Home

I've been gone over a week -- I had a birthday last Tuesday (a rather big one), and Hunk O Man surprised me with a week-long visit up north to Indianapolis. I saw precious friends, gave hugs and kisses, rubbed noses with two sweet little girls to whom I am Auntie J, ate and drank my favourites, shopped a little, visited a lot, and relaxed. I didn't hurry, I didn't worry much about home -- I just began the next century of my life quietly and easily, and in the company of people I love. And in a place that has always felt more like home than any other place.

In a word -- it was wonderful!

And now I'm home again doing laundry and cleaning the kitchen. Hunk O Man has a birthday next week, and what with Father's Day, he decided to buy himself an Imax Theater for the living room.

Well, not really. I think it's only something like 50 or 52 inches.

The previous tv in there was at the point where you had to hit the side of it to get the picture to straighten itself out, so I didn't flinch when he bought this Imax. JB hooked it up and now the only problem is that there's no HD yet. Something about cords and boxes and the like. Also something about it needing to be fixed and eyes looking my direction.

I've been reading in Ephesians and just began Philippians, my favourite book -- and Paul often says "I thank my God for you." I love these verses because I thank my God so often for the friends I saw recently. And I thank Him for my family as well. Sometimes you get to have such a perfect week, or day, or moment, and you just think 'ok Lord, that's it, I've experienced it all and I'm ready to go.'

But we don't go, because there's still so much work to be done. My neighbors still aren't settled into a real ongoing relationship with Jesus. My kids aren't raised all the way yet. My husband's ministry isn't finished yet, and so neither is mine, since mine is to minister to him while he ministers to others.

So it's back to real life, and real work, and the realities of my relationship with the most important one, Jesus. On with the next half century. I'm armed with the Message and ready!

xoxoxox

He Knows My Name, He knows My Cell Number, Too.

Today is my 23rd wedding anniversary. I am amazed that I have done anything consistently in my life for 23 years. And yet there is that Hunk O Man that I love infinitely more now than when I married him. I suppose even more amazing is that he loves me still, after all the joy and pain and heartache of 23 years and 5 kids. Once again, I praise God who is the Giver of all good things.

Yesterday, he and I (well, yes, God too, but I mean Hunk O Man and I) took a little trip to the beach. We stood in the warm sand and watched as the waves came in -- it was a little breezy, with rain to the north and south of us, so they were the kind of waves that come in kind of lined up, about 4-5 rows deep. The blue of the sky and the deep aqua of the water just brought a peace over me that only God can give. Wow. I do love the ocean.

We shopped our way home from the beach, stopping at various thrift and Goodwill stores. We also stopped at the Sprint store. In our efforts to curb costs, we have decided to forego our "land line" and go with all cell phones. However, it took a miracle God provided through a wonderful woman named Andrea to make it all happen. Believe it or not, it actually will save us money.

So last night and today, each girl has been beside herself with the new toy. Programming the ring tones, getting all the contacts in, etc. All but one have brand-new phones (which we got free). They have texted more friends in a half-hour's time than in probably all the time previous to getting the new phones -- because each one has her own number now, it's important to let everyone know. No more sharing a phone, or borrowing a sister's or mom's phone. Now each one has her own.

I have sat and watched all this furious texting and programming, bent heads with thumbs flying. And I realised that their excitement stems from something we all feel very deeply: to them, having their very own cell phone, their own number, means that people can now know their name. They are important, they have value, they have their own cell phones. 'It's mine,' they think. It's me.

And I remembered this: He knows my name, He knows my every thought, He sees each tear that falls, and hears me when I call.

I suppose we could add that He knows our cell number, too. And don't get me wrong - our girls (thankfully) each know God in a deep and personal way that no cell phone could ever replace.

But being recognized for who we are is so universal. We want to be seen, to be heard, to be valuable enough to our friends and family to matter. We want someone to know our name. And our phone number. And to email or text or call us just to see how we're doing.

So whether or not you have a new cell phone, or no cell phone at all, don't forget this --

xoxox

The Simple Things

These things make me appreciate God today:

From Psalm 86:17 --

But you, O God, are both tender and kind, not easily angered, immense in love, and you never, ever quit . . . as you, God, gently and powerfully put me back on my feet.

North Carolina in a riot of colour in the spring -- from my yard, no less!

And this, on my kitchen window sill (with very little sunlight) confirms to me

that there indeed IS a God!

xoxox

He Speaks Amid the Noise Around Me

Listening for His voice in the waters.

It's been quite a week for us. Spring Break -- Washington DC on Mon/Tues/Wed. What a trip! I was able to stand with Barbie just inches from the documents that declare our country independent and free. And hundreds of years old. I loved the National Portrait Gallery best, I think. Rose loved the Museum of Natural History and all the rocks there -- Hunk O Man fell in love with Abraham Lincoln all over again at the American History Museum, and even saw a play at the Ford Theater. Bug found a shop in Chinatown that was the equivalent of a WalMart, Babydoll kept us on track with her iPod Touch apps, locating the nearest McDonalds and such, and JB imitated everyone and had us all laughing.

JB rides the metro

The gang in the subway. JB wants to know whatchoo lookin at?

Portrait of Juliette Gordon Low, our favourite one

They even had typos in the 18th century

Me and Barbie -- the clones -- thinking we may be lost --

Lotsa escalators and comfy shoes

We came home on Thursday, and then we all went different directions on Friday and Saturday:

Rose went to Myrtle Beach to spend time with her boyfriend's family. She had her own suite in a house right on the ocean! They love her so much. If she and Boyfriend ever break up, we may have to move.

Bug and Hunk O Man went to UNC Asheville to check things out. Bug thinks she wants to attend there next year. They also found Mast General Store, the greatest of all general stores.

Barbie, JB, Babydoll, and their good friend BKnee and I headed for the beach. My friend Nan was generous enough to lend us her beach cabin for the night.

Walking the dog

Babydoll in the cold water

Wet dog having the time of his life

Beach bunnies

The weather was gorgeous -- could have been warmer, but hey, we'll definitely take all that sunshine! At first the girls went to the beach without me for about 2 hours -- I had some alone time; then I went over, then they left to go get some lunch and I was left alone on the beach. They all got sunburned -- Babydoll looks like she has some tropical disease, because Barbie sprayed on the sunblock but never rubbed it in!

I just sat in the sand and looked at the waves and tried to concentrate on the sound. I have tinnitus, a high-pitched ringing in my ears, that sounds like something electronic. All the time. I noticed while at the beach that I couldn't hear it over the sound of the waves.

This was just a gift from God. So I was reminded about the ocean, and why I love it so much, and why it just heals me inside sometimes. I needed that healing on Friday and Saturday. Life has been so full of girls yelling at each other, arguing, at one another's throats. There are days I wish they'd just throw one another down on the floor and have it out. It would be less stressful on everyone. Boys? Easy. Girls? Definitely not.

As I sat there on the beach, I thought once again about how the ocean is so like God. It's huge. It never stops; those waves lapping at the sand there where I was have been lapping there since long before I was here, and will be there long after. Its tide faithfully comes in and out.

Sometimes it is scary, because the waves are big. It can do a lot of damage in a storm.

The sound of it is so soothing. It really is a roar, but not a scary one. It's like white noise, very comforting.

It supports a myriad variety of life. We actually couldn't exist without our oceans. It gives life and sustains life.

It is healing. I will never forget my brother Scott and his stubbed toes at the beach in Florida when we were children. He cried and cried when the salt water touched them -- but they healed in no time. What do we give people in the hospital when they need fluids? Saline solution. Sea salt will cure meat and act as a preservative, also.

It is deep. We may never know its depths. It holds mysteries -- weird, alien-looking life -- that amaze us and creep us out.

Sometimes it's warm, and sometimes cold. Sometimes it invites you to play -- other times, it invites you to walk and listen and meditate.

I love the ocean. I have spent long hours there talking to God when in deep despair. And God has met me there and just been with me.

So today I bless Nan and her generosity, and I bless God for healing my bruised heart. Someday I'll live by the sea, maybe, and I'll go outside in the morning and sing and praise Him for His goodness -- and all the ways it is reflected in His oceans.

xoxoxox

Raking Leaves

My left hand still hurts today. There is a bruise in the skin between my left thumb and first finger from raking leaves the other night. But it's not a bad hurt. It's a good one.

There were just four of us for dinner that night-- Hunk O Man, Bug, Baby and I, and Hunk O Man had a meeting. The other three girls were at a tennis match. So we ate early -- as we never do (we are very european in the way we eat dinner -- as in LATE). By 5:30PM, we were finished, and I went outside.

As Hunk O man left for his meeting, he noticed a rake I'd left by the porch doorway. He asked if someone had been raking, and I answered that yes, as a matter of fact, I had. I had used the rake to put down some mint plants that a friend had dropped by, that I hope will grow around the edge of our covered porch.

So I headed outside with him, and as he left, I grabbed the rake and went at the yard, which was covered in leaves.

It didn't take long before I had a huge pile of leaves, and wondered where I would put them. I decided on the little hillside past the trees, but not so far down as to block the entrance to the shed.

Raking is a mindless business, for the most part. The air was cool, but not cold, and my mind wandered as I heaped huge piles and then proceeded to pull them apart and move them downhill.

I thought about what Hunk O Man would say when he saw the piles of leaves. I could hear him praising my efforts and pointing them out to the girls, who would look at me and ask why I had done it, and I would reply that I wasn't afraid of a little hard work and neither should they be. It would be a wonderful teaching moment and they would respond by raking the entire front yard.
They would remember this all their lives and teach their children about how raking is good for you and generations to come would praise me, the first one who did it, and talk about how a little hard work never hurt anybody.

Uh-huh. I absolutely did think that.

Then I realised that I had been thinking all about me, me, me. I should have been praying for someone else while doing this mindless work! Yes, I should have been doing some other noble thinking task.

So I thought about Constance Marie, for whose daughter I had made some little gaucho pants, and how Constance Marie was so picky about the pockets, and how her daughter had cared less, and Constance Marie should just lighten up; good grief, was I that fixated on the mindless when I was a young mom? And how Constance Marie was going to pay me for making these pants and a few more pairs, and how she'd been so specific about how to make her oldest daughter's -- no poofy pockets or a lot of gathering in the front, please, and how these pants were being made out of my fabric from my stash and the amount she'd proposed to pay me was a little ridiculous, considering it was my fabric and time.

The day was grey, and it seemed like a very long time before it got dark.

And I kept at it. About the time I thought that some of the leaves should go back behind the shed, God got a word in edgewise.

I realised that I shouldn't charge Constance Marie anything at all for the pants. Good grief, had people not been generous enough with me? What about if I just made the pants, gave them to her, and told her that at some point in the future, she'll be called to be generous. So be very generous and remember this, how I am generous to you.

And isn't raking the leaves its own reward, really?

I finished up, and looked over at the side yard by the fence. That needed it, too. I could hear my neighbor talking on the phone in her screened porch.

I thought about why I'd never made a some lemon squares and taken them over to just sit and chat with her.

I thought about how I should call and check in with Myrtle once a week.

I listened a little more. And I made a couple more piles of leaves.

It was finally getting dark. I laughed to myself that neither of the girls had come out to check on me, or just out of curiousity. Not even the dog came to the door and whined to come out with me.

It was just me and God and the leaves. One of those moments of holiness when work and listening collide, and God gets through, and you breathe in the cool air and thank Him that you have a bruise on your hand now from raking. And you say thanks, Lord, for interrupting me and my ridiculously small thinking.

Thank you for lifting my chin and making me look up, Lord. Thank you.

I put the rake away and came inside. Amen.

xoxox

Hello, Old Friends

What's your favourite song?

Personally, I can never decide on just one. It's like asking who is my favourite daughter. They're all my favourites at different times, and all the time in different ways. I tell each of them that she's my favourite -- and nobody puts much stock in it, because I say it to all of them all of the time. And yet nonetheless, it's so true.

My favourite song? Music is something that moves me, moves my heart and my soul and touches me in very intimate places in my heart. It reaches in with wispy, spirit-fingers that sometimes soothe, sometimes calm, and often stir things up.

One song today came to mind as I was thinking about what to write here. My readings today in scripture were all about men avoiding loose women (Proverbs), Jesus in Gethsemane (Luke), and David calling down hellfire on his enemies (Psalms). Nothing really struck me, or stood out to me as something I wanted to talk about.

But I was reminded of this particular song -- one of my favourites --

Hello, old friends

There's really nothing new to say

The old, old story bears repeating

And the plain old truth grows dearer every day

When you find something worth believing

That's a joy that nothing can take away

Which translates to this in my brain:

Dear Mom,

Nothing much going on today. Same old same old. Jesus is still my Saviour, and died on the cross and rose again, alive. What good news! The fact that God has forgiven my sins through our Lord's sacrifice grows more precious to me each day. The economy is bad, times are hard, but I thank God that we are in the palm of His hand, and nobody can grab us out.

love,

jen

xoxoxox

God's (lack of an) Answering Machine

God met me more than halfway, He freed me from my anxious fears . . . God's angel sets up a circle of protection around us while we pray. . . Worship God if you want the best; worship opens doors to all His goodness. . . Is anyone crying for help? God is listening, ready to rescue you. If your heart is broken, you'll find God right there; if you're kicked in the gut, he'll help you catch your breath. Disciples so often get into trouble; still, God is there every time.

These verses from Psalm 34 really struck me today. This is probably because Hunk O Man and I had a serious discussion the other night about money -- primarily, the lack of it. We're in the same situation as everyone else in this country; too much month and not enough income.

I got seriously worried the other night, and I seldom get worried about money like that.

(I think this is because I spent so many of my single years poor. I have never been good with money, and I always managed -- although seldom well. To hear that there isn't enough money isn't worrisome to me, because I've got so much experience in doing without it!)

But I was worried the other night. So, I prayed. What else can you do?

I always am convinced that God will meet us in our need. Scripture reiterates it over and over again. My faith in this seems to grow easier and stronger as I age -- although I have to say, there is more to worry about now more than ever. Therein lies the challenge!

So yesterday, I ran around doing the daily things -- met Nancy for coffee (every Thursday), went to a doctor's appointment, stopped at Goodwill. Ran through a list of ideas in my mind about stuff I can make and sell on Etsy. Prayed about getting a job. Called Hunk O Man and talked to him about a lot we own and have been trying to sell for a couple of years.

Now, Hunk O Man is a connector of people. He is the greatest networker I have ever met. The man knows everyone. He amazes me all the time.

So when I picked up he and the Bug on my way home from my appointment, I wasn't surprised when he offered to run interference for me with some people in the school system. He knows them all, so he offered to introduce me to the "powers that be."

This turned into a quick stop at the school administration office, and about an hour long visit with a Dottie, a lovely woman whom I was delighted to meet. It turns out that as soon as a couple of formalities are completed, I'll be able to start substitute teaching at the high school. And Dottie tells me I can probably work every day if I like.

You know, that's some pretty fast answered prayer. Me working would take some of the pressure off our finances. And it's not just any job -- it's working in the schools where my children already are, and on a flexible schedule that enables me to work when I like and not work when I can't.

He really is there, right there, every time. The God that loves and protects me is looking out for me and my family, specks of dust that we are (in the scope of creation), with a love that simply will not ever stop.

On our answering machine, you hear Bug saying "Hi, this is the Wesner's; you know how we never answer the phone, so leave a message!"

Never once have I needed to leave a message with God, and never once have I gotten his machine. I'm pretty sure He doesn't have one. Thank you, Lord!

xoxoxox

Gratitude Adjustment

Thursday morning, I was mad. I was mad as a hornet at Rose.

We'd gotten into it over whose job it was to do the dishes. It was hers. She said it wasn't. This happens all the time in our house. I call it passing the buck.

Anyway, she headed off to school Thursday morning, not having done the dishes, and I did them. And boy was I mad.

I stayed mad all day. I was ready to tear into Rose when she got home. I was righteously angry. I was justified; I was right, she was wrong, and she should have to do the dishes for a week more. She should thank me for doing the job she so carelessly tossed onto my shoulders. She should offer to do the dishes for the next month. She should fall to her her knees and grovel for mercy at my feet.

Barbie called later that afternoon, while I was on an errand, to say that Rose had injured herself at tennis.

So I walked in, and there was Rose with her ankle elevated.

I was still mad. It was all over my face. Rotten kid! She had to sit right in front of the back door, blocking everyone's access? I could barely get the door open. Why are children so self-centered?

So I had her move chairs, and I went to examine her ankle. Can you move your toes? Can you move your foot at all?

And she started really crying then. She kept saying "I'm so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did I wear those shoes?" I could tell it really hurt, and that she didn't want to cry.

Now, Rose doesn't generally cry. She's a tough kid who plays hard and only cries when she's frustrated by a lack of ability to please everyone. She seldom cries over an injury.

I only hesitated for a second before I said "That's it, let's go." We got into the car and headed for the ER. She needed an x-ray and I knew it. And this did not bode well for a tennis scholarship in the fall if she had to spend the summer recovering from a broken ankle. Yet another reason for me to be irritated. Great, just great. Kids!

We got into the ER and signed in, and started waiting. I called home and asked them to tell Hunk O Man where we were and why.

I got a tiny bit less mad. There were about a bazillion people in the waiting room, and I knew it was going to take forever. Like two or three hours of forever, I thought.

There was no wheelchair available, so I sat down on the floor and propped her foot up on my knee. I retied dishtowel with the ice in it. Rose said "You don't have to sit there, Mom" I knew it. But she would REALLY owe me if I sat there plus I had done the dishes.

(but I really didn't mind that much, sitting there on the floor. I had to manufacture some of the anger I still felt over the dishes)

An orderly saw me sitting, and found us a stool for her foot. We waited some more.

Hunk O Man came in and sat with us. Then he went and got us chips and soda. We debated over who should stay with her, and I told him I would because he'd been working all day. Yes, I would be the martyr who stayed with her, the horrible person who had so blatantly treated me like trash.

(except I had to drum up some of that too, really, because at this point I was getting mad that we hadn't been seen after about 3 hours)

He left his laptop and went back home.

We waited some more. I checked and found out 4 people were ahead of us. Our good friend Miss Nancy brought us crutches to use. Hunk O Man had been home making phone calls.

I was worried that Rose was in pain. I kept asking "Does it hurt?"

Rose and I played a game online called "tanks" and I beat her. But only because she accidentally blew herself up. I found out she'd been playing solo tennis against two boys, and was running to return a ball when she rolled her ankle. She had been wearing a pair of sneakers, but they weren't her good tennis shoes. That's why she kept calling herself stupid. She was afraid she'd really hurt herself and it would prevent her playing tennis in college.

Then she said, "Mom, I know this isn't the time, but I'm sorry I yelled at you last night over the dishes."

Huh? What? When did you yell at me? Over what?

By this time, about four hours had gone by, and my firstborn baby girl was being ignored by these idiot ER people. At least six people had already been called, and it had been her turn after four. I was ready to stand up and say "Can I just get an X-ray, people?"

You know, the thing about being humbled? It's just so -- so -- HUMBLING.

It took a lot of energy for me to be that mad -- for that long -- over the dishes. The dishes, of all things! What a waste!

What if she'd fallen and hit her head and had some kind of brain injury? What if she'd broken not just her ankle, but her leg? What if it had all been caused by a brain aneurysm? What if they x-rayed her ankle and found cancer?

Suffice it to say that SIX hours later, we finally got the x-ray, and ten minutes after that we were on our way home with a wrapped, sprained ankle. Thank God.

Thank God for my baby girl who did not have a broken ankle. Thank God that I was there to take her to the hospital. Thank God it was me who stayed with her and not her daddy. Thank God I have her as a daughter, that God gave her to me, and that she wasn't badly hurt. Thank God for my Rose.

When I lived in southern California, years ago -- surrounded by people blessed with wealth and money, I used to say that we were wealthy, but not in a material sense. God has blessed us with the riches of eternity; with five souls that will last forever.

The dishes will burn up with everything else temporary in this world.

No matter who washed them.


xoxoxox