Happy Birthday to my best good friend, Amy Lynn Morris. Today she is 29. I mean, er...um...30...something.
I would direct you to her blog to wish her a happy day, but she doesn't have one.
Feel free to leave birthday wishes for her here.
(Please someone leave at least one so she doesn't murder me.)
I love you, man! Hey, watch this!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Logical
One of the reasons I don't usually enjoy those little flip devotional calendars is that I find anything that smacks of chicken soup for my soul to be utterly unpalatable. Detestable. Repugnant. Light, fluffy not theologically sound little whatnots. Mmmm...mmm...not good! Don't like 'em. My soul likes chocolate. And other stuff.
But our dear and very generous neighbors brought our family gifts the week before Christmas. Fun shirts and Pez dispensers for each of the kids. Various forms of chocolates for us "grown ups". Knowing we are "religious" folk, they also tucked in a Max Lucado calendar and devotional. Under other circumstances I might have been more aghast, but for some reason I was so touched that I wept. Be that as it may.
The other reason I don't usually like them or anything else that I feel I have to keep up with is simply that: it is just one more thing to keep up with. Before I know it a week has passed and I haven't flipped to the next day. Not surprisingly this has happened already in the new year, but this time it has been intentionally frozen on January 19 as I continue to ponder the words on the page.
"Logical thinking will discourage you; theological thinking will encourage you." Stress Fractures p. 222
Hmmmm. Yeah. My first reaction was "That is stupid!" That is something a stupid person would say. A stupid person who lacks the capacity to think logically or critically anyway, or simply chooses not to in the name of...I don't even know what...intentional narrow-mindedness?...maintaining a "pure" mind? I don't know. But for some reason I left it on that day, and I have thought about it every day since as it sits perched on my kitchen windowsill.
I don't have the fittest mind myself, and I can't really explain it, but it has grown less stupid to me over the past ten days. I have recognized personal significance to its meaning. I would even go so far as to say I don't think it is one bit stupid. I kind of like it.
The accompanying verse for that day was not stupid either:
"It is unthinkable that God would do wrong, that the Almighty would pervert justice." Job 34:12 NIV
Selah.
But our dear and very generous neighbors brought our family gifts the week before Christmas. Fun shirts and Pez dispensers for each of the kids. Various forms of chocolates for us "grown ups". Knowing we are "religious" folk, they also tucked in a Max Lucado calendar and devotional. Under other circumstances I might have been more aghast, but for some reason I was so touched that I wept. Be that as it may.
The other reason I don't usually like them or anything else that I feel I have to keep up with is simply that: it is just one more thing to keep up with. Before I know it a week has passed and I haven't flipped to the next day. Not surprisingly this has happened already in the new year, but this time it has been intentionally frozen on January 19 as I continue to ponder the words on the page.
"Logical thinking will discourage you; theological thinking will encourage you." Stress Fractures p. 222
Hmmmm. Yeah. My first reaction was "That is stupid!" That is something a stupid person would say. A stupid person who lacks the capacity to think logically or critically anyway, or simply chooses not to in the name of...I don't even know what...intentional narrow-mindedness?...maintaining a "pure" mind? I don't know. But for some reason I left it on that day, and I have thought about it every day since as it sits perched on my kitchen windowsill.
I don't have the fittest mind myself, and I can't really explain it, but it has grown less stupid to me over the past ten days. I have recognized personal significance to its meaning. I would even go so far as to say I don't think it is one bit stupid. I kind of like it.
The accompanying verse for that day was not stupid either:
"It is unthinkable that God would do wrong, that the Almighty would pervert justice." Job 34:12 NIV
Selah.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Prescription Shoes
I have reached the age where shoes matter. Not so much for fashion purposes, but for supporting my achy breaky hooves. And back. For years Jeff has been warning me that all my flip-flop and casual archless slip-on shoe wearing would eventually catch up with me. I have not disagreed, but also have not taken appropriate measures to prevent this from happening. And well, now that I am getting on in years, it is happening.
Our house has been a shoe-free zone since we got married. It was a foreign concept to me and it took me a while to acclimate to this Jackson custom, but it works for our family and I reap the benefits, most days, except for on especially productive days when I actually STAY on my feet all day. Lately I have spent some long days in the kitchen in my stocking feet and they just can't take it any more. Later the same night, but especially the next morning, I struggle to walk. My tarsals ache, my ankles ache...my dogs are barkin'! Owwww!
So I went shopping this week and bought some new boy kickers, as my sister would say, after Jeff threatened to have the real-live horseshoer who attends our small group fashion me some proper shoes.
Among other things, I did find some nice SLIP-ON sneakers that are very comfy and cushiony and archy. I am just not a sneaker wearing kind of girl, but I bought them to only wear around the house, which has NOT gone unnoticed by my second generation no-shoes-in-the-house children, I might add.
So when I picked the kids up from the bus that afternoon in my snow boots and we came back home, Andrew spotted my new shoes sitting by the door and asked, "Whose orthopedic shoes?"
I don't know if I will be able to survive having a sarcastic pre-teen in the house. It's like looking in the mirror. For all those who are reading and knew me in my younger years and longed for the day my time would come, IT HAS COME! Not only do I have to deal with the likes of my very own mini-me, daily, I also have to wear orthopedic shoes. Sweet vengeance is upon me.
The next morning he asked me, "So, are you still so psyched about your new orthopedic shoes?"
Yes, I am.
Our house has been a shoe-free zone since we got married. It was a foreign concept to me and it took me a while to acclimate to this Jackson custom, but it works for our family and I reap the benefits, most days, except for on especially productive days when I actually STAY on my feet all day. Lately I have spent some long days in the kitchen in my stocking feet and they just can't take it any more. Later the same night, but especially the next morning, I struggle to walk. My tarsals ache, my ankles ache...my dogs are barkin'! Owwww!
So I went shopping this week and bought some new boy kickers, as my sister would say, after Jeff threatened to have the real-live horseshoer who attends our small group fashion me some proper shoes.
Among other things, I did find some nice SLIP-ON sneakers that are very comfy and cushiony and archy. I am just not a sneaker wearing kind of girl, but I bought them to only wear around the house, which has NOT gone unnoticed by my second generation no-shoes-in-the-house children, I might add.
So when I picked the kids up from the bus that afternoon in my snow boots and we came back home, Andrew spotted my new shoes sitting by the door and asked, "Whose orthopedic shoes?"
I don't know if I will be able to survive having a sarcastic pre-teen in the house. It's like looking in the mirror. For all those who are reading and knew me in my younger years and longed for the day my time would come, IT HAS COME! Not only do I have to deal with the likes of my very own mini-me, daily, I also have to wear orthopedic shoes. Sweet vengeance is upon me.
The next morning he asked me, "So, are you still so psyched about your new orthopedic shoes?"
Yes, I am.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Love Thy Neighbor
So last Tuesday I was driving back from printing the funeral program folders at our church. It was just the day after Sharon had died. I had a lot on my mind. Obviously. I was still mentally editing and rehearsing the eulogy, and had not yet finished the slideshow. I was on my way home to receive a meal from one our church's small groups which I needed to deliver to my father-in-law's house. We still had hundreds of folders to fold. And then I needed to drive about 30 minutes north to pick up my kids from my mom and dad's house, bring them home, take Andrew to get a haircut, look for a suit jacket for him, and still had to confirm childcare arrangements for the following day. And grocery shop. I had a lot of my mind. Not to mention I was grief-stricken and exhausted.
So I was sitting at a stoplight about a mile from my house. Front of the line.
And the light turned green.
And yeah, I guess I was just a little too lost in thought because I didn't take off promptly
enough for SOMEONE'S liking.
A burgundy minivan came FLYING up from about 3 or 4 cars back, could have been further, it was a blur, and passed me on the right.
I remember seeing a pasty complexioned hand, and a middle finger gesturing in my direction, before it swerved in front of me and slammed on the brake.
Hard.
Harder than any other such time anyone has ever tried to teach me a lesson.
I slammed on mine. Dishes from the back came flying forward.
I honked my horn.
Loudly. And longly.
So the pasty handed, minivan driving ASS did it AGAIN.
And I had to brake even harder. I think they even squealed a little.
I was livid beyond description.
I could see red. Seriously. I felt almost homicidal.
I fumbled for my phone to call 911 (on the minivan driver, not myself) but soon found that the license plate was too dirty to make out the numbers.
It continued to drive painfully slowly in front of me. I purposely lagged way behind. I was relieved to see my turn come into view. I put on my blinker to get in the turn lane, but at the last minute the van also swerved into the turn lane. The street to my subdivision is just after
said turn. I was reluctant to put on my blinker, lest it too would turn into my subdivision. I simply could not tolerate being provoked any further without harming someone. Sure enough as I was slowing to turn, it too slowed and turned into my subdivision.
GREAT!
So I went past my street and turned on the next one to come into the sub the back way, strategizing my plan of attack if the need should arise. I half expected it to be waiting for me when I got to the end of the street.
And it was.
PARKED IN ITS GARAGE!
It was someone from my own stupid neighborhood. I have talked to them before. I have gone to their garage sale for years, even before moving there, and they have come to mine. I wave to them a couple times a week.
I could not believe it.
The driver was nowhere to be seen so I still don't know if it was the mom or the teenage son. I know it wasn't the dad as I had just seen him in town.
It took all that was within me to stop myself from going up to the door to "apologize" for my wrongdoing and to let them know I was their neighbor. Their grieving neighbor. Even after I went home, I considered going back down there just to let them know who I was.
But I did not.
I had way too much to do to waste time killing anyone that day.
So I was sitting at a stoplight about a mile from my house. Front of the line.
And the light turned green.
And yeah, I guess I was just a little too lost in thought because I didn't take off promptly
enough for SOMEONE'S liking.
A burgundy minivan came FLYING up from about 3 or 4 cars back, could have been further, it was a blur, and passed me on the right.
I remember seeing a pasty complexioned hand, and a middle finger gesturing in my direction, before it swerved in front of me and slammed on the brake.
Hard.
Harder than any other such time anyone has ever tried to teach me a lesson.
I slammed on mine. Dishes from the back came flying forward.
I honked my horn.
Loudly. And longly.
So the pasty handed, minivan driving ASS did it AGAIN.
And I had to brake even harder. I think they even squealed a little.
I was livid beyond description.
I could see red. Seriously. I felt almost homicidal.
I fumbled for my phone to call 911 (on the minivan driver, not myself) but soon found that the license plate was too dirty to make out the numbers.
It continued to drive painfully slowly in front of me. I purposely lagged way behind. I was relieved to see my turn come into view. I put on my blinker to get in the turn lane, but at the last minute the van also swerved into the turn lane. The street to my subdivision is just after
said turn. I was reluctant to put on my blinker, lest it too would turn into my subdivision. I simply could not tolerate being provoked any further without harming someone. Sure enough as I was slowing to turn, it too slowed and turned into my subdivision.
GREAT!
So I went past my street and turned on the next one to come into the sub the back way, strategizing my plan of attack if the need should arise. I half expected it to be waiting for me when I got to the end of the street.
And it was.
PARKED IN ITS GARAGE!
It was someone from my own stupid neighborhood. I have talked to them before. I have gone to their garage sale for years, even before moving there, and they have come to mine. I wave to them a couple times a week.
I could not believe it.
The driver was nowhere to be seen so I still don't know if it was the mom or the teenage son. I know it wasn't the dad as I had just seen him in town.
It took all that was within me to stop myself from going up to the door to "apologize" for my wrongdoing and to let them know I was their neighbor. Their grieving neighbor. Even after I went home, I considered going back down there just to let them know who I was.
But I did not.
I had way too much to do to waste time killing anyone that day.
Life Goes On
It has been over a week since the funeral and almost two weeks since we got the dreaded phone call to say that she was gone. I am both comforted and disturbed by the passage of time. Comforted that life can go on. But equally disturbed that...well, that life can go on even with this gaping hole in our lives. How can this be?
Yes, this is all of our first (minus Meridith's husband who suffered 3 significant family losses for 3 consecutive years) encounter with the death and grief on a personal level and these feelings that are so novel to us have been a sad reality for so many before us. Though no one loss can be compared with another in terms of degree, and no two people grieve the same loss the same way, it feels a lot like the kinship I felt with other women who had given birth once I gave birth for the first time, only with a lot less joy. At the very least, you are instantly transported to a greater level of understanding, awareness, and compassion for grieving people: past, past, and future. You can identify with a degree of grief that up until that point was foreign to you.
But then life goes on. Carpets get cleaned. Primary elections get held. Trips get planned. Meals get eaten. New messes get made. Vehicles break down. And neighbors die, of the same kind of cancer your dear loved one did.
We got the call the day before yesterday that our neighbor at the end of the street had found his esophageal cancer which had been treatable 7 years ago had returned and that it was terminal. He died yesterday morning. His name was Paul. He was 65.
So Monday night we had Jeff's dad over for breakfast dinner. Right as we were sitting down to eat, one of the kids made a joke about how that was David's cue to wake up because it seems like he always does. But he didn't. Instead, the phone rang. I didn't recognize the number and assumed it was likely someone from the Mike Huckabee camp as they had been ringing my phone incessantly over the past week. But for some reason I answered it anyway. And I'm glad I did.
"Hi, Janelle, this is Kay SoandSo, you don't know me, but..."
It turned out that she used to be a neighbor of Jeff's family about 20 years ago and Sharon had led her to the Lord through some at home Bible studies they had done together. Eventually they moved away and lost contact over the years. She lives in Phoenix now, but had read Sharon's obituary online and looked up our phone number to express her shock and sympathy.
It was neat.
And comforting.
And worth giving up my hot pancakes to take the call.
Yes, this is all of our first (minus Meridith's husband who suffered 3 significant family losses for 3 consecutive years) encounter with the death and grief on a personal level and these feelings that are so novel to us have been a sad reality for so many before us. Though no one loss can be compared with another in terms of degree, and no two people grieve the same loss the same way, it feels a lot like the kinship I felt with other women who had given birth once I gave birth for the first time, only with a lot less joy. At the very least, you are instantly transported to a greater level of understanding, awareness, and compassion for grieving people: past, past, and future. You can identify with a degree of grief that up until that point was foreign to you.
But then life goes on. Carpets get cleaned. Primary elections get held. Trips get planned. Meals get eaten. New messes get made. Vehicles break down. And neighbors die, of the same kind of cancer your dear loved one did.
We got the call the day before yesterday that our neighbor at the end of the street had found his esophageal cancer which had been treatable 7 years ago had returned and that it was terminal. He died yesterday morning. His name was Paul. He was 65.
So Monday night we had Jeff's dad over for breakfast dinner. Right as we were sitting down to eat, one of the kids made a joke about how that was David's cue to wake up because it seems like he always does. But he didn't. Instead, the phone rang. I didn't recognize the number and assumed it was likely someone from the Mike Huckabee camp as they had been ringing my phone incessantly over the past week. But for some reason I answered it anyway. And I'm glad I did.
"Hi, Janelle, this is Kay SoandSo, you don't know me, but..."
It turned out that she used to be a neighbor of Jeff's family about 20 years ago and Sharon had led her to the Lord through some at home Bible studies they had done together. Eventually they moved away and lost contact over the years. She lives in Phoenix now, but had read Sharon's obituary online and looked up our phone number to express her shock and sympathy.
It was neat.
And comforting.
And worth giving up my hot pancakes to take the call.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Tuna Tracks
This is for those who knew me back in the glorious phase of my life when I would make up gourmet tuna entrees and delicacies just for fun:
Last night I served two of the children Moose Tracks ice cream, a family favorite. The other child, surprise surprise, wanted to wait until later. You know, after the kitchen was all cleaned up and I had sat down to watch a movie. I had used up the rest of one container on the first two kids, but I knew we had a new 1/2 gallon that our neighbor had brought over the day before. However, when I went to open it, I realized it was Turtle Tracks, not Moose Tracks. Knowing this particular child does not adapt well to such sudden changes to her dietary plans, I quickly briefed her on the differences between Turtle Tracks and Moose Tracks and assured her that I had even tried a spoonful and that it really was quite tasty.
Kathryn, who was distracted by the movie and not really paying attention, interrupted disgustedly, "WHAAAT?! Did you say TUNA tracks?"
Tuna Tracks...mmmm...that sounds good...I'll have some of that!
Last night I served two of the children Moose Tracks ice cream, a family favorite. The other child, surprise surprise, wanted to wait until later. You know, after the kitchen was all cleaned up and I had sat down to watch a movie. I had used up the rest of one container on the first two kids, but I knew we had a new 1/2 gallon that our neighbor had brought over the day before. However, when I went to open it, I realized it was Turtle Tracks, not Moose Tracks. Knowing this particular child does not adapt well to such sudden changes to her dietary plans, I quickly briefed her on the differences between Turtle Tracks and Moose Tracks and assured her that I had even tried a spoonful and that it really was quite tasty.
Kathryn, who was distracted by the movie and not really paying attention, interrupted disgustedly, "WHAAAT?! Did you say TUNA tracks?"
Tuna Tracks...mmmm...that sounds good...I'll have some of that!
Saturday, January 12, 2008
For those about to ROCK...
...We
salute
YOU!
We had more fun with Guitar Hero last night. Meridith and her kids, and our real rockstar friend, Dave, came over to show us how it's done. He arrived in full costume and ready to rock! It was good clean fun! The game has to go back today. Rats!
Friday, January 11, 2008
Yesterday
Thank you to everyone who took the time to view the slideshow and read my previous post about my mother-in-law, and thank you to those who commented and sent cards.
The funeral was yesterday and was a beautiful tribute to her in every way. The service was packed full of the gospel, at her request. She knew that most of her very large, predominantly unsaved family, as well as a few special friends whose souls she had prayed for for years, would be there. It was a full house. I haven't heard an exact number yet, but it was estimated between 250 and 300, with about that many at the viewing the previous afternoon and evening.
I am at a loss for even recounting the events of the day, or week, it is all still such a blur. There were just so many neat little details, but I don't even know how to do them justice or provide enough background in this space to help my readers understand their significance. So many people who came who we would not have expected. Such an outpouring of love and support from people who hardly know us. Neighbors we hadn't even met yet brought meals and desserts when word spread down our street. (Remind me to tell a tale of a not-so-very nice neighbor who made ITSELF known this week in another post...and don't be surprised if you see me on COPS sometime for aggravated assault.)
An acquaintance I made just in the last month, the mother of one of Andrew's new friends, has proved to be such a support. She brought us a meal last week before this all even happened. She and another one of Andrew's friends mothers brought a couple of snack trays with fruits, veggies, and chocolate, and water bottles to the funeral home on the day of the viewing to have in the lounge for the family. She communicated with Andrew's teacher to get his homework and brought it over when she watched my kids for one of the three shifts I had lined up that day AND best of all she brought over her son's Guitar Hero III game for Andrew to play while we were gone. Much to our great pleasure she left it. I don't know if she meant to or not, but it was here last night when we got home. It was the perfect stress relief for the evening. We were exhausted, but we played it as a family for a few hours, and Jeff and Julia stayed up till 11:30 playing it while Andrew and I fell asleep on the floor. We are closet rockers, I cannot lie. I pretty much have no skills, due to my lack of eye hand coordination, or coordination in general...I fell down the stairs this morning, but it is a TON of fun! I am working on perfecting The Seeker by The Who, but so far I am getting whooped by my kids.
I will leave you with one special story. It seems special, anyway, it made the day for me. Jeff's sister, Meridith, had the idea to get white balloons for the grandchildren to release at the cemetery following the burial service. Kind of like blowing kisses to Gramma. Some of the grandchildren had prepared notes to attach. On cue, they were released and up, up, up they soared. Within a minute they were all nearly out of sight, all but two. Two got caught up in a tree nearby. None of us knew whose they were, but it was heartbreaking to me to see them left behind. Most people had already gone back to their cars and were leaving, but the family stayed behind to wait to see if they broke free. Slowly one was liberated, but the other one seemed hopelessly stuck. The breeze seemed to have no effect on it. The others were long gone. I prayed. And waited. I did not want to leave, but it was time. As I started to get in the van, I heard some commotion and looked up to see it had come loose and begun flying upward. Kind of silly, I know. It isn't as if any of them would actually make it to heaven, but it seemed like a little miracle, or a little blessing anyway, for our family.
Here is a little slideshow from last night. There is no audio.
It's a long way to the top, if you wanna rock and roll!
The funeral was yesterday and was a beautiful tribute to her in every way. The service was packed full of the gospel, at her request. She knew that most of her very large, predominantly unsaved family, as well as a few special friends whose souls she had prayed for for years, would be there. It was a full house. I haven't heard an exact number yet, but it was estimated between 250 and 300, with about that many at the viewing the previous afternoon and evening.
I am at a loss for even recounting the events of the day, or week, it is all still such a blur. There were just so many neat little details, but I don't even know how to do them justice or provide enough background in this space to help my readers understand their significance. So many people who came who we would not have expected. Such an outpouring of love and support from people who hardly know us. Neighbors we hadn't even met yet brought meals and desserts when word spread down our street. (Remind me to tell a tale of a not-so-very nice neighbor who made ITSELF known this week in another post...and don't be surprised if you see me on COPS sometime for aggravated assault.)
An acquaintance I made just in the last month, the mother of one of Andrew's new friends, has proved to be such a support. She brought us a meal last week before this all even happened. She and another one of Andrew's friends mothers brought a couple of snack trays with fruits, veggies, and chocolate, and water bottles to the funeral home on the day of the viewing to have in the lounge for the family. She communicated with Andrew's teacher to get his homework and brought it over when she watched my kids for one of the three shifts I had lined up that day AND best of all she brought over her son's Guitar Hero III game for Andrew to play while we were gone. Much to our great pleasure she left it. I don't know if she meant to or not, but it was here last night when we got home. It was the perfect stress relief for the evening. We were exhausted, but we played it as a family for a few hours, and Jeff and Julia stayed up till 11:30 playing it while Andrew and I fell asleep on the floor. We are closet rockers, I cannot lie. I pretty much have no skills, due to my lack of eye hand coordination, or coordination in general...I fell down the stairs this morning, but it is a TON of fun! I am working on perfecting The Seeker by The Who, but so far I am getting whooped by my kids.
I will leave you with one special story. It seems special, anyway, it made the day for me. Jeff's sister, Meridith, had the idea to get white balloons for the grandchildren to release at the cemetery following the burial service. Kind of like blowing kisses to Gramma. Some of the grandchildren had prepared notes to attach. On cue, they were released and up, up, up they soared. Within a minute they were all nearly out of sight, all but two. Two got caught up in a tree nearby. None of us knew whose they were, but it was heartbreaking to me to see them left behind. Most people had already gone back to their cars and were leaving, but the family stayed behind to wait to see if they broke free. Slowly one was liberated, but the other one seemed hopelessly stuck. The breeze seemed to have no effect on it. The others were long gone. I prayed. And waited. I did not want to leave, but it was time. As I started to get in the van, I heard some commotion and looked up to see it had come loose and begun flying upward. Kind of silly, I know. It isn't as if any of them would actually make it to heaven, but it seemed like a little miracle, or a little blessing anyway, for our family.
Here is a little slideshow from last night. There is no audio.
It's a long way to the top, if you wanna rock and roll!
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Slideshow
A huge thank you to Mr. Dave Loven for posting this for me and for helping me salvage some otherwise unusable photos for the slideshow. And thank you to Casting Crowns for recording good music for me to use without written permission.
Monday, January 07, 2008
January 7, 2008
Sharon Mary JacksonSeptember 6, 1945 - January 7, 2008
“For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and
says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.” ~Isaiah 41:13
says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.” ~Isaiah 41:13
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Dear Jesus
"Dear Jesus, why did God make a bad choice?" prayed the littlest girl.
Yes, she was talking about Gramma. =(
Yes, she is still hanging on...God bless!
Yes, she was talking about Gramma. =(
Yes, she is still hanging on...God bless!
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Hanging Tough
It has been a week since Sharon's IV has been out. She is still hanging on.
She very weakly slurred, "I am STRONG, Janelle!" on Monday.
I should have taken her seriously. I was too taken aback that she had not only recognized my voice when she seemed so unaware of her surroundings, but also had heard me quietly exclaim about her strength to Dad when I was helping her sit up.
She is strong. Good-NIGHT!
She is resting comfortably. She does not appear to be suffering. She is showing all the signs now. It won't be long. She is ready. We are as ready as we'll ever be.
It still doesn't seem real. I hate it.
She very weakly slurred, "I am STRONG, Janelle!" on Monday.
I should have taken her seriously. I was too taken aback that she had not only recognized my voice when she seemed so unaware of her surroundings, but also had heard me quietly exclaim about her strength to Dad when I was helping her sit up.
She is strong. Good-NIGHT!
She is resting comfortably. She does not appear to be suffering. She is showing all the signs now. It won't be long. She is ready. We are as ready as we'll ever be.
It still doesn't seem real. I hate it.
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