tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156510997338123732024-02-07T19:24:45.485-08:00Growin' Old GracelesslyPennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-11751260519673561412012-09-22T10:17:00.000-07:002012-09-22T10:17:00.898-07:00A New Joy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT-unCoQfp-y0FPwir9jD6uaonsFF0KoNb28T-0bH72k8CKL2oRBhoLjY1uvLupcIN7mXT8ssAY4qKrbZJejClmvE1BdC0PQT0Kq8uPBP2jn_C0fg0YVbTAzJl_TnFrFCQaljdRFthyphenhyphenGQ/s1600/Baby-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT-unCoQfp-y0FPwir9jD6uaonsFF0KoNb28T-0bH72k8CKL2oRBhoLjY1uvLupcIN7mXT8ssAY4qKrbZJejClmvE1BdC0PQT0Kq8uPBP2jn_C0fg0YVbTAzJl_TnFrFCQaljdRFthyphenhyphenGQ/s320/Baby-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I felt like a whale. Probably looked like one too. I was only 18 years old, married and living in Honolulu, HI where my Navy husband was stationed. We had narrowed the baby names down to just two. I wanted a little boy, but I woke up that morning knowing that she was a girl. I wasn't disappointed. I had held her spirit inside me for nearly 9 months.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We were having a late dinner with our friends when the first pain hit. Back then you were to stop eating as soon you felt a contraction, but it was pork chops, mashed taters and corn and I wasn't going to miss it.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Every 5 minutes from the start, she worked her way toward the new world. As soon as my supper was finished, I went to take a shower. New daddy kept telling me that it wasn't 5 minutes anymore so I should hurry. She really wanted to meet her parents face to face.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">At the hospital I was taken down a dark hallway to my "room" There was minimal light and I felt isolated. In a few minutes I clapped my hand on the service bell and told them it was time, but they said no. A lot they knew! I called them back and they asked me just to be calm. They were a long way away when the urgency hit. I couldn't reach the bell so I screamed for them to come. Less than 2 minutes later we were in the delivery room, 90 minutes from the first contractions.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Heather and I worked together and the doctor barely got his hands washed in time to catch. Here she is!! She's beautiful! She has a dimple and bright blue eyes. She rolled over in the nursery just 45 minutes after she appeared.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As I have been writing this I have been remembering all the little details of that day; too many to relate here. Precious moments as clear in my head today as they were that night 45 years ago.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">A blessed and Happy Birthday to you, Heather!! I love you.</span></i></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Mom </span></i> </span></span></span>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-49578623062796421662012-06-30T17:13:00.001-07:002012-06-30T17:13:39.473-07:00DARN IT!!<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I don't know what to say here. My mind is going from place to place ~ up, down, sideways, back and forth. No place I go seems to satisfy.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In the last few months, I have been going to different doctors to find out what's going on with me medically. Last Wednesday I received a Bi-Pap machine in addition to the oxygen I've been using for 3 years or so. Same day in the early evening I saw the gastroenterologist and was scheduled for two procedures on the same day. Not going to mention them, but either my bottom or my belly will be complaining. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I've had blood work twice in one week and my primary care doctor says I have a blood disorder and need to see an oncologist this coming week if possible. I am overwhelmed. I never drive but maybe once a week.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Also I am borderline diabetic. When I was told about that in January I cried, then changed how I ate. I lost 40 lbs and have cut 90% of the sugar out of my diet. This week the number is higher.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I'm also in constant pain and have injections into my spine on a regular basis.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">DARN IT!!!</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">So what's next? I'm kind of scared. I'm tired of being disabled and sick. I need you all to pray for me. I need a<span style="font-size: x-large;"> <span style="font-size: large;">super attitude adjustment. I'm not dealing with all of this well. I don't like taking or writing about my illnesses. I don't want sympathy from anyone, although a little empathy and good advice might work to help me climb out of my pity pot.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I think about you all often ~ even lurk around some of your journals. I miss you and pray for you daily.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hugs,</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Penny </span></span></span> </span> </span>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-52088198697630165872012-05-16T08:30:00.002-07:002012-05-16T09:28:26.304-07:00The Forgotton Man<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">He's in his 60's now. Or is it his 20's? He left a piece of himself in a foreign land. Most of his soul is there, too. He may never find himself again. Do you know him?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I do.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">He's my husband, my son, my friend, my nephew, my grandson. He's an American Veteran. He's alone in his grief and anger. He made a decision to serve his country. Still only 19 years old, he was sent to foreign soil to fight. What he saw while at war cannot be described. How many little kids with bombs in their hands? How many of his buddies died or were maimed for life? What was the mental cost when he came home and there were people protesting his service? When they called him a baby killer? When even his own family told him he was a loser for fighting that stupid war?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">His country has denied him. He struggles to keep his head above water, his psyche intact. But then the dreams come and he's back there, stuck with no way home. He wakes up fighting and may hurt his loved one as he flails. Next day, the helicopters are searching for a fugitive and he runs to take cover. He cries out to God for help. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">These men and women have been forgotten. They are the lowest persons on the totem pole. The military took them in, taught them skills, paid them low wages and sent them home with no help. Sure they get VA care up to a point. But who can they talk to about the real pain that lives inside them? A psychiatrist whose only experience is education? He or she has never seen or lived the terror that lives inside a man or woman with PTSD. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In this country, EVERYTHING seems to be more important than our Veterans. It's an election year. The men who would be "king" want our votes. They will sell their souls to get them. They will tell us what we want to hear. But they WON'T protect our country. They have their own agenda and a strong military is the last thing they want in their budget of trillions of dollars.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I want peace and safety at home. I want what our country was founded on. Do you? If you do, forget the millions of forwards you get from well meaning friends and relatives. Write your senator, congressman and the president. Ask your friends to do the same. </span></span>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-62252447428441251752012-04-30T20:10:00.000-07:002012-04-30T20:10:11.214-07:00It's Early but . . .Summer is coming! A little over a week ago, we hit record high temperatures. At our recording station the high was over 100 degrees twice. I never, ever, ever, thought I would live in the desert. It still looks like spring here. One tree in the back yard is sporting beautiful soft pink blossoms. I never have found out the name of it. The Palo Verde tree (green stick) is nearly covered with sunny yellow flowers. Birds of many sorts come into the yard to see if Rob has "accidentally" spilled dog food for them. One particular blackbird struts back and forth on the wall waiting for the spill. The other day he landed on the patio, strolled up to the sliding door, tapped on the window and flew back to his station on the wall. We don't have hummingbird feeders, but they come for the flowers on the trees. When our little dog Rudy is out there, they fly right up to him. We haven't figured this out, however it is fun to watch<br />
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I did say summer is almost here. The biggest change for summer weather: no cold water comes out of the tap from now until September or October. We have a special tap for drinking water, but now it's warm or hot. There are summer savings. We seldom have to use the water heater during the heat. Everything needs to be refrigerated, including us. Thankfully our home is well insulated and the air conditioner is stellar. Of course . . . I don't go out in the heat all that much. <br />
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Shopping and going to appointments is best done early in the morning or late at night. Since this is a 24-hour town, we can shop anytime we like. Unfortunately the doctors don't accommodate the lifestyle. I was pretty shocked to find that most big chain markets and stores are open 24 hours. My sister loves this. If she wakes up in the middle of the night unable to go back to sleep, she can hit the stores. I haven't been shopping that late, but I imagine you can always find an empty checkout lane. <br />
I thought it would take years for me to acclimate to the temperatures here. We both expected we would truly suffer the first year. What a surprise for us! It was hot, hot, hot that summer. Downtown temperatures reached 117 degrees. You know how they say it's "dry heat"? (Whoever "they" are) . It actually is. 90 degrees when we were live near the beach was unbearable for me. The air was sticky and it was difficult for me to breathe. Dry air = good breath for me. <br />
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So how's the weather where you are? <br />
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Thinking of you all, PennyPennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-53504113338919996412012-04-25T17:04:00.001-07:002012-04-25T17:04:38.364-07:00<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It's been so difficult for me to blog since we lost our blogging community on AOL. I know . . . it's been nearly 3 1/2 years</span></span></span> <span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">. . . get over it! I loved having a community of bloggers to encourage me, comment, etc. Some of my dear friends still blog daily. I read them all the time and comment once in a while. It's just not the same. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Most of the time, I just don't know what to say. I've been sick a lot. I don't want to talk about it. It's bad enough that I know my health problems without whining to the world about them. Here's the truth: there are a whole lot of people out there in worse shape than I am. I think every morning when I open my eyes that it's a good morning. How can it be less? I know that the day I don't open my eyes will be a good morning too ~ I will be home with Jesus. It can't get any better than that.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Rob and I celebrated 10 years of marriage last September. In 5 days, we will celebrate 2 years of home ownership. We are incredibly blessed. I never ever thought I would be living in Nevada. I mean, really! Who would ever want to live in the desert? I guess I would. We love it here. I have 2 sisters living in the desert. One lives here and one in Arizona. That's pretty odd for girls who were born and raised in SoCal. Our other sister is in Florida.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">California is an expensive place to live, especially near the ocean. Rob and I lived next to the ocean for 6 years. I can count on the fingers of one hand the times we went to the beach. We paid a premium to live in that area. Rents were sky high, food more expensive, gasoline higher . . . all for the chance to live near the ocean. Don't get me wrong. It was beautiful. I loved all the trees and greenery. The temperature was nearly perfect. The humidity? A death trap for me. I couldn't breathe. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">For less than most of the rents in SoCal, we own a home here. Living in a gated community is wonderful. It's like a cocoon of security. We know that thugs can get in and rob us or kill us, but for some reason we don't have that fear. Little things tickle me: I never had a garage door opener or a useable garage for that point. I love that I can operate the garage door from the corner. We have an opener for the gate to get in here, a clubhouse which we hardly use but a clubhouse nonetheless, private streets and cable built right into the walls. I am not fond of having to answer to a homeowner's association, but like the perk of not having a "bad" section of the community.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We are truly blessed! Sometimes I stop in the middle of the living room and just thank God for the opportunities in my life. I've slowed way down since the days in Mexico. I've had some wonderful jobs throughout my life: a waitress, a factory worker, salesgirl, oral surgery assistant, bartender, switchboard operator, office worker, public relations, missionary, wife and mom. I think mom was the best job even if I didn't perform well. Being a wife is tough - and I have had plenty of experience there. I never thought being a missionary was a "job". It was the best time of my life. It was also the longest I've done anything other than being a mom.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There's not much to do now that I am totally retired. Days melt into each other so that I often can't remember what day of the week it is or even the date. I read a lot. About a year ago I bought a Kindle reader. It's been a joy to have. So I bought the new Kindle Fire this year. It's nice enough but I like the older one better. Who needs color to read a book? </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We'll just see if I can get myself back into blogging again. I miss writing my thoughts down. I miss my blogging friends. I wonder if any will find my blog again after so long a time? </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">God bless you all. Believe it or not you are still in my prayers.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: blue;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-27244614851408063592011-07-31T08:28:00.000-07:002011-07-31T09:06:16.376-07:00A TIME OF PEACE<span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Early in the morning, just after sun-up. The kids are all sleeping and I step outside on the back porch. We've been living on the pastor's ranch for about a year I guess. I look out over the fields of green beans and pick up the hose to fill the tub. In front of me are two generations of laundry cleaning. The CC Mira Mesa brought us a brand new front-loading machine a couple of months ago. Next to it stands an old wringer washer, the kind my mother told me about when I was young. I love that machine.<br /><br />As the tub fills, I sort the whites out first to wash. I pour in liquid detergent and bleach and start agitating. Dirtiest of whites is slapped wet on the concrete scrub-board for extra detail. Socks are the most scrubbed both with a brush and a rolling motion up and down the board. I have to be careful not to scrape my knuckles raw. Then back into the tub they go to finish with the other whites.<br /><br />The process of pulling the clothes out and through the wringer is peaceful tedium for me. I push and pull the clothing through and drop it into a deep sink full of clear clean water, then step to the side to push the wringer over to the sink. I pull and rinse the clothes before wringing them again to be dropped into a basket for hanging.<br /><br />There is something so calming about standing there in my bare feet to hang the clothes on the line. There are no people noises yet, just the birds chittering in the few trees, a horse nickering under the olive tree and the few dogs run, noses down searching for the leavings of yesterday's meals. My face is once again turned to the fields as I hang. I can see the fig tree down the way and off in the distance is the pastor's greenhouse.<br /><br />It is good clean work. I feel satisfied as I finish the first load of the day. The towels are already agitating in the washer. It is the moment of peace I have searched for before the children rise and workers arrive. I have no decisions to make at this moment, no boo-boos to tend, no tears to wipe.<br /><br />My time. My place. God's peace.<br /></span></span></span>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-56103979509870109842010-11-15T10:04:00.000-08:002010-11-15T11:20:36.185-08:00Oh, I don't know . . .<span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I haven't posted anything since June sometime. I've been lurking on other journals, but have not commented much. This morning I have been reading <a href="http://donna-justme.blogspot.com/">Donna's</a> blog. A lot of my memories flooded in as I read hers. Go figure. City, suburbs or country, those of us who grew up in the 50's seem to have a collective memory. Here are some of my memories:<br /><br />I was born in a 10-bed hospital in a small suburb of Los Angeles. By the time I was born, my parents had already separated. Women who got divorced back then were the subject of much scrutiny. But I didn't know that. I loved my mom. She took phenomenal care of her four girls.<br /><br />I remember that we had the first television on the block. It was and awesome thing. At about 4 years old, I thought that the people lived in there and when we turned it back on, they would just start again where we left off. The television was in a very large cabinet, with doors you would close when you turned it off. It had a round-ish screen, 2 or 3 channels, and a really fuzzy picture. I remember seeing an Indian head when the stations had nothing more for us to view. I never knew that my grandparents had given us that wonderful box.<br /><br />What a tender double memory I got while reading about cereal on Donna's blog. The first and most recent memory came as she posted that Cheerios was the common name for all cereals back then. In Mexico in the 80's and 90's, I learned that for them all cereals were called Corn Flakes. You could choose your poison, but it was still corn flakes. Back when I was small, I remember having Shredded Wheat a lot. My mother would offer one or two of the barrel-shaped pieces on top of which we put sugar and milk. We also ate a lot of oatmeal. Mom would cook the oatmeal with raisins while I stood on a chair to watch the "fishes" come to the surface. With all the instant foods these days, the kids don't get to watch this particular phenomenon. A shame, really.<br /><br />I climbed trees a lot. When mom couldn't find me, she'd send the girls out to look in the trees. Once, our dog pulled me out of a tree. That hurt and mom got rid of him. Behind the second house I remember living in, there was a great big walnut tree. I loved it. I could take a book and my pillow to sit in one of the crooks for hours. Sometimes I napped there. I climbed trees and rocks and trails until about 20 years ago when my body started to limit me. I would love to do it still.<br /><br />My mom didn't go to work until I was in school for a year or two. I would come home from school and stop by the pharmacy fountain where she worked. She would make me a cherry phosphate sometimes. Oh! What a delicious treat. When she went to work in an office, I would come home, change my clothes in the laundry room(refrigerator there, too) and go to the neighbor's house. Since I had my own key to the little room, I thought I was independent and that Becky's mom wasn't a babysitter. I think my mom paid her five hard-earned dollars a week not to babysit.<br /><br />I loved that time of my life. We were not allowed to become television addicts. We played outside, climbed trees or sat with dolls to pretend we were grown-ups, even played board and card games out on the patio. We had a card game called Presidents, played slap-jack, war and even monopoly. Becky's brother always wanted to be paid with those "bluebell 50's". It was a magical time. We were all very healthy and happy. It would be wonderful if we could bring some of that play here to this time for our children and grandchildren. Just sayin' . . .<br /><br />Blessings,<br /><img src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/hard%20drive%20pics/Christian/My%20personal%20tags/DsDesignsGorjussFallpenny.jpg" /><br /></span></span></span></span>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-1456655551442407912010-06-11T09:36:00.001-07:002010-06-11T12:23:16.381-07:00Sisters Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHLvmlLooRI_RjA-LalzrHVnZqLAUvkC03jXoU6sLsyoUFLhrYAX-JW-lw6fAVmMaxVboMOJZGepWsra1GDAcEFrZpaaSAgRhW-TjAahf6sYzaPI6kgymmyc7r6V_SGhCRi_XITMJtno/s1600/DSC_0014.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHLvmlLooRI_RjA-LalzrHVnZqLAUvkC03jXoU6sLsyoUFLhrYAX-JW-lw6fAVmMaxVboMOJZGepWsra1GDAcEFrZpaaSAgRhW-TjAahf6sYzaPI6kgymmyc7r6V_SGhCRi_XITMJtno/s320/DSC_0014.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481556121145494098" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;">Yesterday, my sisters (me, Sylvia, Charlotte, Sharon) and I were able to get together for the first time in six years. As we grow older, this seems to be more important each time. As you can see, I am the baby. I think we all look pretty good for being in the over-60 crowd.<br /><br />Today is Sylvia's birthday. She's the oldest and says she is going to live to be 120. I believe it. She and her husband still get around on a Honda <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Goldwing</span> motorcycle. The amazing part is that just a few months ago, Sylvia was thrown clear of that bike, breaking ribs, collar bone and shattering her lower leg/ankle. She followed her therapy relentlessly and is here visiting from Florida. They have a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">motor home</span> and the bike to get around. <br /><br />My sister Charlotte lives about 3 hours away in Arizona. Her husband races and builds stock cars. She is a breast cancer survivor and she's the one who spoiled me the most when I was a little kid. I hadn't seen her in 6 years either. <br /><br />Sharon lives here in Nevada and with her husband raises and adopts foster children. It was when we came here to see the adoption of her son Chance that we decided to buy this home. Sharon and I are closest in age.<br /><br />We all had lunch together yesterday followed by a photo session. The photographer was nice enough to snap the picture above with my camera. There was a lot of reminiscing going on. We just don't do this often enough. Travel is expensive and even at our ages, our lives are full. Praise God that we were able to have this very special day. I needed it very much. We kept in touch after the last visit, but e-mail and phone calls are not nearly the same as a full-on hug with your very own sister. <br /><br />As my two oldest sisters travel back home, I am praying journey mercies for them and long, full lives until we meet again.<br /><br /></span></span></span>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-1529224167172434202010-05-08T17:24:00.000-07:002010-05-08T18:12:23.727-07:00HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I've only posted to this blog 8 times in the last year. Tomorrow is Mother's Day again. I want to wish my daughter Heather, daughters-in-law Krissy, Shaylin, Michelle, and Dixie, granddaughters Candace, Cassie and Cassandra all a happy day and tell you all how proud of you I am. I love all my children and grandchildren so much.<br /><br />I miss my mom terribly at this time of year, more than at Thanksgiving, Christmas and her birthday. I have no regrets. I loved her well and was a pretty good daughter. If you love your mama too, please tell her often. I didn't know how much I would miss her until she was gone. It's never too late to re-open the door. Even if she hates what you have done or are doing in your life, she loves you more than you will ever know until you are a mom or a parent.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">LORD, please bless all the Moms out there.</span><br /></span></span></span>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-42037186537159074712010-05-03T14:58:00.000-07:002010-05-03T15:30:42.697-07:00Blessed by God<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We are so blessed! Last Friday, we <span style="font-style: italic;">finally </span>signed the papers on our new home and moved in. We never expected at this time of our lives to buy a home. This is a young couple's dream come true in their golden years. We are exhausted from moving, but so thrilled to have our own home. Rather than post a few pictures, I've made another slide show with April's progress on the home, our signing at escrow, etc. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed making it.<br /><div><embed src="http://widget-d8.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&il=1&channel=1513209474822184920&site=widget-d8.slide.com" style="width: 400px; height: 320px;" name="flashticker" align="middle"></embed><div style="width: 400px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=1513209474822184920&map=1" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-d8.slide.com/p1/1513209474822184920/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide1.gif" ismap="ismap" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=1513209474822184920&map=2" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-d8.slide.com/p2/1513209474822184920/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide2.gif" ismap="ismap" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=1513209474822184920&map=F" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-d8.slide.com/p4/1513209474822184920/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide42.gif" ismap="ismap" border="0" /></a></div></div><br /><br /><br />There are so many things to do when you purchase a newly constructed home. We had no idea how complicated it could be and the delays that could happen. We were truly disappointed when the closing date was moved by about 4 weeks. We moved here to watch the house go up, but staying in a hotel/suites was tough to say the least. Praise God we were able to make it for nearly 3 months in that tiny place. We were always anxious for news. Our real estate agent, Gaby tried very hard to keep us informed, but with the sales office here, mortgage in Colorado and title company in Arizona, there were a lot of glitches. I have to admit that my patience was tried.<br /><br />At the "suites" we met a lot of people who were as we, waiting to move to a new home or apartment. There were others more transient and some who were downright scary. By the grace of God we were blissfully untouched by the goings on and the staff there was really helpful. We made friends with a real nice couple from Arizona. They were able to find a wonderful mobile home to live in. <br /><br />And here we are, living what looked 6 years ago like an impossible dream. Back then we were readying ourselves to leave Mexico and retire. Rob came back to the U.S. in June 2004, Andrea in July and I came in August. We had no place to live except for the kindness of our friend Hank, who later rented us the little house we called home for 5 years. On to the new adventure!!<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-82728175507093204502010-02-09T16:15:00.001-08:002010-02-09T16:51:46.806-08:00Home Away<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirKeQYuBgIus6cOV4PVx0JXjwsEt8MuBc-Jtxi21LsE3vJaIIdJCZRGLwEgIgP2inYHnEKN3Y-7-iYvJ4JfKB_3yuLhiAR2odxXpGqG5KSvjIlIy90671HBTAUpcTyccIjimYbQi4hKZY/s1600-h/11062.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirKeQYuBgIus6cOV4PVx0JXjwsEt8MuBc-Jtxi21LsE3vJaIIdJCZRGLwEgIgP2inYHnEKN3Y-7-iYvJ4JfKB_3yuLhiAR2odxXpGqG5KSvjIlIy90671HBTAUpcTyccIjimYbQi4hKZY/s320/11062.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436402026638002882" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This is the surprise of a lifetime for me. The construction project you see will be our new home. We never thought to move from here or purchase anywhere, and now LOOK.<br /><br />In November, Rob and I made a trip to Las Vegas to be present of our nephew's adoption. While there, we decided to look at homes. We fell in love with the model of this home and to our great surprise, we could afford to buy it! Much paperwork later, our new home is coming together.<br /><br />We knew that we had to move out of this rental house. We live above a body shop in an industrial area. My breathing caused several trips to the hospital ER. The humidity here is not good. California has always been my home state. Other than Mexico, I've not lived any large period of time away from southern CA. What a change the desert will be! Believe it or not, we are ready for the change.<br /><br />So much has happened since I last posted. The miracle of regaining a son in my life was stupefying. Since then, he and his daughter were reunited. She came to SoCal from Oklahoma last month, bringing her 5 month-old daughter with her. What a privilege for me to hold my great-granddaughter in my arms! I got to babysit for a whole day. It was wonderful. I feel truly blessed by the Lord. <br /><br /><br /></span></span></span><div><embed src="http://widget-2c.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&il=1&channel=1513209474822018604&site=widget-2c.slide.com" style="width: 400px; height: 320px;" name="flashticker" align="middle"></embed><div style="width: 400px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=1513209474822018604&map=1" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-2c.slide.com/p1/1513209474822018604/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide1.gif" ismap="ismap" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=1513209474822018604&map=2" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-2c.slide.com/p2/1513209474822018604/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide2.gif" ismap="ismap" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=1513209474822018604&map=F" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-2c.slide.com/p4/1513209474822018604/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide42.gif" ismap="ismap" border="0" /></a></div></div>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-89428902546096022202009-08-09T18:29:00.000-07:002009-08-09T18:44:38.091-07:00Do You Believe in Miracles?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsryxvxDFLtJLeYzfIon8qELn7WkLoSwoKbNbIoC39u_r2XKYL90JyoZoOiJvu4LJesnxdZ4g7bUI8MOxWZExblOyKGQTlFfz5FilJixVW0kus6-AkHifdbGJwW7iURWjN2Ri7Ubsyw08/s1600-h/20090809_23.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsryxvxDFLtJLeYzfIon8qELn7WkLoSwoKbNbIoC39u_r2XKYL90JyoZoOiJvu4LJesnxdZ4g7bUI8MOxWZExblOyKGQTlFfz5FilJixVW0kus6-AkHifdbGJwW7iURWjN2Ri7Ubsyw08/s320/20090809_23.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368141546761746562" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I do! This is a picture of myself and son Peter. My daughter and I have been searching for him since his father died over 12 years ago. As you may remember, we found Peter's little girl (now 23 and a mom herself) not too long ago. I asked for your prayers to find him. They have worked!<br /><br />It's been a whirlwind of phone calls, activity, joy and more since we found Peter. His daughter Cassie found his name on facebook and asked me to check it out. I wish I could tell you how many "Peter"'s have gotten an email from me. They were never him. I wrote and waited to be disappointed again. He sent his address and phone number! He lives just over an hour away from here. On July 31st I was able to talk to him for the first time in nearly 17 years. Today, he drove to our home and we had lunch together.<br /><br />Our God is the God of restoration. In the last 10 days, he has restored a father to his daughter, a stepmom to her son and a lifetime of memories to each of us. Maybe next time he comes, I'll let him talk.<br /></span></span></span></span>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-85392317652741706652009-07-27T18:21:00.001-07:002009-07-27T18:21:44.587-07:00Born Again American<a href="http://www.bornagainamerican.org">Born Again American</a><br /><br />Shared via <a href="http://addthis.com">AddThis</a><br />Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-67080069430986417822009-07-12T15:03:00.000-07:002009-07-12T15:06:22.664-07:00A Vacation Retreat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMIwaUX7sNb8n3KLlZsf_kyEqe1TN3X9dCupOTAvyVBdG3FeEAF9k0j5dcb3mT0QEBcHGcX53TS-ddg7AiWY1AhVcUHFiByHfj7PGAkrayyFO6bV4GEDRc3bgI9xFwJjGa2dDmQjM6K5o/s1600-h/mmcbloomwhereyouareplanted.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMIwaUX7sNb8n3KLlZsf_kyEqe1TN3X9dCupOTAvyVBdG3FeEAF9k0j5dcb3mT0QEBcHGcX53TS-ddg7AiWY1AhVcUHFiByHfj7PGAkrayyFO6bV4GEDRc3bgI9xFwJjGa2dDmQjM6K5o/s320/mmcbloomwhereyouareplanted.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357697873998098594" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I've been away for a while. I think it's mostly apathy. Blogging here is so different than what we were used to in J-Land. It's a chore to come here sometimes and I used to get alerts when my friends posted. I notice there is a lot less posting going on . . .
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<br />It's a beautiful sunny day here in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ventura</span>. Where other localities have high <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">temperatures</span>, we have an ocean breeze. I've been around to other towns and a few other states and I just can't imagine a better climate. I guess we will live here until our landlord sells the property (like that will happen soon in this economy!).
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<br />Just about two weeks ago, my friend came up from Mexico to make a trip to Northern California. She was going to be in the area where my daughters live and she invited me for the ride-along. It didn't take me long to get packed. I haven't seen Andrea since June last year. It was such a great trip. Below are a few of the pictures I took in a slide show.
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<br /></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As we traveled north, the temperature changed <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">dramatically</span> from cool to very hot. I am unused to such <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">fluctuations</span> to say the least. Thank the Lord for the invention of air <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">conditioning</span>! We ended up, after a night in a motel, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">approximately</span> 900 miles from home at an altitude of over 4,300 feet. Although the temperature was high there, in the 90's, we were surrounded by trees, had 10' ceilings and a lovely mountain breeze.
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<br />The visit with Andrea was nothing short of God-given. It was a wonderful time of reflection for us. Our hostess' home was like a retreat. We spent <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">muc</span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">h time discussing our faith. It's a little hard for her now because her sister doesn't attend church. In a letter she wrote to me on my computer, Andrea says this:</span></span></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.4 (Win32)"><style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { size: 8.5in 11in; margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 102);"><span style="font-family:Cambria,serif;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Well I hope that people get the great impression of Who and What God is and how great He is and what he can do, that may God bless every one else. Well the reason I'm writing this is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">so that</span> people might start realizing that God is <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">alive</span> and that this may start blessing every one else. "</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 102);"><span style="font-family:Cambria,serif;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-family:verdana;">She speaks of the healing that the Lord can do in our lives if we only ask and pray. She wishes that her daddy will be healed from all the health problems he has. She knows that God can do it. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Ahhh</span>, simple faith!</span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 102);"><span style="font-family:Cambria,serif;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I also ask for prayer for my Rob. His back surgery went well and he is healing there. The dementia is getting worse and it's hard for me to cope sometimes. I forget that he has it and expect him to remember a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">conversation</span> we had earlier. He doesn't realize that he is affected at all and still sees himself as he was. I still see him that way, too. I am deeply saddened by the changes in him. He's too young for this. I'm too young. I guess I need prayer as well, huh?</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 102);"><span style="font-family:Cambria,serif;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I hope you enjoy the slide show as much as I enjoyed my trip. Personal time has become very important for me. I love you all and as always you are in my prayers.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">
<br /></span></span></span></span></p></div><div><embed src="http://widget-8e.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&il=1&channel=1513209474820985230&site=widget-8e.slide.com" style="width: 400px; height: 320px;" name="flashticker" align="middle"></embed><div style="width: 400px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=1513209474820985230&map=1" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-8e.slide.com/p1/1513209474820985230/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide1.gif" ismap="ismap" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=1513209474820985230&map=2" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-8e.slide.com/p2/1513209474820985230/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide2.gif" ismap="ismap" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=1513209474820985230&map=F" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-8e.slide.com/p4/1513209474820985230/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide42.gif" ismap="ismap" border="0" /></a></div></div>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-29222849711981724602009-05-25T13:25:00.000-07:002009-05-25T13:46:54.536-07:00Memorial Day<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="width: 304px; height: 170px;" src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/annmag4.gif" /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A blessed Memorial Day to you all. I am in a place right now where Memorial Day really hits home. Rob had his surgery Friday at the VA hospital in Los Angeles. I am staying at Fisher House, a guest house for the families of veterans. Since I have been here, one veteran has died, the family taking home precious little save the memory of a man who served his country well.<br /><br />Across the street is a National Cemetery. From Rob's room we watched the WWII fighter planes fly over during the morning's ceremonies. Here at Fisher House there is solemn talk of disease and dying and today ~ of those who fought for our freedoms.<br /><br />Today I want to remember those freedoms. I may speak out as I please. I may worship as I please. I have the right to bear arms. There are so many more. I remember well, because I have lived in a 3rd world country where these freedoms are not available. With all that is happening now in this country, I do not know how long those freedoms will survive. Will we be the last generation to know them fully? Will our children and grandchildren accept the loss of them? Will they fight as our fathers and great-grandfathers did? I wish I knew.<br /><br />I am not afraid of what will happen. I know where I am going when I leave this earth. I am blessed right now to know my individual rights and to have met so many brave men and women who have fought to protect my rights. If you haven't taken time yet today, please thank a veteran. Pray for those still serving around the world and take your hat off for a moment to remember those who died.<br /><br />My veteran is safe today. He is well taken care of. The surgery went well and they expect him to recover. The feeling has come back to his legs, praise the Lord. I am grateful that the VA health care system is here for him. And for me. We still don't know how long we will have to stay here. It may be another few days or a couple of weeks. I'm thankful for the volunteers who built this guest house for us to stay in so we can be here for our loved ones. I believe their recovery will be faster because we are here.<br /><br />I think about and pray for you all. I have my computer here, but have not taken much time to write letters or post. My job right now is to be here for Rob.<br /><br />Blessings in Christ,<br /><br /></span></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/2007%20Tags/tag3.jpg" /></div>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-11335552631885156342009-05-20T15:22:00.000-07:002009-05-20T15:39:36.454-07:00Away for a few . . .<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I really haven't had time to do much writing or even thinking lately. Rob is going to have surgery in two days. We have been back and forth to Los Angeles several times, to the "local" clinic a couple of times and are now ready to go spend time in L.A. while the doctors at the VA hospital there make an attempt to repair his badly damaged lower back. Without the surgery, he will be unable to walk very soon. We'd appreciate your prayers for this.<br /><br />So I'll probably be away from my computer a lot in the next couple of weeks. I am taking the laptop and smart phone with me, but don't know how much time I will be able to devote to anything but my sweetheart.<br /><br />When I have time, I will be writing about my grand-parents. I never had any that was called "grandma" or "grandpa". On my mom's side, they were <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Boosie</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Dearie</span>. On my father's side . . .Spring. Oh the stories I can tell about them! I want to share them so I don't forget and so that the legacy will be out there in cyberspace for my children and grand-children.<br /><br />Speaking of grand-children. My daughter has located my grand-daughter Cassie! Last I saw her, she was 5 years old and she and I tried to run the numbers of my credit card at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Wal</span>-Mart in Tulsa. That was 17 years ago. She's all grown up now, has a beautiful son and is pregnant with a little girl due in August. I am so blessed! If you weren't counting . . . that makes a total of 15 grandchildren and 3 (2/3) great-grandchildren. She was eager to be back in our lives and we are thrilled to have contact again after so many years. <br /><br />Blessings and love to all, Penny<br /></span></span></span>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-14157633497055380382009-05-10T10:25:00.000-07:002009-05-10T11:42:31.764-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_z7EzA1kL6H5N93ePtiagx65KbGKz4BGlWTzO67yydeY1dpSINz-VQoa2Bb6cecKymNPEP-64cOYkqe8yP_iBy47Y3ST79na9Q3CpPOnfj9h_SujJxb65gh8EfXO6rRLlpQZinlLYknA/s1600-h/fetches458.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_z7EzA1kL6H5N93ePtiagx65KbGKz4BGlWTzO67yydeY1dpSINz-VQoa2Bb6cecKymNPEP-64cOYkqe8yP_iBy47Y3ST79na9Q3CpPOnfj9h_SujJxb65gh8EfXO6rRLlpQZinlLYknA/s400/fetches458.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334249177002051842" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;">HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!<br /></span></span></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />I usually make a tribute to my mom on Mother's Day, but I recently did that here. So this time I am going to talk about some special moms and Mother's Day itself.<br /><br />Mother's Day is often sad for me. I miss my mom. I miss my kids and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">grandkids</span>. Most of the time, I don't even get calls. That changed this morning. My son Robert woke me up with a call. I love that. He's my son by birth, but he has an adoptive mom as well. I know how very much he loves her. Then my daughter Heather called to wish me well. She was getting ready for her day. She and granddaughter Ashley gave their love. Rob bought me a card and gift. I'm not his mom, but he loves the mom in me. The day is going well.<br /><br />My daughter Heather is a wonderful mom. She has 5 kids of her own and is raising her baby sister. When she got pregnant with her daughter Ashley, I was worried. She (as I had been) was an unmarried teen. The baby was born premature. Heather rode the bus 20 miles each way to be at the hospital with her baby, to bring her breast milk and finally to breast feed her for the first time. She brought Ashley home and never looked back. I was amazed how well she did taking care of her. I am still amazed. Or is it awe? I don't have to agree with her to see that she has done/is doing a great job. Ashley is 24 years old now and there are <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kailani</span> (20), Paige (18), Zachariah (14), Isaiah (10) and baby sister Andrea (15). I know its not easy, but she doesn't often complain. She loves her job as a mom. I am so proud of her.<br /><br />My daughter-in-law Krissy is an awesome mom as well. I haven't had the privilege of watching her raise Athena, but I have seen the results in pictures and videos. I hope someday soon I will be able to watch her in action. I love you, Krissy!<br /><br />This next is not a mom . . . today is also my son John's 40<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">th</span> birthday. Many of you know him. He was J-Land's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">blogfather</span> for quite some time and writes science fiction novels as well as many other things. I'm proud of him. He's a stay-at-home dad.<br /><br />Mother's Day in Mexico is always May 10<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">th</span>. Our celebrations here can't compare with what happens there. I have some experience with that. Although May 10<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">th</span> is the day, each school has to have the celebration for its mothers. This means you go to the kindergarten, grade school, middle school and high school. The celebrations are great. A full meal is served, kids do skits or poems, etc. There is always a corsage for mom and a gift made by her child. The church also celebrates moms, serving a full meal, corsages and gifts. Then of course starting at around midnight, you begin to hear this song: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s5GMHe6D54I"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Las</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Mananitas</span>. </a><br />I can't figure out how to get the tilde ~ over the n. When we lived on the hill before moving to the ranch, Rob left the window to our bedroom open. I went to sleep, but at some point I heard the neighbors playing the song over and over. Then there came a knock at our window. The youth from our church were there with flowers and candles to sing the song. By the time you get through a week of Mother's Day in Mexico, if you never felt appreciated as a mom before . . . you will. So many of our children had no mom around to give their gift to, so I was the privileged one. I will never forget.<br /><br />I hope all you moms out there click on the link to the song . . . it's for you because you are special. God made you special. Even when you think you've messed it all up ~ you are still special. No one but you could have given your child life. Praise God for you.<br /><br /></span></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/My%20Tags/DsDesignsPreciousWindowViewpenny.gif" /></div>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-36398452074320150962009-04-26T12:45:00.000-07:002009-04-26T13:43:09.103-07:00Dreamer<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/hard%20drive%20pics/Christian/thankyoulord2.jpg" /><br /><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Honestly, I didn't want to go this morning. I am tired, my back and legs are in pain and I didn't even get up for church. I went yesterday and she didn't show up. But the gal on the phone said she really wanted to see me in person.<br /><br />I guess I have to give a little background. The call was for a deaf girl. We have watched her life since we moved here nearly 5 years ago. Her street name is Dreamer. When we first saw her, she was a wild drug user. She had wild red hair and we nicknamed her "Big Red". I felt a tug on my heart <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">every time</span> I saw her. About 2 1/2 years ago, I started to communicate with her. I remembered some sign language and could finger-spell. I bought her food a few times, careful not to give her cash. Then she disappeared for a while.<br /><br />A little over a year ago, I began to see her again. I stopped her on the street one day to see if she needed something. She told me she had enough and thanked me. She looked a little different. I didn't know it that day, but she had been in jail for heroin use. She came out on a methadone program and her life has been changing for the better.<br /><br />I wish my words could paint a picture of the girl I've come to know over the last 4 years. She's about 5'9" tall, light red hair . . . there's a small black <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">tattoo</span> over her right eyebrow. She has high cheekbones, a wide bow mouth and green eyes. I suppose because she is deaf, her eyes and face are extremely animated and expressive. I've seen her sometimes walking down the street talking to herself in sign language. In the last year we have become very close. I've always prayed for her, but lately I have been speaking more with her about the Lord.<br /><br />On Friday, Rob and I had to go to the VA hospital in West Los Angeles. He had an epidural injection. While we were waiting for him to go in, I received a call from Dreamer's friend, asking if I could go see her. I told her it would have to wait until Saturday morning at 10 am. I knew I would be tired after the 5 hours of driving back and forth to L.A.<br /><br />Yesterday, I went to meet her, but she didn't show up. I was burned out from all the driving and my pain and little put out. Rob was very needy yesterday as well. I'm not the very best when I have a lot of stress. My pain level goes up and my patience goes down. I just wanted to sleep. I did sleep a good deal of the afternoon then all night and until about 9:30 this morning. At 10 am the call came. I started to say no, was shaking my head no, but said yes.<br /><br />Here is a bit of what happened. Dreamer invited me to go with her to see the movie "Solo" on Thursday after her check came in. I agreed which is hard for me to do when I'm worn out. I just can't think ahead. Then we talked for a while, signing, spelling and writing. I want to share part of what she wrote, " Guess what? I won't be stay alive for no longer in 10 years. Remembered I told you about my used to be addict - heroin. I have Hep C"<br /><br />"I went to see Dr already she'll put me into treatment. The medicine will help but no cures for Hep C. I'm scared. I don't want to die."<br /><br />"I have no ideas where I'll go when I die, I means in hell or in heaven. Well, I'm a good person. I believe in God and I love Jesus. I want to go home with Jesus, but does God decide?"<br /><br />I asked her if she had ever prayed to ask Jesus into her heart. She shook her head no. I asked if she wanted to. She looked straight at me without answering. I told her that Jesus died for her sins and would forgive all if she just asked. She nodded okay. I signed and spelled the prayer and in what throaty voice she has, she repeated them. I had tears rolling down my face. When I looked at her, so did she.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Ok</span>. So I didn't make it to church this morning, but the Lord gave me an assignment anyway. Isn't God good?<br /><br />You are all in my prayers daily. Please pray for wisdom and understanding for my dear friend Dreamer.<br /><br /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/hard%20drive%20pics/Christian/Ds_Designs_Gorjuss_Spring_Day_penny.gif" /></div>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-64506612983535435072009-04-02T07:34:00.000-07:002009-04-03T17:11:45.394-07:00News & Tidbits<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvU9NHO8m822JtbmAxwHwtdjJV8mIK5hDJJB7wkYQ52tIzlbv-xiU1KYY1_TRPega2QsI8q9xZyxA9zm97a84i9yLsiik4of5RAMlW3S_YmQmEBj1hiYtHK4lHVFMP4ukAZUzk59-FdA/s1600-h/dependonGod.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvU9NHO8m822JtbmAxwHwtdjJV8mIK5hDJJB7wkYQ52tIzlbv-xiU1KYY1_TRPega2QsI8q9xZyxA9zm97a84i9yLsiik4of5RAMlW3S_YmQmEBj1hiYtHK4lHVFMP4ukAZUzk59-FdA/s320/dependonGod.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320524822921817010" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I got a call from the VA! It seems they are going to start "homemaker" services for Robert immediately. The woman asked me if my husband was receiving 100% and I said yes 70% service-connected and 30% <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">unemployability</span> which was equal to 100%. She said she was glad I knew this. The homemaker will come 4 hours per week, will wash his clothes, vacuum, do dishes and even go shopping if necessary. They are also going to send physical therapy to us. The lady who called was wonderful. She explained the ins and outs of the service and that the homemaker is an indefinite assignment. I thank you all for your prayers. The first lady at social work told us it would be at least 3 months before any action would be taken and that we would be turned down. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Isn't God good? I asked for and received prayer and this has happened so fast it makes my head swim.</span><br /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="width: 138px; height: 45px;" src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/fetches471.gif" /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My mom told me when I was young that my first option should be prayer. Of course, being human, I end up praying when all else fails. I wish I hadn't said that. I could erase it. I pray every day, more than once a day. Here's the rub: I forget to pray for me. Rob and I prayed about asking for help from the VA. </span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The truth be told, I have been stressed out about all of this. Rob's back is really bad, his ankle needs to be fused and now he can't drive. He used to do a lot of the housework, especially while I was down for so long. I knew it was my turn. But the responsibility is a bit overwhelming. </span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We got wise counsel from Tom and Sharon, from Mary and from Manny. We might have found our way through the bureaucracy without help. Probably would have. But by then I would be burned out. Thank God for good friends and relatives! You guys are the best.<br /><br />I just had a chance to talk to <a href="http://tomschuckmanjournal.blogspot.com/">Tom</a> and hear that he's been able to visit his wife Sharon in the hospital daily. The recovery from heart surgery is slow and I want to ask again that you pray for her. I would like some love to go out to Sharon. She's a wonderful lady. Go on over to his blog to give him some encouragement as well. He'll tell Sharon you visited.<br /><br />You are all in my prayers and I am so blessed to know you and read about your lives. Until next time, be blessed.<br /></span></span></span></div></div> <img style="width: 137px; height: 64px;" src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/fetchp6.gif" />Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-42391212853084020922009-03-31T13:44:00.000-07:002009-03-31T16:37:57.718-07:00Counting my blessings . . .<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/fetches542.gif" /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I figured I'd better count my blessings today because my patience has surely been tried today. First the blessings:<br /><br />1.I have the love of my Lord Jesus Christ. 2. I am married to the man I love and he still knows who I am. 3. We have family who love us. 4. We have a place to live, food to eat, a car to drive, and a few friends who care. 5. We can pay our bills on our fixed income.</span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> We have our needs met and even some of our desires.</span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> 6. I am walking and moving better than I have in 2 years. 7. One of us can still drive. This can go on and on.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">NOW. </span>We went to the VA facility 60 miles from here to speak to social work about the services we will be needing now that Rob will have to have surgery, can't drive, etc. The other VA facility is also over 50 miles one way. UGH! We had to wait of course. They can be late, but we can't. When we finally got in to see the social worker (nice gal, by the way) and told her our needs, she asked if Rob were rated 100%. That means is his disability completely service-connected? The VA has always said no, but we disagree. We had to answer that. Then she told us the services were not available if he were less than 100%. UGH! She said to go try to increase the percentage (VA says most is service-connected, but some is unemployability = 100% ~ go figure) and try again.<br /><br />I don't give up that easily. Poor Rob tried to slow me down, but I kept talking. I told her I was going to have to insist that we request the services now. His list of diagnosis's was on the screen in front of her. There are 9 or 10 different problems there. I said I knew that we had a right to appeal any negative decision and that I wanted it in the system now. She started to say something negative and I asked her again to put in our request. Rob was nearly apoplectic! He's saying, "Slow down hon! You're going to get shaky and start crying." He hasn't seen this side of me yet, or has forgotten it.<br /><br />I told her that Rob's brother worked for the VA in Sacramento and had told us to push them for services. Our very good online friends in WI who have similar connections to the VA also told us to ask. Another friend I wrote to told me to push as well. So I pushed. You would be proud of me. I did not raise my voice, get shaky or cry. I may have talked a little too fast, but it's the squeaky wheel . . .etc.<br /><br />The gal looked again at the list of diagnosis's and said, "Perhaps they will waive it for him." The request is in the system. It takes months for these things, so if you wait until the last minute, it's about hopeless. I will not let that happen. Rob served his country well in the Vietnam War and as a civilian in the Gulf War. I will not let him be forgotten or left "under a rock" to suffer. He's suffered enough. His only child died of brain cancer because he was exposed to Agent Orange.<br /><br />One more thing before I get off my soapbox: you don't have to agree with a war or war at all to support the men and women who fight for their country. I hate war. I don't think the troops like it either, but they made a commitment to serve. I think our country and its citizens ought to honor that. Except for these men and women, we would not have the freedoms we do. Remember that when you bash a war.<br /><br />Okay, off the box. It's a beautiful sunny day here in Ventura if a bit cool. We bought freshly picked strawberries and oranges at one of the fruit stands on the road out of town this morning and we are enjoying them so this afternoon. We're both tired from the trip. I wish it were all closer. The Lord knows what is in store for us and he will give us what we need at just the time its needed.<br /><br />Thank you for your kind comments and your prayers. They help. I pray for you as well. Be blessed,<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="width: 549px; height: 410px;" src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/100_0432-1-1.jpg" /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />oops! I tagged this 2005, but now remember it was April, 2006 ~ a trip to San Diego.<br /></div></div>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-46259688064417704932009-03-29T18:44:00.000-07:002009-03-29T20:14:52.128-07:00I figured it out . . .<span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I've been a little <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">melancholy</span> the last day or two. I figured it might be the stress of knowing that Rob can drive, needs surgery, is in pain etc.<br /><br />I was chatting with a friend when it came to me. We were talking about powers of attorney, health care decisions and the like. My mom requested a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">DNR</span> in her medical record. She was dying of cancer and didn't want any drastic measures taken.<br /><br />I remembered. Yesterday was Mom's birthday. She would have been 90. I know where my mom is. She loved the Lord with all her heart. I still miss her. I felt a little guilty because I had forgotten the day. So silly. I didn't get to grieve much for her when she died because my husband died the next day. It was a tough time. I've done my grieving now and I'm not depressed. I just miss her. I guess it's a human thing. I think I became more vulnerable and less invincible when she died. If she could die, then so could I.<br /><br />My mom was a tremendous woman. Before she married my father, she was in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">pre</span>-med. She gave that up to marry and raise a family. She never seemed to regret it. She loved us with a passion that I only understood after giving birth. I have 3 sisters and no brothers. There is a span of 8 years between me and my next sister. I happened when my parents tried to reconcile their marriage. Mom never seemed to regret me.<br /><br />Since my sisters were older and all married or gone by the time I was 8 years old, I felt like an only child. My sisters spoiled me rotten until I was about 5, then tried very hard to undo the damage. Mom spoiled me too. I didn't know until I was in my teens how much she gave up to spoil me. <br /><br />When I got pregnant at 15 1/2, mom cried. She didn't rant or rave or call me names. Rather she hugged me. I am sure she was disappointed, but she never let on. She supported me through the pregnancy (abortion was never an option) and let me make my own decisions regarding the baby. <br /><br />Mom wasn't perfect. She was human. She loved her children and grandchildren to the point of selfishness. She had no life of her own. It was all for us. She dated some but never remarried. She worked and lived alone after I left home. She went to softball games and soccer games and plays. She would have been 90.<br /><br />I honor her today. I am grateful to have been loved by her. I am thankful she taught me to love the Lord. I'm not melancholy anymore. Just grateful.<br /></span></span></span>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-51667277611878093002009-03-29T10:34:00.000-07:002009-03-29T18:43:57.588-07:00Sunday<img src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/hard%20drive%20pics/Christian/sundaybasketofflowers.gif" /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I hope you are all having a pleasant Sunday. The weather is overcast and a bit cool today. I'm staying inside.<br /><br />Sundays at the ministry in Mexico were almost overwhelming. Every child had to be dressed properly, faces and hands clean, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">memorization</span> finished. For each baby, bottles had to be mixed, diapers loaded into a big bag, and a change of clothes ready "just in case." The school-age kids had to be at church an hour early for Sunday school. They breakfasted early and one of us would take the task while the other was readying babies.<br /><br />In the church, we sat together as a family. Our little contingent filled 2 pews. I would translate for English speakers who might come with us. The children were amazing. Many kids from small families would run all over the church, first sitting with family, then a friend, then perhaps a grandparent. Our kids stayed in the pews (did they listen to the Word? I like to think so.) as asked and left only for restroom breaks. We had a lot of parents ask us how we got them to sit still. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure except that we told them that they needed to be respectful in the house of God. I guess they listened. Below is a picture of a family breakfast. We only had 16 kids at the time.<br /><br /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="width: 577px; height: 432px;" src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/OUR%20FAMILY-New%20Pictures/4c8f.jpg" /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The large white barrel at the back is fresh drinking water. We had a larger tank on the roof. To the right are bags and boxes of foodstuffs delivered the afternoon before. The house we were renting was small, just 3 bedrooms. This picture was taken on a school day. Our oldest boy and the infants are not pictured.<br /><br />Sunday was always a time of blessing for the children. Parent visits were allowed both at church and at the house. Some parents had permission to take their kids for the day. The only hard part for us was not having workers to help with meals, clean-up, etc. Our girls especially were good at helping out with chores and the babies.<br /><br />Our workers typically averaged $50 a month to come in for 8 hours+ a day. We had a cook, a laundry person and a housekeeper. Both the laundry person and housekeeper doubled as babysitters. This gave us the chance to go shopping or out to lunch on occasion.<br /><br />We had prayer each morning before the kids went to school and each evening before bed. We also had short bible studies and a time of singing and memorizing verses. The last scripture the children learned before we left in 2004 was the scripture I quoted in my last entry. I was so proud of them! It took 4 weeks for them to read, understand and memorize that long passage.<br /><br />Today, our home is quiet save for the dogs. We've had a little disappointment this week. On Monday when Rob went to see the Alzheimer's doctor, he was told not to drive. Rob thought it meant for a while, but we received notice yesterday from the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">DMV</span> that he will no longer be able to drive. He is feeling pretty sad about that. He does love driving. I like having him drive. The good thing is that I also like to drive. We will just have to manage our trips differently. We will find the blessing in this, I am sure.<br /><br />Our homeless friend Tina has found a place to live. She is coming by today visit. We are <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">committed</span> to helping her get her monthly bus pass and to that end we will have a few chores for her. She is looking for full time work as well. When she comes, we have a time of bible study or teaching as well. It's good for all of us.<br /><br />Keeping you all in my prayers,<br /><br /></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span></span></div><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span></span></div><img src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/DsDesignsPeacefulPorchPenny.gif" />Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-44818414155875733162009-03-27T08:59:00.000-07:002009-03-27T15:50:29.526-07:00Good Morning<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/More%20hard%20drive/Next%20set/the%20nest%20group/and%20even%20more/sskhope2ww-1.gif" /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">It's been a rough few days for me. I have wanted to post again about Mexico, but my brain is working against me. My throat hurts, my ear hurts, it hurts to breathe and I can't talk above a whisper. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">PLOM</span><br /><br />On Monday, I had to go with Rob to the VA facility in the valley. It's about 40 miles from here. This was the Alzheimer's doctor. Rob didn't score very well. He was having a bad morning. After his appointment, I had to go see the doctor here at home. I'm taking antibiotics but still feel pretty miserable.<br /><br />Yesterday, Rob had 2 appointments with the VA. One was in the valley and the other in West Los Angeles. It was a full day for us. I did all the driving. Rob's back is messed up big time. He is now scheduled to have an injection in his spine for pain relief and also to talk to the surgeon. I am pretty opposed to back surgery, but the doc told us that the disc is impinging the nerve on both sides. No wonder my dear hubby is in so much pain. He also needs to have surgery on his ankle. I didn't realize how very much damage there was to his back.<br /><br />This is where our prayer life and relationship with the Lord have the most importance. Sometimes our health problems overwhelm us and hope goes out the window. We feel alone and separated from the rest of the world. But there <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">is </span></span>hope. Whatever is going on in our lives, there is hope in Jesus. Three months ago, I was so sick I hadn't been out of bed in a long time. We prayed and I earnestly sought the Lord for a change. Even though I am sick right now, I am so much better than I had been. I am so grateful.<br /><br />It's hard to feel the joy of the Lord when you are in pain, afraid, depressed or lonely. There are scriptures that can help. My favorite is in the book of Romans: <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rom 8:31 What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? </span> <span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rom 8:32 He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things? </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rom 8:33 Who shall bring a charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rom 8:34 Who is he who condemns? It is Christ who died, and furthermore is also risen, who is even at the right hand of God, who also makes intercession for us. </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rom 8:35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rom 8:36 As it is written: "FOR YOUR SAKE WE ARE KILLED ALL DAY LONG; WE ARE ACCOUNTED AS SHEEP FOR THE SLAUGHTER." </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rom 8:37 Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rom 8:38 For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rom 8:39 nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. </span> </span><br />I am awed by this scripture. Once I have given myself to Christ, there is NOTHING that will take His love from me. He himself is interceding for me even (or especially) in my darkest hours. In the midst of what is going on in the world right now, I rest in the knowledge that God is on my side. He's on your side as well if you know Jesus as your savior.<br /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;">******************<br /></div><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">It's not morning now . . . doctor's office called to say it's not strep. They wanted me back in. Now they say it is strep again and have given me more potent antibiotics. This is where my faith gets tested. I'm very crabby when I don't feel well and all these trips out make me frustrated. However ~ just a moment ago I read news from my dear friend <a href="http://tomschuckmanjournal.blogspot.com/">Tom.</a><br />His wife Sharon has just come through a successful heart valve replacement. My problems are <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">minuscule</span>. It will be a few days before she is even conscious and I frustrate myself over a sore throat. Please pray for Tom and Sharon.<br /><br />As always, I pray for each and everyone of you. I have been reading your blogs and trying to comment. If I haven't, please be patient with me. I will get there. Blessings and love,<br /><br /></span></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/hard%20drive%20pics/DsDesignsGorjussCrumbspenny.gif" /></div>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-44834123134165825592009-03-23T11:33:00.000-07:002009-03-24T10:00:36.314-07:00Spin the Bottle<span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">We called the trailer and its room home. From there, I shared the work in a pharmacy we had invested in, worked at the clinic, went to Bible study and church, rehearsed for plays and took care of children.<br /><br />My granddaughter Ashley came to live with us for a year. The room wasn't built yet. We had a wooden room divider in the trailer to separate her "room" from ours. She came in the summer and we hired a man to help her learn Spanish so school wouldn't be so hard for her. Cleto not only taught her Spanish, but formed a folklorico dance troupe. Ashely was the best dancer they had. Not just bragging folks. The little troupe went to perform in a dance demonstration a few months after starting. Ashley and her partner performed a very difficult dance called "El Mono" (the bow). The n is supposed to have a tilde ~ over it, but I can't find the character set here. Even professionals gave this 8 year-old girl and her 9 year-old partner a standing ovation. A very proud grandma taped the whole thing. I wish I still had that tape.<br /><br />Ashley helped her grandpa with construction work when she wasn't in school, studying or dancing. She made friends with several children, including those of the fisherman across the Z road from us. They were very poor and lived in a trailer older but similar to ours. The difference for them was that there were 3 of us and 6 of them. One night, after the room was nearly finished, Ashley invited the 3 little girls to spend the night with us. It was a taste of what was to come a little later.<br /><br />We learned a valuable lesson from the little girls. After playing all the games we could translate, I heard one girl suggest playing "spin the bottle". I grew up in the 1950's and I knew that game. I was ready to object when I saw all the girls' eyes light up. I waited. They called to me to join them. I shook my head no but before I could move, little Carmen grabbed me and pulled me to where they were sitting cross-legged on the floor. The bottle spun and stopped. It pointed at one of the sisters. The spinner leaned across the center and hugged her sis, kissing her on the cheek. Soon all of us got a taste of what it was liked to be spun into family. I nearly cried with joy for the love that was shown. There was no funny business about this game.<br /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><img style="width: 184px; height: 280px;" src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/hard%20drive%20pics/Christian/My%20personal%20tags/Animals%20Inspiration/raffy.jpg" /></span></span></span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />As Ashley went to school and dance, I learned a great deal about the culture in Mexico. Most people were dirt poor or poor. There were not many of those would be called middle class in the U.S. There is a "class" distinction, however. Even the poorest of the poor Mexicans shunned the indigenous (Oaxacan or other) peoples. We taught Ashley to treat the indigenous with the same respect she would like to have.<br /><br />I haven't posted for the last couple of days because I have strep throat. I went to the doctor yesterday and got antibiotics, cough syrup and an inhaler. I don't feel like a new person yet. Maybe tomorrow. Today my concern is with my dear friend Sharon who is having surgery and also with Krissy's husband John as he battles fungal pneumonia. I covet prayers for them, my sister Charlotte, Donna and Missie. I continue to pray for all of you. Blessings in Jesus' name,<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/hard%20drive%20pics/Christian/My%20personal%20tags/Penny2.jpg" /></div>Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215651099733812373.post-17857917943332350352009-03-20T09:15:00.000-07:002009-03-20T10:34:30.179-07:00Building<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-qJtLfaY_E1QBcUo4GlEwUsvqz1RCZ5SifIN8kQanJR6CgZNBAEn1G1rWTgB2NotIUg5EuevPpOtCozRJ8jLPVbkXdYi2DwP0nrUM5mRrTkInKCZ-zMoOEjhdaXBdlFSEuLE9-SNMQXM/s1600-h/Ensenada-Vacation-Rentals-p6_145886_1972674l.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-qJtLfaY_E1QBcUo4GlEwUsvqz1RCZ5SifIN8kQanJR6CgZNBAEn1G1rWTgB2NotIUg5EuevPpOtCozRJ8jLPVbkXdYi2DwP0nrUM5mRrTkInKCZ-zMoOEjhdaXBdlFSEuLE9-SNMQXM/s320/Ensenada-Vacation-Rentals-p6_145886_1972674l.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315319194810512530" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Our area was at the far left.</span><br /><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />It's strange to live in a foreign country, even if it's one as close as next door. Our property was in what was called an "American" community there. It was like living in a capsule of Americana. Our area was divided into several sections or "camps". The first two camps down the Z road as we called it, had names. The next 3 were numbered and the last section was the Baja Beach & Tennis Club.<br /><br />Before Baja Beach was even built, they began to sell lifetime memberships to the Americans in the area. Roger wanted to buy in, but I was hesitant. They wanted $5k of our precious building dollars to get in on the "ground floor". I'm glad we didn't spend the money there.<br /><br />We spent time making the plans for our home. Leasing land in Mexico is a gamble no matter what. 99 years leases are a lie. Even 3 ten-year leases may not be made with full disclosure. Roger was retired because he had developed asbestosis on the job. Whatever we built would be his last hurrah and he loved Mexico. We decided that we'd spend the money he had saved to build the house. We were not blind to the fact that we might lose everything. We couldn't even rent a home such as we wanted in the U.S. It was a go.<br /><br />The first kind of Spanish I learned was construction Spanish. We hired an architect, made plans, had them approved and hire a man to begin construction for us. It took many months to get the foundation in. You understand that a man who builds his home on sand is a fool. Our footing went more than 5' down with thirteen 4' pilasters, 1" re bar in both directions and tied with heavy wire. Fill dirt then came in and a one foot concrete foundation was poured. Roger stubbed in all the elecrtic, phone and plumbing before the foundation went in.<br /><br />We rejoiced every time we saw progress in the house. After the foundation, the windows were the biggest expense. We had 29 of them installed. Curtains were not an issue. There were no permanent residents within view when we built it.<br /><br />The beams atop the 26' second story were enourmous! Roger and his friend Art installed the one at the rear (over the upstairs bathroom) while I video taped. I nearly had a heart attack. Other than the framing for the bathroom and loft, there was no place to land. The other beam was over open space 26 feet below. I asked Roger not to try to participate in that, so we spoke to our contractor. Seven young men showed up to earn a bonus. We took a walk. I couldn't watch. It was worth every penny to take that walk.<br /><br />Living in the trailer wasn't easy. We thought it was big when we bought it. It was 30' long with a middle bedroom and rear bath. It had all the amenities. Wonderful for a couple of lovebirds as we were back then. Unfortunately, there was no room for disagreement in that 30'. When we would argue, one of us would head for the bedroom, the other for the kitchen/family area until we cooled off. I don't know exactly how he felt, but it was tough for me to pass him to use the bathroom while I was still angry - or have him pass me for that matter. We stopped construction to build a 30' x 15' room and 2nd bath alongside the trailer.<br /><br />I hear and read of such turmoil in Mexico these days with the drug wars going on. I know it is a frightening place nowadays. I thought I would live and die there. I love speaking Spanish, I love the people there, I love "my" kids who still live there. My years were not wasted. I still have missionary friends there, including the couple who took over the ministry when we left 4 1/2 years ago. I am saddened to know that the country is in turmoil and persecution of the Americans still living there is likely. Please pray for those who have been chosen to place themselves in ministry in countries around the world.<br /><br />Also please pray for my sister Charlotte who will be having surgery on Monday, my dear friend Sharon who will have surgery on Tuesday and for Donna who is also having or just had surgery. I thank you for reading and I am praying for you as well. Love and blessings,<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span></span><img src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a6/firestormkids04/hard%20drive%20pics/Christian/My%20personal%20tags/Jesus.jpg" />Pennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07346810848362713840noreply@blogger.com5