Phooling Around Again

I was going through my old photos on my computer and I found some that didn't make the first cut, but I changed my mind and decided they might be worth sharing anyway. Hope you enjoy them and have a restful Sunday afternoon.

An Evening on the Lake

Got to go to the lake this afternoon with my adopted family, TC and JC. Thought I'd share a couple of my favorite pics from the adventure. My editing software is down, so these are with only basic edits.

 

Just be you!

Yesterday I preached my first sermon. Normally writing on this blog is a welcome respite from the constant theological discourses ruminating in my mind, but I just have to write about what happened. To set the stage a bit here's a little background info on my job at the church. I'm an administrative assistant (pretty much a glorified secretary), but I'm also the pastor's intern. In April of this year my church voted to license me as a minister. This isn't the same as being ordained, but is kinda like a first step in that direction and enables me to preach in the church. Bro. L had talked to me about filling in for him on some Wednesday night Bible Studies, but I had kept putting it off, secretly hoping the day would never come. Bro. L was feeling a little overwhelmed this week, so Tuesday I called him and offered to fill in for him. I must admit I was hoping he'd be touched by the gesture, but decline. Well he didn't. The relief in his voice when he asked if I was sure I could cover for him told me I was doing the right thing. I had some Bible studies I'd done for various theology classes so I figured I could whip something up pretty quickly. Boy was I wrong. The second I started thinking about Wednesday night I started getting nervous. And not the good nervous, but butterflies-in-the-stomach-gut-wrenching-no-sleep-the-night-before type anxious. Because of this I decided to use Philippians 4:6-7 as my text, which is all about not being anxious but relying on God. Tuesday night I still was having a lot of trouble coming up with good stories and illustrations, though I had a pretty good idea of what direction I wanted to go. So, as I normally do when I'm worried about something, I went for a walk. As I walked the image of carrying a backpack full of rocks came to mind. It was though, with each worry someone was adding another rock to my backpack. My step was getting heavier, my body tired, my soul more and more troubled. Then I reflected on the verses I was preaching on and it hit me that even though I was carrying such a heavy backpack of worries, I wasn't doing it alone. Or at least I didn't have to be. Inspiration struck and I ran home to the computer, punched out an outline, and continued to tweak it until about 30 minutes before the service started. All day Wednesday I was still pretty nervous though. I've realized it's not speaking in front of people that makes me anxious, it's using a microphone. Not sure why, but that's how it is. Anyway, TC had been helping me look over my outline for any glaring errors and had also been giving me encouragement and attempting to quell my nerves. He told me before his first couple times in a courtroom (he's a lawyer) he was so violently ill that he could barely leave the restroom. As this was my first time preaching, I could definitely relate to that feeling. TC also said something I think is very profound. I've changed the wording around a bit, but the sentiment is the same. He said, "Just be yourself. Don't try to be some famous theologian, because you're not. Be who God made you to be - no one else." That did it. I realized I had been trying to live up to my preacher, trying to instill some sort of amazing theological insight into the minds of the congregation, but that wasn't me at all. That was really what got me through it without being so anxious I tossed my cookies. I printed the quote in LARGE font across the top of my notes and whenever I felt myself getting nervous I just looked at those words and it was okay. I made it through the service with a fairly even voice, and all the reactions seemed to be positive. There were only about 15 folks there, all of whom I knew, and they all had smiles on their faces after it was over. Though the brevity of my comments probably had something to do with it. I found something strange though. I haven't felt peace about my future, and some other things in my life, in a long time, but when I was speaking it felt as if I was in exactly the right place. Right where God wanted me to be. Right where I wanted to be. I loved being able to be an encouragement and a help to others, and I hope I get the chance to speak again soon.

My Funeral

Don't worry, I'm not not suicidal or depressed, just being pensive and cerebral. Monday, I helped with the funeral of one of the older ladies in our church. She wasn't someone I knew personally, but the service touched me. Part of the service was a video remembrance, which portrayed her life through photos. My mind began to wander, as it frequently does, and I found myself ruminating on my own funeral. Now, I hope that it's a long time in coming, but if something were to happen to me today, what would my funeral be like? How would I be remembered? What pictures would they use to show my life? A year ago I would have spouted off the typical Christian mantra of wanting to be remembered for putting my faith before all else, but today I'm not so sure. One thing I do know is I'd like to be remembered with laughter. Preferably not directed straight at me, but if so that's okay as well. I love going to memorial services where people have smiles on their faces, because they have such good memories of the deceased. I would want people to remember all the practical jokes I played, and had played upon me, all the frivolous fun days spent with roommates, carefree days spent with Max just lounging around. I'd love to see what photos they'd pick to show. I've changed a lot from the blond haired kid in this picture! I suppose they could use photos I've taken through the years, as well as all the goofy one friends have taken of me, but I'd want it set to some sort of upbeat happy music. A friend suggested, "Who Let The Dogs Out," but I think I'd probably choose some sort of Christian Rock song for myself. It'd be interesting to put together my own video memorial. I may do that as a random project some day...Most of all I guess I'd want to be remembered as a good friend. My name comes from the traditional Hebrew, Ruth, which means "beautiful friend." I've always taken this to mean beautiful not in physical beauty but inner beauty. Someone who was always there for her friends, ready to do whatever was needed to help them out. This is something I've strived for in life, and hope to be remembered for. My faith is still very important to me, but in a different way. I'd like to be thought of as not being judgemental towards other people's beliefs. As far as I'm concerned, we all have the right to believe what we feel is right, and shouldn't try to force our views on someone else. I want folks to look at me as personally living out what I think is right, being considerate of others beliefs, and being a blessing towards others instead of a hindrance. My hope is that my family would remember me for how much I've loved them, no matter what our differences might have been through the years. They are the most important people in the world to me. You know, it's interesting to ponder one's own identity. Really. I have found myself ruminating on the thought, "What is the meaning of my life?" "What difference am I making?" There are so many questions in this life that have no answers, so many endless paths our minds can wander down that I wonder if I'll ever be able to find the answers I seek. Still, I think it's the journey that matters most. My lasting contribution will probably not be any one significant thing I do, but the way I live my life. Meaning that not to sound arrogant, but just to say most of us will likely never do something huge that will make people stand up and take notice of us, but we can make a difference to those around us we encounter every day. I would imagine at my funeral there would be folks that I didn't know that well, but I touched in some way with a small gesture here or there. That's something I would consider to be a triumph in my life. To make a difference everyday for the better. To live life as a journey, not as a destination. Inevitably, the journey will come to an end, but I'm not going to live my life focused on that. I'm going to look around me at this moment and see what kind of difference I can make today.

Side Note: I found out today that Wednesday night I'll be leading the evening service at our church. Our pastor is kinda overwhelmed at the moment, so I volunteered to do it for him. This is a big deal for me because it'll be the first "grown-up" service I've led on my own since being licensed as a minister, and I'm kinda anxious about it (which is ironic because my topic is not being anxious!). Please send up good thoughts or prayers, whichever is your style, for me.

Lazy Saturdays

Saturdays are normally catch-up time for me. I tend to let stuff go a bit during the week then clean and work on Saturday so I can relax on Sunday. Today, was the exception...I woke up planning to go on an early run, but thunder and lightning deterred that plan so I just went right back to bed and didn't get up till after noon. It was blissful. I apparently really needed to catch up on sleep more than on housework. When I did get up I was super hungry so I decided to make burgers. I am a carnivore, growing up on a cattle ranch made this almost certain, but I'm trying to be healthier. Yesterday I had finally gone grocery shopping, and I picked up some ground turkey for burgers, something I had sworn up and down I would never do. They actually came out really well. Way leaner than beef, and the taste was surprisingly not that different from beef. I think I'm going to switch to cooking with turkey and chicken instead of beef for awhile and see if it makes a difference. Trying really hard to make weight so I can get my paperwork with the National Guard started. I had to wait until 6 months before graduating to try to get into their Chaplain Candidate Program, but since I'm under that now, the only thing holding me back is the physical aspect. Anyway, that's why the choice of turkey burgers. I was in a baking mood after that so I decided to make butterscotch scotchies again. They are probably my favorite cookie right now, excepting the always favorite of oatmeal raisin. Since I'm on this healthy kick, I kept only the broken ones for myself and took all the good ones over to TC and JC. (I even put the softer, more undercooked ones on top for TC because they're his favorite.) JC then invited me to stay for dinner and punch so I just hung out with them for a bit. Like I've mentioned before, I just really treasure getting to spend time with them. They're such sweet folks, and I've enjoyed getting to know them better this summer. I just love these rare lazy Saturdays. They kinda sneak in once in a blue moon, and leave me refreshed and smiling. Now, to get to those darn dishes...

Updates

For today check out the updates to my pages.

About Me - A little bit of who I am and what I'm about...pretty self explanatory.

Phooling Around - Photos I've taken recently, and a couple old favorites.

Bucket List - A bunch of things I hope to accomplish in my lifetime, with pics of things already crossed off the list.

Also, a shameless plug for my sister's new blog, A Little Light Photography. She's an amazing photographer, so you should all check out her work.

Feel free to check 'em out and leave comments/thoughts/constructive criticisms. Hope everyone has a rockin' weekend!

Tragedy #002 - Poverty

Part of my job as the Administrative/Ministry Assistant at my church is to help run the small food bank we have. We don't discriminate on race, age, gender, or anything else; if you need help, we'll do the best we can to make it happen, no strings attached. I think this is a pretty good gig for some folks. We give out a certain number of pounds of food to each family, and even help out with utility bills or gasoline for people who are traveling. Like I said, we don't really ask questions, just what we need to know for government reporting purposes, and to make sure there really is a need. I am constantly amazed by 1) just how many people we help every day, and 2) the number of people who try to pull one over on us. I live in a small town, about 11,000 people, but the poverty level here is above average. All the lower-level income jobs are taken by college students from the two colleges here, so there is little opportunity for employment. I don't have the exact figures on how many people we help a day, but normally every afternoon I help at least 1-3 families. They can come once a month, so 2 families per day times 30 is about 60 families a month that come in during my work hours alone. Most of these people are kind, just down-on-their-luck type folks who are grateful for any help we can give. Many times I've ended up having discussions with the people that come in about their lives, their families, their dreams, and really being blessed by what they have to say. Then there are the exceptions. People get so angry when we can't pay the whole electric bill, don't have the kind of food they really like, or don't have exactly what they're asking for. We get people all the time trying to take advantage of our goodwill. We had one gentleman drive up, park his car sideways across all the parking spaces in front of our office, hop out of the car, and jump up the step. Then when I came to the door to let him in, he mysteriously developed a terrible limp, and started telling me about how he couldn't work due to his disability and being barely able to walk. I suspected this wasn't the case, but as is our policy, I politely gave him the food he asked for. He limped his way over to the car, and then suddenly his spryness was back. He hopped down the steps with great agility, jumped into his car, and yelled to his passenger, "We got it!" I felt so taken advantage of. People will also pretend to be overly religious, thinking it will help get them assistance. I really could care less what someones religious beliefs are when it comes to this, if you need help I'm going to help you. I'm actually more prone to helping someone who will honestly tell me they are an atheist, than someone who is obviously pretending to be an over-the-top Christian. I don't mind is helping people who are willing to work for some help, or are really trying to find a way to provide for themselves, but I absolutely despise helping those are just living off taxpayer's dollars and charities because that's the easiest thing to do. I was complaining to TC about this the other day, and he patiently looked at me and reminded me our goal was to help all people, not just the ones we felt like helping. Put me right in my place. Reminded me that there was a time in my life when our church helped us pay the bills, and brought food over for us due to my Dad's heart surgery. I don't know what we would've done without them. The whole situation just frustrates me, because day in and day out I'm confronted with poverty right here in my backyard. I've traveled to Kenya and Chile and seen the poverty there, and it's hard to believe the United States is so committed to helping those countries when we still have such an obvious need here at home. All that we're doing seems like just a drop in the ocean. The toughest part of this, though, is knowing it just doesn't have to be this way. There's more than enough food on the Earth to feed everyone, and enough clothing and shelter to provide security to all as well. It's too bad our society can't figure out a way to make it all work.

Triumph #002 - H's Mad Photography Skills

Been a long day so I thought 'd just give props to my sister's mad photography skills. It aways brightens my day to see the latest pictures she's posted on Facebook,or emailed to me. These are some pics she took of me when I was home on vacation. She's taken many better ones, but she didn't have much to work with on these. My favorite is the one of my tattoo, which has now marked me as the black sheep of my family :)

An update on my gradmother situation: Called her this morning, and she is doing better. Apperantly she's decided to stick around until Christmas so she can see everyone together one last time. Could definitley see the progression of Alzhimer's from the last time we spoke, even though it wasn't that long ago. Made the right choice to call her, but it made me realize that if I don't go see her I'm going to really regret it so I'm trying to figure out how to make that happen.

Tragedy #001 - Guilt

Pretty straightforward and heartfelt post today. Just going to write how I'm feeling cause I really need to try to sort out my thoughts. I'm still struggling with the decision of what to do in regards to my grandmother with Alzheimer's. After reading Lyndsie's post over at "Life As We Know It," I convinced myself I had to make every effort to do the right thing or risk living with severe regrets. Problem is, I don't know what the right thing is. The shock of the situation has worn off a bit, and getting to talk to two of my mentors about it has helped, but all I've really done is put myself in between a rock and a hard place. Part of me knows if I don't try to call and talk to her, possibly one last time, I will end up regretting it for the rest of my life. Then the other part of me chimes in with the thought, "What will I say to her?". Do I try to convince her she should fight? Do I push her to not give up? Or do I simply act like it's all okay, and she's not doing this to herself, say my goodbyes and let her go? I feel like no one in my family is doing anything to prevent this. They've all simply accepted it, and are just going to let her do what she wants. It's really not my place or my responsibility to do something, but I feel like I shouldn't take this lying down. If my mom was here, I can guarantee you she'd be on her way over there right now and would literally shove the food and meds down my grandmother's throat if she had to. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I could have said goodbye to my mother, to have hugged her neck, and told her I loved her one last time. I don't want the same thing to happen here, but it feels like if I do say my goodbyes I'm simply condoning her act. If someone sent me a note saying they  were going to go jump off a bridge, I would definitley act on it. There would be no doubt in my mind that I was going to do something to keep them from doing so. I don't see how what my grandmother is doing is any different. She could still have several more lucid, fulfilling years to spend with her kids and grandkids and that is where my heart is stuck. If the Alzheimer's was in it's last stages, and she could no longer remember significant facts of her life then I think I could accept this a little easier. I understand her not wanting to get to that point, but my mother died of cancer and I garauntee you, that given the chance she would have endured chemo and radiation and all their side effects, if it meant she could spend a couple more hours with her family. But instead of focusing on what she could have my grandmother has decided to focus only on the negative and is intent on subjecting herself to a slow, drawn out, painful, lonely passing. About a sentece ago I realized this is essentially the same post I wrote a couple days ago, but some part of me feels this is the best way to sort out my feelings. If I try to say it out loud I get about two sentences in before the tears well up, and I can't continue. Somehow sharing the workings of my mind with the rest of the blogosphere (or at least the 3 of you that read this :D ) seems to help me sort out my thoughts. Tomorrow morning I'm going to try to call my grandmother. Not sure what I'm going to say, or if I'll even get to talk to her, but I've decided to make the call. Tonight will probably be filled with much tossing and turing, and probably several hours of writing reading, but we shall see what happens. I just don't want to do something that will add to the guilt I've carried around for years over other situations and have finally started to let go of. Seems like as soon as I let go of one thing, something else steps right up to take it's place. I'm determined to do the right thing here, so here's hoping (and praying) that come tomorrow I'll know what that is.

Triumphagy #001 - Rain Plan

Triumphagy - a combination of triumph and tragedy. Results from a triumph arising from a tragic situation, or vice versa.

Tragedy - My friend, TC, and I play in a community band in a town about an hour away from where I live. Every couple of weeks during the summer the band puts on a concert in the local park consisting of different musical themes. Today we were supposed to play a Gershwin concert, and I was a little nervous about it because I missed last week's rehearsal due to my vacation back home. So TC and I leave our jobs early, and drive up to the concert site. Right as we enter the city the bottom drops out of the sky. It was raining cats and dogs, and probably cows and horses too! We decided to go on to the concert site to see if they were hoping to ride out the storm, and play the concert after it ended. Nope. Right as we got to the concert site TC got a call saying that the concert was canceled and we shouldn't bother driving up. Great. At that point we had both left work early, missed dinner, and driven an hour for a concert we weren't going to play. On the way home the rain was so overpowering, and the road drainage so bad, we had to pull over on the side of the road for about 5 minutes because TC's truck kept hydroplaning a bit. We were both more than a little frustrated.

Triumph - The first triumph was in the drive itself. TC has become a mentor and close friend so I always enjoy our conversations. For some reason I was super hyper today, it probably had something to d0 with being stuck in the car by myself for 8 hrs yesterday. Normally our drives are quiet, with the occassional discussions on theology, current events, work, or whatever else, but today I was just full of news of my vacation. I'm sure he was wishing he'd had some duct tape in the truck with him, but he was a patient listener and I did let him get a few wordrs in edgewise. When we got back to TC's house, his wife, whom I love dearly, invited me to stay for dinner with them and hang out a bit. These guys have become my adopted family this past semester. I really treasure getting to spend time with them, and their advice and mentorship! Sometime I'll have to write more about them, and how we met, but for today the major triumph was just getting to hang out with them. They had turkey and gravy over biscuits for dinner. YUM (A good old Southern dinner)! I was really grateful for this since I hadn't gone shopping after getting back from my vacation. (I was extremely proud of myself, btw, for remembering to clean out the refrigerator, take out the trash, and do other chores before I left. It made me feel all gown up!) TC and I also have a hobby in common so we spent some time doing some research and looking at some stuff for that. Then we just sat around and watched the news together, and I gave their dog (pictured above) a little extra attention. He's a big weimaraner with a huge heart, and a sweet disposition. It was a wonderful spontaneous time. This a little thing that I consider an absolute triumph. It turned the frustration at a canceled concert into a fun relaxing evening with friends.

Triumph #001 - Rules of the Road

Today's triumph (though it will be a short one cause it's been a long day) has to do with the common courtesy drivers show to those traversing the motorways with them. While driving through rural Texas today on the way back to my home in Arkansas, I was struck by just how courteous the other drivers were. There is an unwritten rule that all drivers are expected to treat others as they would like to be treated. Of course, there are the exceptions of the few rednecks with huge trucks who pass three people a time in a non-passing zone, or the city-slicker in a fancy car who believes he is the most important person on the road, but for the most part everyone adheres to this unwritten rule. You drive the same speed as those around you, even if it is slightly above the limit, and the cops will leave you alone. If someone wants to go faster than you, you simply pull over and let them by. Slower traffic always travels in the right lane. Big trucks don't cut you off, but wait their turn before trying to pass other trucks. It's a very easy to understand, wonderful system of travel. If everyone is tolerant and patient then it makes the roads much friendlier for all traveling them. It did my heart good today to see such common courtesy displayed as I traveled the long road back home. I hope this rule is the same for other places, it surely does make my time in the car easier.

Note to self: Do not get a sunburn on your face/legs/arms before driving 8 hours in a semi-air conditioned car. It is not the most pleasant thing imaginable. (But hopefully it'll turn into a nice tan!)

A Little Direction/Blog Maintenence

I've been giving a lot of thought lately to what I was trying to do with this blog. The reason I started it was simply to provide a place for the random thoughts that went through my head, particularly as I tried (and failed) to get some sleep. It's been about 2 months since I started writing, and have decided I wanted to do something with a little more direction and purpose to it. Since the subtitle of my blog is "Examining the tragedies and triumphs of life," I think I will do just that. What I'm proposing to do is a series of posts detailing either a triumph or a tragedy from each day (or both as my schedule allows). The triumphs and tragedies titles will be hyperbolous in nature (my 25 cents please!), so anything positive will be on the triumph side, and the negative on the tragedy side. Of course there will be overlaps, and we'll see what happens when we run across them. I'll keep a running log of the tragedies/triumphs on a page set aside for that purpose. There will still be some of the occasional random ruminations thrown in as they come to me. It may take me awhile to find my voice (so to speak), and this may prove to be completely dumb, but I'd like to give it a try and see what happens.

Special thanks to H for taking the photos on my new blog title logo, and for her help designing the new background/logo. She said they both fit my personality better than my old ones...whatever that means :)

I'd appreciate your patience (and continued readership!) as I try to work the bugs out of my new plan. As you have any triumphs/tragedies/anything-in-between of your own, pass 'em on, and I'll put 'em up as I can! Please hit me up with any questions/comments/advice/constructive criticism you have!!! (For negative feedback, please write your comments on your computer screen in permanent marker.) Thanks!

The Will to Live

Really need to get something off my mind, even though it makes two posts for today.

My grandmother, on my Mom's side, has Alzheimer's. We found this out about a year ago, I guess. Since then we've slowly learned to deal with the effects of that disease; the mental lapses, dementia, the vacant looks. It's been extremely hard to deal with, especially since every time I visit her we have the same discussion. Where I'm going to school (and have been for the last 3 years), what I'm studying, how she thinks I'm throwing my life away. It's gotten so hard to hear every time I talk to her that I'm a failure in her eyes, and nothing I ever do is good enough that I admit I've just stopped calling and visiting these last couple of months. It's just gotten so hard. I still love her so much, but I can't deal with nothing I do ever meeting her expectations. My plans for the future are just a drop in the pond of what she wants me to be. In her eyes, I should be a politician and become the first female President of the United States, which is something I would never want. A long time ago I made the decision to live my life, to do what I felt I should do, but I still feel like I've let her down. On her worse days, she thinks I'm my mom, who passed away when I was 8. I just have to go along with it and try to answer as my mother would have, which just dredges up all sorts of aches at the thought of my mom not being there. And now, I feel guilty about not staying in touch, even though she doesn't remember if I call or visit or not. We just got a phone call a few minutes ago saying she is going downhill in a hurry. She's lost the will to live. She won't eat, and is refusing to take her Alzheimer's meds. The horrible thing is I've been home for a week, only a couple hours away from her house, and I haven't visited, and now I have to go back to work and there's a strong chance I won't ever see her again. This sucks. I just feel like dissolving in a puddle of tears and regret, but I know that I can't. I know I should pick up the phone and call here, just to make sure I talk to her one last time, but I just can't make myself go through that just yet. I just have trouble accepting that she's decided to die. Even though she has Alzheimer's, with the right medication and diet she still could have several good years to spend with her kids, and grandkids. I can't accept that she's just going to give up. It just seems so selfish of me to want her to fight, and so selfish of her to want to die. I just want to scream, to hit something, to do anything but hold it together but I can't. Unfortunately, I'm the oldest grandkid and am expected to be the one to have it all together. I hate funerals, I'll avoid them at all costs, but this is one that I know is coming, and that just makes it all that much worse. I just want to call her, and yell, and tell her that she has to fight, she has to try, but I can't. I understand her reasoning, but I can't accept that she won't fight for her life. I just can't.

Unconditional Love

For me, the best part of going home means I get to see my puppies. My family is super important to me so I talk to them all the time via Skype, Facebook, or phone, but I just can't do that with Max and Matilda. There's no way to replicate sitting on the couch snuggling with Max, listening to the rain, and taking a nap together to pass the time. Or sitting with Matilda in Dad's big armchair as she softly snores, somehow making me forget my every care in the world. Since Max is on my mind this morning, I figured I'd use today's post to tell his story. My freshman year of college we got the basset hound, Matilda, from a friend of ours who just couldn't give her all the love and attention she needed. Shortly after that my Dad had an emergency heart surgery and my life changed pretty drastically for a bit. I ended up taking 2 weeks off from school, shuffling back and forth between the hospital and home, and trying to hold everything together.

After Dad came home, he had Matilda to keep him company while H and S were at school, so they became really close. After going back to school I had a really difficult time trying to catch up, and also struggled with a lot of guilt for not being able to be home helping work to pay bills, and take care of my Dad, S, and H. I was lucky enough to have a professor who helped me get through the semester, but like I said it was a really rough time for me. Dad went back to work after a couple weeks of healing, and we soon discovered that we were going to have to get Matilda a playmate. We started looking in all the local shelters and pounds in Texas, but could never find the right dog. Dad had always wanted a beagle so we were looking for one for him, or another basset like Matilda. On a whim my roommate and I checked out the pound of the town where I go to college a couple of days before the semester ended for the summer. Then I met Max. In the second kennel from the back, huddled in the corner, shaking, was the most pathetic looking animal I'd seen in a long time. He was so scared that no amount of coaxing would get him to come to the front of his pen. Eventually I decided to climb in, pick him up, and bring him out. It was plain to see that he

had been mistreated,and even though he was just a puppy he had been through a lot. Since he wasn't quite what we were looking for I decided not to take him. The next day, however, I couldn't get him off my mind, and my roommate couldn't either. We had both seen something in this puppy's eyes, a look that cried out for help and love. We went back a second time and discovered he had been found by a river, and had been at the pound long enough they were going to have to put him down. I decided right then and there I was going to have that dog. I called my dad, pretty much told him I was bringing home a puppy,and a couple of days later Max had a new family and a new home. I decided to name him Maximus Rex, which means "King Maximus." It wasn't easy at first, he had a lot of fear, particularly of men, and a lot of hurt to get past. Then we discovered how much love he had to give. No matter how frustrated I got that he chewed up my bluetooth unit, or ate my sandwich, or stole my covers at night, he always looked at me with unconditional love in his eyes. He's always willing to forgive me for my faults, asking simply that I love him in return. That first summer he did as much to heal my hurts as I did his. I felt my guilt start to melt away, as his fear did. Now he is an integral part of our family. Because I'm still in college, he can't live with me yet so he lives with Dad and S and they care for him for me. I simply love walking in the door for a visit and getting literally knocked off my feet when Max discovers I'm home. Then the rest of the visit is spent cuddling and snuggling with him, and feeling as if all is right with the world. They say dogs are man's best friend and I firmly believe that with all of my heart. I love Max with all my heart, and he's definitely my best friend in the world. But you see, for as much as I've loved him, he's loved me twice over. I helped to heal his wounds, and he has done wonders for mine. I still struggle with being away from home, and the situation there, but whenever I'm having an off day, I think of Max and his unconditional love. I think there's a lesson hidden somewhere in there that we could all do well to live by.

Horse Sense

Growing up on a ranch meant I developed a love for horses at an early age. They are so graceful and majestic that it was only a matter of time before I was head over heels in love. I just knew for sure that someday I'd work with horses as my job, and my whole life would revolve around them. Unfortunately, I grew up. I let people talk me out of my dream, and focused instead on another path. My baby sister, S, has done the opposite. She's twice as horse crazy

now, as a senior in high school, than I ever was. She even helps train horses as her part-time job. I've been lucky enough to watch her work a couple of times since I've been home, and can honestly say that she continues to amaze me. She has this special gift, this horse sense that most of us can only dream of. She connects to a horse instantly, and it to her. There's an unseen bond there, stronger than steel. She can take even the wildest mustang and have him eating out of her hand in just a few days time. Where she has only been a mediocre student in school, she studies horses constantly. She digests any book she can get her hands on, almost memorizing it's every word. About a year ago she was given a barely broken, 4 year old, quarter horse stallion as a birthday present from a close family friend. She trained him all on her own, which is no easy feat. She's been bucked off more times than either of us can count (and it still gives me a heart attack every time it happens), but she gets back on every time. Now her horse, Jet, is as gentle as a puppy. She crawls all over him, and he doesn't even bat an eye. I see her working with a horse, and can tell you couldn't pay her to be anywhere else at that moment. They are her life, and she quickly becomes theirs. She has a special horse sense that you can never teach, even given all of time. I love to come home and spend an afternoon riding with her, swallowing my pride and learning from her. She's a good teacher, even for such a student as I. She is patient and gentle to all she meets, human and equine alike. She has such a gentle countenance that I worry sometimes how she'll face the onslaught of the real world. I couldn't be prouder of her though. Not only because of her gift, but because she refuses to give up on her dreams.

In Deep Water

Dad took a vacation day from work today since I was home, and the family spent the majority of the afternoon in the pool again. We were throwing around this clear blue bouncy ball, and for some reason I got the urge to look underwater through it. The view totally rocked! I threw the ball to H and told her to check it out, and she decided it was worth trying to take a picture of S underwater through the ball. The photos came out really well. It was an interesting process of trying to hold ourselves underwater, not splashing so we wouldn't get H's camera wet, and trying to hold some sort of pose. While H, Dad, and I were taking pictures, S decided to make ranch burgers. These are hamburgers with ranch dressing kneaded into the beef, and are phenomenal. We had a great swim, all got sunburnt, and had a wonderful lunch sitting around the pool. I am really diggin' this vacation thing...

Here are some of the underwater pics. H took all of them, except the ones of her, which I took. She edited all of them, so all credit goes to her.

A Texas 4th of July

The 4th of July (American Indepence Day for my Canadian friends!) has always been one of my favorite holidays and this year has been no exception. For starters, I got a week of vacation off from my job so I get to spend from Saturday to the following Sunday with my family in Texas which is really important to me because I haven't gotten to spend much time with them lately. Early Saturday morning I began the 9 hour trek from my home in Arkansas to see my sisters in Texas. We met up in the town where I graduated high school (Dad and S have since moved) and spent Saturday and Sunday engaging in all the typical July 4th activities. My favorite tradition for July 4th is the rodeo. Every year the  VFW puts on a big professional rodeo in our small town. I convinced H and S to go with me and we met one of S's guy friends there (probably more on that later). There's just nothing about the rodeo I don't love. The atmosphere of Texans is just amazing, it's like we've all known each other for life, even though we've never even met. Everyone is laughing, whooping and hollering, and just having an awesome time watching the cowboys ply their trade. My favorite is the bulldogging, which is where the cowboy has to chase down a calf and then jump off his horse and pin it to the ground. This year was even more amusing because it had rained the day before. The poor cowboys were so covered in mud, all you could see was the whites of their eyes by the time they got done. Another rodeo tradition of mine is cotton candy. I just love the sticky sugarness of it. There's just something special about sitting on a fence watching the rodeo and eating cotton candy; it makes me feel like I'm 10  years old again watching it with my great-granddad. On Sunday morning I got to play trumpet in an Independence Day celebration with my old community band. There's just something about hundreds of people gathering to celebrate our freedom that just gets me inside. We can set aside our differences for a day, and just celebrate our blessings as Americans. Got to do lunch Sunday with some good friends, who I hardly ever get to see, but am lucky enough to stay in touch with via the awesomeness of Facebook. It's great to get to hug on folks I haven't seen in six months, and share what's going on in my life and hear how things are going in theirs. Sunday afternoon was spent with H, lounging and catching up on all the talking we haven't been able to do. That evening the community band played again at the city 4th celebration, and then we got to watch a fireworks show. I am a bit of a head case when it comes to fireworks. I can only really enjoy them when their being set off by a professional, due to an incident with H when we were both younger.  As long as someone else is shooting them off, I just stand there with a goofy grin on my face wishing they would never end. The beauty of it all is fantastic. H got some great pictures of the fireworks, but I was too busy just reveling in them to get my camera out. Yesterday, which I consider part of the 4th of July holiday weekend since Dad had off work, we drove down to Dad and S's new house which I hadn't ever been to. Then we all jumped in the pool and the four of us had such a great time together. It's been a long time since all four of us were together, and not trying to kill each other as families often do. We swam in the pool, had a typical  Texan meal of chalupas and burritos, and then had the first family game night in my memory. And nobody cheated or yelled! It was absolutely fantastic. Long post to say that I had an awesome 4th of July weekend, and a good start to my vacation. Now for the obligatory note on America. I may not always agree with my country's decisions or politics, and in fact I frequently don't, but she's still my country and I am proud to live here and even prouder to be a Texan. My heart is fuller, my step is lighter, my soul is overflowing, and no matter where I reside, Texas will always have my heart.

Just Say No!

I'm one of those people that has a hard time saying no to someone who needs help. If I can possibly reaarange my schedule to fit the project in, I will. So this week I have found myself editing the video and photo montage from the volunteer project I did last week. It was after I agreed to do this editing that I realized I would only have 1 week to do the project instead of the 2 that had been set aside, because I'm going on vacation next week.  So this week has been spent trying to figure out how to put this video together, which is why there have been no posts since Monday. Due to technical difficulties with file formats and such I didn't actually start editing (putting the movie together) until yesterday morning and I was planning to drive to Texas tonight. Yesterday and today  were filled with trying to condense 3 hours 18 minutes and 29 seconds worth of video clips and 997 photos into a 10 minute before and after presentation. Having had no training making these videos except a little dabbling for other work projects, this has really stretched the boundaries of my creativity. Thankfully, I'm pretty good at figuring out computer programs on the fly, but I am so worried about how it came out. As I sit here writing this I'm remembering some photos that I forgot to add, that I should go back and fix, but I just can't face the hours of editing and finalizing that would take. UGH! I'm glad that I can come and dump here, because I could never say anything about it at my job, they have no idea how hard it was for me to get this done. Most of the time the editor spends weeks putting this video together, and I had just two days! I'm sure the quality will show it, but as the last minute stand in, I'm not going to worry about it to much.

One of my co-workers told me to just throw something together and work too hard on  it, but I looked at and told her there was no way I was going to (pardon my French) half-ass something with my name on it! Talk about having no pride in your work. At least it's done and tomorrow I get to drive the 9hrs to see my family in Texas. I'm super excited about that since I haven't been home except for one weekend at Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. Since I've been at my job over 6 months, I got a week of paid vacation, and I in my youthful ignorance have decided to use it all up at  once and go home to spend some time with Dad, H, S, and my Max. By this time tomorrow I hope to be sitting out on the deck in Tejas with a cold drink in hand, and my puppy by my side!