Day Tripping

The weather here in Southern California continues to be absolutely beautiful. I do not miss Portland’s dampness one bit, not when I can experience all this sunshine day after blessed day.

 

The daytime temps are perfect, allowing us to still comfortably wear our T-shirts and shorts even this late in the year, and the nighttime temps are just chilly enough to warrant snuggling beneath the quilt I made for Ken out of his old T-shirts. In other words, it’s just how I like it.

On Wednesday, we decided to take advantage of the gloriously beautiful weather by driving to The Salton Sea. On our way, we passed through Palm  Springs, Cathedral City, Rancho Mirage, Indian Wells, La Quinta, Indio, Coachella, and finally Mecca, Desert Shores, and The Salton Sea. I think I named them all.

It was one town right after the other, blending so well it was difficult to say exactly when we passed from one to the next, unless we happened to catch the welcome signs. Although the farther we drove, the poorer the cities became. Then, it was easy to tell where the rich left off and the working stiffs began. The first half dozen cities were so opulent that even the bus shelters looked like stucco gazebos, for lack of a better description.

It was too rich for my blood, although Ken did catch me ducking into a Goodwill in Palm Springs. I just had to see what the rich had to offer. (Evidently not much because I left there empty handed!)

These are some of the pictures from the first part of our adventure. Mecca, Desert Shores, and The Salton Sea will have to wait for the next posts.

Along Highway 10 just outside of Banning, there’s a stretch of the desert that has been put to good use as a wind farm. I love seeing alternate energy sources being incorporated so well, as they are in So Cal. Some may call them ugly or even eyesores, but I find them beautiful in both their simplicity and purpose.

Peace,

Jenni and Ken

Glorious Fun

Oh, it has been a glorious week so far, and it is only Wednesday!

I’d love to just blurt out all the goodness that God has been bestowing on us as of late, but I will take my time and parse it out properly over the next few posts.

Yesterday was an absolutely beautiful day. I spent it with my daughter, doing not much of anything, just mom and daughter stuff. We made gluten free peanut butter cookies (recipe to follow) and she highlighted my hair . . . wait for it . . . wait . . .

PURPLE! And so now with my natural silver/gray, I’m sporting the Sacramento King’s colors! Too funny. That one’s just for you, Dale! (Okay, so it doesn’t show up all that well in this picture, but my hair is tinted purple on the ends.)

Those of you who know me personally might notice something else about the pictures. I’m losing weight, although I am not sure how much because I have not stepped on a scale since Portland. Needless to say, I am down a few sizes. Yea! And it is simply melting away without all the usual starvation and torture. What’s my secret, you may ask? Well, when we started our journey, we basically changed our entire lifestyle. That, and I give thanks to God for this, another blessing in my life.

Okay, so I am blurting out an awful lot of the goodness all at once.

On to the cookie recipe. It is the simplest and most delicious cookie recipe ever. Even if you are not gluten intolerant, you may want to try these. They are amazing.

GLUTEN FREE PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES

• 1 cup peanut butter
• 1 cup brown sugar
• 1 egg
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp vanilla

That’s it, unless you are hankering for chocolate with your peanut butter, then add some chocolate chips and you are good to go.

Bake for 10-12 minutes in a 350 degree oven, and I promise they will disappear right before your eyes, even before they have had a chance to cool. Better double the recipe, folks, it is that good.

Love and blessings to you all,

Jenni and Ken

Juggle and Dance

For Sale: Older family home on the outskirts of Beaumont. This is a must see and will not stay on the market long.

Years ago when Ken and I were in the market to purchase our first home together, we scanned the newspaper and we relied on friends to give us the scoop on choice properties they had heard about. This was before we had a computer in our home, mind you. Back then, we used the old-fashioned style of networking.

We saw some beauties, as we traipsed around every weekend from one open house to the next. Most of these beauties we could not afford, of course. But we dared dream big for someday’s sake.

(Wouldn’t this be lovely. Actually, it is Pittock Mansion in Portland, Oregon.)

(Trevor and I washing our feet, above, after working outside in our garden, below, Spring 1999)

The house we settled on was not my first choice, but it was in a good neighborhood, top-notch school district, and it was on a cul-de-sac and was fully fenced. All these were important for my children and so trumped, for instance, a larger kitchen or a basement. It had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a two-car garage.

In the thirteen years we lived in our home, I longed for a larger one. I longed to have an office and a guest room and maybe even a family room, instead of all those rolled into my daughter’s old bedroom. I grumped and grumped about it only having about 1200 square feet of living space, yet in the end, when illness took over, I could no longer even keep that small of a home clean without help.

Then we lived in the tiny duplex for three years. This was a major adjustment, being so  much smaller than even that 1200 square foot home. But we did it, and I grumped about all our junk, day in and day out, until I could grump no more.

Now we live in a 32 foot Firan Raven motor coach with no slide outs. It is crowded. We cannot seem to get rid of all our junk. I guess it’s human nature, our junk, our mess. We all have something hidden in our closets, or spilling out as the case may be.

Even though it’s crowded and we have to juggle and dance more often than not, I love living in this confined space. Most everything I need is close at hand. Our bedroom is wall-to-wall mattress and pillows. Most nights I sleep like a baby tucked safely in a crib.

I am claustrophobic, but this arrangement does not bother me. I have the whole out-of-doors as my living space. At most resorts, we have a pool and a hot tub a short walk away, and with all the beautiful, new surroundings, I am eager and willing to walk Tinker Belle every day, too.

Sure, I would like a large house some day, but I can clean this one, end to end, in under an hour. How could I ever beat that, without hiring help?

Blessings are where you look for them.

Love,

Jenni and Ken

This Is The Day

“This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24

The above psalm is one of my favorites. In fact, it is one of my life verses, those few verses that really resonate in my soul and that I strive the most to live by.

July 27th was the day we chose to set out again, after spending a week at home with the boys. After a long, grueling week, finishing all the things we had left undone a month ago, we set out. Since our reservations were for Bushytail Campground in the Shasta-Trinity National Forest (and that’s such a long way from Portland), we decided to spend one night dry camping at a random rest stop along the way.

We tried to sleep, but sleep would not come easily, and we ended up leaving the rest stop early the next morning. We were both so full of excitement about our upcoming adventures. Crossing the Oregon/California border, in my mind, was the point where there was no turning back. We were actually on our journey.

Portland is no longer our home. It is where we hail from.

This realization came with many more realizations and with many tears last week as I said goodbye to Portland and all I love who live there.

When we finally crossed the California border, we sailed right through. The mountainous highway was heating up the Raven, but she was hanging in there. We stopped at the rest stop just inside California, to let her cool and also so that we could take a break and regroup. We still had too many miles left to go without a decent rest first.

Up to this point, I had been having much trepidation about the long drive to Bushytail, but I could not put my finger on any specific reason. I chalked it up to general anxiety about having to drive the truck by myself, following Ken in the Raven, the whole way. I do have the pleasure of Tinker Belle’s Company in the truck with me, and she is a great comfort, but she’s not a relief driver.

Concerning me driving: I am a perfectly capable driver, but I have these pain issues. Ken and I had many long talks about the need for me to drive. We also agreed that how far, or even whether, we drive would be dependent on me and how I felt that day. If I need to stop, we stop. No questions, arguments, or cajoling. We simply stop when I say stop. We carry walkie talkies to communicate as we drive. This is much better than trying to call him on the cell phone, which is illegal, as we all know. A walkie talkie is so much easier to use, anyway. When I need to say something, all I have to do is push a button and talk. If that fails, I flash my high beams.

After two hours of rest, we got back into our rigs and prepared to hit the road again. Click click. Click click. The Raven would not start.

My anxieties grew. Had we made the right decision? Five surgeries (Ken three, Trevor two) and a stint in the ICU (Ken) had kept us tied to Portland for the past three years. Was God telling us, again, that this wasn’t the time? Lord, please tell me what to do next.

We decided to let the Raven  have a few more hours to cool off, thinking that was the problem, and I resolved to live the psalm I quoted earlier. No matter what, I had to find the joy in even this situation, because whether I became angry or happy, it was all a choice within my power. We took the camp chairs, a blanket, some food and drinks, and a toy for Tink, and we settled ourselves beneath a large maple. And we laughed. We people watched. We saw deer as they came down out of the hills for water, as evening approached. We took a nice walk along the river. We played fetch with Tink. We had a wonderful evening.

All this joyousness despite the situation, yet I still had this underlying anxiety about Bushytail I could not shake.

We tried to start the Raven again. Nothing. We tried cross jumping from the house batteries. Nothing. We tried jumping from the truck. Still nothing. So we gave up, resolved to call AAA in the morning, preferring not to spoil any more of the Lord’s day (as it happened to be a Sunday) with any more of this trouble. Out of necessity, there would be a second night of dry camping.

But there was still our reservations to deal with. If we didn’t make it to Bushytail by evening, we would lose our space and the money we already shelled out for it. The decision was made to try to cancel. I called, and luckily, we were able to get most of our money back. They kept the first night’s charge, plus a cancelation fee.

I cannot explain it, but my anxiety evaporated after canceling our plans. Was this God’s way of saying He didn’t want us to go to Bushytail? I may never know. What I do know is that after the Raven was fixed, we had an equally long drive ahead of us, and I hadn’t an ounce of anxiety in my whole body.

Love and blessings,

Jenni

Providence

The weather has been mighty hot this past week. So painfully hot, especially with our high humidity. After we settled in to our spot here at Pheasant Ridge in Wilsonville, I ascertained that Ken had indeed hooked us up to electrical, and I switched on the AC. I waited patiently, knowing she’s an old system, she’s an old Raven, produced in 1996, the last year Firan was in business.

I waited patiently a little longer, and longer still, but the best she could do was tepid air. I so desired my sweaty body to put forth goose bumps in response to her chilly breath, but I was sadly disappointed.

Poor Tinker Belle was suffering more than we humans, though. Pugs are notorious for not tolerating the heat, or the cold for that matter. When a dog pants, she is quickly forcing air across her palate the entire length of her snout, and this helps cool her. Dogs cannot sweat. Being a brachycephalic breed (smashed face), Pugs are at a major disadvantage because they do not have a snout, nor a lengthy palate, to help in the cooling process.

Round about the time I became most worried about my little girl, I had been icing my leg. I had a major fall last week. One heck of a goose egg right away, and now a smaller goose egg (but still sizeable) and major bruising from my knee down.

Simply dampening Tinker was not cooling her. She gulped water until her belly bulged. I feared she might go into another seizure or have a heart attack. I asked Ken to hand her to me, and I laid her across my icepack. Surprisingly (or not) she chose immediately to stay on that icepack, and she stayed there for a few hours, until my homemade icepack finally melted.

With the rest of the week threatening to stay in the humid 90’s, we chose to take Tinker back home, where Trevor could care for her with our two other dogs and without me worrying about losing my precious pup to the heat.

Today we had to take the Raven in to have a new AC installed. The mobile repairman, who came out promptly the first day of our crisis, said that with its age, replacement was about our only option. This Raven, I love her, but she’s a greedy beast. Laurelhurst Heating and Air Conditioning in Portland did an awesome job, on time, and saved us money, to boot.

I love it when God’s divine intervention helps us. That is, when we actually listen. God’s providence put us close enough to home to resolve our problem with little stress. The Holy Spirit’s whispers also guided me not to purchase tickets for Friday’s rodeo event. I had no idea why, but my gut was telling me to leave Friday open, and so I purchased tickets for only four of the five days. And Friday just happened to be the only opening the repair shop had to install our new AC.

Be still and listen, and you too may hear the Whispers of the Holy Spirit gently guiding you.

Even though I know my son will take good care of my Tinker, I miss her terribly. So the part of Tinker Belle this week had to be played by my newest Pug stuffie, Rorie.

Blessings and joy to you,

Jenni

Here’s a special bonus: My Homemade Icepack Recipe

Pour a 16 ounce bottle of rubbing alcohol into a gallon sized Ziploc bag. Add 32 ounces of water to the rubbing alcohol in the Ziploc, seal securely, give it a little sloshing, and place within another Ziploc, just for good measure. Then stick it in the freezer until firm. It can be used over and over, just refreeze.

Heavenly Joy

There are times in our lives when nothing seems to go right. There are also times when it seems nothing can go wrong. We have all had both kinds of days. When we are in the former, our psyche, our very soul, seems to get beaten down by all the pressures, stresses, and negatives of life.

Then there are those days when all goes joyously far beyond our wildest  dreams and expectations. These are the days we all crave. We get a sort of high. Our smiles become contagious, and we cannot help but be good to one another, just for the shear pleasure of seeing another person smile.

I crave these days just as much as the next person, but with my illness, I oftentimes must work the process in reverse. My days don’t often go beyond my wildest dreams (though sometimes they do), yet I can still feel that rush, that soul healing joy I desperately crave, by first giving and smiling and loving on others.

This is one of the secrets to my joy. Listen closely, now. It lightens the burden on my soul when I give freely of my worldly, oftentimes cherished, belongings.

Have I lost you? Let me elaborate. My physical being is a mess. I have Lyme disease, fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, adrenal fatigue, arthritis, migraines, blah, blah, blah. The list goes on and on, unfortunately. Needless to say, I am in constant pain, and this state of constant pain puts a damper on my naturally good mood.

But the Lord is good. He has shown me how to find bits of joy amongst my pain, interspersed with my tears.

Best of all, He has shown me how to get a booster shot when I need it, to energize and heal my soul. It is as simple as giving. Donating. Even tithing (and now I hear a bunch of non-church-goers going, “ugh”). It does my soul good, knowing that something I am able to give can do so much good in someone else’s life.

Ken took a load of building supplies to the Habitat Restore Store this morning.

My heart swelled, and so did his.

Ken took an equally large load to the Salvation Army thrift store.

His smile threatened to push his ears clean off his face, as his mood soared. And mine did, too.

Even with two truckloads gone, we still had a lot to make decisions on. Then I remembered freecycle. It is a yahoo group here in the Portland area. I imagine there might be more chapters around the country. It is worth checking out. We gave away some large ticket items that we simply could not sell. Ken said he would haul them to the appropriate places for donation, but I was feeling so good, soul-wise, at this point that I suggested we list them on freecycle. Within an hour, the first large item was gone, the second is pending pickup tomorrow, and the third, well I’m waiting to hear back as to when she wants to pick it up.

My joy is overwhelming today, even though my body is riddled with pain and my stress level is through the roof.

My stress is so high because we have only a few days left here in Portland before we hit the road, and we have a ton of work to do still. Having access to this “heavenly joy” will allow me to keep on, minute by minute, keeping faith that God will get us over this hurdle. It will allow me to do what little I can to help, with a smile on my face, instead of tears and heartache for all that I cannot physically do.

I wish you this level of joy. I pray that you have instances in your life where the “pay it forward” system of living and giving will touch your heart and your soul with an over abundance of joy and gratitude.

I had a season of being on the receiving end more often than not over the past year or two, and the receiving also blossomed into wondrous joy, as I realized that others did care and did want to help this tired old soul. They lifted me up with a box of apples, boxes of pears, green beans, a car for our use for three months without charge, a hug and friendship when I needed it most, a bouquet of flowers from a neighbor for “no reason,” many homemade meals delivered hot and ready to eat, and so many other large and small blessings.

I am grateful for all the blessings we have received. And I am grateful for every one of you.

Jenni

PRIORITIZE

If you only had twenty eight days until "hit-the-road" day, and you knew that at least half those days would be stolen by pain, how would you prioritize your time?

I have a house to go through, making decisions on what to keep, take, store, sell, or donate. Ah, but the good thing is, if we leave stuff behind, the boys (son Trevor and his best bud William) will say, “Score!” They will be taking over the lease on the duplex.

I have friends to say goodbye to, at least for a year, though we will still have email (though sporadic at times) and the good ole tellie.

I have financial and medical/medication issues to magically make "transportable."

I have a neighbor who wants me to finish up our cooking lessons before I jet out of here. She still needs my secrets on lemon meringue pie, yeast dough, and pad Thai.

I have two boys I worry about. I pray we have raised them well enough, Ken and I with Trevor, and William’s parents, that is. I know they are both 21 and I had a kid on the hip by that age, but they are boys and I worry. I pray I’ve imparted enough of my hard knocks wisdom (ha ha) to them to keep them out of trouble, to keep them in their jobs and in this duplex. They do listen. I will give them that. I will miss them dearly when we go. I cannot seem to convince them to move south with us. But I think mama is having trouble cutting the apron strings.

I have my doctor, finally, wanting to send me to a pain specialist, finally. Did I say finally? Only in order to see a pain specialist, I have to be physically available in one area for months, until we find resolve. Finally, he makes this decision, but I only have 28 days left in Portland, and we won’t make it to New Mexico until October.

Winter was not kind to me. Winters never are. I joked often that the week wasn’t complete until I had fallen. Then it was fallen twice in a week. Then it was daily falls. It isn’t funny any longer. I now walk fulltime with a cane.

I’ve added another diagnosis to my list, and we are contemplating yet another, if we can figure it out. Yipee. But if we do figure it out, maybe we could finally get a handle on why my pain has gotten so out of control this past year. It has been far worse than in a long time.

My father passed away on the first of Spring. With the passing of my father, it has been like a major chapter in my life closing. Emotionally painful, yes, and yet there is a release. Maybe this is why God kept us here in Portland for so very long. That and all the surgeries my guys went through. Ken three and Trevor two in the span of two years. It has been a very tough three years we’ve spent in a duplex only slated for one year.

When God closes a door, He opens a window. For a breath of fresh air? A change of scenery? Or to at least have an opportunity to empty the chamber pot. Excuse the humor being a bit crass. It has been a very tough few years, frankly. And a very tough day, to boot.

We will be leaving Portland, Oregon, on June 30, 2013, whether we are ready or not.

Ken has been feverishly remodeling the Raven to accommodate my needs and so that we have the most economical use of space possible. After travelling some over the past few summers, we really found out what would work best for us.

I am sorry I have not been around lately. As I mentioned, winter was very hard on me. The pain and the migraines were too much. I’m trying to find the quality in a life so full of pain, but it is difficult. Life goes on, even with the pain, and so we must get on the road. We must get on the road, especially if we plan on wintering down south this year.

It may be a month before I write again, but I will be back. Thank you for hanging in there. Thank you for all your prayers. I know there must be many souls out there praying for me, because I experience God’s miracles every day. Even in this life so full of pain. I am so grateful for all of you.

Our first destination is actually only about 50 miles away from home, but what a sendoff—spending the Fourth of July at the rodeo in St. Paul! Next will be Neskowin, to say goodbye to some friends. And then we travel in a generally southerly direction until we reach Mexico (at which time we will bounce off the border and stay put in New Mexico or Arizona for the winter).

The St. Paul Rodeo in St. Paul, Oregon, July 2-6, 2013.

See you then!

PAIN

A typical day for me, these wintry days, requires a great amount of courage and strength of spirit. Even when my corporal strength lags far behind my desires, it takes everything I have within me just to face another day filled with pain.

Even though I have worked through most of my troubles from the past, and the accompanying depression is all but gone, I still have the desire to put myself out of my misery. My pain is so great a burden. Misery is the key. Suffering for no reason. I have always considered myself able to handle monumental amounts of pain. I have worked long hours on feet that screamed with every step. I have forced my hands to work through unspeakable torture. But today, as I write this, I have to admit the pain has become too great. I am no longer stoic enough.

Many days I am in so much pain, tears threaten. Any little stressor can set me off, and it is not that the stressor or the person or the “offense” is really great enough on its own to warrant tears. They just overflow. They are pain.

Pain.

I am not enough to handle this pain alone. In times of despair, I want to cut away at my own body to remove the worst of the pain. But then I would have no arms, no legs, no nothing.

On a typical day, I do not leave the house. It is too much for me to muster. When I have an appointment, it takes extra preparation and extra rest the day before. That is, if my pain is allowing me to sleep. It takes great effort to put my pain aside and get out the door. It takes coaxing from my dear husband.

I try my best to accomplish at least a little something every day. This is important to me. I have this drive within that is greater than my pain.

Winters are terrible. Each one I spend here in Portland is worse than the one before. I need to get out of here. Please, God.

Smile, and I Will Get By

The chill which is Portland Fall is officially upon us. I woke up crying this morning. All my joints felt as if they had been stretched beyond their limits, snapped back, and then twisted mercilessly. The chill was quick to set into my bones this year, quicker than any past. It is going to take a miracle to get me through another winter in Oregon.

I will definitely miss summer.

Oh, that magical season when my joints are nice and limber. Always in pain, but nice and limber in the summer, just the same.

This really isn’t that great of a picture of me, taken a few months ago, but I chose it to make a point. Once upon a time I was as flexible as a . . . well, maybe I will let your imagination run a bit. And I can still get into some awkward positions, even at my size and age. Now, bring your imagination back. I didn’t mean for it to go that far!

At any rate, I will miss summer.

Sometimes, no matter what we do, we just cannot get past the pain.

We cannot blink the tears away.

We cannot kiss all the boo boos bye bye.

We simply cannot wish away the pain, no matter how hard we try.

Sometimes, all we can do is distract ourselves, minute by minute, hopefully in healthy ways.

My art is my distraction. Along with the larger pieces I am working on, I have dabbled lately in some whimsy.

Whimsy is good for the soul, good for pain. So is laughing. Smiling. Hugging. Kissing. (Oops. Did I say that out loud?)

Can’t you just picture Charlie Chaplin as he sings about smiling through his pain? Hey, you don’t have to envision! Here’s a Youtube video for you to check out. It isn’t mine, but I thought you might enjoy it.

Smile, Charlie Chaplin

Smile, though your heart is aching
Smile, even though it is breaking
When there are clouds in the sky
You’ll get by…

If you smile
With your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You will find that life is still worthwhile
If you just…

Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near
That is the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what is the use of crying
You will find that life is still worthwhile
If you just…

Smile, though your heart is aching
Smile, even though it is breaking
When there are clouds in the sky
You’ll get by…

If you smile
Through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You will find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile…

That is the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what is the use of crying
You will find that life is still worthwhile

 

Blessings for a pain-free day, or at least one filled with laughter.

Love, Jenni Lynn

The Poppy and The Pod

I wrote the following in the wee hours of this morning, before all the pain and exhaustion from such a busy weekend caught up to me. Before the natural high wore off, allowing all that pain to return, as I emotionally let down my guard.

Please read it as a prayer and a dedication I am making into my new life. I have been struggling with where God wants me, what He wants me to do with my life. Through months or searching and prayer, I may be getting close to His dream for me. And as you know, His dreams for us don’t always line up with our own. His dreams eclipse ours, outshine ours unlike nothing we could ever have imagined.

Thank you for being my readers. May God bless you as He has blessed me.

Love, Jenni Lynn

 

THE POPPY AND THE POD

October 15, 2012

Yesterday I found myself back within my element. Talking with even more likeminded people. Listening. Learning. Absorbing. Stretching. Growing.

I found myself back at Wordstock. The Oregon Convention Center. On the escalators, beneath the giant poppies. I stopped to study these gigantic glass ornaments. They catch the backlight and come aglow. My eyes shift toward the top of the escalator. A large alien-looking green pod sits alone. Closed to the outside world. Heavy and dull. Frightening in its obscurity.

Within this space, this element of mine, I stretch my bubble. I poke it in all directions. I open my eyes to all the possibilities. The learning. The conversations. And then I act. Like a real person. A real woman. A real writer. A real illustrator. A person of good, strong character. I act and feel how I have always believed normal people act and feel every day.

Within this space, this element of mine, I am the poppy, unfurling my colors before the sun. I am no longer the pod, so full of potential but ever frozen in time.

I have no excuses for my past. I will no longer rely on qualifying statements about my efforts.

 

This is me. Living within my joy.

Head held high. Smile broad and bright.

Eagerness pouring from my every cell.

And love.

Compassion.

Courage.

 

This is me. Having the courage to step out in faith.

Trusting God has my back.

My front.

My every footfall.

 

This is me. Meeting the real me.

Enjoying the discovery process.

Seeking only His opinion of me.

Desiring to live up to His vision of me.

 

This is me. Living in love.

Loving God. Loving myself. Finally loving myself.

Trusting His love won’t abandon me.

His truths won’t fade away or change.

 

This is me. Living in trust.

Humbled to be chosen.

Accepting forgiveness when I fail.

Relaxing into the ocean of His truth.

Closing my eyes and allowing His miracles to wash over me.

 

This is me, Lord.

The me you made me to be.

 

Coffee in one hand, cheese-covered guilt in the other. Candy wrappers stuffed hastily in my pocket. You know this about me, and yet you still love me. You still have compassion and not pity for me. You still want glorious things of me and for me. Nothing I do can make you stop loving me. No matter how much I act out or feel like a failure. Nothing.

Like the flood rushing down from the mountains with the spring rains, no dam can hold back or cut off your love. It will wash over me. Drown me in peace and grace. Fill my lungs with righteousness. Only you can love me like this.

Nothing. And only you. Unconditional love at its finest. It is you or nothingness. And no matter how difficult it has been to grasp your depth of love, I cannot begin to fathom nothingness. I pray I never have to.

Teach me, Lord. Teach me speak. Teach me your ways. Put the correct words in my mouth and lead me to the correct actions. Make me aware of you, always. Do not count me among the Israelites who asked never to see your face or hear your voice ever again. Teach me speak, as only you can. I long to hear your voice, feel your presence. Your nearness.

Let me rise and do great things in your name, but keep me humble so that I may stay in your presence and not let conceit destroy me.

There is a brisk clip to my gait as I carry out these joys. These promises you’ve given me. I no longer feel like a fake. No longer on the fringe of life and love. No longer self-marginalized. You’ve instilled confidence in my heart.

I turn my flush petals to your brightness, seeking and accepting your warmth and love. Thank you. Thank you seems inadequate. I love you. Even my love seems inadequate compared to yours.

I am yours. I am your poppy.

No longer the pod.

 

My life comes aglow only with your illumination.

I live to carry out your desires.

I live to ring your quiet bell of grace.

 

I long to hear the trumpets that signal all hope.

Amen.

Love, Jenni Lynn

Living My Joy

One day, I shall sit in one of these red chairs, and I shall read aloud from my own published work.

Today I spent the day in my element, amongst likeminded people, talking words. Style. Prose. Genre. Today I attended Wordstock at the Oregon Convention Center. It was the first year I actually made it, having had a multitude of excuses over the past several years. Pain. Exhaustion. Depression. Anxiety. Fear. No one to go with.

Well, last night I was in severe pain, and I woke up in a great amount of pain, too. So we can scratch that excuse off the list. I made the conscious decision sometime during the night to not allow my pain to have that much power and authority in my day. It would be nice if I could keep that attitude for life, never wavering, but one day at a time is good, and at least for today the pain did not have me, even though I had pain.

I was determined to  go to Wordstock with or without pain. I did my best to sleep last night, and I ate a complete and balanced breakfast to keep my energy up. I would not let exhaustion control my day, either.

Emotionally, I have felt fairly well, other than my stress level being too high. No depression. Some normal sadness, but no major depression. This is a great thing. Anxiety seems to be creeping back into my life, but I am taking steps to deal. Being proactive and having a plan can make all the difference in the world when it comes to emotional stability. These, too, cannot be excuses. Absolutely cannot, as part of my proactive plan.

Even with my determination, my drive, sometimes I can be derailed, and all the positive talk and proactive efforts in the world cannot help me get out of bed on those mornings.

Talk about having to live in the moment. Taking one day at a time to the full extent of the meaning.

But now I am getting off on a painful tangent.

This morning I arrived at the Oregon Convention Center bright and early. I did not even let the timing of my first class (9 a.m.) deter me. I went alone, which was actually probably the best for me because I was able to get totally absorbed in every conversation and every class discussion, without worrying about where so-and-so was or if they were bored.

I had the most awesome day, and I was definitely in my element. What does being in my element look like?

• confident
• determined
• goal oriented
• willing to step outside my comfort zone
• stepping outside my comfort zone without even thinking about it
• constantly smiling
• patient with those around me
• extra loving and helpful, even to total strangers
• not concerned about what others might think
• willing and able to ask for what I need without anxiety or fear that they will say no
• joy fills my heart

It is an amazing gift that God has given me, this ability to live within my joy instead of constantly chasing it and always falling short.

Thank you, Lord, for this amazing day.

What a Month!

I really don’t know where the time has gotten to. It seemed like we were still in August just yesterday, and now here we are on the last day of September. What happened?

I shall tell you.

First, it has been harvest season, and the abundance has kept me busy. I’ve told you already about the pears our gracious neighbor down the street gave us. Well, we have also received tomatoes, onions, and beets from friends and neighbors.

The blessings continue, and I am so humbled and overwhelmed by the love, Jesus’s love, I feel coming through all these people in my life.

Friday was a very good day for me, emotionally and pain-wise. So I decided that my guys deserved an awesome supper. I made cioppino, which was amazing, as usual. I also canned salsa Friday.

Saturday, I still had too many tomatoes lying around, and so they went into the oven to be roasted for tomato soup. You can find the recipe in one of my other blog posts, here. There were so many tomatoes that once roasted and pureed, they had to go into the freezer for those cold winter nights we know are on their way. It will be wonderful, come November or December, to pull out a container of roasted tomato puree, add the chicken broth and evaporated milk, and viola! Dinner is served!

But that’s not all. No, that’s not all.

Our good friends and neighbors got married a week ago. –And it has taken me this long to recuperate. Ken and I prepared most of the wedding banquet—an amazing Mexican feast including the best Spanish rice Ken has ever made (about 6 gallons of it in total), carnitas (50 pounds before cooking), pork and nopales in red sauce (3 gallons worth), potato salad (3 gallons), salsa (3 gallons), refried beans (4 gallons), and enough fruit to fill our second refrigerator. No, we never did get rid of it, but in all honesty, it sat, unplugged, until just before the wedding. I am glad we still had it available. Frankly, I cannot remember what else was on the menu, except homemade tortilla chips. It took me two days to make those silly things, there were so many, and yet people gobbled them up like there was no tomorrow. That’s the only thing I would have been concerned about running out of, had more people shown up. As it was, there was a great crowd.

Thank you for allowing me a little break from writing. Thank you for blessing me with your readership. I am grateful for all.

And now, some pictures. Oh, I forgot to say that while I wasn’t refilling the buffet (since my teenaged helpers disappeared), I was also the wedding photographer. The ceremony took place in their back yard. Enjoy a little taste of Oregon, Mexico style!

This was after the melons were peeled and sliced and put in the restaurant tubs in the bottom. The pitchers on the top to the right are agua de fresca, another menu item I forgot to mention, 3 gallons, saved mostly for immediate family.

The pork and nopales (cactus).

There was a live band and dancing half the night.

Since the entire family was there, which as you know can be difficult to achieve with today’s busy lives, I took family portraits during the wedding as well. Not just the newlyweds and her  kids, but all the brothers and their families too, and then the next generation too, since my friend has grand-babies. I must admit, however, that by the end of the evening, as the band was getting packed up, I had to grab someone to get a pic of me and my guys, since we were all dressed up. Considering this picture was taken around ten at night, I think I look pretty darn good still.

Of all the pictures, this one has to win the award for the most touching moment, between uncle and niece, as he fixed her ribbons before the portraits were taken.