Lil Slice of Heaven

One of the things on my bucket list is to go to a day spa and enjoy a whole day of soaking in mud, being wrapped in sea weed, scrubbed with sea salt and having every kink massaged away. Even now, I can hear the soft music and the soothing sounds of water in the background. The air is moist and warm like a blanket that wraps around you filling the air with the scent of lavender, honey and tea tree. In my dream, everyone moves with fluid motion, and never speaks above a whisper. Doesn’t that sound like a little slice of heaven to you? In fact, now that I think about it, God, forget a mansion on a hillside, just make mine a day spa and we’ll call it good.  A couple of weeks ago, on a 

particularly difficult day, I thought to myself that I would love to run away from reality to a fantasy spa. A whole day with no worries, commitments, expectations, or deadlines, just 8 hours of indulgent pampering which includes chocolate with no calories. I didn’t tell anyone about my dream, but I came pretty close to posting it on Facebook. Then I thought to myself…. “Oh suck it up! Everyone goes through tough days.”  So I didn’t post it and didn’t even mention it to anyone; I just put on my big girl panties and soldiered on. That doesn’t mean I’ve taken it off my bucket list, it just means I checked the prices and unless I win the lottery, it ain’t gonna happen anytime soon. (Insert pathetically pouty face here). Then at lunch I got a card in the mail from a friend of mine. She must have read my bucket list cause in the card was a gift certificate for a ½ hour massage!! How sweet! In that moment I knew that my heavenly Father hadn’t heard my prayers, because my prayers never includes a massage or a day spa, but instead he saw the desire of my heart and used my earthly friend to make that desire come true. Just when I think he’s lost my GPS signal and I’m drowning in a sea of despair, he reaches down through a random act of kindness, to assure me I’m still on his radar. Knowing that is more than a little slice of heaven.

Celebrate Every Victory, Cherish Every Smile

It's 9 p.m. on a Sunday night. This week has been a mix of the hustle and bustle of the holidays, and the sharp knife of reality. Christmas fell on a Wednesday this year, so the work week seemed weird. Mom had surgery on Friday so the weekend has been a big blur. I've spent the weekend at Mom's bedside and caught some zz's here and there.  I feel like a baby who has her days and nights mixed up, barely distinguishing one day from next. I walked in this evening after having gone home to freshen up, and found her lying in bed watching football. I looked at the TV then looked at her and we both began to laugh. I know my Mom has reached a new level of boredom when she voluntarily watches football. Tonight has been one of her better nights, although she reported to me she thought someone had stolen her pillow while she was in the bathroom.  You just can't turn your back on anyone these days. After having her up, I asked if she wanted to go for a walk. I told her we could cruise the halls looking for trouble if she was up for some mischief. She grinned from ear to ear at the idea of breaking some rules.The whole idea took me back to my teenage years, when we would the hit the streets of Tulsa looking for some all night shopping. We made it all of two feet from her hospital room when her feet refused to cooperate with her brain. Still, we celebrated the accomplishment of the evening. I turned out the lights hoping for a peaceful night and taking comfort that we enjoyed a few laughs. Celebrate every victory, cherish every smile.

The Flood

It's been a long day. After months of scopes, CAT scans and biopsies, my Mom endured another biopsy. To the doctors credit, they intimated from the beginning that there would not be a positive outcome to whatever was growing inside her. I tend to be a "just give me the facts" kind of gal. I'm not  pessimist, just more of a realist. I'd much rather face my giant head on, than to hide behind boulders of hope that may come crashing down. That being said, there are always opportunities to turn travesty into a a beautiful tapestry of life's little tangles and snarls. One side of life can be a knotted mess but turn the canvass over and you find a beautiful depiction of the intricacy of life God has turned the knots and snarls into. Each tapestry unique to the person it depicts and the grace found in his hands. The doctor warned me tonight would nit be a pleasant evening. The pain and confusion had her in literal knots.  I knew we needed a supernatural intervention. Many years ago, I faced a life wrenching crisis and could feel hopes and dreams of my fairytale life being ripped from my hands in a shocking turn of events. MOM and Dad had just moved to Duncan and were living with us until they found a house. I came home from work one day with the heavy burden of imperfection hanging over me like a cloud.  I was angry with God, and so hurt that I was being forced through a trial that was not of my own making. Mom sat me on the couch and flipped open her Bible and read me, "When the enemy shall come in, the Spirit of the against him."Isaiah 59:18-20.  Then she suggested to me to move the comma over so the scripture read..."When the enemy shall come in, like a flood the Spirit of the Lord shall lift up a standard against him." I have never read that verse any other way since. The enemy may come in, but never doubt that the Spirit of God can come in like a mighty flood, raising a standard against him, wiping him from the face of the problems you that threaten the security and peace of you,God's precious one. Flood us with your precious peace Lord Jesus. If she weathers this storm and comes out healed, we win. If she receives your ultimate healing and leaves this earthly walk, we will praise you still. We're looking at a win win situation and it's all in the masters hands.

My Non-Traditional Christmas Tradition :-)

The holidays caught me in a bit of a panic this year. The stress of

all those years, intentionally creating family traditions, only to have the kids grow up, leave home and dare to have a life outside the traditions I created for them.... Well, it's an adjustment. Now, it’s a rare opportunity to have everyone home at the same time for the same holiday. When someone asked me what I was doing for the holidays, I did one of two things. I gave them a blank stare and shrugged my shoulders or I began to cry. I can’t help it, that’s just the way I roll. It’s not that I’m not okay with change; I’m just not sure where I fit into the change and the best way to make the change a happy place for everyone. This year was particularly difficult due to my Mom’s illness in addition to my brother’s injury. Finally, with the help of the kids, we came up with a plan which would include everyone. Christmas Eve day was spent with my parents. I cooked the traditional holiday meal and took it to their house. We had a great time reminiscing about old times. My Dad got out the old photo albums and we took a stroll down memory lane. Gosh, it's been a long time since I've traveled that far. By the end of the afternoon, my Mom was worn out, so we gathered our mess and headed to OKC to spend the night. We went to my Son’s apartment (I call it his hippie pad) and played games with Dad-in-law(he's my Daughter-in-laws Dad0, who was in the states form Afghanistan a few months before heading to Nigeria where he will be assigned for the next few years. It was nice to have a new addition to the family with stories we haven't heard and adventures that rival my Daughter's military travel. We had the opportunity to meet some of the families that live in the building with my Son. My daughter was mortified after she accidentally outed Santa Clause to a room full of small children, breaking the cardinal rule at our house to never, ever admit Santa isn’t real. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her face filled with horror. Everyone, including my daughter-in-law assured her the Santa myth was not one that was revered or even acknowledged in the Refuge where the minimalist lifestyle reigns supreme, but still she felt horrible, probably because admitting it, makes it just that much more real in her own eyes. When we got back to the apartment, she told her brother what she had done and he just laughed; then he shattered the dreams her and I had about the Christmas fun we would have when his wee ones came along (if ever they do)…. “You’re not going to let your kids believe in Santa Clause?!” she shouted….. “No, I think will choose NOT to lie to our children” He said with a smirk. Of all three of the kids, he celebrated the myth of Santa Clause with the most gusto unless it included sitting on Santa's lap.  He spied and tried to hide to find the jolly old man in the act of bringing Christmas joy to our house every year and he darn near caught the old Coot a time or two. I still miss the sound of his little feet running downstairs in the wee hours of the morning to see what Santa had brought. Christmas day we woke and my daughter began putting together the Christmas meal and I was happy to sit back and let her. After lunch we

slouched around like 6 Java the Huts on Star Wars.  My daughter and I were tickled pink to find we had a gift from our Dad-in-law. He brought us each exotic silk scarves from his travels to India…. Man, that guy gets around! We left OKC and dropped by my brother’s on the way home. A couple of months ago, he shattered his leg in 20 pieces. That’s my brother…. Go big or go home, so home he has been since the accident. When we got in the car to come home, I told my husband that I had used my allotted words for the next several months. I conversed more in the last two days than I did collectively in the last two years. We got home totally worn out, but with the peaceful feeling I had covered all the bases, and although it wasn’t a typical traditional Christmas, it was probably one of the best Christmas’ ever.

Poinsettia Napalm

Mother of all Poinsettias

The other morning I looked out my window to see a delivery truck delivering a poinsettia the size of a truck…. Literally! I thought to myself…. “I hope that is going to the desk of the one who gifts us with poinsettias every year.” A giant poinsettia for him to tend to would be a very fitting way to end the Christmas season. As it turns out, it wasn’t going to the great giver, but rather the other napalm thumb of the office. I walked into her 

Still in ICU

office and found her starring at the ginormous explosion of red sitting on her table. I couldn’t help it, I started laughing and asked who had done that to her. She told me (in disbelief) that they were from her husband for their anniversary (we share the same anniversary date). That just made me laugh harder. She said…. "I guess he hasn't heard a word I've said about poinsettias!" It's just like a typical man to give you a gift that is known to cause stress and anxiety?  Later, when I thanked my husband for the purple roses he sent, I told him about her

Victim of Napalm

poinsettia delivery. He laughed and said that as he was picking out the roses, the girl asked if he would like the arrangement made with some poinsettia blooms mixed in. He told her…. “Oh no, I wouldn’t want to do that.” Maybe her husband wanted her to have more poinsettia experience in order to face the challenges of Christmas' to come.

Perfect as always

The Sound Track to Our Life

Today my husband and I celebrate 32 years of being together. Just the sound of it makes me feel old.... If you've ever seen the movie Sand Lot, you'll remember the scene where the little kid says.... "Forrr Evorrr" love the movie, love the scene. I've tried the trick of saying I married when I was 7, but no one is buying it. In the day of disposable cell phones, drive through confessionals and streaming online movies, 32 years of marriage is the mother load of all accomplishments. Insert the part where I drone on and on about how perfect our marriage is, and how wonderfully compatible we are, but after 32 years there is no reason for me to be disingenuous. Yes, we do have a wonderfully marriage, and yes I have been wonderfully blessed with a gentle prince of a guy who is my soul mate forever, but in spite of that, no marriage is perfect and people who pretend they have a perfect marriage are disingenuous.  I suggest you stay far, far away from them. Why do I say that? I believe in reality. Marriage is never perfect because it includes not one, but two imperfect people. In spite of the personal imperfections, it is possible for two imperfect people to be the harmony to each others melody which makes for a wonderful way to spend your life. Sometimes marriage hits a wrong chord, sometimes it's a tad off pitch and it's always a work in progress. That being said, it has been worth the 32 year investment we've made and I love the soundtrack of our life together. Forever and always, so happy you're mine.

Excuse Me but Your Poinsettia's Been Hacked

Beautiful as always

My office door opened the other day and as my co-worker walked through, she immediately began sizing up my Poinsettia.  "Hey, don't be giving my poinsettias the stink eye." I warned, then we both laughed. Yesterday, not even a week since I had been given possession of the dang thing, I noticed it was looking a little sad. Dang it! I had gone so far to come into the office over the weekend and moved it away from the window afraid the cold would be too much. As we ended, break I noticed it was downright sick looking. I hadn't even had it a week for heaven's sake! I picked it up and carried it back to my co-workers office with whom I am in the running for the least green thumb. The other girls in the office were hot on my heels. I walked in holding my sad little plant and asked where hers was.  With a sly grin she refused to offer its location swore she had not done anything that was against the rules. I knew it! I just

Looking for pity perhaps

knew it, she had hidden it until she found a suitable replacement!  She assured us that wasn't the case and then mentioned it was in a better place. Had it already passed on to the great beyond? No, it was in ICU being cared for by another co-worker who is more poinsettias friendly and who reported it was already perking up. So now I guess we're just adopting our pitiful plants out to be maintained by someone else until all but one spot on the wall of shame has been filled? Foul, I'm calling foul.  Meanwhile another co-worker was putting out feelers for someone to give her plant some TCL while she took a long weekend off. I'm sorry sister but this is every gal for herself and by saying that I'm actually doing her a favor. Trust me, she does not want me babysitting her plant! It's amazing my three children made

No pity or mercy, you've been hacked

it to adulthood under my care. She placed her surprisingly healthy plant on a file cabinet in the hall with a pity note laying a foundation of failure should she come back to work to nothing but a tiny stalk with shriveled leaves scattered all around. Photographic evidence shows her note was hacked shortly after she left for her weekend. Hmmm. Friday we had the company Christmas party during lunch since the actual event got iced out. We were sitting shoulder to shoulder enjoying the opportunity to visit with some we don't come in contact with every day. My boss (the great giver) asked a co-worker sitting across from us if she had been in our department lately. Initially she looked puzzled, because she rarely has a need to come to our department, but I knew EXACTLY where this conversation was going.... "Oh don't you even get started on that I snapped!" She went from looking puzzled to sheer shock. She looked at me like my just split into, revealing the Jackie on the other side.

Needs something besides ICU

He shrugged his shoulders and tried to act benign then muttered something about if she had seen the lovely poinsettias. By this time, several people were tuned into the exchange as I explained the horror we face each Christmas. He shrugged his shoulders again and tried to defend himself by saying he thought it was a nice gesture... "It's not nice! It's a sadistic ritual that you take a lot of delight in." When I looked across the table at the shocked faces staring back at me, I decided to drop it because obviously there are some who just don't get "our" departments sense of humor. So here are the standings so far. Girl #1's poinsettia looks like it just stepped off a poinsettia runway. Girl #2 poinsettia looks much the same in

Could be worse, could look like the one  in ICU

spite of taking a long weekend. Girl #4 poinsettia actually looks worse than mine in spite of being in ICU and my poinsettia looks sad and droopy. I'm not sure the last two are going to make it to Christmas.

Poinsettia Hell

Jackie

Someone was in my office the other day, when I happened to look outside to see one of my bosses coming in with a box of Poinsettias. Whoever was in my office, could tell by the look on my face, that I was no longer paying attention to the report in question.... I had other things on my mind. It has

Shelley

begun.... Poinsettia Hell was here!!! It's a tradition for him to give all of the girls in the department a beautiful Poinsettia for Christmas. It's also a tradition that has turned into a fight to the death (literally) to make sure your poinsettia isn't the first to croak. Embarrassingly, my first Poinsettia only made it 1.2 days, before it looked like it had been torched with a welding rod. It's a brutal contest with accusations

Tiffany

of sabotage (insert shocked and horrified face here) and exploits of mad dashes to Walmart to stock up on look alike plants to replace the dearly departed. After

Dinah

the delivery, everyone was up and out of their offices vowing not to be the first one on the "Wall of Shame" which is a shelf in my office where we place them as they one by one go down. Let the games begin... Ready - Set - Protect your plant at all cost and remember "Tis the season" to play fair ya'll!

A Winter Wonderland Surprise

One night last week, I took a snowy walk. My walks are always special, but last night was special for several reasons. Since it had sleeted most of the day, it was a winter wonderland walk. I love winter wonderland walks, they are the best. Another reason, I was graced with the presence of Soxy the wonder dog. Soxy is my friend's rescue dog who is midnight black with the exception of one front lower leg that is white. When I walk at night, she will sometimes hide in the shadows and I won't see her until she starts bouncing around. It's easy to tell that Soxy is one of those special dogs that captures your heart and my heart is no exception. The problem with her is... She's a man's dog. She loves to walk the trail, but unless there is a guy walking, she won't go. Last night was the 2nd time she's walked with me. I don't know if she had been in the house all day and was bored, or just figured no critters that I couldn't handle would be out. Whatever the reason, I was happy to have her company, especially in the winter weather. She bounces around like a happy little seal when she is on the trail. Last night while she bounced and I took in the view we both saw a flash streak across the

pasture... It was a deer with it's white tail bobbed as it fled to a safe hiding place. It blended in perfectly with it's surrounding except the tail bouncing across our path. She was almost entirely invisible except for the tail. When she was out of view, Soxy and I looked at each other, I giggled for the both of us and clapped my hands. What a treat!! Yeah, you can tell I haven't been out of the City much.

Jesus went to the Garden to Pray

I spent the afternoon at the Cancer Center with my mom and dad. She had her first visit with the Oncologist. We're still not sure if it's Lymphoma or pancreatic cancer, but we liked her doctor. When I picked her up, it had just began to sleet. I sat with her as dad filled out her paperwork. She folded a paper towel over and over as we talked.  I don't want to be afraid to talk to her about what is going on, and in that moment, I had a handle on my emotions so I asked her.... "What do you think about it Mom?" She just looked at me with childlike wonder and asked.... "You mean, what do I think about having cancer?" I told her yes, then she said... "Well, on one hand you ask God why me? Then again you have to ask... "Why not me?" I just nodded. I'm not sure I've ever been more proud of my Mother than I was in that moment. When we finished at the clinic, I had to scrape my windshield, then worry about getting everyone into the house safely. Not willing to take a risk, I pulled over the drive way, across their lawn and pulled up as close as I could get to the front porch.  With everyone safely home, I checked my phone and found my office had closed for the day so I had a cold afternoon off. When I got home, I found my husband had the afternoon off as well. I wrestled with myself for as long as I could wrestle, then finally I put on my ski gear, ran to the basement and told my husband I was going for a walk in the woods. Some friends of ours bought several acres on the edge of town. They cleared a path around their land, making a great walking trail through the pasture around the pond and through a creek. It has become my refuge. By the time I left the house, the traffic had cleared.  Most offices had closed, sending their employees home to snuggle by a cozy fire... Not me! I want out in the middle of it all. When I got past town I kept a steady slow speed, ignoring all stop signs that might trip up my traction. With my fingers tightly gripping the steering wheel and my eyes dead ahead, I was realized I was intense about getting to the woods. I fight my emotions every day, all day long, sometimes hanging on by just the tips of my nails. I know, if I can just make it until my walk in the woods... I'll be okay. I rarely claim that God speaks to me, but when he does, there is no doubt it's him. I can count on one hand how many times I think I've actually heard a word from him... Today was one of those days. As I drove to the woods I could almost hear him say.... "Jesus went to the garden to pray." He did. Jesus did go to the garden to pray. I never really wondered why he went to the garden to pray, I just accepted the fact that he did. He was Jesus, he could have prayed anywhere and I'm sure his Father would have heard him. Why the garden? This is what my heart is telling me. There is healing in the garden. Maybe not physical healing, although there can be, but there is a healing of the heart found in the garden. When my heart is broken, when I feel torn apart and when I fill like my plate is as full as it's ever going to be without something spilling over.... I find healing in the garden. I look forward to my walks in the woods. I'm always at peace when I leave. During the day I hang onto the moment when I can leave for my walk..... If I can just make it until then, I can let it all go. I can cry if I want to cry, scream if I want to scream, pray if I want to pray, laugh, dance or just drink it all in, but there is no judgement in the woods. Maybe that's why Jesus went to the woods. Maybe he needed to get away from the noise of the city. Maybe he escaped to the garden because it was far away from all expectations, disappointments, gossip, rumors and the cold harsh fact that the end was very near. Maybe he was like me, and found healing in the quiet whisper of the evening breeze.

Invisible Warrior

The silence of the night swallows your screams

Nobody hears you

Every effort to move your laden limbs are futile

No one sees your struggle

You reach your hand to grasp one in danger

They slip right through your fingers

Cries of desperation echo back

They are swallowed by ears of stone

A flood of tears threaten to drown you

You cry alone

Instinctual fears cinch your heart

No one shows concern

               Pleas of urgent needs pour from your soul

               No credence given

               You are an invisible warrior

               The battle rages,

but your eyes are the only ones that see.

 There are people all around you, how can this be?

Every effort is made to make you doubt that which

cannot be explain... You. Just. Know!

Without the help of others, you battle on,

because that's what invisible warriors do.

              

Tempered Excitment

Yes, I am a snow freak. I wait patiently every year for 16 feet of snow that never seems to make it to our community. It's not unusual for the extended forecast to show chances of snow.... It's just unusual for it to actually happen past the extent of barely covering the grass. When we do get snow, it's usually over several inches of solid ice. I'm not sure, but I think we probably live in the ice capital of the world since we've had more than our share over the last 5 years. But in 1988 we hit the snow jackpot when we received around 13 to 16 inches of the fluffy white stuff. The forecast in our area made no mention of snow, much less 16 inches. It started snowing around 9:30 a.m. and by noon companies were telling their people to go home.... If they could get home. It was the coolest snow ever! That evening when the snow stopped, I opened my front door and actually had to step up over the snow. My youngest at the time could barely see over the top and my dogs got completely lost in it. We romped and play and fully expected to have a snow day. Oh no.... That was not to be. The office I worked for, which provided nothing that couldn't be paused for a day, still wanted all employees to come in. You couldn't use the excuse that you couldn't make it because the owner willingly picked everyone up in his four wheel drive. He even picked my babysitter up and brought her to my house. Needless to say, we weren't a chipper bunch, that was until it was time to go home for more romping. We haven't seen a decent snow since, I mean that was pretty hard to top especially given the fact that there was ZERO ice involved. Oh what I wouldn't give for a good deep snow day. I look at the forecast with tempered excitement because I hate the disappointment when it doesn't happen or is melts the minute it hits the ground. I know most people hate the inconvenience of snow, but I just love to play in it. I love looking at the intricate patterns of the flakes and of course, I'm the one in the parking lot trying to catch them with my tongue. I really haven't grown up my in the last 50 years, but you know what.... That's okay. A dear friend had to cancel her vacation plans because of the snowy forecast. To cheer her up from the let down of not getting her get away... I promised to come to her house and dance in the snow while singing "I Wanna Hippopotamus for Christmas". I have the lyrics printed out, now all I need is a good snow then the dancing will begin. Now tell me the truth... That in itself is something to look forward to.

Baby Love

I just got back from getting me some major BABY Love!!!! I've never really had the chance to be an aunt and for the record I would have made an awesome aunt. When my kids got older, I was the one who borrowed other peoples wee ones to take to the movies or go to the park. I've just been biding my time until my time comes to be the Lolli to my husband's Pops. No news on that front, so I'm still in borrowing mode. Nothing (NOTHING) makes my day like some baby love. The way they curl up in your arms and make those sweet

little grunts and groans..... I got a text this evening that the arrival of the latest baby to be born into The Girlfriends circle was in town and ready to meet the extended fam. Lickity split I was there in a New York second trying to wait patiently as the legitimate Uncle took his time holding the baby. Finally, when I could control myself no more,

he passed little Ephraim off like a football in a winning play. I sat there holding this sweet little bundle of potential (Mr. Advanced Pants is my official title for him). Tears spilling down my cheeks at the miracle, and yes the circle of life. As God prepares to take people home, new life arrives bringing joy and healing in the tiniest packages. No, I'm not a blood relative, but tell that to my heart and soul. This family has been my life support in the darkest of times and the laughter to some of the most remarkable memories I've ever

made. So, in every way that counts I love this child as my very own. I have anticipated his arrival and I celebrate his birth like Smith blood runs through my veins. He slept like a bear hibernating for winter in my arms, which is the best feeling a woman can have. What is it with women and babies? I love the baby stage. I loved all the night feeding, diaper changing, the spit up and the poop; every single thing about the baby phase of parenting was magical and cherished. The last couple of weeks have been riddled with anxiety and sadness about what the next few months brings, but with one little yawn, he took all that away and replaced it with hope that only baby love can bring. God gives and God takes away and somehow in the miracle of birth, he heals the hurts and gives hope that tomorrow will be a better day. That's the benefits of baby love. My official title is Aunt JacJac given to me by yet another borrowed niece. I'm not complaining, just soaking it all in.

Sojourn Companion

A week ago tomorrow, they found a large mass on my Mother's pancreas. As I sit here today, I know nothing more than that, except what I read between the lines and glean from the internet. What my gut tells me, and the doctor inferred is.... "I don't believe there will be a positive outcome to this". So, we sit and we wait. My hearts desire, is to be stoic, steadfast and strong. In my heart, I want to be a spiritual pillar for my parents to lean on; a bedrock of stability and dependability. The truth is, and if you know me very well you'll agree, I wear every emotion on my sleeve like a general wears his stars. I don't keep a lot hidden. If I feel it you know it. Actually, I don't think I really need any words, because my eyes are more animated than they should be. This trait has its good points and its bad points. The good point is, you always know where you stand with me. The bad point is, you always know where you stand with me. I've actually tried very hard over the years to suppress my expressions, but then I just come across mad, when what I'm really doing is just suppressing my feelings... It's the look women get when we practice our Kegel exercises. My goal is to not be a whimpering, whiny mess, but in order to do that, I would have to remove myself from civilization. A co-worker asked me yesterday how I was doing and at that very moment I was fine.... 10 minutes later in the quiet of my office, I wasn't so fine. I am trying very hard to keep the hysterics tamped down, but I'm not guaranteeing how much luck I'll have with it... Consider yourself warned. Also, (another warning) I tend to blog a lot during a crisis. Blogging is therapy for me. If I had one ounce of creativity in painting or drawing, I wouldn't need to blog. Words are my paint, life is my canvas and you are my sojourn companion. Things can get a bumpy if you're riding with me, but this is who I am.

3 Little Words and a Life Poured Out

Saturday I was sitting in the ER with my Mom and Dad. . . Waiting as usual whenever you go to the ER. Mom hasn't felt well for months, and we've taken her to doctors with no definite reason for the symptoms she was experiencing. I worked in a doctors office for 9 years, and although it's not like staying in a Holiday Inn Express, which makes you an expert on everything, I did come away with the awareness that as people get older and their health concerns increase, so does the amount of time they have to obsess about those concerns. Needless to say, I've tempered my anxiety so I don't become overly concerned until I am certain there is a need to be overly concerned. Friday evening, I had finally come to that point. Honestly as I sat there I expected this to be a dead end just like most of the other visits. When the doctor walked in and begin to speak I could tell by his demeanor, we were not going to get good news. There was sadness in his eyes as he said the four words you never want to hear "You have a mass". I tried to hold myself together as Mom got dressed. Mom and Dad didn't seemed fazed, although I'm not sure they realize the implications of a 9cm mass on the pancreas. On the way home I thought about the changes that were coming and how I could best prepare myself and my parents for those changes. My first thought was I needed make sure Mom knew how much I loved her. The four little words from the doctor, tore our world apart, but nothing puts things back in order like the three words "I LOVE YOU". Regardless of the outcome, I know she's going to be okay. She has the blessed assurance of having lived a life poured out.

Reasons I Know I'm Not OCD

I've always wished to be a little OCD, but I'm not. Two of my children have OCD traits, but sadly they did not come from me. Here's why:

• I rarely wear matching socks. Last night I went to a girlfriend gathering with two completely different fuzzy socks with designs on them. I only have one sock for each pair of socks I own.

• Autumn leaves are proof positive I'm not OCD. I think it's a shame to rake them or suck them up with your mower while they still have that incredible fun crunchy sound. Yesterday while taking the long way around the office via the sidewalk, I zigged and zagged, not to avoid the cluster of crunchy leaves, but to kick through them like a kid in a water puddle. When I got to work this morning, the maintenance man was blowing them off the sidewalk!!!! In my opinion (which I know you care so much about) blowing, raking or otherwise disposing of wonderful crunchy leaves, is in the same category as clubbing baby seals. What a shame! The leaves should remain on sidewalks and lawns until they are no longer crunchy and fun. Once they hit the putrid stage, game on. 
  
• My rules about snow is similar to my rules on leaves. The only reason one should shovel the sidewalk or drive way is A) Because you love being out in the snow so much and you use it as way of playing in the snow without your neighbors thinking you're nuts. Me? I just let them think I'm nuts. I have been known on occasion, to steal snow from my next door neighbor so I could complete my snowman creation. Don't judge me... My neighbors didn't live in the house, plus you can't own snow so I guess it wasn't really stolen unless it's taken from my yard, then heck yeah, I'll call the police.

Yes, this post is for those enquiring minds who want to know.

Ephraim James Smith

This little guy gets his own folder under "My Pictures

Just when I think I'll make it through the day with no tears. . . I sit down at my desk and the tears well up. We had another sweet one join our extended family last night. I am so happy for the immediate family, my eyes are leaking. I stayed up last night, refusing to sleep until I got word (and yes a picture) that everyone was alright. Momma's good, Daddy's good, 10 fingers, 10 toes. . . And blessings upon blessings. I'm going to maintain today, because that's what I'm suppose to do, but what I want to do is bundle each and every one of them, Grandma, Pops, Auntie, Uncle, Mom, Dad and the little bundle of God's goodness, into my arms and sing songs of thanksgiving. Today we thank God for his protection and blessings. God is good, he is so very, very good.

In the Still of the Night

As I begin my walk on an autumn eve, I am struck with awe of the scenery painted with a stroke of His hand. Rainbows of colors surround the waning day; golds, reds, muted greens and the most symbolic color of fall. . . Gray. With a backdrop of color, the barren trees and twisted vines that no longer thrive, give hope to new birth. The things thought dead, will later spring to life, until then they wait. In the dust of the day, between daylight and dark the path becomes a dizzy haze. Shadows fall across the path, slowing my footsteps as I hesitate between the shadows. I'm never enough. When the sun finally settles leaving the horizon with nothing but darkness, the stars take their place in the sky, and beckon the moon to take its full and rightful reign. Moon beams dance off the hardened clay, illuminating the path with a glow. It lights the way between the prairie grass, wild elm trees and thorny brush that border the way, Just-Like-Life. In the stillness of night, with the moon as my guide, the worries of the world slip away. I offer to Him, all the good and the bad, all my failure and pain, my fear and my dread and the sin that I hide deep within. He takes them all leaving me naked beneath the stars. With one hand He tosses them far from where I am, into waters the depth of the sea. With the other hand he covers my nakedness with a cloak of his own, making me a sight to see. It's not the beauty of me, or a talent he sees, for on my own I'm as insignificant as one could possibly be. Though I may be unworthy, and no good thing found in me with this cloak of his, I am a jewel in his hand . . . That's me!?! In the dark of the night, when the shadows are high, he looks down and the beauty he finds is not my righteousness, as there is none, but instead His blood that covers me. . . And I walk on.

Retail Therapy Hell

Shopping isn't bad for everyone, shopping is bad for me. I've used shopping as a recreational drug for years. If I'm happy, I celebrate with shopping. If I'm sad, I comfort myself with shopping. If I'm depressed, I self-medicate with shopping. If I'm hurt, angry or bored, shopping is what the doctor orders to cure my ills. It is 100% an addiction that releases happy endorphins in my tinnie tiny minuscule brain. My husband's new year resolution was to rehabilitate my spending habits, so once again he drags out the ole' Dave Ramsey envelopes and instructed me to use them. He's tried this before and I failed the test miserably. It's not that I can't do the Dave Ramsey thingie.... It's that I don't want to do the Dave Ramsey envelope thingie because it makes it even more apparent that I spend too much which is a fact I'm already well aware of so why the need for a reminder of something I already know?!! In order to see to it that this attempt wasn't a total failure. . .  He took away all my credit cards, including my super secret credit card that I didn't think he knew about. I told you it was an addiction!!! When you start hiding your credit cards like a drunk hides their whiskey, Sister you may have a problem. His confiscation left me with no choice but to stop shopping cold turkey. I am now the shopping equivalent of a tee-totaller and it's starting to take a toll. I have been very proud of myself, especially over the summer. The mailman and I have an understanding. . . . Since he also delivers to where my husband works, we have an agreement that he doesn't mention the deliveries he makes (or used to make) to me. Every day when he drops off the mail,   I take the stack (STACK) of catalogs I receive and without even looking through them, I put them in the shred box. It's been June since I've been shopping, and that includes online. The season is changing, the new fall catalogs are arriving and if I had a sponsor like they do in AA, mine would be a busy little bee keeping up with my urge to splurge calls. I've assembled a nice little stack of catalogs showing the new fall fashions. Try as I may, I can't bring myself to shred them yet. It's like an itch that I can't scratch or a twitch that could quickly turn into a twerk. Epiphany!!

Maybe that's what is wrong with Miley Cyrus. Maybe she's in Retail Therapy Rehab too. That would totally explain her public twerking!!!!! Anywhoo, the other day I just couldn't stand it any more. On my lunch hour I did something I haven't done in months. I went on the hunt for something to scratch the twitching itch. After going into a couple of stores, I went into the drug store and made a score, a splurge of grand proportions. Immediately I got the "I just bought something pretty on a whim" high. You know you are officially in Retail Therapy Hell, when a $2.00 bottle of nail polish sends you to your happy place.I

One of Those Days

Perhaps my first clue should have been when the cable went off as I was getting ready for work this morning, or that I had to leave my beloved Kindle at home because it no longer worked. Maybe I should have paid closer attention when I flipped the switch to my office light only to have it strobe like a disco ball, or just the fact that it was the first Monday of November. I'm not sure which of these things were the main indicator, but I'm sure one of them was a heads up that it was going to be a crappy day. That is exactly how clueless I am... I didn't realize it actually was a crappy day until it was break time and I felt like I wanted to break something in two. I told a co-worker.... "The longer the day hangs on, the pissy-er I get." By that time I had realized it was easier to work in the dark than to fight the raging headache caused by the disco light and I was in severe need of a Candy Crush fix, but had no Kindle to play on. I muddled my way through until 5 without beating the copier with a sledge hammer or without wreaking havoc on anyone or anything else and I thought I had made it through unscathed, but wait.... During a "How was your day?" conversation with my husband, the.... "It's almost the holidays!!!" panic set in. I know, I know, men just don't understand. He sat there in dismay as a normal conversation with a normal person (well, relatively) turned into a sobbing, how will I get everything done, hysterical mess.  I understand that he doesn't understand where any of this comes from and I would love to help him understand the un-understandable, but there really is no explanation. Maybe you have to be a woman to understand that some days are just made for tears and irrational fears that have no foundation and apparently (although I didn't get the memo) today was one of those days.

Engineers Have More Fun.... No Really, They Do

For a workplace that is usually quiet and often mundane (but not in a bad way), Halloween livens things up. Oh, I know that many believe Halloween is nothing but all things evil, but I've actually always enjoyed stepping outside myself every now and again to be something (or someone) besides myself. In today's politically correct environment, Halloween has become increasingly more difficult to enjoy. Although my office may be quiet, I must say, I work with some amazing people. I work as an assistant in the Production Department of an oil producer. I work with 5 Engineers who like many of us have their quirks, but being "thin skinned" isn't one of them. A couple of years ago, I made pink zebra pocket protectors for them for Valentine's Day. They tolerate my politically incorrect humor so far without any intervention from HR (so far so good).

Be that as it may, my costume this year was that of a Petroleum Engineer complete with bow tie and a certain social awkwardness that comes with being such a genius. My costume included, but wasn't limited to.... A pocket protector, because you really aren't an Engineer without one. In the pocket protector I had my super duper scientific calculator, a couple of rulers (because Engineers love their rules and they love to hold people's feet to the fire for not following their rules).

I drill for oil, that's what I do

Although some may believe they are not prone to mistakes, I had an old school eraser because I know how much they LOVE to erase the mistakes others have made. Of course I had my name badge, complete with title clipped on as well. In the pocket of my pants, I had a fog cloth to clean my glasses when they got smudged and a couple of dice because drilling for oil is nothing but a crap shoot. A jar of oil and a core sample from the office and of course Nerd candy, tied it all together for a 1st place win and a gift certificate from Olive Garden. Made out like a bandit I did. Late in the afternoon a young gentleman came in for an appointment with my boss who was in a meeting at the time. I offered him a seat while he waited. I was scrolling through the pictures different ones had taken during the day and busted out laughing. I apologized for the disruption and told him we had been having some Halloween fun. He asked me what I was and with much righteous indignation explained that I was a Petroleum Engineer!! He put his face in his hands and laughed and said.... "You're not going to believe this, but when I first walked in and saw you sitting there, even without the glasses I thought to myself... She looks like an Engineer."  No, that's a true story, I'm not making it up.  Now that I've lived the good life for a full day, I believe I can say with some arrogant certainty, Engineers have more fun.

Jellyfish won best costume

Herding Kittens and the Perfectly Depicted Petulant Persian

It can be a challenge to get all my adult children, their spouses and/or girlfriends/boyfriends all together at the same place and time to celebrate life's little moments. I have found it makes it easier, if we go to them instead of waiting for them to come to us. This weekend the life moment we celebrated was my youngest son's 19th birthday. Since they all work and two of them are in college and work, we were happy we found a time when we could get them all together. My parents got to join us and my son's girlfriends mom got to join us as well. The only two that were

Former squirmy toddler

missing was my brother and his wife. When the kids were growing up, we always carved pumpkins. Well, I say that, but my oldest son says I carved pumpkins while he ran up and down the streets, which sounds a tad more accurate because it was a challenge

The quiet one and his lady

to get him to sit still long enough to do much of anything. Rabbit trail warning, I'm sure if he was running up and down the streets in the fall, he most likely was barefoot as that was his usual attire regardless of how many neighbors called

Some serious tools

to tell me the exact temperature and ask did I know he was playing out in that kind of weather barefoot. What can I say? The boy liked naked feet, maybe it made him feel at one with nature, or the truth of the matter

Very focused work

was, he just couldn't be chased and held down long enough to get them on him and as a parent of mediocre quality, I learned to pick my battle and the shoe battle was one battle I opted out of. Back on track..... We gathered at my daughter's apartment which is pretty dang small when you get that many people in there. My Mother likes to be in the middle of everything, but finally I

Make a wish

convinced her to take a seat, because there was no room for her to be in the middle of. My Dad who has no clue he is severely ADHD, did great. Much like my son, he isn't one for sitting around, but there were too many people in the apartment for him to pace so

So cute

he had no choice but to sit, relax and enjoy the chaos of it all. After a grilled burger dinner and birthday cake, we divvied up the pumpkins, brought out the tools and let our artistic juices flow. My husband went with the tried and true standard happy Jack, my Son and his wife went with a Harry Potter look alike and my Son and his girlfriend did

Daughter-in-law (Love her!)

a Persian Cat without a stencil. She is an amazing artist and did her masterpiece by looking at a picture on her phone. I went with a non- traditional scrolly heart, which I thought was very pretty until my daughter leaned over my shoulder and asked if I was carving a woman's reproductive organs. That's just wrong on so many levels. I worked and worked on it, but every scrolly thingie I carved, did kind of resemble a fallopian tube. Finally, I gave up and brought it home to modify and finish.... I'm still not sure I'm done with it yet, I don't want to sit it out on Halloween night only to be accused of  displaying inappropriate anatomy lessons to the neighborhood 5 year olds. Hands down the winner of the carving party was the Persian Cat. Our family has a soft spot for smushed faces anyway and the pouty pumpkin perfectly depicted a petulant
Persian. We had a great memory making day. When I got home, I felt like I had herded kittens and wrestled walruses, loving every minute of it.