A Revelation

While watching a movie this weekend, the subject of Christ came along.. . a reference to something He'd done, a quick blip about His life. And My heart raced. All my attention became pivoted to the TV. I ached to catch a glimpse, to learn anything, to watch His word become real. Like searching for a friendly face in a hostile room, and then seeing Him, I knew relief. The utter relief of Him.

I realized that was exactly how I feel when I see Robert, or the boys, or horses. The realization hit me.

I am in love. With Christ. Not because of the salvation He brought, not because of the chance of heaven He offers, not even because He has the whole of creation under His hand.

But because I love Him. Him.

Being over saved makes me smile.

It's All About the Humility

While I was in services last Sunday, I sat behind an older couple. After the service, they both turned to me and said how much they loved hearing me sing. I scoffed, of course,because that is what you're supposed to do, right? Humble. ("No! No! No! You must have heard someone else . . .I am an untalented worm . . .") With brutal honestly, I confess I was proud.

The lady told me, "Jackie, you can write, and draw and really sing. Is there anything you can't do?"

Instantly I was brought back to earth. To the core of the earth.
Because . . .
I can't forgive sometimes.
I can't handle being around certain people sometimes.
I can't control my temper sometimes.
I can't master patience sometimes.
I can't smile when I want to scream sometimes.
I can't stop eating sometimes.
I can't stop bad words from spewing sometimes.
I can't make myself get up and go to church/fellowship/serve the church sometimes.
I can't cry sometimes.
I can't love sometimes.


Up next to those brutal realities, who cares at all if you can write, or draw or sing - any of the time?

Help Wanted

Because I have no children living at home and because I sometimes question my self worth, I got to thinking yesterday - what exactly is my job?
K . . . it is my job to . . .

* . . . clean clothes.
* . . . clean the house.
* . . . keep the house smelling like bread, or cookies or baking chicken.
* . . . keep Roberts clothes pressed.
* . . . shop for food and house stuff and not go broke in the process.
* . . . make meals that are more than just nourishment.
* . . . to keep the horses fed, well and exercised..
*. . . take care of three dogs. (a whole list in and of itself.)
*. . . make and keep a budget.
* . . keep in touch with family.
*. . . work on the lawn.
*. . . work the garden.

*I am the only one that can give Robert everything he needs on earth - a smile no matter what, a hug when I don't want to, an ear when I can't figure out what he's talking about, and my thoughts - which feed him. And my prayers. Always my prayers.

This age thing . . . .

Man oh man, is time starting to warp around me.

Today - walk with Patti, Susie and Carol, go to the store, clean house, buy horse feed, tend farms(!), mow lawn (no, Amy, I haven't done it yet!)

Friday - walk with Carol and Patti, Belly Button Appt., more cleaning, tend farm - - - maybe buy that cow on Country Story! WOOOT!) start to pack, Susan over for dinner and horse ride,

Saturday, - 4 hour trail ride with Emily, Sara and Chello, take horses, feed and BigBlackDog to Corinnas, shower, work farms, dinner with Amy Andy

Sunday - worship, pack for serious now, set up farms to go without me for a week, wait on Robert to get home, go to services, drop off Belly Button lint to the Stewarts, load truck

Monday @ 3am - head off to Missouri.


(*sigh*)

A Slap in the Self Righteousness

It has occurred to me . . .

-when you have to bite your tongue to keep from saying anything negative . . .

-when you would rather peel puppy skin off a live dog than to spend time with that person . . .

-when you would rather sit at home in front of the computer than go be around the church . . .

-when you can sing 'Sing and Be Happy" with a deadpan face, anxious to beat the baptists to El Castillo but know all the words to "Fly Like an Eagle" and you grin because "that is a great song!" . . .

Then maybe you need to sit back and reevaluate your dedication.

. . . and then . . .

. . . then you realize that if it was easy, Christ wouldn't have had to die. We could've just popped popcorn and watched a movie rather than forcing Him up and into the cross.

I keep forgetting that nothing I go through compares to His life, His patience, His death, His glory.

Shut up and color, Jack.

Dogs

I have always felt responsible for Baby Blues death.

Baby Blue was the little blue heeler that we got to 'replace' Blue Boy.
1. Never try to replace a beloved pet until you're over the first one.
2. Never expect the replacement to be as good/smart/'lovey' as the original.
3. Dog ARE members of the family. Don't pretend they're 'just stupid dogs.'
4. Make sure you do get a new pet in time. They heal your heart.

Baby Blue loved to trail ride. We were out on the 10 mile ride in August. It was hot like the face of the sun. Baby Blue fell further and further behind, panting hard. Cheri drove by and Baby Blue kept trying to get in her car. I asked her if she could and Cheri told me no . . . her car was clean. She even kicked out at Baby Blue. (Wish I could forget that.)
Fine. So I rode on, making a mental note to go back to pick her up because I was sure she was too hot to keep going. She would sit in the shade for a bit, walk a bit, sit in the shade . . .

So I rode home, unsaddled Tesster, went in, made dinner . . . .
Totally spaced Baby Blue off. She wasn't home at dark. I told myself she was resting. And didn't believe it . . . but it was dark . . what could I do?

Was saddled at 5am the following morning, and took off to 'meet' her. I found her after looking for close to four hours. There were/still are no words to express the guilt I felt, or the regret. Bawling so hard it was hard to see, I took her home, wrapped her in a quilt I'd made and buried her by the tank.

That was 8 years ago. I'd gotten over it. I was cool with Baby Blue.

. . . and then . . .

. . . then Belly Button gets caught under my feet.

Again, there are no words to express how grateful I am that this time, I won't make the same mistake.

Looking Back

I remember:

*When my hands could clench and hold on.
*When Robby was so sick I had to put drops of water in his mouth every 10 minutes to stop dehydration.
*Blue Boy.
*The way Brandee giggled during her wedding.
*The look on James face when He remembered who I was.
*David Pursch climbing to the top of the bonfire.
*The trampoline at the farm - popcorn and shooting stars.
*Being able to run.
*Singing with Jamie, Carl, Rob, Jarred, Erin, Dana, Sean, David, Julie, Lauren, Amy, Andy, Lee, Darla, Robert . . . "We Shall Assemble . . . ". "Love one another, for love is of God. He who loves is . . . ", "I am the only one to blame for this . . ."
*Jarred's prayers when he was three.
*Dufus Kitty.
*Erin's shock when she found out I didn't celebrate Halloween.
*Finding mercy in the middle.
*Tamera Coopers shout across the pews.
*The look on Amy's face while I cried.
*Robby's ache to believe.
*Darla painting Christmas ornaments while we talked.
*Jaci's smile when she rode Chief.
*The feeling in my stomach when I signed the papers on the farm.
*Dana's questions on Sunday mornings.
*Jarred's eyes in September.
*The smell of frying chicken.
*The first time I rode the Tesster.
*Jamie's realization.
*Regret.
*Cinnamon rolls for Christmas morning.
*Alice Lester's hug.
*Sarah's tears.
*Robert dead asleep, feeling my icy hand and pulling it to his chest without waking.

The mind is a nutso place. Silly things - not in any way connected . . yet binging inside my head relentlessly. Don't you hate it when that happens?

Wednesday Class

I don't know If I'm able to put this into words.

I think the worst thing that a person can do is go through life without anyone really knowing them. Is there anything harder for the soul to bear?

Case in point: Class tonight. I was teaching.

Christ came into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey,
. . . people cheering (a military king)
. . . people laying palm leaves before him (in a patriotic show of encouragement)
. . . the roman army watching (because they were waiting for a riot)
. . . the city laying before Him. And He cried.

Because He wasn't a military king, and He wasn't ready to lay it all down for Israel alone, and He wasn't there to march into the temple, and Jerusalem was 40 years away from collapse.

No one knew. No one listened. No one heard Him.

He rode amidst a crowd that cheered it's sacrificial Lamb.

Cheered.

They didn't know. They hadn't a clue. He told them and told them. Scourging, humiliation, beatings - "Go, lamb, go!" Nails and blood and sour wine . . . Totally innocent.

He stayed on that donkey while they cheered.

Joel 2:25

When I was a kid, I honestly never got to do much of anything I wanted. Forth of five kids, farm and two working parents . . . nope, I was low on the totem pole. I pretty much worked (or pretended to) all of my childhood. And while I would never voice it, I resented it big time.

I also didn't get much of anything I wanted. Forth of five . . . I didn't get new clothes, toys were few and far between or even candy I liked (when I got candy). There were 7 pork chops for 7 people. There was one plop of mashed potatoes, a spoonful of green beans. That was it. I don't think I really understood what a desert was the whole time I grew up. I was never satisfied . . and man, did I resent that.

I was the one who bore the brunt of being 4th of 5. Cheri had it worse, but I had my share. Mike was sadistic, Cindy was selfish, Nada was mean and mom and dad were occupied. I tried to be invisible, except when I wasn't. And I paid for that.

I was lost in a crowd - the funny one who cooked. I looked into the world of acceptance with envy, but I looked silently. I stayed out of the way and hopefully out of sight of tired parents and bored siblings. And that was the way it was supposed to be, right?

God told Joel: "I will make up to you for the years that the swarming locust has eaten . . . " Joel 2:25

And He did.

Robert.
Rob.
Jarred
Jaci
Brandee
James
Kaia
Julie
Ava
Jocelyn
A weight problem, horses to ride, friends who worry and love on me, four devoted dogs . . .

and a Savior that ached to comfort me the whole time.

Falling Book After Midnight

There are noises in the house tonight.

I have, in fact been hearing the sound of people speaking, all jumbled and in-distinctive . . . almost as if an old radio has been left on in the attic.

The dogs don't react to anything. Robert falls asleep in 90 seconds.

My sensibilities scorn me, my soul remembers what happened before.

So many things we can't know.

And have no wish to learn.

A Reflection

I think I've made God too small.

In my defense, how can I begin to understand what He is? How can I begin to grasp a God who listens to the cries of adoration from grains of sand? He makes the wind sigh in security . . . how can I actually perceive that?

I am below the bottom. I am unable to look toward God with my eyes jammed shut and my fists clinched over my lids. I know this. I accept this. To imagine living within the span of His residence? To actually conceive of climbing on His lap, burying my face in His shoulder?

and then . . .

then I do "accept it". Take it for granted. Flippantly profess the power that is the God.

How can You stand me?

I see nothing. You, my God, are too far above. Too far to touch, but close enough to save.

Really?

I wrote a chick yesterday who had stated that she believed that Glenn Beck should be fired - should, in fact, be shot as a traitor because of his views on the present administration.

God was so with me when I wrote her, asking if she'd ever really listened to him. And then told her that while she might not agree with him, she must, as an American, respect his right to say it.

She wrote back that she had heard him all the time (being a radio personality). He was a radical idiot who would lead this country to violence - then he'd be accountable for his words. She compared his show to the 'War of the Worlds' scare.

Really?

How stupid do these people think we are? Did they really think we'd stay in our homes, sheltered and stupid? Do they really think that people like me base our beliefs on a single radio personality? They can't think that, can they? They can't think that we're so ignorant.

. . and then,

. . . maybe they honestly believe that - if they think we will sit idly by. And if we do that, they'd be right, I guess.

* sigh *

Even Saturday night live acknowledges that he has done NOTHING . . .

. . . . and then . . .

And then he gets the Nobel peace prize.


Guess this rules out any help for the troops in Afghanistan.

A Revelation

The farms are closing down.

Because when you spend that much time in front of the computer, you're not spending time doing other stuff.

Like cleaning the house to make Robert smile.
Like helping Stamo.
Like praying for these people who're lost.
Like praying for my family.
Like playing with my dogs.
Like riding my horses.
The list is endless.

At last I've learned that there is life waiting to be lived off the computer.

Psalm 139:17-18

In Bible study last night we had to rewrite Psalm 139. Here is what I got for :17-18:


"You never forget me.
You dwell on me constantly.
I wish I could count the times You think of me.
I open my eyes and there You are - - - waiting for me to wake up and be with You."



Thanks James.

Estate Sale

When I was a child, there were objects in the house that brought certain memories to the fore instantly - the pink thing, the roast pan, the picture of those mountains . . .

There are objects in my house full of memories as well. What they will say about me one day?

The apple bowl - Will people remember I always made the ranch in that?

the green angled egg plate - Will people remember my eggs that I brought to all the potlucks?

"Two Cows Under Mesquite Lit by Moonlight and Fireflies" - Will people grin at my silly art?

The cast iron pan with the wooden handle - Will Rob and Jarred remember the fried chicken?


. . . or will they all end up in an estate sale, people haggling over 75 cents.

What will be the things that my sons, my daughters-in-law, my sisters, my friends will want to take with them to remind them of me when I'm gone?

Wow. Heavy thoughts for a Friday.

Denver Mornings

When I was in Denver, every morning I would sit in bed while it was still dark and thank God - for that weather, for the birds out the window, for the fact that I got to spend time with Jaci and Jarred and the kids and then, faintly, would come:


"Oo . .. Ooo . . Oomah? You wakin?"

Turning my head to the left, there would be James, careful in his excitement that I might get up any second. Typing this, I am smiling and my eyes are filling.

I miss that bud.

From Colorado to Texas

I sit here, waiting for the Ambien CR to kick in, listening to Robert "breathe heavy', and to the cold rain that falls outside. It's 46 degrees. Tomorrow I leave for home.

Why have I been here? What has been accomplished?

How in the world has been only 3 weeks here in Colorado? Time has flown. I have fallen even more in love with Jah, JooLee, and Jocey (a fact that I wouldn't have believed possible before now), solidified my love for Jarred, and was able to link up with Jaci like I never have before - she let me in for the smallest amount of time - I realized that I love her not just because she's the mother to my babies, but because she's Jaci, and I am getting to know her -the person. I love to be around these people. It physically hurts to think of not having them in the house.

. . . and then . . .

I am so nuts about Robert. I see how much Pleasanton, and all the humidity, grass burrs and needy animals mean to me. It has been aeon's since I went there. I realize the power of home so acutely. Those people . . those ties . . . It physically thrills me to think of opening the door to those dumb dogs, who will fight to own me again.

What has been accomplished?

Everything.

Sept 2

Time tumbles down a bottomless black hole.

And you can't climb back out.

A Walk With Jocey

Sometimes Jocelyn doesn't want me to hold her hand. She shoots ahead, practically pushing me aside. When she falls, she looks back to me, accepts my hand and ten minutes later, I am pushed aside again.

Sometimes I don't give her a choice. Crossing streets are dangerous - the hill is too steep. I tell her: "Baby, if you'd just let me carry you, it would be so much easier, so much safer." But mostly I let her push me away. She needs to learn. How will she ever run if I hold her all the time?

This is, of course a direct correlation back to me and God. A perfect analogy of how I treat my Father.

But now, thanks to grand kids, I see it from a whole new view. "Jackie, if you'd just let me carry you, it would be so much easier, so much safer."

And I push Him away.