The Finals

The Final don't start until Thursday and already we are bombarded with Cav's stuff. The Cinderella team. James, James, James. It's all about them and what they're gonna do. It's pictures of Lebron dunking, and running and picking his nose. It's talking trash on Timmy and talking gold on James. There'll be fouls and sneers and rotten refs that want the series to go 6 or even 7.

It's peanut brittle, Dralenas dip, and Amy's couch. Jonathon's "Go to the basket!", Andy's "Where's the black for the rebound?", Robert's "They're lettin 'em back in!" and of course, Jackie's covered face as Tim goes for a free throw, then ill concealed disgust when he misses - - - again.

So it starts.

We Be Jammin

Ain't it cool when the day clicks?

I spent today cleaning, finishing all the pre-draft stuff for my book and doing all those things you put off. It was great. All caught up and feeling a little full of myself.

Why can't I always be this good? Usually, I'm too zapped to move by 3.

Must be the B-12.

One of Those Things That Makes You Go: Hmmmm

Have you ever cut yourself and had no idea how and when that happened? I'm sitting here watching a movie and I notice my hand hurts. So I turn it over and here's this pretty decent cut in my palm.

But I haven't had a knife out for anything, I haven't brushed it up against anything either. But it's there and it hurts.

Think it's aliens?

Why do you blog?

Darla wrote once that she wanted to be positive in her blog and to be honest, that made me feel rotten. When I started this, I always said that I was going to show people who I really was. All the silly, ignorant, bleak world that is 'Jackie'. See, I figured that we spend so much time hiding behind smiles that the true gift of oneself is to be honest - not brutal all the time, but honest.

But then you get all the downers and dark and tears. What good is that? Does anyone really care?

Darla, your way is better. I just stink at it.

Maybe This Will Make No Sense

And I understand that humans are humans, ok? I see that, comprehend that.

But why in the world would anyone complain about a bad relationship when they are doing NOTHING to fix it???? I mean, how can you say that there's no way to get along if you do nothing - - - save feed the animosity? You're not supposed to react anymore . . . right? Christianity is about thinking and doing what's right no matter what . . . correct?

Why would you think being a Christian is easy? It's simple . . yeah, but not easy. Most of the time I've found it to be a strange world that makes no sense and generally makes me pout.

Guess if there was nothing to it, a Man wouldn't have had to die.

A Bummer

Okay, so you've been working all day, unpacking and walking about 80 thousand miles. Your calfs hurt and your feet actually throb. So, you get a hot shower and you get into bed with your ambien CR dissolving quietly inside, working it's lazy way into your bloodstream.

And just as you're fading away, you hear it. That high pitched whine . . a scratchy humming noise that comes out of your nose and actually manages an obnoxious tickle as it does so. It's a screamer . . a hanging chad with volume . . a bat screeching in the bat cave. And you have to - - there is no option here, you have to get up and evacuate the orifices.

Wadda bummer

And it didn't help that the Spurs got beat.

It'z the little 'nothing to anyone else' things . . .

Couple of real big deals (to me) today;

Kaia called me 'grandma' this afternoon!!

Ok, so she was just repeating me, but I heard this vibrant note to her voice . . as if she knew I was this amazing lost part of her that screamed to be hugged.

I listened to Robe putting her to bed. He said 'Bed' and she said 'yes' and just went off to sleep. Rob and Jarred SCREAMED when I told them it was bed time. Two minutes and they were out, but I'm surprised I wasn't questioned by CPS every night.

Cynthia again

Wadda day. Wadda day. Wadda day.

Anyone who knows me knows that when I peg, I peg big time. Ok . . you all know me. Tell me how you think I'm feeling now.

Got to keep Cynthia last night. Andy and Amy (who I missed!) came back and because I had to go get Cynthia I had to cut our visit short. Really bothered me. Like I said, I missed them.

Cynthia did well last night, She got up and was (thankfully!!!!) a very normal child. She runs and talks and chatters and picks at food and is your basic 3 year old. I was afraid she'd be weird or something.

Have a garage full of stuff I have to go through and running out of room in the house. Had the closing (at last!!) this afternoon - Cynthia was not a happy camper. Had a 'book merge' - where I talked to the publisher about the first draft. Did dinner, Robert went to visitation and I called Liz and Bill (Cynthia's foster parents) to ask what time I needed to take her home. I come around the corner and there's Cynthia sitting on the ottoman crying quietly. After I made sure she wasn't hurt I held her because I'm guessing she heard me leave the message for Liz and Bill. While I held her, she laid her head against me and still cried but was just settling down when the doorbell rang. It was Bill.

I think I'm going to bed.

Kelly

Something happened in my past that I haven't thought of in about a thousand years. It was bad. It was life altering. And I've never really understood why it happened. I didn't blame God . . at the time I didn't know or care about God. I just hated what happened and wished that there was some way I could undo it.

And tonight my niece needed me to help her though the same thing. She didn't know where to go, but for some reason, came to me, the aunt she doesn't like much at all. And I was able to help her. Because of the hell I walked, I was able to understand and help her with hers.

God doesn't mess around when He says that all things happen for a reason. Wait on it. Some day, everything makes sense.

Wait on it.

Let Those That Have Eyes See.

Been a while, been a while . .

Been seeing my mom a lot lately. Can't seem to be able to stop the pictures I have of her before she had that last heart attack. She was desperate to convey her feelings to me, but was unable to do it to her satisfaction. I can see that now. Now that the veil of all the crud that surrounds death has cleared a little. She didn't know how to tell me what she needed to - - no, what she HAD to. Maybe because it was me. Maybe it was because she was mom.

But I hear it now. And I am thankful beyond words that I looked her straight in the face, and told her that I forgave her and asked her to forgive me.

And I cried. She saw that too.

Thank you, Father. Thank you, Father.

Just a Thought

If you're driving and wish you didn't have a Christian fish symbol on your vehicle, you probably need to reevaluate your attitude.

Jarred and Jaci

Three years ago today, I was riding my horse in horrific heat, looking for my brothers dogs. He'd come to visit and had let them follow us as we trailed. About half way through, they decided they wanted to chase hogs and just like that they were gone; two huskies disappeared into the Texas brush country. We'd driven about twenty minutes from home, they were let free in a place that they had never seen before.

So I was sitting there, trying not to let on that there was NO WAY those dogs were ever gonna come back when the phone rings. It's Jarred.

He says; "Hey, Momma. Guess what I did today?" When I asked what, he said: "I got married."

Well it was a good thing that sweat makes your hiney stick to a saddle, because I almost fell off. I knew Jaci and I liked Jaci and BOOM! I'm related to Jaci.

Three years later and very rarely does a day go by that I don't thank God for that little Hawaiian gem. Wadda sweetie! Jarred has often remarked that he was smart and got her while she was young and didn't know any better - - - and while I love and admire my son, I think he's right. Three years ago today. How cool is that?

Oh, and when we pulled back into the house three or fours hours later, the dogs were waiting for us. Impossible. But true.

The Retreat

This weekend, I watched as some really wonderful women put on a very good retreat. I say 'watched' because I felt oddly displaced. I went to the river, watched the fish swim sedately ignorant of me. I saw a soft mist swirl and dance in front of an inspiring bluff. I heard ladies laugh and saw them cry.

It was like I was this detached entity, observing, but not allowing myself to get close. I ached so much to actually feel . . . and instead I felt dead. Apathetic. Alone.

Will I never be on fire again?

What if I'm never on fire again?

One of Those Times That Make You Wanna Slap Your Head.

So I'm in line at the bank and this guy looks at me, smiles and says: "I love your shirt."

I was wearing the one that has a chick running around the back end of a horse with a wheel barrel and it reads: 'I Get a Lot Out Of My Horses.'

And I thought . . .here's this man, reading my shirt and to do that he has to stare at my 'ya knows' and I INVITED HIM TO DO IT!! When I thought about it, I was totally blown away. I'd be ticked to all get out if he stared at my chest, but here I was, ASKING him to stare at my chest.

I went to Beals and bought some grown up shirts.

The Tire Swing

I remember hearing the high pitched shrill scream of cicadas while I sat on the tire swing when I was a little girl. The edges of the rubber cut into my skin, but it didn't matter then. It was early summer, hot and humid and I think the smell of sweat wasn't offensive then as it is now. I would use my toes to wind the rope around and around until it almost knotted. Then I would lift my feet, lock my knees, put my head back and unwind at about a thousand miles an hour. It would unwind, then begin to knot up the other way and you'd help it until it was time to let it fly.

The laugh that produces gives me a smile now at the memory.

A perfect diamond to time. Age cannot dim it. It is my honest prayer that I have been a part of memories like that to Rob and Jarred.

Storms

I've always wanted to see a tornado. I have been fascinated by them since 'The Wizard of Oz' when I was a little girl. The 'tornado' scene was the best part of the whole thing I thought. I wanted to be a storm chaser . . but the math beat me. Besides writing, it is the only thing I have wanted to do since I started storing memories.

Man, I love a storm. Being on the edge of danger and smiling at it . . . is that stupid or what? The danger is disregarded for that dumb 'high'. Yeah, I know it symbolizes sin and how you get drawn in and killed. I know all that.

Still, another round is due tonight . . .during the Spurs game.

It's a 2'fer.

Hateful Moods

When I don't care for someone, they can say nothing right. I have an awful tendency to find fault with everything they say. Today there were about 3 or 4 guys who could have said it was raining and I would have argued the point standing in a downpour.

And it really gets in the way of worship.

A man has said that he has an easier time being awed by God than doing anything that would inspire God. And I so disagree. I am sure that God is beaming at me when I manage to actually bridle my tongue. Or when I manage to really sing; 'The Highest Place" or when I smile when I want to scream, encourage when I want to cry . . . .

Only He knows what it takes me to do those things.

Kaia

Rob and Brandee are good at the kid thing.

Kaia (No, not 'Kia', Lonnie) was this unreal ball of energy. She went warp nine. Her little legs were like steel and they never stopped. I wanted her to be a gymnast, Brandee said soft ball and now I'm thinking she needs to be a superhero. Walking at nine months, running at 10. Climbing and doing stuff that they (Rob and Bradee) were supposed to have months to prepare for - to ease into. She is three shakes past too adorable and loves 'the brethren' - that would be ANY small kid within her view.

In short, when Rob and Brandee do it, they obviously do it right. I was always really sorry that Kaia would be their only child . . it was almost like with all the rotten little kids out there (and they are there, make no doubt) it wasn't fair that she should be alone.

But she's not. Don't know when the baby is due, don't know if she's a she or a he, but just know that Kaia gets to be a big sister. How cool is that???

Judging

Why is it called 'judging' when you disagree with an action? When you support someones actions, isn't that a judgement too?

Sometimes the World Don't Make No Sense

So I'm a huge Spurs fan. Anyone within shouting distance knows that. And I realize it's fun to give a fan like me a hard time. Okay. That's cool.

But lately there has been 2 people who go out of their way to be ugly, ugly, ugly about the Spurs. It's like they're berating me. And they're so mean about it. They say stuff like; "Oh, that's Awesome! They lost? I LOVE it when the Spurs lose!" they hiss with a malicious laugh. Or how about the guy who made fun of me across the table at a Foster/adopt meeting - he didn't know me from Adam, but he blurted out insult after insult.

Kinda makes you wonder if someone goes that far out of their way to humiliate and insult you, are they really nice people?

Just the way things are.

Went To Amy Brymers today -. She had a few artists out at the ranch to take pictures that they could paint later. Amy needed help so Chello (Rachel Reed) and I saddled up and got to play around on horses all day. It was really fun, but I was too tired to get the stuff done on the house on Massad I wanted. I stayed at Amy's for like 4 hours.

I have been wanting to ride Amy's horse, Dakota, for the longest time. And today I had my chance. He's always so laid back and pretty, I just thought he'd be nice. So I go out to catch him , he spins and kicks out so fast that I actually feel the swish of it as his hoof just missed my head. It was close. So I went up to him, sneered at him, saddled him, got on, decided I didn't want to ride him, got off and harnessed up the miniature.

I was mad and didn't want to play anymore. Why? Because I'd been duped. I was unprepared. I had been lulled into a false sense of security. I trusted him with almost no effort and he took advantage of my confidence. He won't burn me again.

And that's the way I treat people. Right or wrong, if I get burned I don't think I ever quite trust them again.

And that is just the way things are.

a Question for the Ages

Whoever said that life slows as you get older is one sick puppy. I have never been so busy.

If you don't get anything out of a study, do you still have to go? If you get to where you dread it, can you stop?

Lookin to alleviate a little guilt here.

Hate to Sound Like a Complainer . . . .

Okay, this might be 'Gnat in Eyes'ville', but it drives me bats when people have you sit to say a prayer. I can understand it if there was a physical problem, but it just seems so disrespectful. Like we can't be bothered to get to our feet. In fact, there's a guy at church that tells everyone to sit before he prays. That's kinda scary because he's preparing us for a looooong prayer.

and then . . .

And then I think - WHAT WAS THAT REF THINKING - TO THROW TIMMY OUT FOR A TECHNICAL WHILE HE SAT ON THE BENCH??????

Another Pet Peeve

I hate it, hate it, hate it when you get forwards that tell you that you don't love God if you don't pass it on to 10 people, or that you don't love the United states if you don't forward it to 8 people, or you will receive a miracle as soon as you pass it along to 12 people or you will have bad luck and your cat will be behind the wheel of the truck that runs through your house if you don't forward it to 6 people.

I ALWAYS delete them and I wish there was a way to tell the nice people who forward them to just stop it!!!!

Mah Boy Does it Again!

Rob guessed it - I was thinking of Envy. If you go back and check all the clues, it makes sense.

And I thought Andy would nail it right after the Italian Job clue!

Pleasanton

It's scary to think on what I would give if I could remain ignorant.

Pleasanton, Texas. I love small towns. It's great to live in one. The only thing better is to live in the country outside a small town. Everyone knows you. You makes friends that you will grown ancient with. Your name becomes your signature. You get to where you know the hum of the towns breathing.

. . . and then . . .

And then every one knows you. And talks to you. And tells you things you really, really wish you didn't know.

Ok . . .. let's try this one.

The thing I'm thinking of is a close close cousin to coveting.

New list.

What really kinda sorta ruins your day? I've got a few.

Dead cats on the side of the road.

Dead dogs on the side of the road.

A 'loose bowel' attack 20 miles from anything usable. (Or worse, that sound it makes when it's working itself up while you're in front of a cute guy.)

A letter from the bank that is not the monthly statement.

A nuclear blast within the boundaries of the United States.

HEB always being out of Natural Vanilla Bean ice cream.

Ok . . . I Promised this to Rob

My word is a noun and a verb.
In The Italian Job, it was the car and the stereo and the library both before(verb) and after (noun).

Sorry, you guys. Thought this was an easy one.

Oh the Joy of Paginisim

When I was a little girl, we were heathens and celebrated easter.

We never did the Church service - my parents hypocrisy did have boundaries. We did the egg dyeing and the jelly beans and the chocolate bunny stuff. We would do the eggs up and the 'easter bunny' would hide them at night and we'd get up and find them the next morning. Then we'd hide them again, and find them, and we'd hide them again, and we'd find them - my fingers are tired. Then we'd get the real treat - we'd actually get to eat the eggs. (My parents didn't do the deviled . . ie:'angel ed" egg thing . . . I have no idea why.) Oh the yellow surround by that grren slime thing . . Mmmmm. One of those things you look forward to.

. . . and then . . .

And then I wonder at the sanitary aspect of it all. Eggs at room temperature all night then eaten? And all that dye. I remember seeing the lines of it that had bled through some crack in the shell to stain the white. Gag. I remember giggling at the gas we all seemed to become full of on easter evening.

Oooo. Such happy happy memories.

So Rob needs some help

The thing I'm thinking about is a dreamer . . .it aches for anything and everything it doesn't have.

If you can't get this Rob, I'm gonna LAUGH!

Ben

When I was in Lubbock, Robert couldn't be there. My brother was there, cracking jokes to 'help with the tension' and my sisters were there, one all patronizing, the other secretive and all three of them made me uncomfortable. I was a stranger. I have never felt more alone in my life.

Mom had a good friend, she considered him a son. He stood behind me while we took Mom off the ventilator and he cried, while I leaned up against him. He also stood in the memorial, speaking stories about my mother that made me furrow my brow. His name was Ben.

I called him yesterday. I've known the man for 2 weeks - the worst 2 weeks of my life, and the way I felt when I heard his voice . . . . I have no words. In a world gone crazy, he was a rock. When all the junk started (and it is junk that happens when a person dies), my sisters pushed him out of the way. He didn't want to intrude, they didn't feel he was close enough, I guess. I needed him so bad.

Rob, Jarred; I need to introduce you to your uncle Ben.

Think I got Rob stumped

The thing that I'm thinking about is a vice.

Like - - - 'Duh'

Have entered into a time of apathy. Found myself sitting, staring into the front yard and I honestly don't think that there was anything I was thinking about. Kind of a deep 'zone'. I didn't like it. I jumped up and went outside and mowed the front lawn.

That's happening to me a lot lately. I'm not sure why, but I think it has something to do with mom. Saw Jarred on the computer this afternoon and it was the first he'd heard of it - the red cross was supposed to let him know. He was stunned. Well, so am I. He just has an excuse and I don't.

This'll give it away.

Not anger, hate guilt or jealousy.

My thing is the most self centered thing in the universe, but always, ALWAYS thinks of others first.

Ok . . .I'm bringing it on.

I'm thinking of a thing. It's not something you eat, but it tastes bad.

It'll eat you alive if you let it, but it has no mouth to consume anything.

Just Like We Were Around the Dinner Table

What an amazingly smart son I have!!!!

Yeah, it was grace.



That's ma'boy!

20 questions continued

It is not love and it is not God.

It is concrete hard. But It can't be touched. If you fall against it, you will die eternally. If you fall into it, you have heaven.

While it is contained in one little word, it cannot be measured by any standard.

20 questions

I'm thinking of a thing.

It's way bigger than a breadbox.
It's intangible.
You can't breathe it, but it's vital to life.

Let the Publishing Begin!

I made Robert do it, but I did it. The Book is in cyber space!

Spent Sunday dong the scan thing, then the 'put it all together thing' Went to Church then came back and made Robert send it. I just couldn't hit that stupid 'send' button.

Now is a good time to do the purge thing. I think I'll go somewhere and throw up.

" . . with murmers too deep for words."

You can't hold those that don't believe to the same standard of those that do.

You can't beat up someone with scripture that doesn't recognize the validity of that scripture.

You can't stop loving someone even though they look you in the face and say they're sorry for your pain, but not sorry for the sin.



. . .and then . .


You can't accept sin as ok.

You can't support the sinful behavior.

You can't let go of Christ to keep that relationship.

God's call.

Time of Day

It's sorta scary when your favorite time of day is getting into bed at night. I thought of that last night after I took a bubble bath and scooted into bed, hugging the king sized pillow and putting the Egyptian cotton one under my head. Nellie was snoring on Roberts pillows next to me and Brymer was curled next to me (he had tooth surgery yesterday and felt puny). I've said it before, I'll say it again; There's just something about clean sheets after a bath.

My least favorite time of day is right around 3pm. I'm all sluggish, the B-12 has worn off and while I have all the evening stuff looming, all I want to do it take a nap. And it never fails, you give in to that impulse and the phone rings, kids shout outside while coming in from school, Brymer barks at a jogger. . . . you get the idea.

What's your favorite and least favorite time of day?

Birthdays

Funny how the mind works.

I remember thinking how hurt I was that mom didn't call me last year on my birthday. I wasn't devastated, but still, it bothered me to have just a little more proof that I was not important. I realize now that because of the increasing dementia, she probably forgot. I didn't know that then.

But I know that now. And that makes things easier. She won't be calling me again this year - with another good (no, great) reason. I can see now that she is as blameless now as she was then. I just got to see it from another angle.

Like God just put things in perspective that quick.

Well, this is depressing!

I always read that life was short . . .and to make the most of it when I was younger. I rolled my eyes and skipped the slop of all of that because to me life was this long, tedious congregation of minutes that had to be filled.

Time seemed to drag. The sun was hotter then and the winter was miserably cold. You are in a hurry to get places to do things that brought back some type of gain. The world was an unending wait to ride a bike, then drive a car, then go on a date, then get married, then have kids, then buy a house . . blah de blah de blah.

Now I see so clearly that life is a congregation of minutes that has to be filled. I feel like a rat, trying to catch up on important things. Things that bring in real gain. Like smiles and friends and Sunday mornings, and yappy little dogs or horse sweat, or grand babies hug . . .. you get the idea.

I finally am beginning to realize what those things are. And I haven't the energy to go for it. How rotten is that?

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.