Silence

And in the naked light I saw/
Ten thousand people, maybe more.

People talking without speaking/
People hearing without listening/
People writing songs that voices never share/
And no one dare
Disturb the sound of silence.

"Fools" said I, "You do not know -
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence
- Sound of Silence, Simon & Garkfunkel

These lines come from one of my all-time favorite songs ever. I get goosebumps every single time I hear it. In fact, the first time I heard it I was laying in bed at my dad's house. We were visiting him for the summer. I think I was about 11 or 12. I had tuned the little clock/radio to an oldies station to help me go to sleep. This song came on, and even though I was almost asleep, my eyes flew open and I literally fell out of bed. I was trying to get out of the bed to turn up the radio and got tangled up in the waterbed sheets. Then I fell out of bed. But I still got to the radio and turned it up so I could hear it better. I've been in love with Simon & Garfunkel's music ever since.

Anyway, I was listening to this song at work today, and these stanzas really struck me. They made me think of Jesus, and faith. It seems our society wants us to talk about everything. We have talk radio, television talk shows, we have cell phones so we can talk to each other more, VoIP phone plans so we can talk cheaper. But what are we talking about? It can't be faith! Oh, no! That's soooo passe. Talk to much about religion and faith, and those around you start looking for the nice men with white jackets to come take you away. We're doing all this talking, but we aren't talking about the important things. We aren't talking about Jesus. We aren't talking about what our families, friends, neighbors and even enemies need. They need prayer. But all we talk about is ourselves. We're so programmed to talk about ourselves, that we don't seem to know how to listen to someone else. And we're so programmed to talk only about certain subjects, that we're afraid to break the silence covering the important things.

If I don't talk to my neighbor about my faith, then he gets the impression that he can't talk to me or his other neighbors about faith. And so it does spread, because we're afraid to seem weird to everyone else. I'm not saying we should go out and attack anyone who has a different faith from our own. I'm not saying we should run up to someone and order them to convert to your beliefs. But I am saying the silence is spreading - it will keep spreading until the ones to suffer the most are our children's children.

See, I'm still working on that book I'd been talking about from my bible study class. I didn't get to go to bible study tonight because I was helping a new friend. She's my friend K-'s daughter, and she's in almost exactly the same shoes I was in a few years ago (except she still has her mom). She's a single mom struggling desperately in a dead-end job for which she is way too smart! But what she wants is to go back to school. However, she wasn't aware of all the financial aid opportunities there are, so she assumed college was out of reach. This is what single-motherhood does to you - it makes you feel very small, with a very large load on your shoulders alone. The load becomes so large you cannot see around it, unless someone comes along and says "Sweetie, can I help you with that for a minute and show you a few things?" I really think it was meant for me to talk to her, because R-'s life sounds SOOO much like mine used to be. So I went and helped her file her FAFSA and online application for school and such. She wants to go to a 2-year program, so the deadlines aren't until August.

Anway, I digress. As I was saying - our children's children will suffer for our silence. If they don't hear about faith, the Word and Jesus, how will our children know to trust Him? If they are afraid to speak about that huge hole in their hearts without Jesus, how will they try to fill it? The author of the book we're studying, "This isn't the life I signed up for" has an interesting take on life and happiness. She says she knows her life isn't going to be wonderful and perfect. But she wants to keep spreading the Word and doing God's will so that her children's children's children will have more blessed lives. That's a long-reaching vision that can be hard for an instant-gratification society. I'll be the first to admit that I want what I want NOW. But, I'm studying how to be patient and to keep speaking AND listening.

I still don't know why it seemed God was sending me here to Texas. I may never know - He may never see fit to tell me. Just like I have no idea what else he has in store for me. It's like another book we've talked about in Sunday school (I keep meaning to get it, but haven't found it yet.) It's called "Why He's God and You're Not". Seems pretty simplistic, but we all forget sometimes that we're not God. We cannot control everything in the universe. While I wrestle with this truth, I'll keep my heart, soul and ears open. And if my mouth is open, I'll try to make sure my voice is sharing my songs of faith. Words do no good written on a page and locked in the dark. I don't know about you, but I'd much rather be in The Light!

New Addition to Our Family

I just found out today that we can expect a new addition to our family. He should arrive sometime within the next week....

We cannot wait to greet our newest family member. I haven't picked a name for him yet. In fact, "he" may be a "she" - it all depends on how it drives.

Heeeeeeerrrrre's Jenny!

Sorry I've been neglecting my blog. I had previously mentioned to the Clan (not the Ku Klux) that my Internet was messing up last night, so I couldn't blog. Today was one crazy day, so I couldn't blog today, either.

At the end of the month, not only do I have to do the normal payroll type reports, but I also have to do end-of-month reports, billing, mileage reports, etc. etc. So I'm pretty darn busy the last week of the month. On top of that, the server died today. The only eulogy it got was the four-letter type. Seems we had a power outage and it fried the external zip drive on the computer. Considering I don't have a degree in IT (as much as my boss insists on me doing the IT stuff) I didn't realize that the server's lack of response could be caused by an external drive. So after me trying over and over again to reboot the darn thing in its various modes (safe mode, safe mode with networking, safe mode with command prompts, normal mode) didn't work, we called in the IT guy we use when I can't figure out what's wrong (which hasn't been so often, actually, since I started working there! HA! Maybe I'm a Hacker for a reason. LOL) Anywhoo, the boss was then mad because the guy gets like $70/hour!

Anyway, it seems we had a power surge last night which fried the zip drive. The zip drive was connected to the hard drive, hard drive connected to the server, the server's connected to the network - them drives them drives them crazy drives. Oh, wait, sorry. I broke out in song, didn't I? Anyway, it was a simple problem that only required removing the USB connection from the zip drive to the server then rebooting the server. Too bad we had to wait until after 1 p.m. for the guy to show up, and since I couldn't access any of the info I needed to do the invoicing or the reports and my boss and I weren't sure what was wrong with the server - I had to recreate all the information by going through the hard copies of all the files we were invoicing. Then I had to use Excel to recreate an exact replica of the invoices we normally generate through our timekeeping system. I invoiced 20 projects this morning! By the time Jonathan showed up, I had a headache and an empty belly. See, I didn't get to go to lunch today because I had to wait for the IT guy. Then I had to get busy logging in all the jobs that came in today but I couldn't log because the system was down. Then I had to input all the data that I had used Excel to create so the timekeeping system would match our actual invoices. Can we say "ACK!???" Then to find out all I had to do was disconnect a cable?!!!!

So, can you see why I didn't have time to do more than just post a few comments today?

I should get an award for "dedication to her job". Otherwise, I would have walked out today. But I'm not stressing too much over the missed lunch - I get to take a double lunch later this week. I'll probably do it on Friday. Then I get a four-day weekend for the holiday. I think I need it.

A Boy and His Dog

I haven't posted in a couple of days due to a combination of lack of news and a nasty headache. But as I sit here at the computer, I look over at my son(s) and know what to write about. See, I tell everyone down here that I have two sons - a two-legged son and a four-legged son. Most people just get a smile that says "Oh, not another one of those!" But I'm not just one of those kooks who treats her dog like a baby or whatever. Those two seriously act like brothers!

Right now, Jamie is sitting on the couch with his favorite "blankie" watching TV. Where's the dog? Sitting half-way in Jamie's lap. If Jamie lays down on the couch (on his side), Ziggy will crawl behind him and lay down with his head resting on Jamie's neck so he can watch TV, too. But it isn't always sunshine and roses with those two.

Jamie will be playing in the floor and Ziggy will come bounding up to him and start "attacking" Jamie with licks and play bites on his ears. Or he'll run up and steal one of Jamie's toys and take off with it. But Jamie isn't innocent in these games, either. If Ziggy is minding his own business playing with one of his own toys, Jamie will run over and steal it and throw it down the hall. Then Ziggy will take off after it, only to bring it back for Jamie to throw again.

They "fight" with each other for my attention, too. If Ziggy is laying in my lap and I tell Jamie to take him outside, I have to hook the dog up to his leash - otherwise, Ziggy will growl at Jamie. If Jamie is cuddling with me and Ziggy comes up to us, Jamie will try to push him away (of course I fuss at both of them when they pull these tricks).

So I guess the point of this rambling post is something that I've talked about before. We're born with certain types of families, then God brings others into our lives that we turn into our families of the heart. I've been very blessed in that most members of my birth-family are/were wonderful, quirky people. But I've also been very blessed in the people (and pets) that have become part of my family of the heart. You are all in my prayers.

Oh, and I'm stealing a verse of the day that I have been told many times, because it's true:

A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy
dwelling.
God sets the lonely in families, he leads forth the prisoners
with singing;
but the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land.
Psalm 68:4-6 (NIV)

MORE PICTURES! But these are all of Jamie!

Yes, these pictures are all old, but I just found them in a box last night. The first one is one of my favorites, because Mom is in it. Jamie was "her baby", through and through. In this picture, he was sick with a really high fever, so we stripped him down so he could cool off. But he wanted cuddlin' and no-one could satisfy him but Grandmama!

The second one was when he was about C.J.s age. He had gotten sticky sucker spit all over his cute outfit, so the babysitter had to strip him down. That's his best buddy Noah with him (yes, they are still best-est buddies).

The third one was obviously Halloween. He and his little girl-friend both dressed up as types of kitties for Halloween (sorry I don't remember her name. She moved shortly after this picture was taken). He was trying to steal some sugars from her, but she wasn't having any of it! So I call this picture "Kitty Kisses".

And the last one is another of my absolute favorites. He's still pretty young in this one - like a little over two. The photographer was great, because she just let him plop down and do what he naturally wanted to do instead of trying to pose him. So Jamie untied his shoe and took it off - then held it up to show me (with a very "Dennis the Menace" grin on his face). He had just recently figured out how to do this. There's another picture (which I haven't found yet) that she took when he was trying to put the shoe back on - too bad he's trying to put it on the foot still encased in a shoe! He has such a serious look of concentration on his face, too. As soon as I find it, I'll post it!

Love to you all!

Dr's Visit and New Voice in Blogger-dom

Okay, okay! Sorry I've been too busy today to blog much. I had to leave work about an hour early to go to a doctor's appointment, so I had to really buckle down to task today (well, for the most part) to get everything done before I had to leave.

So, anyway, I went to go see Jamie's psychologist today. I accidently misspoke in my blogger rant (which only Suze and Beck saw because I deleted it the next day) and said it was with his psychiatrist. But, no - it was with his psychologist. The whole point in the appointment was for it to be just me and the doc and we would talk about how to address Jammie without blame, and in a matter-of-fact tone, when he makes incorrect choices. It's all about making Jamie realize that he is the only one who can choose what choices he's going to make. And by making those choices, he is also actively choosing the consequences of those actions - whether they be good or bad. We'll try it and see how it goes.

And I am pleased to announce that Sarah, an awesome gal I met through my singles Sunday School class and Ladies' Bible Study, has entered the world of blogger-dom! I've been telling her for a while now that she needs to check out my blog and all your all's too because of how much you all have helped me as I'm learning more about God and my faith, and how we talk a lot about the Bible, and what it means. So what day does she decide to check out all the blogs? The day we're all talking and giggling about farts... Yep, we're a delicate bunch! LOL. Sarah, I hope you went back and checked out all the times we talked about faith, too (and if you've got any fart stories, fess up! We like those, too!)

Anyway, Sarah also started her own blog, and I just got an e-mail reply from her giving me the go ahead to link to her blog on here. You can check out Sarah's blog here. So, if you see any comments from Sarah, tell her "Hi" and make her feel welcome. She's a neat, sweet, funny gal (just like us! Oh, wait, except for Everett and Geron, and Joel when he pops up to comment). So maybe I should say we're all neat, sweet, funny people. Oh wait, but that excludes Ziggy and Gjieri and Beck's cats Zeeky and what's-her-face (I'm wanting to say Nutmeg, but I can't remember for sure). So, we're all neat, sweet, funny critters! That works! Pshew! Being PC is hard work!

Anyway, I'm sitting here noshing on dinner - it's the first thing I've cooked that wasn't pizza rolls in four nights. Jamie wanted them again, but I wanted to hurl (and fart) at the idea of another pizza roll. So tonight I made chicken breast fingers, spinach and mashed sweet potatoes with honey. Yummy! We loves our veggies, yes we do!

So there, I posted. Now stop nagging! LOL. I deserve it though (and yep, I'm still going to nag you all when you don't post).

Persistence

Last night, I was really frustrated with Jamie. We had been having pretty much the same argument for days - I wanted him to act like a human being, and he wanted to disobey every rule in the house and get a bad attitude when I called him out on it. So, my apartment has been a war zone for several days. See, when I posted on my blog before that he was a sensitive, sweet, empathetic person, I should have added "to everyone except his mother."

I have also been dealing with my father's usual shenanigans - belittling me, questioning my parenting skills (as if he even knows what those are!), hanging up on me, etc. So between dealing with my kid, dealing with my dad, and the various and sundry worries that haunt a single mom, I was at my wit's end. So I blogged. I blogged a very long, rambling tirade about how fed up I was with everything, how I couldn't handle it, how I felt like I was being punished, etc. etc. I also blogged about how I've been praying, but it doesn't seem to be helping.

Then I remembered what Everett said about persistence in prayer, and what all I've read about God's timing. So, while I was walking the dog for the last time last night, I prayed again. "Lord," I said. "Please help me deal with all this." And that's pretty much what I kept repeating. Then I made sure to thank him for the all the blessings I have in my life (because I don't want to be one of those whine-y people who only see the glass as half-empty). Then I went to bed.

Well, I got up this morning and said my prayer of thankfulness again, and asked again for help in dealing with all that's on my plate. Then I decided to take a few minutes to check my blog and read over what I had written. Suze had been up early and read my blog and sent me some encouraging words and sympathy. Then I read over what I wrote, and realized how irrational and insane I sounded. So I e-mailed Suze to thank her, then deleted the blog post I had written last night.

Then, I said another little prayer before I went to wake up Jamie. He has been pretty much a grizzly from the time he wakes up until he goes to bed. Today, he woke up my sweet, loving little boy again. Thank you, Jesus. Then, my dad called to make sure I got up on time, and to tell me he loved me. No snide remarks, no hanging up on me, just "I love you." Thank you, Jesus, again!

Then I went to work. I've been working on a big report - hence the decrease in blogging. I decided to check to see what all had been processed in my quest to attend TWU this fall. Hallelujah! I've been granted enough financial aid, not only for my tuition and text books, but with a nice chunk left over to put a big dent in some big bills. Thank you, Jesus, again again!

So, my persistence paid off. Not only will I keep applying that persistence in my prayers and Bible reading, but I'm definitely going to apply that persistence in some other areas, too!

In Response to Ann's Post on "Value"

This is in response to Ann's blog posting on "value". Click here to read Ann's original post.

I, too, have been guilty of bragging that Jamie is "so smart." I also usually like to do it in his hearing. Unfortunately, he doesn't believe me. His school bases who is intelligent on what kind of grades a student gets. Well, he has ADHD, so his grades have pretty much been crap (and I really mean that other four-letter word that means the same thing, but is not mentioned in polite company). But he is one of the most inquisitive kids I know, and thinks so far "outside the box" that he's thinking in a rhombus or whatever.

He is also one of the kindest, most sensitive people I know. If you hurt, he hurts, and won't stop hurting until he can "make it all better" for you. I have never heard him say or been told he had said anything negative about people who look, act or are physically different from him. But he is the first one to get his feelings hurt when someone else points out something about him that is different. If he notices someone on the playground who has no one to play with, he'll go ask if they want to play with him (his teacher told me this). Unfortunately, often he is the only one left playing alone. It seems the other kids don't like him because he talks "too grown up."

Yet despite the fact that he has a vocabulary to rival that of most fifth-graders, has repeatedly demonstrated his awareness of others' feelings, constantly volunteers to help with clean-up duties and other chores at school and daycare, he is not considered "intelligent" at school. The administration barely wants to consider him "perceptive."

I used to think like so many others. I was considered (and still proudly think of myself as) very intelligent in high school and even in college. Sure, I'm considered a bit of a freak, but I've learned to accept that. But, after watching Jamie struggle, I know that intelligence is more than the grades you get. It's the ability to perceive the world and people around you. It's the ability to empathize and sympathize with others. It's even common sense (of which I have very little).

I'm realizing the only reason why I got good grades was because I had an older sister and brother who read to me constantly and played school with me. I only got good grades because I've learned how to take tests well. Jamie doesn't. I can be very sympathetic to people, and other times I'm so self-absorbed and self-centered that I wish I could bop myself over the head with something when I realize it later.

Some very very very intelligent people fail every test they take. Some extremely intelligent people can't do normal, everyday things. Like my brother recently commented, "Albert Einstein could barely tie his shoes."

So, thank you, Ann, for reminding me of something I've slowly been coming to learn over this past year. I'll still tell Jamie at every opportunity I get that he's very smart. But I'll also remember to tell him how kind he is, how sweet, how loving and how thoughtful.

My Decorating Style is "Shabby" Without the "Chic"

I have a very old (well, antique) dresser which has been handed down in my family. Well, not handed down too far, but still, it has been handed down. Mom and Dad bought it for my sister, Jodi, when she was an infant. After Jodi died, it became mine. Then, when Jamie was born - it was still mine. But now that I have a bigger dresser, it's his.

When the dresser was originally bought, it was a beautiful natural oak. Dad, in his drunken wisdom, decided to paint it white. Without putting any protective coating on the wood first (so all the paint soaked way down deep in the wood). So it pretty much has to be painted from now on. Jamie's room is supposed to be decorated in mostly black and tan, with a travel theme (which has really turned more into a sea-faring theme). So, I decided to paint the dresser a nice, glossy black to match the bookcase in his room.

I borrowed a palm electric sander from my friend Karen from church. I had to sand off a lot of the old paint in order to roughen the surface for the new paint to stick (at least, that's what I was told to do, so I did it). Well, my house was pretty messy anyway - think of what the house in "Overboard" looked like when Goldie Hawn first moved in, and that's about 20% better than my house looks now! So, I fired up the sander and used it right in the middle of my living room. That was Friday night.

Saturday, we went down to Dad's to spend the night and then visit with him some today for Father's Day. So I didn't get to work on my messy house or my funky dresser. But I did do some major scrubbing on Dad's house. Eeeewwwww! Totally gross looking everywhere. Dad's house stays "straight" so far as nothing lying around on the floor, but it's dirtier than mine. The toilet was, I kid you not, black from all the gunk growing in the bowl. I won't even mention what kind of crusties I had to scrub off the outside of it! Then I tackled his shower. It was so disgusting I was gagging while I cleaned it. My house may be messy, but it is never this dirty! But enough about Dad's grossness - I just ate and the memory of it makes me want to hurl.

So, anyway, we come home today, and it was so hot I cranked the A/C down to about 68, turned a fan full-blast on my bed, and laid down for a while. Then, I got up and decided it was time to finish that dresser and get it out of the middle of my living room. So I tacked up a plastic drop cloth on the back porch (which made the birds nesting out there REALLY angry), and dragged the dresser out there. Then I started spray painting it. Then I went in the house to let it dry before I applied the second coat. I didn't realize it, but I had black paint all over the bottom of my socks. So now my living room also matches Jamie's room, as my beige carpet has black tracks across it.

Any suggestions on how to remove black paint without removing the color of the carpet, too?

A Message from Stinkbumps, Himself!

I miss you.I hope you are ok.Thank you Ann for leting me be in your weting.




love,
Jamie

P.S. Jamie got tired of typing, so he asked me to tell Ms. Susan thank you for the cool new study Bible, and thank you to Mr. David for the Jenga and card game. He also wanted me to tell Everett thanks for talking with him, and also Geron, too. And he says thank you to Lydia, and says she's going to be a "pretty Mommy". So, see, even Jamie says you were a model, Lydia! And Jamie says if we come to Nashville to visit, he wants to challenge Daniel to some soccer. Love and hugs from me and Jamie!

Hair

There's something about the climate here that induces Texans to have big hair. I first started noticing this phenomenon while at church the other day. There are a LOT of people at my church with really big, takes-three-cans-of-Aqua-Net-to-hold-it-in-place hair. And it isn't just the women; there are plenty of men walking around looking like they have some sort of foreign creature perched on their heads!

So I wondered - is big hair their defense against the sun? Is this some sort of example of evolution at work in humans? Because I've noticed that the higher the temperature, the bigger the hair. What sort of protection does this offer? Does extending the hair as straight as possible out from the scalp prevent any sort of body-heat build up there which could cause discomfort? It's possible, as I remember my mom always telling me that people lose most of their body heat in winter from an uncovered head.

Or is the bouffant an attempt to create as much shade as possible for the rest of the body? It doesn't rain here very much, so a lot of the trees here are short and squat. Maybe Texans feel the trees aren't tall enough to provide them enough shade, so they must create their own mobile shade units.

Or perhaps they, like Chicken Little, really do believe the sky is falling. Perhaps the humongous hairstyles are to provide padding in the event a big ol' chunk of sky should fall to the earth and strike an unsuspecting Texan.

You would think, though, that they would reason - the less hair, the less heat. But NO! Down here, hair is a symbol of one's femininity, one's womanness. I cut my hair really short once I got back from Ann's wedding, because it was so darn hot. One of our technicians at work, Pablo, walked in and acted like someone had just shot him when he saw how short I cut my hair. "What?" I asked, a bit defensively. He merely pointed to my head. "Yes, I cut my hair." He just shook his head sadly. Seems he's now half-way convinced I must be, well, I'm sure you can guess. I'm just not a woman anymore in his eyes. LOL

Meanwhile, while I'm as comfortable as I can possibly make myself in this blistering Hell called San Antonio, I find myself confronted everyday, everywhere, with the image of what natives around here think of as "womanhood." Apparently, it looks a lot like Marge Simpson.

This is NOT Mr. Roger's Neighborhood

I knew where I lived wasn't the most glamorous of locales in San Antonio, but I didn't realize just how BAD my neighborhood was until last night when I was walking the dog.

Within a 10-minute time frame, I saw a transvestite, a "beast with two backs" (if you know your Shakespeare, you know exactly to what I refer), three prostitutes, and a four-kid crew stripping the wheels off a Beemer at the gas station next door. Then there's all the half-wild cats roaming around, making the whole apartment complex smell like a litter box badly in need of changing! I felt like I was in the middle of a Wierd Al Yankovic-esque version of "The 12 Days of Christmas". Hmmm, how would that go? Maybe something along the lines of:

While walking the doggy, what did my two eyes see? A transvestite dressed to party!
Walking faster with the doggy, what next appeared to me? Public nudity and a transvestite dressed to party!
I'm jogging with Ziggy and now what can it be? Three call-girls, public nudity and a transvestite dressed to party!
Now I'm dragging the doggy when suddenly I see: four gang-bangers, three call-girls, public nudity and a transvestite dressed to party!
I'm locking up the doors - but what's all that screaming? Five feral cats, four gang-bangers, three call-girls, public nudity and a transvestite dressed to party!

So, anyway, it's obvious that the minute my lease is up, I'm out of there. I don't want to buy a house, though, because the minute my dad "leaves this realm" if you know what I mean, I'm out of San Antonio. The economy is nice, but it just isn't worth it - for one thing it's too darn hot and dry. For another thing, it's too dirty. And lastly, I don't really have too many friends here. The only thing holding me here is the fact that my dad needs me (and the fact that Jamie inherits everything). I know, it's mercenary to say, and horrible to think about, but it's the truth. Warts and all, here I am. So, once Dad is beyond my help, Jamie and I will be moving. Hopefully by then I'll have my degree (maybe even my masters, too) and we'll leave Texas all together. Where we go from there just depends on where my career (or heart) will take me.

Okay - I Feel Old!

I used to laugh at people who, once they got home from work, had to be practically dragged out of their homes until they had to go back to work the next morning. I used to think of them as little old men and women, sitting in front of the television, cooking and puttering about in their homes. Now I'm one of them. By the time I get home from work, I'm too pooped out to do anything, unless it's to go swimming at the pool here at my apartment. But we don't even get to that much as the pool keeps getting closed. It seems other residents don't want to follow the pool rules, so management locks the pool gates closed.

Jamie is being babysat by the sons of a friend of mine from church. Despite the fact that they're 16, they insist on calling me "ma'am" and "Ms. Hacker." I can feel my hair turning blue and my cute, sassy 4" heels turning into Hush Puppies every time they open their mouths. If they talk to me for more than three minutes, I can feel my spine curving into an arthritic hunch and my hands curling into claws.

In 4 months and 10 days, I'll be 30. I know, in my mind, that 30 is not anywhere close to being old. But there are old stereotypes that like to stick in your brain, and crawl out your ears and whisper to you in the middle of the night when you're lying awake thinking about the fact that you're fast approaching 30: "spinster" is the first word that immediately comes to mind. Then there's the quaint term "all dried up." There's also the old saying that you're more likely to get struck by lightning than you are to get married over the age of 30. Then there's the fact that I would have thought I would have been married and had another child by the time I was the "big 3-0". I, who used to swear I would never have children, not only have Jamie, but long for more. That's why we got Ziggy when we did - because puppies are cheaper (and a whole lot less trouble to get! LOL) than babies!

But things haven't worked out that way. I keep telling myself that God does things in his own time, but every patience test God has given me, I've failed. I keep trying, and keep praying for patience (and some other thing(s), too), but at what point are you supposed to throw in the towel and say "Okay, obviously God doesn't mean for me to have/be such-and-such", or are you supposed to keep on praying? Someone with some theological chops, answer me please.

In the mean time, I keep repeating to myself Psalm 40:1, Habbakuk 2:3, Romans 8:25 - and a newly discovered personal fave, Lamentations 3:25 "The LORD is wonderfully good to those who wait for him and seek him" (NLT). And I also keep thinking about a paraphrase from Song of Solomon, about the heart unready to be wakened. Maybe I'm having to wait because all isn't ready yet. Maybe some other things have to happen first before I can truly appreciate what I find, and before what I seek can be freely given. Maybe it's like Ann's cooking - not only do you have to have the salt and the curry, but you have to add them together at the right time, otherwise it just won't taste right. So please pray for me to have patience, and not to despair while I 'm waiting for God's plan for me to be revealed.

06/13/06 Addendum to post:
I was going to post this as a comment, but it got too long. So I'll just add it as an addendum instead.

Thanks for the words of encouragement. Like I said on Ann's blog, the main thing that has me freaked out is something I read in the Old Testament about "don't defile yourself with an unclean/unpure woman." Well, according to the OT, I fit the definition because I had Jamie out of wedlock.

I know God has forgiven me, but would a Christian man, in his heart-of-hearts, ever be able to look at me as a potential partner? Would he ever be able to look at me and see the woman I've become instead of the mistakes I've made? Would he see that I have so much love to give I'm about bursting with it? Would he see that if this is the person God has chosen me to be with, I would do everything in my power to make him happy and to help him? Would he see Jamie as a child so eager to be a man's son that he, too, cries for it at night? Or would he just see a reminder that I'm human and made some bad decisions? Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade my boy for anything in the world. He literally is the best "mistake" I ever made, I cannot imagine my life without him. I love Jamie so much it's scary! That's part of (but not the whole) reason why I feel so much pressure right now about finding the person God has in mind for me.

When Jamie was little, he used to ask me why he didn't have a daddy like his other friends. This question feels like a dagger in the heart, let me tell you! I told him that any man can be a father, it's simply a matter of nature. But, I said, it takes a very very special man to be a daddy. "And you're such a special, wonderful little boy, that I have to find a special, wonderful man to be your daddy." When he was little, this answer satisfied him. But now, it isn't enough. For Christmas last year, he told me the only present he wanted was a daddy. And I had to tell him I hadn't found him one yet. So, he told me "Hurry up, Mommy. I'm growing up fast!" And at night, when he says his prayers and he thinks I'm not listening, he prays that his mommy finds him a daddy really soon. And my heart breaks just hearing it, because I know that I'm not enough for him. We both feel the absence greatly.

So the question remains: Can a Christian man ever look at me and see who I am? Can he see Jamie as the wonderful, intelligent, precocious little boy that he is? Would he even want to try get to know the real me? Would he want to get to know Jamie? Yes, I know there are many many many Christians who are now part of loving marriages & partnerships who did not come to the marriage bed "pure." But most of those didn't have a living, breathing reminder in the house of those past relationships. And even if some Christian man did see me for who I am, would his family be able to accept me? Or am I forever relegated to the status of "just a friend"?

I know, God has someone out there he has chosen for me; but it's very hard for me to wait. As I said, patience is something I pray for on a daily basis! And we all know (the Bible is full of examples) that we don't always listen when God tells us to do something - and we also don't listen when God tells us NOT to do something. But seeing as how a relationship takes two to tango, I guess I'll just have to wait (and pray, and pray, and pray!)

Jesus Really IS My Co-Pilot!

I took Jesus for a spin through downtown San Antonio today. Or rather, he took me for one. I didn't intend for it to happen that way, but happen it did.

Jamie goes to a child psychiatrist to treat his ADHD. His original monthly appointment was cancelled and for whatever reason, they didn't contact me about it until we showed up for it. So they rescheduled us for another clinic site (they have three) with one of his psychiatrist's colleagues, as his normal doc was on vacation. Well, this clinic was in downtown San Antonio, in a not very nice area. Even in broad daylight, I was a little frightened of where we were!

So, anyway, on the way back to the interstate, we almost got killed. Literally. I had never driven in downtown San Antonio before, there were no road signs, traffic was very heavy and the sun was shining right in my eyes. Not a good combination. So I turned left to try to get back to where I could get on I-35 to get the heck out of there. But I didn't realize it was a divided street, and I accidently turned left into oncoming traffic. And the road was divided with a concrete barrier, so I had to just pray pray pray while I kept going to try to get to where I could get back going the right way. I was sooooo scared because there were cars everywhere.

So I prayed, and it was like all of a sudden I felt calm. And even though there were all these cars, I was able to go past them without even coming close to them, and then turn left again so I was going the proper way on another street. And then I was totally lost, scared and in another creepy part of town by this point. The way San Antonio is set up, you can't see the interstate until you are literally right up on it. So, here I was lost, no idea which direction to go and almost out of gas. But a little voice kept telling me "turn left here, go straight, turn right here. Keep going! You're doing okay! There, on your left, there's the on-ramp to the interstate." And, I honestly believe He kept Jamie occupied with his books so he wouldn't look up and get scared over what all was happening. Jamie never even looked up the whole time. So, as I said, Jesus and I took a little spin today.

We've only been downtown one time before that, when my ex-boyfriend came down to visit when we first moved to Texas. He drove a rental and took us. But the next time we want to stroll the Riverwalk, see the Alamo, or anything like that, we'll take public transpo!

Embarrassing Pictures!

I have a feeling these will get me killed, but I found some pictures last night when I was unpacking a box. Pictures from our "glory days" of high school - my senior year, Suze and Ann's junior year. So, of course I just HAD to post these on Blogger! So here goes (she says as she ducks, covers and makes a run for it!) And just so you don't hurt me too badly, I included a very embarrassing picture of me and my bubby, too!

If anyone pictured here absolutely hates having their picture up, let me know and I'll take it down. Love you all!

Chili's and Bitterness

One:
Okay, I sound like an old Chili's commercial today, because I'm walking around singing -

"I get my baby back, baby back baby back..... I get my baby back, baby back, baby back!"

I'm going to pick up Jamie today! Yay! I've missed the little booger! I talked to Dad on the phone last night, and apparently Jamie has been working on Papaw's heart. He asked if Jamie could stay the whole summer! I said, "But I miss him so much!" Then I told Dad that I needed Jamie back for a couple of weeks, but that he'd be back again this summer. So Jamie's medication seems to have had several good effects: 1) it's improved his concentration and grades in school, and 2) it has improved his relationship with Papaw, too. But what has helped most of all is God! I've prayed everyday that God watch over Jamie and Papaw and allow them to be forgiving of each other's quirks!

Two:
I went to church Wednesday night, and the message was one I definitely needed to hear. The message was about "The Root of Bitterness" from Hebrews 12:14-15:

"Make every effort to live in peace with all men and to be holy; withoutholiness no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one misses thegraceof God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defilemany"(NIV)

He also mentioned several other verses that talk about bitterness or anger but I won't go into detail on those in the interest of time (and me getting a decent amount of rest tonight!) But the point of all this was, that if we don't rid ourselves of our hurt feelings, it can turn into bitterness. Then this bitterness, if allowed to live in our hearts, will turn to anger. It is a "sin of the heart" he said, because it can put up interference between you and God. You can be the most rational person, calm and cool, but if you have bitterness in your heart, there's no telling when (or how) it will manifest itself one day. And this bitterness keeps you from hearing and serving the Lord. This bitterness also interferes in our relationships with others - our friendships, our ability to build lifelong partnerships, it even interferes with our ability to love ourselves enough to be able to love others. That's what truly shocked me!

I had never thought of this before. I am working to turn my life over to Christ, yet I still have a lot of bitterness and insecurities. By not dealing with them, I'm setting myself up for failure. So now I know to pray that I find the strength to let go of these insecurities and bitterness!

Remorse

She drifts alone through the house
touching the remnants of boyhood strewn about
wishing his noise was there as well.

For as many times as she had yelled "hush"
and longed just once for the touch
of a father to still

Her boy, twice as many times she now
yearned to hear the joyous, rambunctious row
that was her child.

Even laundry flung to the farthest corners of his room,
long forgotten or ignored once packing had begun
brought her a smile.

Inhaling the scent of her darling, dirty boy,
picking up and holding his favorite stuffed toy
these things are done

By a mother in the midst of despair.
She sheds her tears and wonders "Is it fair
for my son?"

She fears she loves him too much and relies
on his love in turn to fill the places that once cried
"Who am I?"

She wanted a role, something to strive to be;
and gave all her heart to being only "Mommy".
So she tried

And buried it all inside. So her 'self' is lost
and all that is left is love at all costs.
So her 'self' died

Not realizing there would be a time the boy would leave
and live a life of his own. And then she would need
her self again.

Lest she drift through the house alone
wondering why her young son had grown
and left her alone with the pain.

Ruminations Whilst I Await my Laundry

Gee, I should post in the middle of the night more often! Before midnight hit, I was able to do a post for Sunday; I worked on it so long that time crept past midnight, and I got to go ahead and post something for Monday! Yay! Two birds, one stone.... However, I will say that the Monday post is full of randomness. Sunday's post is much more of a revelation kind of thing when I was reading my bible. So, if you want silliness, read this post. If you want to know about my faith walk, read Sunday's post below. If you want to know about both, then read both (Duh!)... But, now back to the ruminations thing.

Numero Uno: I got an e-mail awhile back from my brother, Joel, which contained a link to a website containing pictures he took in and around New York City. My favorite ones are the first and last groups. They are gorgeous! The first set is from Central Park; the second is more specifically of the North Woods in Central Park. As Phil and Lil from Rugrats would say "They're 'prettiful'"! So please check out my talented brother's link under the links section to the left of this blog. His link is aptly titled "Beautiful Pictures by Joel Hacker".

Numero Dos: My poor dog, Ziggy, has evidently had an allergic reaction to a new type of dog treat I bought him. He has scratched himself so much he has left raw, bleeding spots all over his body. I had to shave off all his fur except for what is on his ears, face and tail (although what hair is left was trimmed down to about one-fourth of an inch)! I shaved him so I could actually get to all the spots where he has chewed and scratched himself to pieces. It was worse than I thought. So then I went to the store and got some children's benadryl and same lanacaine spray. He hates them both, but he is no longer ripping gouges in his own skin scratching. But my poor four-legged son is naked, pink, raw and ugly.

Numero Tres: Speaking of funny haircuts, Jamie's papaw took him to get a haircut last week. The barber asked, "Do you want a boy's haircut?" Dad thought, "Well, Duh!" so he told the barber to go ahead. Seems like the barber is from a generation even further back than Dad's and thought this meant he wanted his head practically shaved! Jamie now has hair so short he has to put sunblock on his scalp before he can go outside to play!!!

And to top that off, I decided yesterday that, since everyone else had gotten a haircut, it was my turn. I have been cutting my own hair for almost a year now, and think I do a pretty good job. Well, I was in a hurry as this was just before my friend Karen's daughter's wedding (we're talking less than an hour before we needed to leave the house). I thought I did a great job, it looked really cute and was exactly the way I wanted it. Or so I thought. When I took Jamie back down to Dad's today, he asked me "What happened to your hair?" So of course I asked what he meant. "The back is all uneven and looks like the stylist wasn't watching what she was doing. What, was she talking to somebody?" I went and used two mirrors to see, and sure enough, it's all over the place! That's what I get for being in a rush and not taking the trouble to check it out when I'm done!

Numero Quatro: And yes, you read it right. Jamie is back at Papaw's this week. Ziggy and I both are very unhappy about it. But my summer babysitter is at church camp this week and Jamie and Papaw are enjoying each other (for now). However, I have an emergency back-up on standby should things get too hairy (pardon the pun) down there before the week is out!

My Own Verses o' the Day (or Night)

I was randomly reading my Bible, and came upon a couple of verses I found interesting, and very appropriate, about patience. Those of you who know me also know that I am not the most patient person. I would have called these my Verses o' the Day, but seeing as how it's almost 11:30 p.m., I guess they will have to be my Verses o' the Night:

"If it seems slow, wait patiently, for it will surely take place. It will not be delayed."
Hab. 2:3 (NLT)

"If we look forward to something we don't have yet, we must wait patiently and confidently."
Rom. 8:25 (NLT)

Something else I was reading that completely blew me away. This happened late last night, so I didn't really get to blog about it, but it has stayed with me. Ann had said something to me before about liking to read the General Electric Power Company chapters. Thankfully, she told me that's Galatians, Ephesians, Phillipians, Colossians; because there for a minute I was really confused!

Anyway, I started reading and was completely bowled over when Paul said in Galatians 1:15-16 that God chose to call Paul in God's own time, and at that time he revealed Jesus in Paul. Not to Paul, in him. Jesus was there the whole time! He's in all of us the whole time! Then when he says in 2:20 that "... it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me" (NKJV).

I had never fully realized how my stubborness had truly worked against me all this time. It never occurred to me that Jesus had been there with me my whole life, but I refused to see or hear him for all those years. I used to think it was a good thing that I was so stubborn. I used to relate with pride that my first full sentence was "Me do it meself!" Now I don't think I should be quite so proud. Yes, perseverance is a good thing. But out and out stubborness is not. So this led me to consult my Touchpoints for Women to see what it says about obedience:

"If you will obey me and keep my covenant, you will be my own special treasure from among all the nations of the earth, for all the earth belongs to me." Exodus 19:5 (NLT)

Hmmmmmmmmmmm, I thought. Wonder what it says about submission?...

"When people do not accept divine guidance, they run wild. But whoever obeys the law is happy." Proverbs 29:18 (NLT)

Okay, point taken. I need to pray for more patience, less stubborness, and to be a little more submissive. That's a tall order, but He can handle it!

I Thought Tackling was Only Legal in Sports..........

My friend Karen's daughter got married today; Jamie and I went as Karen had asked (actually, begged) us to help out at the reception. Momma Karen was feeling the strain! So we went and the ceremony was sweet. The reception was a different story.

I was doing my thing, serving punch to the guests, when the dreaded announcement came: "Would all the single ladies please move to the center of the room? It's time for the throwing of the bride's bouquet." I ignored the announcement and kept serving punch. Karen materialized out of nowhere and said, "Go on, Jenn! You're single, get out there." Then she pushed me a little. Ha ha, okay Karen, big grin, (ick) so I went.

I look around, and I'm the only one over the age of 20. I felt suddenly like I should have a walker and sensible shoes. Then I realize - Ha, in my heels, I'm the tallest with the longest arm reach. Maybe I'll get something pretty to take home. Yay! So the bouquet is thrown, and it's coming right at me. I reach up and am just about to snag it, when this little 5-foot-nothing, 95 pound twerp turns around, does a flying leap and tackles me! We both go crashing to the floor.

Seeing as how I wasn't that desperate for the darn thing anyway, I let go. I might have fought harder for it, but San Antonio does have a professional roller-derby team, and I wasn't sure, but Thumbelina looked like she wasn't above scratching out my eyes and pulling my hair. She then got up and waved it around to show everyone. There for a minute I thought she was going to run for the end zone and do a little dance. But at least in that she showed restraint.

So, the moral of the story is, if you're a single woman and are planning to vie for the bridal bouquet, you should either wear a helmet and padding or spend some time training with the roller-derby first!

Various and Sundry

Various:

There once was a girl with a blog
Who liked to croak out like a frog
"You didn't post here,
You need to post, dear"
And left her own site in a fog!

I just thought I would say something about that before somebody else pounced on me for it. See, I can write bad verse about myself, too! I'm sorry I've neglected my blog today. I'm down at my dad's house spending the night so Jamie and I can head back to San Antonio early in the morning to get ready for my friend's daughter's wedding. We're on punch bowl patrol (hey, that rhymes too! Please, stop the madness!) But yay! I've got Jamie back! Boo hoo, he's staying with Papaw again from Sunday through next Friday. I miss the little bugger when he's gone.

Sundry:
One thing I find interesting. When I was growing up, I was adamant that my job would have as little to do with computers as possible. I didn't want to be anything like my dad (he's a retired mainframe programmer), so wanted absolutely nothing to do with anything even close to what he did.

So, I grow up, and before I know it, I'm in charge of the computers at work, troubleshooting, rerouting the network, setting up the archive programs, etc. etc. And I do a lot of stuff for my dad, too (he never learned very much about PCs). So, I've grown up to be a computer geek. Guess the last name is appropriate after all.

Well, sorry this is so short; but I wanted to give you something to chew on tonight, in the morning and some of the afternoon. (Just in case you missed reading one of my silly posts).

I'm off to bed now, to read some verses, read some Touchpoints, pray (possibly aloud), and get some sleep.

Sweet dreams everyone!

My Favorite Psalm

I was reading my Bible last night, and came across Psalm 25. I'd
never read it before, but it really spoke to me. I felt as if it had been
written with me in mind. All of it is extremely appropriate for me, but I
especially like the following verses...

Remember not the sins of my youth
and my rebellious ways;
according to your love remember me,
for you are good, O LORD

Psalm 25:7

My eyes are ever on the LORD,
for only he will release my feet from the snare.
Turn to me and be gracious to me,
for I am lonely and afflicted.
The troubles of my heart have multiplied;
free me from my anguish.
Look upon my affliction and my distress
and take away all my sins.

Psalm 25:15-18

I really like those verses because I always felt inferior to those I considered to be "good" people, because of the "bad" things I had done in my life. But it was very comforting that not only does God forget about our past behavior once we accept Jesus as our savior, but that it is through Him that these sins are removed. It's like Ann told me in a previous post, when I keep praying about and asking forgiveness for old behaviors that have already been forgiven, God pretty much says "Bless your little heart! Are you still going on about that? I'd completely forgotten about it. Can we talk about what I'm doing in your life now?"

It's very hard for me to let go of those past burdens, though. I feel like I'm forever going to have to prove, not only to others, but to myself as well that I'm not the messed up girl I was even a year ago. I'm learning and doing so many things, and I'm really committed to my life being through Christ now, and not just blundering along with my own plans. But the old Jennifer still whispers that I'm not good enough, that I'm nothing but a cheap floozy who can never do anything but lay on her back; that's when I get discouraged. That's when I feel like maybe I have a stain on me that the "Godlies" can see, and that's why I'm only approached by men who are after only one thing. Then I realize, this is evil talking, trying to lure me back to my old mistakes. So then I get out my "Touchpoints for Women" and my Bible, and I start reading. And then I start praying, just like I did last night.

Before, I would always pray silently in my head. I felt a little silly talking out loud when God can hear me no matter how I say a prayer. But last night, I was really begging for answers, and beseeching Him that He take care of His children, and I started to pray out loud. I have never "felt" my prayer like I did when I prayed out loud. Before, if I prayed in my head, I would lose track of what I was saying, I felt silly, and I would rush through it before I started reciting my grocery list accidently. But last night, I could actually SEE my prayer. It's so hard to explain. It's like I was able to look in a window on a world I had never seen before. This window opened up in my mind and I could actually see what and for whom I prayed. I felt like I couldn't pray enough. And when I finally finished, I had been praying out loud for 30 minutes and had tears running down my face. I didn't even know that I had been crying. It was a very moving experience for me!

When I was finished and getting ready for bed, I knew one thing for sure: I won't recognize who God has chosen for me until I stop feeling inferior to other people. It's not that I have a stain on me, so to speak, it's that my inferiority complex is broadcast to others. I'm trying very hard not to feel like I'm less than anyone else. Hopefully, soon, when I'm ready and whomever God has chosen for me is ready, we'll recognize each other.

"'I know the plans I have for you,' says the LORD.
'They are plans for good and not for disaster,
to give you a future and a hope'"

Jeremiah 29:11

I don't know what my future holds. I only know I'm praying that others, too, can forget my past and get to know who I am now. I'm praying for someone who can love me and Jamie, I'm praying for more children. But I don't know yet if that's God's will. I guess I shall see.