Bee's Knees...Cat's Pajamas

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?

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

WWJD?

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

"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

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

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

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

Another Toy Recall

Ponderosa

Our church hosted a Trunk o' Treat last night that was intended to be a community outreach complete with 50 trunks full of treats, a "gospel magic" show every half hour, and cider, donuts, and coffee inside. Oh and a photographer who attends our church offered free portraits inside as well.

Since our church currently meets in a renovated building which happens to be an old Ponderosa restaurant, the theme for the evening was "Ponderosa". We were encouraged to dress ourselves and our vehicles up in keeping with that theme.

There were country/western/cowboy/farmer/hobo-looking folk aplenty, as well as quite a few people who dressed up in random traditional Halloween gear that didn't have anything to do with anything Ponderosa-ish. But there were a couple particularly interesting costumes which reflected a more liberal interpretation of the somewhat vague theme suggestion.

This fellow here had been seemingly quiet and reserved heretofore. Though we have gotten to know him a little better recently in our small group and seen that he has some "flare" if you will, we were shocked and greatly amused to see his inner rockstar unleashed. He came as a member of the fictitious 80's hairband, Ponderosa. Given my love for this era and genre, and my interest in the unusual, I found it difficult to avert my eyes from this sight all night. Somewhat like the fascination of a car wreck, only a little less morbid, of course.


Our pastor chose to come as a T-bone steak, because what could be more Ponderosa than a steak? He was unable to convince Mrs. Pastor to come as a bottle of A-1.

Our family was a mixed bag of makeshift cowboys and cats. Oh, and my mom was there too.

A good time was had by all.

Happy Halloween!

Praise You in This Storm

"Praise You in This Storm"
Casting Crowns

I was sure by now
That You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say "Amen", and it's still raining

As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I'll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
Every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry
You raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can't find You

As the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth

Sundee Photos

That's Jeff showing off his leaping skills.
He and Andrew created it as a competitive event
that takes place a couple times a week during dish duty.
He remains the household champion.

Twenty weeks of pregnancy didn't stop Meridith from
trying to beat her brother's record.
She didn't beat him, but her excellent form
did not go unnoticed by the judges.
(Grandchild #15 is on board...shhh, it's a...)

Meridith's competitive daughter, Lexi.

Umm...yeaah. I don't think my feet even left the floor.
But I laughed awfully hard.

Three guesses for who was trying to feed my infant pizza.
(It rhymes with Neridith.)

Probably the only time that a 29 year old mother,
an 18 year old high school senior, and an 11 year old boy
will ever all be making the same birthday wish...

Laughter

One of the things that impressed me first about the Jackson family was their ability to laugh. At each other. At themselves. At life. They are fun people to be around. You never have to worry about what to talk about. There is no social anxiety. They are relaxed and they make you feel relaxed. In my life I have observed few, if any, other families with this unique ability.

At first glance, one could speculate that the only reason they could possibly be this light-hearted is because their lives were easy, that they have never known true sorrow, loss, or disappointment. But after knowing them for 15 1/2 years, I know this has not been the case.

Not including the devastating news of this weekend, they have known heartache, though never to this degree, but heartache nonetheless. They have known brokenness. They have known suffering. They have known hardship. They have known disappointment. Life has not always been ideal. Yet they have remained not bitter, and still able to laugh. And most importantly, they have demonstrated again and again how they will not allow family difficulties to destroy their family spirit.

Friday and Saturday were among the darkest days of my life, and I am just a lowly in-law. I can only imagine the grief that they were feeling. Together we cried more tears than I have seen in all the years I have been a Jackson. Several boxes of tissues were emptied. Shoulders were soaked. At times there was wailing. At times there was silence. At times there was quiet thanksgiving and reflection upon a good, blessing-filled life and what the future might hold. And the tears would fall once again.

But then Sunday came and the family came together with a purpose in true Jackson form. We had some birthdays that needed celebrating and there were to be no tears allowed!

All 24 of us gathered at our house and did what we do best, and not a single tear was shed.

I am proud to be a Jackson.

(Blogger is giving me fits as I try to post some photos of the day. Maybe later.)

Absolutely Bad

I don't have the emotional or physical energy to write out the whole story but....

The alternative treatment in Mexico didn't work.

The cancer not only has not shrunk, but also has grown and invaded new areas, including bones and lymph nodes.

Sharon, who is my mother-in-law as you may recall, has been given months to live.

Yes, I know only God gives and takes away life.

And yes, I know what unlimited faith in an unlimited God brings.

But right now that is not looking like healing.

Please pray for our family. Or at least think of us, if you will.

After explaining a very simplified version of the situation with Kathryn, she said with furrowed brow, "Oh, that is absolutely bad!"

It is, Kathryn. It is.

Things

Things I will miss about having small children at home someday:

• Hearing Andrew pray nightly, “Help our family to make the right choices and become more like You every day.

• Having Julia think I have the coolest “outfits” ever.

• Being able to right all that is wrong in Kathryn’s world with the promise of watching Franklin On-Demand.

• The feeling of David’s soft little hands grasping affectionately at the short hair on the back of my head as if he just can’t get a tight enough hold on me.

Unusual Array

Dear Diary,

Today my mother told me I have an unusual array of skills.

I am thinking this might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

I love me some words of affirmation, even when they include the word "unusual".

TTFN,
Janelle

Almost Famous

Jeff's bottom was on the 5 o'clock news tonight. I am so proud!

Twas not the main feature of the story, but present nevertheless. The whole family gathered around the television set gleefully anticipating the moment Daddy might appear. Finally at the end of the 5 o'clock segment, we saw the outside of his workplace and the company logo and then the face of his boss. Then into the inside of the building, we could see some of his co-workers, and then there was Daddy. No face, just a bottom. I was hoping to have a link to the video clip of his twenty seconds of fame, but so far the website only has the text of the segment.

I am proud, but mostly thankful, for his job and that his employer could be featured as a thriving business owner in the economic climate that is called Michigan, at a time when the words "thriving" and "Michigan" are seldom spoken or written in the same sentence.

I guess the word "thriving" wasn't actually used, but that was the impression anyway.

Hooray for the machining industry in Michigan!

My Other Baby

This week he started riding in the shopping cart without his carseat, holding his own bottle, and wearing Size 3 diapers. Next he'll be tying his own shoes, buckling his own seatbelt, and riding a bike. If I didn't already have ten-D-twelve kids, and not enough sanity and money and time to go around, I'd almost want to have just one more. If only they could stay this small and containable. And quiet. Forever.

Emerging Artist

Andrew was recently asked to be part of an Emerging Artist exhibit at the local art gallery. It was quite an honor as he was one of 5 chosen from his grade level. They got to meet with a photographer, Monte Nagler, for a presentation called Through the Lens and instructions on how to take interesting pictures. They then each received a disposable camera to take home for the weekend to take pictures. On Monday they turned the camera in and the photographer chose his favorite of each of their pictures. The photos were printed and hung on display in the gallery where they will hang for the remainder of the month. Sunday the families were invited for a private viewing of the exhibit. Here was his masterpiece:

Andrew with Mr. Nagler

Today My Firstborn Baby Boy is 11!