Umm...yeeah!

28 Words That Have Changed My Life

2010-04-02T08:36:00.002-04:00

March 2010
Why didn't I think of this years ago?

Pea Soup, Liver, and Cornbread

2010-03-25T07:05:00.005-04:00

I don't remember many birthday gifts I received as a child. A few that do stand out in my mind are a set of Snoopy bedsheets and a stuffed Snoopy for my 5th birthday, a Pink and Pretty Barbie for my 9th birthday, and my prized brown leather bomber jacket for my 16th. The following year I received a state of the art boom box complete with cassette dubbing capabilities, and if I am not mistaken, for my 18th birthday I received my first pair of real Keds, noteworthy only among aspiring fashionistas such as myself, which went nicely with my culottes and would serve as my Holy Land-trekking foot attire the following February.

I also don't remember having birthday parties except for my 5th, though there may have been others. Because my birthday is between Christmas and New Years, I never even got to partake of the grade school gloriousness of donning the coveted birthday crown and passing out cupcakes to my classmates. I guess teachers hadn't yet thought of the idea of choosing an alternate day to celebrate the birthdays which fell during school breaks, or at least none of mine had.

What I do remember about my childhood birthdays, however, was how important my mother made me, and each of us, feel on our special day. Birthdays at our house were a big deal!

The life of the birthday person was truly celebrated with luxuries that ranged from special foods of our choosing, to deciding how the day would be spent, to being excused from all normal menial chores, to the unveiling of our highly anticipated birthday cakes which my mother homemade and custom-decorated. This was one of her parenting specialties.

Honestly, I don't remember many of my cakes either, or many of the other details of the day, but for three consecutive years - ages 4, 5, and 6 - I do recall my mother's compliance with my menu request for pea soup, liver, and cornbread as my birthday dinner.

Because of the timing of my "holiday" birthday, there was huge potential risk for my receiving diminished special treatment, but this was never the case at home. The efforts my mother put into making things "special" have made an indelible impression on my memory.

To this day, when I take the first bite of a hot piece of cornbread slathered with butter or hold Snoopy's gaze for just a little too long, I feel a tightness in my chest and a lump in my throat. They are iconic images that evoke a strong sense of nostalgia and connection to my family of origin.

With four children of my own now, I have been striving to carry on this tradition and make it one of my own specialties to create enduring memories of simple luxuries and family connectedness, and not of extravagant hoopala that is all too quickly forgotten.

Yesterday my youngest celebrated his 3rd birthday. As I frosted his American flag/Thomas the Tank Engine cake - because that is what he had requested - it occurred to me that this was my 31st opportunity to make such a mark on the collective memory of my children. As I see them genuinely excited to celebrate the birth of their siblings and their gratitude over the smallest indulgences, along with the fanfare they create over our birthdays, I am pleased to say that teaching my children to celebrate birthdays is one thing I have done well in my parenting.

What are some of your fondest childhood birthday memories, and what are some of the birthday traditions you have established with your own children?

Be The Match Marrowthon: June 8-22, 2009

2009-06-09T06:34:00.002-04:00

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Happy Birthday, David!

2009-03-24T20:39:00.001-04:00

Oh Gi Gosh!

2009-02-25T10:20:00.009-05:00

It amazes me that my littlest lad is brave enough to climb the heights of the tallest slide unaccompanied, to balance on the arm of my computer chair and rock with no hands, or to mount the back of the loveseat in order to gain access to the thermostat and adjust it to his personal comfort level. This is the same boy who thinks nothing of stealthily climbing up the drawers of the kitchen cupboards to reach the countertop where the lunchboxes of his older siblings and father are lined up, partially packed for the next day and methodically unwrapping their contents to partake of just a bite or two of each. This is the boy who can watch his own blood being drawn without shedding a tear until the needle is removed. Yes, he's nearly fearless except for when it comes to being in the tub with his own floating sock fuzz. I don't know what his little eyes think they see, but at first sight of it he scales the wall in terror while shrieking his now famous line, "Oh gi GOSH!" which he uses frequently and appropriately in context! Ranking second to his fear of the killer sock fuzz is that of our Associate Pastor whose presence in our home once rendered him silent and motionless for a good 45 minutes. Oh gi GOSH!

This particular day he had just retrieved about half a container of takeout sweet and sour sauce from the trash and had his way with it in the living room. Actually I had just finished cleaning up at this point.

He's a little bit of what one might call a mold breaker when it comes to our children, but such a joy! When I am not cursing the current mess he is making, I thank God for him daily. He is healthy and even pleasant and polite sometimes. He consistently says AND signs "please" and "thank you," and rarely misses an opportunity to fold his chubby little paws to pray to "Ahsheesh," the God of the Jackson house.

I sure am glad he came to our house to live and not somebody else's...

Pretend You're Happy When You're Blue

2009-02-24T14:47:00.005-05:00

Today as I sat with a heart full of burdens, I was blessed by an unexpected visit from not one, but both of my parents. They were in town and stopped by hoping to catch an overdue visit with me, their "squeaky" little girl. As we talked about the happenings of the past week or two since we had last seen one another, my mother shared the details of my father's doctor's visit this afternoon. One point she had felt noteworthy enough to share with the doctor, and again with me, was that my father seems to be whistling and singing more these days than in recent months and years.

In one way it seems an odd thing to mention, but to those who know my father, his joyful jubilation through song and whistling was the essence of who he was. I say "was" because it hadn't even occurred to me that I hadn't heard either in a long, long time. Time and space and distance had separated the daily routine of our lives enough that I hadn't even missed it, much less questioned why it had ever stopped.

Growing up he always whistled while he worked. He would belt out songs of praise with great gusto as he split wood, hung drywall, made waffles on a Saturday morning, or prepared a sermon. Sometimes they were familiar hymns or Rick Fulton specials, but quite often they were songs that we had never even heard of, classics from his day, improvised with lyrics he made up for the ones he couldn't remember, or perhaps never even knew himself. For years I never knew that the second line to "Rain Drops Keep Falling on My Head" wasn't "I can't seem to get myself in bed".

After they left today, I sat and cried, but just a a little bit. It made me sad that a once so familiar and fond aspect of my childhood had almost been forgotten, yet overjoyed that it had not been lost forever. He can still whistle, and apparently still does. I am exceedingly glad for the joy that is still in his heart.

In an age and culture where it is so popular to criticize and question all methods used to parent you, I am reminded of all that my parents did right in raising me. Neither they, nor I, am perfect - not then and certainly not now, but I love them and I know that they love me.

After my tears had dried, I googled "Pretend You're Happy When You're Blue" and found the rest of the lyrics that I never remember hearing. I only remembered the title stanza followed by "The world is mine, it can be yours, my friend" soulfully crooned with the smooth, steady vibrato of my father's voice. I had never even realized it was sung by Nat King Cole.

Singing and whistling alone don't make a father good, but they were, and still are, an expression of emotion, and ultimately of his heart, that I will make certain I never forget...

Pretend you're happy when you're blue
It isn't very hard to do
And you'll find happiness without an end
Whenever you pretend

Remember anyone can dream
And nothing's bad as it may seem
The little things you haven't got
Could be a lot if you pretend

You'll find a love you can share
One you can call all your own
Just close your eyes, she'll be there
You'll never be alone

And if you sing this melody
You'll be pretending just like me
The world is mine, it can be yours, my friend
So why don't you pretend?

2Fer

2009-02-12T16:36:00.002-05:00

Because I have been slacking I am going to bless you all with two fabulous quotes from this week...

#1 "You can't polish a turd!"

#2 "One of the most unsung heroes of the human body is the flap of tissue known as Epiglottis.

I just thought of one more which technically makes this a 3fer...

#3 "I have too much snot in my esophagus." by Grant Morris, age 7, which gave rise to the discussion that resulted in the previous quote.

Egg Blot Test

2009-02-09T20:39:00.003-05:00

Tonight as I fried up some eggs on my skillet for breakfast supper, I was amused to see this shape staring back at me, but I am wondering if it is just my own little eyes who think they see what they think they see. Please share your impressions...

Phenomenon

2009-02-08T22:45:00.002-05:00

Does anyone know what it is that happens to mattresses in the wee twilight hours of every Sunday morn in which they transform into the dreamiest slumbering surface imaginable, making it all but impossible for their occupants to rise in time to attend church?

If anyone knows, or has experienced this phenomenon also, please do let me know.

I am pleased to proclaim that I did make it to church this morning, and on time I might add, but mainly because I had nursery duty which carries nearly the weight of jury duty in our particular parish, otherwise I very well may have been swallowed up by my very own Serta.

TGFG

2009-02-01T16:57:00.009-05:00

Thank goodness for Grandma's...

...Who turn "maybe later's" into reality right NOW...

...Who understand that while Mom's are busy complaining on their blogs,
kids just wanna have FUN!

The thought of nibbling a chocolate rodent is a little creepy,
but I am certainly NOT complaining about THAT!

Thanks, Mom!

Mommmmm

2009-01-31T09:47:00.005-05:00

I know there will come a day when I will miss having every sentence I hear from dawn to dusk out of the mouth of my babes begin with "Mommmmm" and quickly followed with the blow of yet another request or demand, but right now I just can't imagine that day.

"Mom, LOOK...Mom, watch this...Mom, he kicked me in the butt...Mom, can we make cookies today, you said...Mom, will you sit with me?...Mom, can I sleep on your floor tonight?...Mom, maybe later if we...can we...after that if it's not snowing can you take us...maybe if Dad gets home in time can we...Mom, you said yesterday that if...so can we now....can we later...can we maybe...maybe if we do maybe can they come too...Mom, how come you never let anyone come over...Mom, why did you get her three and me only one...Mom, you never...MOMMMM you always...Mom, what are we having for dinner tonight...You KNOW I HATE that...Where do you think we will go on vacation this year?...Do you think we'll ever go to Disney again?...Mom, I don't think people like my drawings and people don't play with me at recess...Mom, what does this mean?...Can I go on the computer?...Mom, after he's done can I go on?...Mom, can I order a online...you said...how do I...will you show me...where is my...maybe after David goes to bed maybe can we go to the rec center...Mommmmm, what are we going to do today anyway...are we even going to do ANYTHING?!"

And this was all before I was out of bed this morning. Okay, not literally, but it felt like it.

Kool Aid

2009-01-30T08:03:00.003-05:00

I love learning new words. Always have. I have subscribed to Webster.com's word of the day. I grew up with It Pays to Enrich Your Word Power. I keep a notepad handy when reading anything, and frequently make mental notes throughout my day of words and pop culture phrases to dissect and define at a later time. Trashy as it may be, a richly valuable resource I have repeatedly referred to is urbandictionary.com. Just yesterday I was baffled when I heard "kool aid" used in a context which sounded very much as if it meant someone's girlfriend. So quickly I hit the bookmarked site to discover that indeed...

Kool aid: In the deepest parts of the hood--can be meant as a metaphor for someone's personal business...A man's personal business. Specifically his girl.

"You best be steppin' off! Why you all up in my kool aid?"..."Back off my kool aid!"

I likely will never have occasion to use this gem, but at least now I know.

Name Game

2009-01-28T16:57:00.005-05:00

"Boys in the United States with common names like Michael and David are less likely to commit crimes than those named Ernest or Ivan." (Full Article)

Good news for all the David's in our life, and our uncle Michael Jackson, but yeaaah...I'm concerned about my dad, Elmwood. And what about Evan? And what about my friend's brother whose name is David Michael Ernie? Can the two former good names redeem the latter? Is there any hope?

Jukebox Hero

2009-01-24T00:11:00.006-05:00

You know you are old when you totally rock out to the Foreigner concert aired on public television on a Friday night and consider it quality entertainment.

"I am the ice cream man...running over little kids in my van!" ~As sung by Grant D. Morris to the tune of Iron Man by Black Sabbath

Street Swagger

2009-01-22T09:57:00.004-05:00

Here's my entry for yesterday: There are some days in motherhood when I feel as if my brain cells are literally falling from my ears landing where'er they may all about my house, much like socks dropping from my armload of fresh, warm laundry as I walk from the dryer to my bed to fold it, dropping a few more each time I bend over to gather the lost pieces, but then there are days when I am SO stinkin' magnificently brilliant that I swear I must have some of Rhonda Randall's blood running through my veins...and then I remember that I kind of do!

Just giving a shout out to my Street peeps, but only the SMART ones...the less mentally endowed need not respond. =) Abram's and Hazen's shall be recognized another day. But raise your hand if you love Busch beer and NASCAR! Here, here!

Another element I would like to include in my blog this year, on the days I actually write, is a quote at the end of each entry: either something I have read or something that has been said in my presence that day. Thanks for the idea, DL. And maybe I will get better at posting on the day it happened rather than the morning after. Maybe.

"But I knew one thing: I knew silence, which like an exotic poison - odorless, tasteless - brings a subtle madness to the victim." ~The Story of a Marriage by Andrew Sean Greer

Distilled Goodness

2009-01-21T09:44:00.005-05:00

U.S. News and World Report suggests keeping a simple diary as #20 in the "50 Ways to Improve Your Life in 2009" cover story.

"Distill your day's experiences into a single sentence each day. Call it a "clothes hanger" journal: It provides a framework on which to hang the larger raiments of memory. A few well-chosen words can transport you back to where you were days or years ago. And-if you're persistent-it can show you the shape of your life over time."

I absolutely adore this idea! Unfortunately since I am not and never will be a woman of few words, and because I have so much clutter littering my mental landscape, and because so much happens in a "typical" day this task seems overwhelmingly daunting.

So yesterday's distilled entry could have read something like this, "Detroit is a scary place and I am glad I do not have to live there or get accosted by the butch half of an African-American pregnant lesbian couple or the the socket wrench-wielding man at the stoplight."

If I could condense it further, and if I were a better word weaver, perhaps I could find a way to also include that I really enjoy days that my mother keeps David; I don't enjoy cleansing melted chocolate from the entire contents of my purse, including my iPod, in a public restroom; I wish someone would just confess to putting their fundraiser packet in the fridge in order to ensure it grabbed my attention fully; Enchilada soup isn't nearly as good in the crockpot; and that was a reeeeeeally good book I started reading before bed last night.

A Long Good-Bye

2009-01-07T20:33:00.003-05:00

Today it's been a year. Already. It doesn't seem possible...and all those other cliches. What can even be said that hasn't been said? Thought that hasn't been thought? Felt that hasn't been felt? We love you, Mom, and miss you dearly!

A Christmas Greeting

2008-12-25T19:33:00.003-05:00

DO! holiday times!
shove a warm blesses
the now all a man kind
is participate spirit love

let's so gift! a present
make many eat food family
sing a musics, take a joy
yes! it's celebrate to
each every one we!

(An Engrish.com Greeting)

The beauty of this Christmas message will sadly be lost on many of my readers, if not most. But to those who get it and to the one who sent it, Merry Christmas and thank you for getting me and my wacky love of humor and misused words!

And Merry Christmas to the rest of you...and to all a good night!

In the Toilet

2008-10-15T19:17:00.003-04:00

Umm...yeeah! I'm pretty much ready to turn the page on this

chapter of my life. One word: David.

Any questions?

Wishes

2008-10-08T20:46:00.002-04:00

Today my firstborn baby boy turned 12.
Happy Birthday to the boy who just told me,
"I LOVE life!"

Masquerade

2008-09-07T15:24:00.002-04:00

Is there anyone that fails
Is there anyone that falls
Am I the only one in church today feelin’ so small

Cause when I take a look around
Everybody seems so strong
I know they’ll soon discover
That I don’t belong

So I tuck it all away, like everything’s okay
If I make them all believe it, maybe I’ll believe it too
So with a painted grin, I play the part again
So everyone will see me the way that I see them

Are we happy plastic people
Under shiny plastic steeples
With walls around our weakness
And smiles to hide our pain
But if the invitation’s open
To every heart that has been broken
Maybe then we close the curtain
On our stained glass masquerade

Is there anyone who’s been there
Are there any hands to raise
Am I the only one who’s traded
In the altar for a stage

The performance is convincing
And we know every line by heart
Only when no one is watching
Can we really fall apart

But would it set me free
If I dared to let you see
The truth behind the person
That you imagine me to be

Would your arms be open
Or would you walk away
Would the love of Jesus
Be enough to make you stay

Well if the invitation’s open
To every heart that has been broken
Maybe then we close the curtain
On our stained glass masquerade

Is there anyone that fails
Is there anyone that falls
Am I the only one in church today feelin’ so small

Stained Glass Masquerade, Casting Crowns Lifesong Album

Happy Birthday, Sharon Mary!

2008-09-06T05:58:00.004-04:00

Today is my mother-in-law Sharon’s first birthday to pass since she died on January 7, 2008. She would have been 63 today, September 6.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Never have those unwritten words had more meaning than this year. At the time it was taken, none of us would have imagined where we would travel together as a family over the next 4 years. Fortunately, those travels did include several more memorable camping trips together, but they also included a most unexpected turn on a journey of grief into completely unmapped territory.

This particular birthday was her 59th, celebrated with all but one of her children and their families at a campground in Alpena, Michigan. It was the day before Labor Day, and the day before her actual birthday, because we would be leaving to travel home the following day and there would be no time to celebrate.

I remember the weekend well with surprising clarity, at least little details. I remember that we all went down to the beach and Sharon played with the younger grandchildren making sand castles and such while some of the mom’s and dad’s ventured out to a water trampoline/slide out in the middle of the lake. I remember that Jeff and some of the brothers-in-law got up to go fishing with his parents at dawn on Sunday morning. I remember renting a pontoon and taking turns taking rides. I remember we ate all the meals together at our rented camper because we had the largest awning. I remember renting low-rider bicycles and doing all kinds of tricks with the kids. I remember laughing and laughing and laughing around the campfire as Meridith entertained us with Larry the Cable Guy impersonations and undoubtedly seeing Sharon shake her head and say, “That Meridith!”

We were all together and doing what we do best: laughing and making memories.

These pictures hold hilarious memories for those of us who were present. Notice the cake.

Jeff’s dad, Dave, aka Butch, had made a special trip out to WalMart to buy a cake to honor his bride on her special day. Upon his return to the campsite, as he was stepping up into their 5th wheel travel trailer carrying the cake, he somehow lost his footing and fell backwards down the steps, landing flat on his back on the ground. It was a miracle he was not seriously injured, but more miraculous was his effort to salvage the cake in the midst of his fall. It was smashed to smithereens on the inside of the lid, and I think a blade or two of grass might have sneaked in the side, but other than that it was entirely edible. I remember singing Happy Birthday with tears in my eyes because I had laughed so hard at how pathetic the cake looked, how filled with chagrin Jeff’s dad looked, and how tickled pink Sharon looked in spite of it all. Among other things, she was a good sport!

Happy Birthday, Sharon Mary! Thank you for the lessons your life has taught and still are teaching me, and all of us. We miss you and love you!

Mudslide

2008-09-03T20:20:00.005-04:00

Thanks to David House Sr. of Lapeer Photography for these fabulous photos of Julia's fun this weekend. Click here to see the rest of the mudslide adventure.

First Day of School 2008

2008-09-02T10:12:00.004-04:00

Kumbya

2008-09-01T22:01:00.009-04:00

We camped this weekend with approximately 14 other families from our church. I must say, I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed it. I honestly was not looking forward to it...hardly at all. In fact, I was kind of dreading it. I knew it would be fun once we got there and settled, but all the preparation and packing and clean-up, and disrupted sleep in impossibly close quarters with a now notoriously, boisterously loud screeching toddler, along with lack of proper sanitation and hygiene opportunities for 3 days, and forced social interaction seemed like more work than I was up for this week.

But surprisingly...

The weather could not have been more perfect. We ate very well, okay that wasn't a surprise...we have some rockin' awesome cooks in our church. But I was able to bathe myself and my children daily. I didn't forget to pack a single thing that really mattered except my powder brush (thank you, Diane) and a couple kids' items (thank you, Dave). And much to my great delight, I had a TON of help with David (thank you EVERYONE!) from people who were remarkably tolerant of his volume. I got to sit around the campfire, sometimes even next to my husband, and visit and laugh with other adults into the wee hours of the morning while my children slept...like babies! I even managed to finish several sentences and amuse others at my own pitiful expense.

Most importantly, I connected with people. I don't make that a priority often enough and I suffer the consequences. Being a hermit is overrated. This weekend I feel as if I enjoyed genuine fellowship even though I loathe that word, and cannot believe I just typed it on my own blog. Most, if not all, of our interactions were less than sublime, yet I came away feeling much more connected to my church body as a whole, and therefore more committed to it...whereas going into the weekend, amputation was a thought not-so-very-far from my mind.

Among other things, I made some new friends. Some were humans, one was a guinea pig named Rosie. I learned some new songs, and remembered some old ones. I took some long walks and 3 turns on the "Blob". (See video below.)

And nobody sang "Kumbya".

We have already reserved the same spot for next year and I can't even wait!

(The first one is of me "blobbing" Andrew into the water...the second one is of me being "blobbed" by our pastor's daughter. Unfortunately, my best blobbing stunt, in which I was catapulted at least a dozen (slight exaggeration) feet in the air and landed horizontally, was not captured on video.)

Public Enemies

2008-08-27T17:37:00.005-04:00

This really happened today. The first series of events took place in approximately a 30 minute timeframe at the food court of the mall:

As we entered the food court, I was nearly having a stroke over how much money I had just blown on such precious few "on sale" items...with a coupon! It sickened me. I was mentally tallying the expenses yet to come in our week. This left me stressed and having difficulty breathing.

I had promised the kids we would not just go to the mall, but that we would EAT at the mall as well. Going to the mall at all is a huge treat, but eating there is off the charts of coolness in their books and it was supposed to be our last fling before school starts next week. Of course they chose the restaurant with the longest line and the most inept counter help, with the most visible and distasteful tattoos.

I needed to use the bathroom BAD.

The line was going nowhere fast. It was going nowhere.

David was acting like a maniac...shrieking like a banshee. LOUD. Deafeningly loud. I was trying to do my best at quieting him without getting arrested at which time some pretty young thing, presumably with no children, walked by and gave us "a look" and said, "Seriously!?!" Yes, beooootch. Seriously. This is my life. I was outraged, but of course did nothing. My reaction shall be played out in my fantasies for years to come.

We silently consumed our food that cost $19.47. All of us except David, that is, who continued to
attract all manner of evil looks from all corners of the court. Tension filled the air. I was thinking to myself that my parenting today made Kate Gosselin's look like Ma Ingalls. I hadn't been terribly unkind, I was just so distraught all day due to various other factors that I had hardly spoken a word beyond what was necessary to communicate. But even that is unkind. At one point tears came to my eyes. Only one fell before I made myself STOP!

As promised I allowed them to play on the playground of foamy food in the middle after they were finished eating. Within minutes, Kathryn who had been gathering her courage to jump from the watermelon slice to the cupcake, apparently too slowly for the liking of the impatient little girl behind her, was pushed to the ground about 3ft down. She wasn't hurt, but very traumatized that another child would be so malicious and offer no apology. She continued to touch and poke and pull her for the duration of our stay, with no parent anywhere in sight.

Meanwhile, Andrew who was too tall to play, per mall rules and regulations, was helping me keep on eye on the little ones. He was sitting down at the end of a large foamy tipped over cup of soda waiting for David to crawl out the other end. I didn't see it happen, but a small boy kneed him in the face. Hard enough to knock his glasses from his face, but thankfully not break them. He cried. Hard, which is notable for a boy of almost 12 who doesn't weep easily and seek the comfort of his mother publicly. Accidents happen. I really don't think he meant Andrew any harm. His face was just in the way of his knee and one of them had to move.

So we decided to use the bathroom, FINALLY, and be on our way which was an experience in itself. After a few more stops we were on the road on our way home back to Lapeer where people aren't as MEAN!

We traveled several uneventful miles, still pretty quietly, before someone cut me off in traffic.

It happens. I stopped in time. Nobody was hit. No big deal.

But wait, what did her bumper sticker say? Oh yes, "Jesus loves you. Everyone else thinks you're an a**hole."

I was irked fo sho, but what was I going to do, really? I didn't even honk. I certainly did no gesture.

Somewhere along the way a short while later, she turned off and that was the end of her.

Safely back to our hometown, I put my signal on to change lanes. Mine was obviously slowing to a standstill. I waited for a break and then darted out. Close, but not THAT close to the car behind me. Not at all. I was watching. So Ms. Silver Car is outraged and honks loudly, repeatedly to make me aware of my wrongdoing in the event that I missed both her tall man fingers standing upright on both her and her passenger's hands in my rearview mirror.

Oh boy they were really giving it to me good!

My first reaction was to laugh it off once again, but then I had the sudden urge to honk back louder and longer. Why? Because I could. So I did.

They remained behind me and stayed a safe distance back. Until we came to the next intersection at which point I needed to go straight and they needed to turn into the left turn lane right next to me. I looked straight ahead, never casting even a sideways glance at them until I heard something hit my van window...as in MINE...the driver's side. More fingers were flipped as they sped around the corner and out of sight when the light turned green, as if on cue. I looked down to survey the damage and I saw a blob of grease running down my window, probably containing trans fat, no less, and one lonely little nugget on the ground where it had fallen to its death.

I required about 45 minutes to decompress and reflect and rest when we got home, after putting quiet David in his cage for a nap and before starting dinner.

The rest of the evening at home and at the kids' school open houses was as peaceful as could be.

Andrew is to be credited for the title of this post.

And tomorrow's another day!

Niagara

2008-08-20T09:59:00.015-04:00

Lunch in the park before we began our trek down the full length of Falls Ave.

Julia began to get the idea that you don't play in the falls as we approached.

David applauding at the sights.

Resting about halfway down. It was SO hot!

This is one of my faves

The kids LOVE this one!

One of our last glimpses as we were leaving.

African Lion Safari

2008-08-19T11:34:00.005-04:00

We had the pleasure of visiting the African Lion Safari in Cambridge, Ontario over the weekend, followed by a day of fun at Niagara Falls. As always, I don't feel as if I have enough time to write all I would like to about our family adventures, but I wanted to at least give a sketch of our time through photos and video.

I must warn you that the video contains graphic sexual content and male baboon genitalia can be visualized...rather closely. We were having difficulty identifying the genders at first as their roles were confusing and everything was happening so quickly, but this cleared things right up. If you anticipate finding this offensive, please avert your eyes. If not, please enjoy. It was hilarious!

Also, I might add that Andrew is not taking the Lord's name in vain in the video clip. He is, however, saying "Oh my gosh!" which I have said entirely too much through the years, therefore my children say it frequently. It didn't used to bother me, but as with so many things, you don't realize how it sounds till you hear it coming out of your children's mouths again and again. We are working on it.

This one was just funny...

All of the rest of the pictures were taken through the windshield or side window of our van with my very wimpy zoom lens on my point and shoot camera. Just giving perspective. It was unlike any trip to the zoo to actually drive through the reserve and see the animals interacting so closely. It was an incredible experience which I highly recommend, baboon penis and all.

Desperately Seeking Burger

2008-08-12T15:21:00.004-04:00

Anyone have any fresh ideas for a dinner that includes a pound of burger?

If so, please share!

NOW!

=)

My name is Kathryn Foley and I am a motivational speaker...

2008-08-04T16:32:00.003-04:00

Today I overheard Kathryn "reading" aloud to herself...

"If you're trying to do something and it's really hard and you just can't do it, you need to STOP TRYING!"

Where have I gone wrong in my parenting?

Maybe it's because I live in a van down by the river.

Sean

2008-07-30T09:01:00.003-04:00

Please pray for this family. If you don't pray, please do whatever you do when tragedy strikes. This is Jeff's cousin's wife and 3 year old son, Sean, who died very suddenly of a rare flu complication Monday evening. His twin brother, who was with him when he stopped breathing, has since been hospitalized with pneumonia. We were not close to them ourselves, but are feeling the family's pain. If you are inclined to pray, his parents' names are Erik and Corinne and he has two older brothers besides his twin.

Foreign Bodies

2008-07-28T14:25:00.002-04:00

I don't mean to make this blog all about Kathryn, but I am considering changing its name since it kind of is.

I'll be brief and I won't include any gross pictures even though I reeeeeeally want to.

I thought Kathryn might have Swimmer's Ear. We have been swimming every day, sometimes more than once a day, for nearly two weeks while we were pool sitting for a family member who was on vacation. Plus swim lessons, plus a beach visit or two. You get the idea...wet ears.

She had complained about her right ear being touched even ever so lightly which was beginning to interfere with even the most basic activities of daily living. Hair combing, washing, sunscreen application, etc would reduce her to howling in pain.

After the ordeal that was her shower last night, I decided I would seek medical attention ASAP this morning. Moments later she fell in the shower and split her chin open. I decided not to take her in for stitches, against my better judgment. I had had no experience (knock on wood) with injuries requiring stitches and just didn't know what to do. I knew I could see subcutaneous tissue, but I pretended that I could not.

This morning I took her to the doctor who said she should have had a couple stitches last night, but could not now because too much time had elapsed since the injury. Luckily it is on the under side of her chin so if it scars it shouldn't be too unsightly.

Also, upon examination he discovered a foreign body in her right ear and enough wax to light a menorah in her left. He was able to successfully remove both. Looked like two pieces of kelly green fabric fiber which Doctor insisted was dental floss. I disagreed. Dental floss is NOT kelly green, it is much more minty in color. Duh. I didn't go to medical school, but come on! I brought said "bodies" in an attempt to color match them to something in the house on which to lay the blame.

She did have a mild case of Swimmer's Ear. We got a prescription, as well as a rebate for the prescription, and were on our way, but not before the patient stopped to LICK a doorknob on the way out.

I was so proud!

She has said numerous times throughout the day, "I can HEAR!"

And I am glad.

Never

a

dull

moment.

Ark of the Covenant

2008-07-17T13:21:00.002-04:00

Kathryn still compulsively tattles on herself. Don't know why. She confesses secret thoughts she has, like wanting to scratch my eyes out, and saying "stupid kitty" to a cat on Webkinz.com. She tells on herself for ALMOST picking her scabs. And David's. So I was not that surprised to hear what sounded like yet another tattle this morning. It started out like any other..."Mom, I told David..." But then it took an unusual twist when she continued..."about the ark of the covenant."

I was so humored as I wondered what in the world she had told him about a topic she knew nothing about. So I asked what she had told him. Apparently she told him it was the presence of God. Andrew quickly confirmed that they had heard this in Children's Church Sunday morning and it made me appreciate their teacher all the more.

But lest you think she is too righteous and reverant, my mother later overheard her singing "Ark of the covenant, doot doot..." to the tune of "Skunk in the barnyard, peeee eeeeww!"

100

2008-07-11T07:32:00.003-04:00

And it was just moments before this photo was taken that Julia's birthday guest, Ella-daughter of Amy Lynn, guessed the respective ages of my mom and dad to be 96 and 100. It was AWESOME! =)

Happy Birthday, Julia Gulia!

2008-07-10T20:57:00.004-04:00

Quotes to Remember

2008-07-09T18:02:00.003-04:00

"No, they are not in love, they're already married." ~Julia Jackson, 8

"Men are wildly self-delusional." ~Redbook Magazine

"You can break the back, but you can't break the spirit of a small town southern man." ~Alan Jackson

Vomit in the Headband Drawer and Other Unpleasantries

2008-06-26T08:04:00.002-04:00

Warning: Very long post detailing the events of my vomit-filled adventures...

I don't know how I got so lucky as to avoid this scenario for sooooooo long, but I did and I am ever so thankful. But last night my good fortune expired.

I should have suspected something was up when Kathryn was dozing on the loveseat before bedtime. She felt a tiny bit warm to me when I tucked her in, but I thought she was still just hot from playing. She shared some sleepy, incoherent thoughts with me before whispering, "You can't see God, but he is VERY real..." And then she was out.

Julia went down hard and not without telling me she didn't feel well several times, but this has come to be routine so I thought nothing of it. No pious words passed from her lips as I left the room.

Starting at 1 something or other, Julia entered our room sobbing, stating that her stomach hurt very badly. I could hear what I thought was David crying, but it sounded too close and I wondered why on earth she would have opened his door before coming in our room. I proceeded to gather the necessary sick bedding to place at my bedside for Julia when I quickly realized it was not David, but Kathryn wailing in the hallway with her pants down because there was no toilet paper in the bathroom. It was when I began guiding her back to the bathroom that I discovered she must have a fever of at least 109.

The rest of the night was a blur. We came downstairs and made beds on the couch and loveseat. Kathryn wondered why Julia was getting preferential treatment in the form of "better stuff" when SHE was the one who was sick. Her appetite for sibling rivalry was not suppressed even at this hour, nor in this condition, but she fell back to sleep quickly.

Julia, however, did not. She was writhing in pain, such as I have never seen in my young in all my parenting days. She was inconsolable, did not want to be touched, and was begging to go to the hospital. She would doze off momentarily and then wake back up in agony. I woke Jeff and we discussed taking her to the ER about 3:00. About that time she fell asleep for about half an hour. And then woke up. And threw up. Once. Then again. And again. And again. I have since lost track of her tally, but I am very pleased that her aim has improved tremendously since the last time she needed to empty the contents of her stomach. And somewhere in the middle we decided against taking her in to the ER.

On to Kathryn and the headband drawer. Sometime in the night Jeff brought her back upstairs to the sick bed on the floor. She woke when he got up for work at 5:30 and was quite chipper, a little too chipper. She was anxious to get a start on her day, but I would not hear of it and sent her back to her own bed, desperate to fall asleep for even a few minutes before David got up in a couple of hours.

Minutes later there was a gentle little, polite-like knock at my bedroom door. Who could THIS be, I wondered. I opened it to behold Kathryn standing there with hands full, and shirt full, of vomit.

"I threw up in my bed and I don't really like the taste of it on my tongue."

The damage was more extensive and explosive than I could have imagined, but surprisingly not in her bedroom. There was a sizable puddle on her bed, but it was contained in one general area.

But the bathroom. Oh my. On the light switch, on the counter, on the rugs, on the toilet, around the toilet, on the bathtub, on the toilet paper roll. Because she didn't like the taste, of course, and had been frantically trying to grasp a square to wipe her tongue off with. But oddly enough, there was a large pool of it on the opposite end of the counter from the toilet just above the middle drawer which stood ever so slightly ajar. By the time I had arrived to assess the damage, gravity had already run its course, which led right over the edge of the counter and into the drawer.

And what was in that drawer? Headbands. And spongey curlers. Yum!

Kathryn has not thrown up since and is resting comfortably, but Julia has...at least 2 more times.

On the bright side, I had one bathroom cleaned, one load of laundry, and two children bathed by 6:10 this morning.

And I think I might have fallen asleep for 7 or 8 minutes before David woke up.

Julia needs me. I must go.

Explanation

2008-06-21T20:40:00.004-04:00

Why my posting has been not-so-very frequent of late...

T.O.F.

2008-06-09T06:58:00.002-04:00

Thinking of Frankie.

This will be meaningless to everyone except him whose initials are F.A.H. And maybe his wife whose are...E...umm, sorry I don't know your middle name...H.

I just wanted you to know. =)

We Heart Yogi Bear

2008-05-27T14:37:00.008-04:00

Real Live Guitar Hero

2008-05-09T14:56:00.003-04:00

Andrew on his way to his first lesson in
becoming a classically trained musician.
So far he's a natural.

Pomp and Circumstance

2008-05-09T14:54:00.002-04:00

Graduation Day

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Happiness is...

2008-05-09T14:47:00.002-04:00

...finding some generously cut garage sale jeans that are a size smaller than you usually wear and fooling yourself into believing you really HAVE lost inches...cause everyone knows tags don't lie.

Screaming

2008-04-29T13:28:00.002-04:00

"Dear Jesus...Thank you we have enough food so we never have to be TOO hungry and please be with all the people who are sick so they don't have to scream for medicine..."

Do I even need to say who prayed these words from her tender heart last night?

I thank God for seeing the need for her in our family. I cannot imagine life without her. She has brought so much balance to the family dynamic...and joy...and HUMOR!

As I often tell her, and as my Dad used to frequently tell me, "I sure am glad you came to our house to live and not someone else's."

Steve Austin Who?

2008-04-18T11:18:00.006-04:00

Last night when I went to bed, Jeff had already been sleeping for about an hour, dreaming about who knows what, when this interesting dialogue took place:

Jeff: Hello, Steve Austin. Are you ready to play dead so I can bury you?
Me: Umm...yeah.
Jeff: C'mon, I'm gonna bury you.
Me: Why do you want to bury me?
Jeff: I don't know. So I can get some new stuff.
Jeff: [Siiiiiiiiigh] I'm SOOOOO tired.

What I was wondering, among other things, was Steve Austin who? As in Stone Cold Steve Austin? Or Steve Austin, as played by Lee Majors in The Six Million Dollar Man? I also wondered why he thought burying Steve Austin or ME would result in new stuff. I wondered if it had anything to do with our discussion of life insurance options for me that we had had last night. Maybe he really was plotting to bury me so he could buy a new truck with Buckshot Mudders.

Luckily there were no more disturbances from that side of the bed for the remainder of the twilight hours. And I awoke alive. To an earthquake.

By now, surely most people have heard that a 5.4 magnitude earthquake shook the Midwest just before 6:00 this morning. I was actually in a semi-awake state, but fading in and out of consciousness as I anticipated the sound of my alarm. I first heard the shower door begin to rattle a little. Then a little more. And then the bed shook a little too. My first thought was that it was Jeff trying to wake me without startling me too badly as I have a tendency to rise up in terror if he tries to rouse me from sleep with traditionally normal methods. Or was he trying to KILL me so he could get new stuff? It lasted 10 seconds at the most. Once I was awake, I was certain it had been an earthquake.

I came downstairs straightaway to find that Jeff hadn't left for work yet. He had felt the couch shaking too. I inquired about which Steve Austin. Though he did not recall having any such conversation, he was pretty sure he would have been talking about The Six Million Dollar Man, not Stone Cold.

And sure enough, the lead story on the Today Show was the earthquake that had rocked the Midwest.

"The walls was shakin'...the earth was quakin'...my mind was achin'...and who the heck is Steve Austin?"

Ortolan

2008-04-14T22:30:00.007-04:00

One of the things I like about being pals with Dave is that he never ceases to amaze me with the pieces of oddly obscure information he manages to weave into everyday conversations and emails, as if he were simply discussing the weather or trying to decide what to have for dinner tomorrow night.

At times I am baffled as I desperately scramble to distinguish satire from reality, but I must admit I often find myself genuinely enlightened and enriched by said tidbits.

Today's reference to the endangered ortolan of France was one such time.

Thank you, Dave, thank you.

Happy Birthday, Kathryn!

2008-04-11T21:53:00.004-04:00

Oh yeah, and one more....

2008-04-05T16:39:00.003-04:00

"Why do we wear sunscreen anyway? To keep our germs out of other people's pools?"

Kathrynisms Part 33 1/3

2008-04-05T08:10:00.004-04:00

Kathryn: I just squeezed David's ear with my teeth.
Mom: WHAT?! KathhhhhhhhhhRYN!
Kathryn: But I unloosed it. I UNLOOSED IT! I did.

. . . .

"Don't you just wish you could choke hell? UHHH, I just hate hell SO much!"

. . . .

"Don't you love meatloaf, Mom? I love meatloaf almost as much as I love myself!"

Old and New

2008-03-29T18:32:00.003-04:00

One of the things that Jeff's mom kept
saying right up until the day she stopped talking was,
"David is going to look so BIG when that new baby comes."
He sure enough does, Mom, he sure enough does.
You can tell they are cousins.

Oh SO SWEET!

2008-03-29T07:37:00.002-04:00

Ayden Daniel
March 29, 2008 ~ 12:25 a.m.
7 pounds 6 ounces ~ 19 inches

His mom is a superstar!

Bittersweet

2008-03-28T11:11:00.002-04:00

Ayden Daniel is on his way.

Meridith went in this morning about 4:00, the contractions stopped, but since today is her due date they are inducing her rather than sending her home, much to her great relief.

Please pray for a safe delivery and that the sweetness of the day will outweigh the bitterness.

It is a sad thing for a baby to born grandmotherless, for Baby but especially for Mom.

Got Hummus?

2008-03-27T15:12:00.002-04:00

Does anyone have a recipe for GOOD hummus?

Any of my readers in Israel?

Anyone? Anyone?

Preoccupied with 1995

2008-03-25T14:04:00.006-04:00

Four babies and a trailer later, here we are.
Happy Anniversary, Jeff!

Happy Birthday to David!

2008-03-24T22:34:00.009-04:00

We didn't even know we needed another baby, but what would we do without him a year later?! Tonight he was much more interested in the paper and packaging than the treasures they contained, but he knew exactly when it was time for cake...and any time there was a camera in his face, which was often of course. Happy Birthday, David, and thank you, God, for knowing we would need the kind of joy that only a baby can bring at this time in our lives.

He is Risen!

2008-03-23T07:19:00.001-04:00

Buxton

2008-03-21T07:52:00.004-04:00

Yesterday morning I scrambled around to leave the house for the day at 8:50 with all four children groomed and in tow. That is not an ungodly hour, I know. I leave the house at that time every day to drive the children to school, but save for the eldest two children, we are not generally groomed. But this was no ordinary morning. The plan was to take the kids to school, drop Kathryn and David off at an in-home daycare, and then drive by myself to the mall, by myself, to shop by myself, for upcoming birthdays and Easter attire, and then meet a friend for lunch by myself with no children or strollers. You can see why I, myself, might be extry motivated on such a morning.

In addition to the usual routine, the kids had a buttload of stuff they had to take to school for a read-a-thon and there were many important last minute decisions to be made, such as whether to wear Crocs to the read-a-thon or sneakers and whether to take a water bottle for their beverage of choice or iced tea, whether to take a special blanket Gramma Jackson had made or a beach towel to sit on, and of course which books to take to read. I also had the foreign task of packing a diaper bag for a caregiver, extra bottles, extra snacks, an extra outfit, and all the trimmings. I had a couple of items to return to the store and blah, blah, blah. But we made it out the door right on time.

I quickly dropped the kids off at school and was on my way. The horizon of my life was looking brighter by the second as I anticipated the absolute freedom of the day. The stress of several weeks was beginning to abate.

I managed to drive about 15 minutes before reaching for my cell phone for the first time. But, umm, yeaaah, it wasn't in my purse which I knew, as I had dumped its contents out onto the car seat in my frenzied search. And it wasn't in the cup holder where I often put it. I reached for the diaper bag at the same time I remembered I had switched to a larger diaper bag to hold all the extra stuff, at which time I remembered that my phone was in the outside pocket of the smaller diaper bag which was at home. I am not excessively attached to my phone. I often forget to take it and hardly know how to do anything but answer it. I don't even have very many numbers programmed into it, and I don't text or play games. But I needed it today because I was meeting someone at a yet to be determined time and would be awaiting her call. So nothing to do but turn my wagon around and head homeward.

At this time, Kathryn, who was absolutely overjoyed to be going to a babysitter (for real), impatiently growled from the backseat, "Mom, you NEED the Buxton Organizer!"

The phone was, in fact, exactly where I had thought. I snatched it up and was on my way once again. My plans were only altered by 15 minutes and it was a wonderful day! Thank God for babysitters, retail therapy, and good friends. And daughters with good suggestions. =)

Phases

2008-03-20T19:43:00.007-04:00

Despite a few setbacks, such as influenza and a busted sump pump,
we have made it this far.

Pro-Life?

2008-03-05T14:04:00.003-05:00

This morning I was nearly run down in the grocery store parking lot by a speeding Buick driven by a bouffant-haired 60-something. She failed to yield. Badly. As she barreled on by, I noticed her bumper which was ironically emblazoned with "We are PRO-LIFE!"

The sanctity of human life apparently ceases once the life has exited the birth canal.

Gotcha!

2008-02-25T11:14:00.002-05:00

This is for everyone who knows about the opossum we received from Meridith last Christmas at our family White Elephant gift exchange. Finally after over a year of scheming, a perfect opportunity to re-gift presented itself. Saturday the extended family had a surprise baby shower for her. I wrapped it up in the bag with some baby wash on top and attached a note that said I just wanted the baby to have something soft to snuggle with right away. She had no idea. I wish I could have captured what followed. She shrieked loudly and flung it across the table as the aunts looked on in horror. I wish I would have thought to take a video. Luckily Jeff's aunt caught this expression right before it went flying. Thanks, Aunt Kim! Love you, MerMer!

White Bread and Puberty

2008-02-22T11:21:00.002-05:00

Other things I never expected to hear my children say:

Julia, crying: "But mommmmmm, I don't like white bread!"

(Not so very long ago, it was a great struggle to get white bread out of the house and off our food pyramid. I thought it would seem like a treat to make her egg salad sandwich on seeded Italian when our neighbor gave us a loaf this week, but not so much!)

Andrew asking: "How old were you when you went through puberty? I am only asking because it is my homework assignment, not because I really want to know."

Inquiring Minds

2008-02-21T21:21:00.005-05:00

I was unprepared for the barrage of questions that erupted from the backseat on the way home from the Salvation Army store today. I don't know why. As David snoozed, Kathryn asked me the following questions in rapid succession, in this order. After the first two I grabbed a pen from my visor and wrote them down on a napkin as I drove so I wouldn't forget.

Can opossums do anything? When Grant and Ella came over, Ella actually said they can do ANYTHING!
You hate mud, right?
Do you think Indians are scary? Julia does.
What colors do you hate?
Do you hate to wear white or just to look at it?
Were you brave when you were a little girl?
I wonder how they made this seat, do you know how they made this seat? Mom, do you?

This all on the heels of "Judas was NOT Jesus' friend, was he?"

Who ever said motherhood was a mindless pursuit was smoking crack!

Trimmings

2008-02-19T20:46:00.010-05:00

Yeah, I need to learn how to make compressed little slideshows or at least put the pictures next to each other or something. If any of my tech savvy friends want to come to my aid, I certainly wouldn't decline your assistance.

Today David got his first haircut from Aunt Robyn. He did very well. He patiently waited for nearly an hour while Kathryn got her 'do snipped and then took his turn. He was a squirmy, moving target from the git-go, but he didn't cry at all. When the water bottle failed to properly distract him, I resorted to allowing him to have his first sucker which saved the day.

BEFORE

DURING

STILL DURING...

ALMOST DONE...

AND TAAAA DAAA!

Day One: Demolition

2008-02-17T21:53:00.010-05:00

We officially began "finishing" our basement yesterday which unfortunately will involve first "unfinishing" the handiwork of the nincompoop who lived here before us. Some people have no business TOUCHING a hammer. EVER! Each sheet of drywall has on average 70 nails holding it in place. 70 nails, not to be confused with drywall screws, which may or may not have even made contact with any targeted stud behind the drywall. Some of the seams actually fall between studs and none of the exterior walls are insulated. Sweet. Fortunately, however, he didn't think to glue any of it in place so it has made it slightly easier to take down. We let the kids have one piece of wall to play "Flip That House" with before commencing the tedious process of "cat clawing" the bazillions of nails out. One Saturday down, 17 to go...

Simple Things

2008-02-17T21:26:00.006-05:00

BEFORE

I have written elsewhere about the new objection of my affection: my pantry/coat closet. And my husband, the builder of all things solid, level, and square. Important qualities for both closets AND men. =) In addition to having a respectable place to storehouse my non-perishable consumables, I also have a place for my vacuum and broom AND a low bar so the children can hang up their own coats. We have reduced the number of shoes in the closet from 11 to 6 and my paper towels are no longer stored in the garage. I even have one empty shelf on top that I plan to leave empty for now because it makes me feel RICH. My quality of living has skyrocketed.

AFTER...

MoonSand

2008-02-13T18:51:00.004-05:00

I wonder what Jesus thinks of this....

Snow Day

2008-02-07T20:44:00.000-05:00

Hooray for snow days!

Fatty McButterpants

2008-02-04T09:38:00.000-05:00

10 1/2 Months Old

David busies himself as he waits to get scooped up and out the door to take the "big kids" to school this morning. Aunt MerMer, the giver of all lasting nicknames, lovingly calls him "Fatty McButterpants".

BFF's

2008-01-29T15:25:00.001-05:00

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!

Logical

2008-01-29T13:23:00.000-05:00

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.

Prescription Shoes

2008-01-24T06:41:00.000-05:00

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.

Love Thy Neighbor

2008-01-19T08:55:00.000-05:00

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.

Life Goes On

2008-01-19T08:07:00.000-05:00

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.

Tuna Tracks

2008-01-13T18:28:00.000-05:00

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!

For those about to ROCK...

2008-01-12T10:33:00.000-05:00

...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!

Yesterday

2008-01-11T08:59:00.000-05:00

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!

Slideshow

2008-01-09T05:36:00.000-05:00

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.

January 7, 2008

2008-01-07T15:52:00.001-05:00

Sharon Mary Jackson
September 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

Dear Jesus

2008-01-06T06:11:00.000-05:00

"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!

Hanging Tough

2008-01-03T21:39:00.000-05:00

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.

The End is Near

2007-12-30T01:11:00.000-05:00

The hospice nurse confirmed the day before yesterday that it could be any time now, but that she did not believe Sharon (my mother-in-law) would be here next weekend. She is exhibiting signs of decline, but not the worst of the worst yet. She is resting comfortably, mostly, and she is at home. Jeff's dad is continuing to do a phenomenal job in caring for her. I am amazed every time I see him in action at how well-composed he is and how tenderly he cares for her. I believe she would not receive better care anywhere right now and that he is every bit as dear as she.

We did have our family Christmas a week ago today as planned and it went well. She was able to be awake for a few hours and was aware enough of her surroundings for it to be meaningful for her. She has been declining steadily ever since.

She is still responsive and recognizes us when we come. She usually tries to talk, but has been making less and less sense over the past 10 days or so since her drug dosages have been increased. Due to their effects, we don't know from one word to the next what she is going to come out with and some of it has been hilarious! We all feel like we can laugh about it without being disrespectful to her and it provides a little relief from the grief at hand, even for a minute.

Tonight as Jeff and I stood by her bed and he touched her arm to get her attention, she turned her eyes toward us and began squinting. She very weakly and slowly said, "You guys are all blue!" Thinking she meant our mood, Jeff assured her we were doing okay and that we weren't blue. She said, "You guys are all PAINTED blue!" And she would not be convinced that we were not the color blue, no matter what Jeff said. Finally she gave up. She rolled her eyes before closing them tightly and shaking her head as she pointed her finger at us and said softly, "You guys are NUTS!"

It was sweet.

Please pray. Pray for her peace and comfort. Pray for Dad's strength, emotionally and physically. And for all of us. Pray that what ever purpose God has in this will be fulfilled, on earth or in heaven. That is her greatest prayer.

Baby Got Book

2007-12-26T21:15:00.000-05:00

(Thanks to my good friend Dave 2.0, not to be confused with D2, who is always privy to the funniest little whatnots on the web.)

Merry Christmas!

2007-12-25T21:44:00.001-05:00

A Happy Day

2007-12-20T22:03:00.001-05:00

Jeff's youngest sister got re-married on Saturday. It would have been a joyous day anyway. We were all happy for her to have found such a good fellow to love and marry, but it was made even more joyous by the presence of Jeff's mom who was able to be there. It was no small effort she made, nor was the price she paid for her exertion, but she was there. And she looked lovely. And it was good!

My Week in Review

2007-12-20T21:38:00.000-05:00

Monday I had to evacuate my house in the middle of doing tendyhundred things because my carbon monoxide detector was going off. Incessantly. Waited in my van with children till help arrived. False alarm. Bad batteries.

Today I was first on the scene of an accident involving a feverish Vietnam veteran and a tree. I was lost in thought, busily composing an upcoming writing project in my mind when I saw him lose control just ahead of me on the exit ramp. In slow motion I watched as he struggled to right his veering vehicle before going down an embankment and hitting SEVERAL trees.

This is the second time I have found myself in this position.

I am considering becoming an EMT...as long as I can choose to respond to only those calls which do not involve blood or anything else I don't want to see.

He was inscathed. I waited with him until the police arrived.

Oh and I had an anxiety attack at small group Tuesday. Sometimes people make me very anxious.

My mother-in-law is not doing well. Please pray that her suffering will be minimal, that her husband will continue to have the strength to care for her at home, and that she will be able to have some wakeful periods on Sunday when we celebrate Christmas at their house.

Holiday Cheer

2007-12-12T13:13:00.001-05:00

Christmas is a joyous time of re-connecting with old friends...and family members...

Yesterday we received this card in the mail. In the interest of protecting their identities, I won't call them by name, but have I told you lately that I love Jeff's family? In the midst of the dreariest Christmas season our (or THEIR) family has ever known, they took the time to continue a delightful tradition, the photo Christmas card. Never too busy to find time to laugh. Never too consumed with grief to pass up a chance to brighten someone else's day.

The back was inscribed with a request to move in with us just till their baby, Cletus, is born because their RV got re-po'ed.

Thanks, guys! Of course you can!

Good News!

2007-12-06T14:20:00.000-05:00

The doctor himself just phoned and said everything came back "normal". We will continue to observe. Thank you, Lord!

Child’s Eyes

2007-12-03T14:47:00.001-05:00

How often I have wished to possess the faith of a child, the innocence of a child, the I-don't-have-a-care-in-the-world spirit of a child, or the wonder of a child at things that one time I found dazzling. Christmas. Birthdays. Trips to the movie theater. (Oh that's right, I still find that dazzling.) Anyway. We've all felt the longing to experience a life that didn't involve too much thinking or feeling or analyzing, one like we might have lived before this life got too complicated.

That's all dandy till you are talking to your 4 year old trying to calm her anxieties regarding an upcoming battery of medical tests and you begin to realize what it is she THINKS they are going to do to her.

I thought I had prepared her for the most painful test which was to be the blood draw. I had walked her through what to expect including pushing up her sleeve, placing a rubber band around her arm, feeling for veins, swiping her arm with a wet cotton ball, and finally pinching her skin as if to poke her. I knew she wasn't looking forward to it, but she hadn't talked about it in days. This morning as we were getting ready to go to the hospital, she became quite teary at the possibility of having pictures of her insides taken. I couldn't imagine why this would be traumatic to consider aside from it just being an unfamiliar process, but I assured her it would be painless and quick. Then she asked with quivering lips and tear-filled eyes, "But will they have to take my skin off?" Because how ELSE could pictures of her insides be taken? Sheesh. I am thankful for my ability to think like an adult today. But only today.

Everything went fine. She smiled sweetly for each X-ray as if that, too, would be captured on film and lend some clue as to her internal condition. And she didn't shed a tear for the blood draw.

And it is nothing critical, as far as we know, just some pre-cautionary measures being taken to calm Mom's adult anxieties.

I Don't Feel Very Good

2007-11-25T14:01:00.001-05:00

GOSH!

Other Real Moms

2007-11-18T21:53:00.000-05:00

Real moms ignore their children sometimes, too. Utterly. Completely. Inexcusably, at times.

And when they dare to speak or come near her, she contorts her face almost beyond recognition and screams loudly profanities such as the SU word and offers no apologies, and sometimes even worse than that.

A real mother feels regret for actions, but is comforted by the collective resilience and affection of her young.

And she reminds herself as her own real mother reminded her long before she bore children, "Tomorrow is another day."

And it is.

And I will keep right on breathing, Lord willing, and being real.

Miserable Robots

2007-11-17T07:36:00.000-05:00

I should just create a blog for Kathryn. But for now her antics shall be reported here.

There is a song the kids sing at church called "Great Big God".

I heard her singing it in the bathtub last Saturday. I joined in with her.

Our God is a great big God (3x)
And He holds us in His hands

But that was the easy part. I was curious to see how many of the words she knew herself, so periodically I would stop singing to see if she would continue.

He's higher than a skyscraper
And deeper than a submarine
He's wider than the universe
And beyond my wildest dreams

Every time I stopped she carried on, tune and all, and didn't miss a single word. Until...

And He's known me and He's loved me
Since before the world began
How wonderful to be a part
Of God's...aaa..mmm...MISERABLE plan

=) (It's supposed to be amazing plan.)

Yesterday afternoon I had a bad headache. Surprising, I know. I got David down for his nap and got Kathryn situated with something on Noggin, and then told her I was going to lie down until the older kids came home from school in about 20 minutes. I told her NOT to come upstairs to ask me when I was getting up and that I would be getting up when her show was over.

Seven or so minutes later I heard my bedroom door hinges squeak followed by a tap tap upon my shoulder.

"Mom, can I have some salami?"

I told her she could if she could reach it herself, but that I would NOT be getting up until the kids came home and reminded her again NOT to come in my room unless it was an emergency.

In all seriousness she asked, "Like if robots come or something?"

I am wondering if she meant Mormons because we had a visit from a couple recently. Or perhaps even Jehovah's Witnesses because we had a disturbing encounter with some who would not leave the porch and were peeking in the window several months ago.

Or maybe she really meant robots. Who even knows? In any event they did not come.

Real Moms

2007-11-16T12:01:00.000-05:00

Real moms wear their pajamas to drop their children off at school in the morning.

Sometimes.

And it is those times that they really hope there won't be a traffic jam in the parking lot that requires her to exit her vehicle in order to let her children out and escort them through the maze of automobiles to safety. Before the tardy bell even thinks about ringing.

That is a real mom's sincerest hope.

My next question is...

2007-11-15T22:33:00.000-05:00

It pains me to ask this, but is anyone else disappointed with the new season of The Office?

Feel free to comment even if you love this season.

I promise I won't delete any hate comments directed at me and/or my humble opinion, but to me it seems very blaaaaaaaah! Funny, but barely. Everyone seems out of their groove. The timing is off. The chemistry seems lost.

What the heck happened?

Bee's Knees...Cat's Pajamas

2007-11-14T13:36:00.001-05:00

I didn't start wearing pants until I was 20 years old. My first pair were a dark robin's egg blue, almost jade, but not quite even a little bit cool pair of pleated slacks from Fashion Bug that were exactly 2 sizes too big. You know, for the sake of modesty. They were just long enough to touch the top of my prized penny loafers that my new love interest, Jeff Jackson, had given me for Christmas. I was in my first year of college, but looked the part of a maiden well beyond my years in said attire. I could have almost passed for a mother of four back then.

Since that time I have struggled to find my way in the realm of slack wearing. I don't naturally possess a great deal of fashion savvy, so it honestly has been more of a challenge than some would believe. I see what I think looks good, but can never seem to pull the look together on myself. Consequently, I have a closet full of mostly too short, too tight or too loose, Mom-rise pants of nearly every description, and I almost NEVER feel "cool" in jeans. Add to that the fact that I am "tall" and I am a What Not to Wear candidate waiting to be nominated. (PLEASE, somebody, call Clinton and Stacy!)

Anyway, after having no luck this summer at garage sales or the Salvation Army, I broke down and bought some jean pants brand new from a store just last week. They fit me. They are long enough. And I think they might even be what some might call stylish. Today when I dropped Kathryn off at preschool, an uber cool fellow preschool mom, who is uber cool enough to drive a VW Beetle, complimented me on them. She has never spoken to me before. Nor could I recall at that moment EVER being complimented on a pair of jeans I was wearing. I looked around for a TLC camera crew, but there wasn't one to be seen. Minutes later as I was sitting in my van outside a store talking on my cell phone, a woman approached me and interrupted my call to ask where I got my hair done. I do frequently get this question, for which I take no credit, but on the heels of the other compliment, I was feeling like the bee's KNEES. For at least one or two minutes.

I like to appear put together, but I am not so shallow that I would derive ALL of my feelings of self-worth from two random affirmations, most days. But today I am just that shallow. =) Shallow as a puddle of spit, as my brother has said, but not about me.

It is good for a mom, particularly a mother of 4, to feel like the cat's pajamas every once in a while. Like once every 11 years at least. But more often would be nice too.

Love?...Cholera?

2007-11-12T17:22:00.001-05:00

Is anyone else thinking the title of the upcoming movie "Love in the Time of Cholera" sounds just, well...icky?!

WWJD?

2007-11-10T08:28:00.001-05:00

Yesterday morning the girls were going at it. Again. Neither had been up longer than 7 minutes. There was snarling. Insults were being hurled. Illogical arguments abounded.

Once again, I asked aloud, "What would Jesus do? How would He get along with His siblings?"

Julia was the one to answer this time. "If you were this bad at His house, I know He would take control of you!"

This to follow up Kathryn's retort to Julia when she was asked the same question about a year and a half ago which was, "I think Jesus would punch YOU right in the face!"

Siblings

2007-11-09T10:29:00.000-05:00

"Stay close to your siblings. They are the best link to your past and the most likely to stand by you in the future."

Thank you, brother and sister, for making the effort to regain and maintain that closeness one year ago today. I will never forget the warm windy day on the farm or the rainy day in D.C. that followed.
You're the best!

Joseph

2007-11-07T14:46:00.001-05:00

I just want to write something real quick like before last Sunday becomes too distantly removed from my memory.

I want to be like Joseph.

I don't long to wear a varicolored tunic. And I don't want to be hated by, betrayed by, and sold into slavery by my own brothers. I don't want to live in a foreign land separated from my father. I don't want to be wrongly accused of a violent crime or imprisoned.

But I want to be as quick to forgive people who don't deserve it and quicker to see God's sovereignty in my life.

"I am Joseph! Is my father still alive?"

Those would not be the words that I would choose to reveal my identity to the ones responsible for my suffering of 22 years.

But then he goes on.

"And now do not be grieved or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve...to preserve for you a remnant in the earth, and to keep you alive by a great deliverance. Now, therefore, it was not you who sent me here, but God."

I need to forgive. Really forgive. And let grudges go. Forever. I need to acknowledge the sovereignty of God, not just when it suits me.

Thank you, Pastor Larry, for the excellent plagiarized sermon. And thank you, Dr. David Jeremiah, for being the source he ripped off.

School Pictures

2007-11-07T10:14:00.001-05:00

It is school picture time again. It is in times such as these that I pause to thank the Lord that He saw fit to dig a little deeper into the Jackson end of gene pool when He knit my children together in the womb. No offense, Mom and Dad, you are comely enough looking creatures yourselves, but you had no control over the fact that your third born inherited all the kickback, recessive, jacked up genes from generations of yore. Honestly, I am not bitter. I am not bitter that some of my earliest memories are those of Julie and Charlie telling me I was adopted. From a frog swamp. And I am certainly not bitter that just recently my very own best friend asked me if I used to be Asian when she saw one of my baby pictures. Not even bitter. Only that much more appreciative of the "normality" of my own children.

Would the REAL nun please stand? My own 5^th grade picture was my first thought when Andrew brought his home, even though his is much better. Oddly enough, I remember being pleased with the outcome of this photoshoot back in '83.

I was NOT, however, pleased with this one, not one little bit. It was already a "re-take" because my collar was tucked under on the original and my fastidious mother would have none of that. I didn't think it was so bad. So, my parents were gone away somewhere on re-take day and I was left in the charge of my sister, Julie, who was SUPPOSED to have put my hair in spongey curlers the night before. But she didn't. She assured me that the ringlets she haphazzardly wrapped with a curling iron that morning would stay put long enough to produce a proper portrait. So, yeah. 1980 was a bad year. But the important thing is that I have let it go.

Generations

2007-11-03T15:41:00.001-04:00

Four Generations, minus Julia who is at Amy's with Ella for the weekend.