And only 3 side-passed - that's when the horse moves laterally, his front hoofs crossing over each other gracefully. Like I said, only 3 did that AFTER they had to fight with their horses to get in position. The other 8 either didn't do it or side-stepped - hoofs come together, then step, move together - you get the idea. Hercules was so totally the no brainer for 1st.

But, you know, I guess it really doesn't matter. He did it the best he's ever done it - even in practice. I wish you could have seen him. He was so pretty. 'Wow' pretty. My buddy!

Oh, and we got first in In Hand Trail.

He's safe from the sales block for another month.

Repeat Offender

Here we go again. Horse show tomorrow - Hercules all fuzzy and temps due in the 40's. He's usually wired, so now he'll be spastic. (At least I'm dealing with 100 pounds and not 1000 like everyone else there.)

Rotten or good? It's really a crap shoot.

That's not a dirty word, is it?

Roll On Mississippi

Time blunts the edges of anger. Dripping with unstoppable tenacity, it dulls sharp edges of pain, granting a good, honest callus that protects and allows healing.

Wow. That sounded a little sappy. But let me explain quick. I was driving home from the stables and listening to my mp3 player to a song by Charlie Rich called "Roll On Mississippi" and memories cascaded all over me. And I actually grinned at some of them that before I would have sneered at in fury - for time lost and hopes shattered and brutal truths realized. But I didn't sneer this time. I remembered the bad, but it didn't effect me as it once did. And, man, did that feel good.

And maybe, just maybe, time will eradicate all anger and pain. Someday, perhaps, I will be able to lend only a wry smile to my past.

And wouldn't that be a gift of unreal grace from God?

An epiphany

Ok . . been thinking on this and I think that sin can be likened to grass burrs.

Really. Hang with me on this. You're late (for whatever) and are separated by your destination by a large, grassy field. Now, you have the choice to walk around the meadow on the paved walkway or cut through.

Think on it. You take off across the field, and even where there's the St Augustine thing, you manage to find that one grass burr - everytime. It sticks to your jeans and shoelaces and you have to pull it off, pricking your fingers in the process. And you always miss some. So they ride your hem to find their way to the carpet where they blend in, and wait for the bare foot.

If you would have just stayed on the sidewalk - taken the long way around instead of the short cut, you wouldn't have to worry about any of it.

There is no way to eradicate grass burrs totally. They are a fact of South Texas life - and understand that anywhere else you move to has their own 'grass burr' - their unendingly patient pain in the hiney that must be endured.

In short, sin is here and here to stay until judgment. The safest bet is to walk that slim paved walk.

. . . and then . .

And then watch carefully for the grass burrs that manage to creep up onto it.

Can Ya Hear the Hallelujah Choir???

Was at my scrapbook class and remarked that I had someone come in, bypass the computers, TV's and cash and go for the ole paper cutter and Amy chirps up; "Oh!!! I know where that is! I borrowed it while you were in Hawaii!" When I told her that I was up until 4 looking for it one night, she said, "Oh! Didn't I tell you?"


If I wasn't so happy I'd take her off the 'First to Get Tesster' list.

Is There Any Way to Make Kleenex Softer?

Another day, another sleepless night, another box of kleenex gone.

Laid around all day yesterday and felt awful the whole time. Gonna try to get up and move today - so what if I kneel over? At least I'll get some rest! Ha!

Remember, If I do happen to kneel over while I'm at the wheel and I veer in front of a semi . . Amy Brymer gets the Tesster.

I don't feel too good

Don't you hate being sick? Man! All the snorting, and dripping and just enough pain to put you off? You spend your time drinking juice and making juice and drinking juice . . you get the idea.

When I was a little girl I can only remember one time I really felt loved by my mom - I know, pretty pathetic, huh? It was when I had bronchitis and she had me put my head in her lap and then she brushed my hair. (Ok, she only did it that once, but that was something, right????) I was feeling all crummy and she gently ran that brush through my hair. It was all cold outside and warm there and mom smelled like mom and it was a great feeling that has stayed with me for close to 40 years.

You guys have any memories like that?

And in this corner . . .

Wow and are the liberals popping veins and the conservatives dancin in the aisles??? How crazy is this war of words? I was reading the 'discuss' part of the yahoo about the John Kerry thing and was appalled at the language, and the absolute ferocity of the combatants on both sides of the aisle. There was honest talk of a civil war starting if the republicans kept control and/or got the white house in 08. Civil war?

My word and is that the most stupid thing ever or what? While I disagree 1000 and 7 % with anything liberal, still, to be so adamant and planted in your own ideals is foolhardy at best and dangerous at worse.

Us Christians do the same thing. I used to think there one one way and one way only and you were going straight to hell if you thought there was any other way to see it. Time and life has knocked that out of me. Hard. And while I am not the smartest of women, I not not the most stupid either. There is more than one way to look at things. And even to disagree means a smirk and a tongue in cheek test of wills . . not civil war.

It is, after all about hating the sin but loving the sinner, right?

OK, So I Took Basic Math My Senior Year

So last night I'm having this dream about riding Amy's horses (We did that yesterday afternoon) and then I have to get off the horse to make room for stuff to be stacked inside a camper (It all made sense then, but of course now, that's all fuzzy.)

And as I'm stacking stuff, I have to move my pot of soup out of the way and put it in another container that will hold just as much, but be taller. So I got to thinking ". . wait a minute. There's a formula for this!!!! I'll be dogged! I DO need the stuff they taught in algebra!"

And so, there I was, going "Is it volume equals pi times diameter times height? Or is it pi times radius times height?" And it actually woke me up! I couldn't get back to sleep! I don't even know where to go to find that equation!

So, all you teachers . . .which is it or is it something completely different???? I need to know. I need the sleep!

On the Heavier side

Besides being afraid of frightening wildlife, I have learned so many things this last weekend.

I learned not to expect people to act a certain way. They never do.

I learned that some people must be handled very, very carefully, because sometimes learning to grow up just isn't as important as feeling accepted. Some people just aren't ready for it.

I learned that the love I had for Amy Lamore, which I thought was as deep as they come, could get even deeper.

I learned that I am loved. Me. By Jennifer and Amy and Lorene and Sharon and Tina and Kim and Betty and Mildred, and Rosie - - these people really love me, maybe as much as I love them. Wow.

I learned that God sometimes uses my big mouth to His advantage.

And I learned that immarturity reigns. And You know what? The world hasn't and won't stop because it does. I learned that I have grown to be able to smile through and past it, and come out the other side a little wiser - not angry or irritated.

It was a good weekend.