I want a truck...

Yep, that’s what I said, I want a pick up truck.  An old, beat up, reliable truck.  Why?  Because I am so tired of trying to squeeze oversized things in my smallish 4 door sedan.  

In the last week I tried to put 3 new barstools that I had bought into my car.  I thought I could fit one stool in the front, one in the back and one in the trunk.  Wrong.  I took 2 back and ended up with one in the front and had to make another trip with Cindy and her Tahoe to buy the other two.  

My one barstool (now 3)

In past years I can’t tell you how many plants and shrubs and small trees I have maneuvered into my car.  They have hung out the windows, they have stuck through the  sun roof.  I can’t believe I haven’t had a wreck in all the times my car has been so overstuffed that I can only see what’s right in front of my windshield.

The last straw has been this never-ending MOVE.  There have been at least 3 days that I have had to go to Walmart or Home Depot and BUY boxes.  Now, for those of you with SUV’s or trucks or large cars this is an easy task, but try shoving unbendable cardboard boxes into the backseat of a small car (because I have 2 baby car seats in my backseat and the boxes are too long to fit into the trunk) makes you want to rip your arms off.

Two days ago I had gone to Home Depot and BOUGHT 10 MORE boxes.  The wind was blowing and I was fighting the boxes, the rolling shopping cart and the back seat of my car until sweat was soaking through my clothes. Did I mention it was about 50 degrees outside?  I had one foot under the wheel of the shopping cart so it would roll away from me and crash into a nearby truck, I had one hand on the top of the stack of boxes that the wind was trying to pick up and carry away like Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of Oz, and the other hand along with my hip and head were stuffing boxes into my now tiny car like I was trying to fit pieces into a jigsaw puzzle.  I’m ready for a truck.

Now, let me rant about buying boxes for just a moment.  No longer can one go to HEB (San Antonio’s ONLY grocery store) to pick up their left over boxes.  Oh no, now when you politely ask the manager they will tell you, “Oh sorry we crush all our boxes immediately.”  Couldn’t they just hold some back and I would come at a convenient time and pick them up?  “Sorry, we crush them immediately.”

So I begin cruising the isles of HEB every time I’m there.  When I spot a stocker with boxes on their cart, I circle them, stalking them until they have 4-5 empty boxes.  Then I make my move.  “Would you mind if I take those boxes off your hands?”  The shrug and I fill my cart, buy an item or two, get a raised eye brow from the checker and off I go to my miniature car to finagle my prized free boxes.  I want a truck.

My stalking boxes

Now, you would think Costco would be a perfect spot for boxes.  After all they have that large metal bin full of all sizes of boxes.  So I go with high hopes of not having to pay $1.50/box, but oh no, Costco cuts off the tops of their boxes and then cuts big U’s in the side of them, no use to me at all.  I give in and go back to buying my boxes.

I know you are thinking, so big deal, what’s a few boxes?  Well, for some crazy unknown reason the other day I counted the boxes I have already packed (remember I still have 3 weeks more to pack).  I have, to-date packed over 200 boxes.  I know call me crazy, call me a hoarder, tell me to purge.  The sad thing is I am purging, I’m purging like crazy, but I simply have stuff.  I admit, I’m ashamed at the amount of stuff I have accumulated and can’t seem to part with, but what I hate worse is the amount of money I have had to spend on boxes...do the math, it’s horrible.

My store bought boxes

Which brings me back to my need for a truck.  With over 200+ boxes filled with stuff it is more than obvious I need a truck.  How else will I be able to accumulate more stuff without a truck?

Here’s my dream truck.  If anyone that can help me find something like this truck, well, I would happily help you haul your stuff too!

Just picture Lucy Belle sticking her cute head out of the window!

Much love,

Janet

P.S.  There is absolutely no scripture I can possibly think of to go with this entry.   

An addendum...

Boxing up the office today I came across an old graft paper tablet.  Flipping throughout its pages I realized it was one Steve and I had used while designing certain areas of this home.  There were sketches of kitchen cabinet layouts, the office layout,  the butler's pantry...and then I found this...

It was Steve's rendering of our front door.  My heart sunk a little, thinking how important this door was to us at one time.  Tears fell from my eyes, and I wan't quite sure where to place this treasure.

Later in the day I told Kris, my contractor/saintly new friend, about my find.  Very gently his wise words simply spoken said, "Frame it."

I think I will.

Thanks to so many of you who have followed through my last writings with suggestions about what I might do with our door.  It truly gives purpose to living, to know that I am surrounded by loving friends who want to help and are so very precious to me.

Love to all,

Janet

Luke 12:34  "Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be." 

Shut the front door...

I thought I was doing well.  Steve has now been gone for six months and I thought I might have reached a point of rejoining the real world.  I thought…

Our trip to NYC was great, I did it and enjoyed it in spite of myself.  Then Christmas, that was a little tougher, but I was surrounded by our family and Steve was so with us in spirit.  We were all able to talk so lovingly of our time and memories of him and of each other that though it was difficult, t was a very sweet time for all of us.

Lastly Isreal.  I am still processing the experiences I had there, but I came home realizing that, I can travel without Steve and I can physically, mentally and emotionally do it and have fun...that was a huge discovery for me.

So, here I am today, knee deep in packing up the Bretford Court house, ugh.  Much of my days are filled attending to details of the Pinoak Knoll reconstruction, which should wrap up end of February.  The buyers of our Bretford Court home are busy deciding all the changes they are going to make and I have given them free reign to come and go as necessary to get bids and try to help make their transition easy.  So life is hectic, but, I’m doing it and feeling like, “Hmm, I think I have turned some 6 month corner in this grieving process and I am able to act human again.”

Well, shut the front door.  Literally.  Everything is humming along, I’m feeling fairly normal, busy, hectic, stewing...and wham, that craziness hit me like a huge door slamming in my face and I didn’t even realize it for a few days.

They say crazy people don’t know they’re crazy, they think they’re normal and everyone else is off balance.  Well, say I’m crazy!  It happened so innocently, so sneakily.  One of the buyers of the Bretford Court house just off handedly mentioned that in all the remodeling they were planning to do to the house... my house, the home that Steve and I thought about, carefully planned, and watched grow to fruition into the home that we so loved...I’m off course right?  I’m so thankful our house sold so effortlessly.  Of course, new owners want to make any house theirs by making changes.  Naturally, I am excited to see all the incredible things they will do to make the house really fabulous...but the day that the off handed remark was made, well insanity set into the depths of my being.

“We are going to replace the front door,” Brad remarked without a second thought, and why should he have second thoughts about replacing a door?

“You are getting rid of that front door?”  I asked or maybe reprimanded this poor kind man.  

This was “our door.”  Steve and I had designed it and had it hand crafted by a wonderful Polish immigrant who now lives in San Antonio (he probably walked 5 miles in the snow to school everyday).  Steve had refinished the outside wood just before the recurrence of his tumor.  It was the front door of our home and I hadn’t turned any corner, I wasn’t through this grieving process, I was knee deep and wallowing in my loss.

The only problem is, I didn’t know I was crazy.  All I knew was, if they were getting rid of our front door, I wanted it for the Pinoak Knoll house.  I started measuring, pacing, thinking, could it work?  Was it possible?  I mentioned it to Kris (my contractor, a saint) and I mentioned it very casually, like…”Hey Kris, I might want to use the front door of my old house in place of this one…do you think that’s possible?”  Kris always answers, “Anything’s possible.”  Kris hadn’t seen my door yet.  

My Bretford Court door is 8 feet tall and 48 inches wide.  My Pinoak Knoll door...isn’t.  This door is 7 feet tall and 38 inches wide, plus it has sidelights and very large transom windows above it.  Not to mention the old door opens the wrong way, it would have to be dismantled, crated and brought to the new house.  The entire doorway would need to be reconstructed and brick would need to be found to match a 20 year old house...the list went on and on.  

I really wanted that door.  It was a part of “us” I was willing to do anything to make sure I held on to our door.  So I kept talking, I talked to the new owners to find out when their new door would be ready.  I talked to our builder to see if he could install a temporary door until their new door was ready.  Jerry said he could board up the entry for them until their door was delivered.  I didn’t see a problem with that.  Tears begin to well up in my eyes when I spoke of wanting to take our door, I just knew Pinoak Knoll wouldn’t feel like my house without “our door.”  

Grief is insanity.  It comes and slams into you like the wind blows a door shut right in your face.  It took me about 8 hours to process that this wasn’t about losing our front door, no not at all.  This was all about closing this door of our life and moving on to a new door of my own.  No, I don’t think 6 months of living without Steve has found me so mightily independent and adjusted.  Instead I think, as much as I continue to miss him and wish that he could walk through that front door just one more time...he won’t, and no door will make that better, or ease the pain or take away this grief.

I woke up today and called Brad and told him the door was no longer an issue.  I told Kris, the contractor I had given up on my crazy idea, he smiled and nodded knowing.

When I leave this home of ours, the last thing I will do is walk out the front door.  I will close it gently, press my hand against it’s warm wood and I will thank God that I was given the opportunity to live inside such a home as this with a man I love more than anything in the world. 

With much love,

Janet

Matthew 7:7  “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.

Will God Speak to My Heart?

I left 2 days after Christmas.  I was to go on a 10 day trip to The Holy Land, amazing right?  Incredible correct...what timing?  It was the perfect time, right after Christmas, my first one without Steve. The children all knew it would be a difficult time for me.  They all encouraged me to go, to take this amazing trip.  They knew this was a trip Steve and I had planned to take 15 years ago but, that trip was cancelled due to unrest.

"This will be perfect timing, God's timing, go it will be a wonderful experience for you."  It was Brent's idea to take Steve's ashes, "Just a small amount, Mom, that way you can spread them in all the places you know Steve would want to be.  You will be taking him with you in spirit."  That sealed the deal, I was in.  Again, it was Carolyn who had invited me to go along a day or so after Steve's death.  "Go to Israel with this group that Margi and I are going with..."  Again found myself quickly saying, "I'm in."

Much like New York before Christmas, I found myself dreading this trip as the time grew near. I simply had too much to do at home.  

A week before leaving, our home sold to some of our wonderful old neighbors.  No, it wasn't on the market, but they had heard I was going to sell and came to me.  My new home won't be ready until some time in February..."no problem, we will close whenever it works for you."  A string of other events followed, and all I could hear was Steve saying to me time and again before he left this earth, "Janet, make this as easy on yourself as possible, don't try to make a fortune, just make sure the buyers are people you can trust.  

God continues to amaze me and, as always, met my expectations in a far greater way than I might have ever imagined.  Thank you Father for taking care of the smallest details of my life.

I still had cold feet about the trip.  Exhausted from Christmas (physically, mentally and emotionally) my heart was simply not beating wildly about this pilgrimage.  But then, look at what happened to us in New York (an older blog entry), God was going to move in some mighty way, right?  So my expectations of what God had in store for me began to take root.

I prayed for him to "create in me a new heart, and renew a right spirit within me."  I wanted God to speak clearly to me on this Holy Land journey.  I was ready for transformation, healing from grief, an anointment from God himself.  Was the answer to my prayer that I was about to have a life changing experience because I was going to walk where Jesus, Peter, Paul had all walked before me?  Oh thank you precious Heavenly Father for this incredible opportunity!  I still didn't want to go, but now I knew, I expected, God to work in me...I was filled with anticipation.  How, what, when would this Godly connection change my life?  

When will I learn that God's plan is so much more intricate?

The flight over was long and we were all weary arriving about 22 hours after we had left San Antonio.  It was late, we were more than ready for a real bed.

The next day was full of stops.  Caesarea, incredible, as we sat in the amphitheater where Peter and Paul had been, where Jesus had spent much of his time.  It overlooked the Mediterranean Sea, I scattered Steve's first ashes there.  I had gone off by myself, away from the group to spend some time alone and in remembrance of my husband, who I so longed to have by my side at that moment.  The beach was full of shells, and as I bent to lay his ashes in the water, I picked up a few small shells to take home with me.

Sweet Sue Minor

As I stood, Sue Minor came toward me with such purpose.  Sue was one of my first San Antonio friends.  Our paths and lives have lead us in different directions, but Sue is one of those kindred spirits that I will forever feel a bond with.  God would enable our paths to cross on rare occasions during Steve's illness.  I would look up and there would be Sue in HEB with hugs, tears and words of support, always, it seemed, at a low tide in Steve's and my journey.  Here she was again, open armed walking toward me on the shore of this Holy land.  We hugged, cried and she suggested I say Steve's name aloud in each place we stopped, allowing his spirit to fill the space around me...thank you Sue, Steve Boswell's name has been spread throughout Israel. 

Our days were hectic and full.  So much history, so much emotion.  Some of my favorite places were the shores of the Sea of Galilee, so calm and peaceful when we arrived early our second day.  The beach made of finely silted black lava.  Fishing boats were out casting their nets early that morning, not much different from 2000 years ago.  

Sea of Galilee

We crossed the Sea of Galilee by boat and again heard the story of Peter's walking on water, of Jesus calming the storms, of filling his disciple's nets full of fish. Emotions ran deep in all 32 of us as we imagined ourselves there with Christ.

The Sea of Galilee

We went to Tabgha, the site of the loaves and the fishes, we walked up to the Mount of Beatitudes.  I will never read those passages in scripture the same way, now that I can invision this beautiful area.

We walked through the old City of Jerusalem New Year's Eve night after dinner.  It was dark, locked down.  The Israeli Army was out walking the streets, boys with their uzis.  A sadness kept through me as we made our way to the brightly lit Wailing Wall.  There a tall white limestone rock wall stood, people from all over the world praying, weeping, worshiping.  As I grew nearer, I saw in cracks and crevices in the stones that created the wall, the small shreds of prayerful offerings to a merciful God.  I had always heard of these prayer offerings, but to see the thousands of prayers, what a memory.  Silence and awe filled us as we walked back that evening.

Young Man of the Israel Army

Old City of Jerusalem

Megiddo was beautiful, it's ruins of 16 centuries of civilizations lay in striations for us to see.  Even powerful nations will eventually fall. Will lessons of human kind ever be recognized?  Will we ever learn God yearns for us to be faithful, not powerful?

That may well have been my AA-ah moment... Will I ever learn that God's plans for my life are so much more intricate than I could ever imagine? Could it be that I was led here because God didn't need to perform some life changing miracle within me?  Instead, maybe his intent was to teach me that he continues to walk before me, with me, and often carry me during the difficult periods of my life?  What was I expecting God to show me by placing me on the banks of the Jordan River or by standing in what is thought to be The Garden of Gethsemane?

Hasn't God always been by my side?  What would it take for me to open my eyes and my heart and realize God has been and will continue to pull me out of a raging storm, or keep me upright on two feet without sinking in deep waters?  When will I stop questioning that he will fill my nets until they will brimming with the desires of my heart?  

Did my prayer that I will experience God in new and different ways happen on this trip?  No, I don't think so.  I do think going to The Holy Land and seeing and visualizing the life of Jesus will forever change the way I see scripture, and for that I am eternally grateful.  Has it changed my life?  Only time and God's grace will tell how this experience will shape and mold me.

I do know what I have always known, there is an innate kindness in people.  I know that God's hand placed this group together.  I have come to know and love and have such a heart for these 32 incredible individuals. 

I had some extremely emotional moments during these 10 days.  Not only was I experiencing scripture come alive, I was able to live my faith in a very physical way.  The spreading of Steve's remains became a sacred and very emotional experience for me each time I felt I had found the right place.

I made an effort to try to take a small handful of his remains to inconspicuously spread  away from the group, not wanting to call attention, but to have a personal time with him and say a brief prayer.  God knew my needs and never failed me.  Carolyn or Margi made sure they were standing quietly close by, behind me, allowing me to have my time, and at the appropriate time, they would silently appear by my side.  The gift became greater however, because almost every time I performed my small private ceremony, someone in the group would come to me later with warm embraces, tears and words of how this testimony to Steve had touched them as well.  Oh how God met me in those holy and sacred places.

Getting off the bus after many of our group had been baptized in the Jordan River (what an incredible experience for all of us)  Iyad, our Israeli tour guide, quietly said to me, "I saw what you did when you spread your husband's ashes in the river.  You chose the perfect spot as this is our symbol of being resurrected into new life."  Thank you Lord for this Godly man that you placed in my path.

Baptism at The Jordan River

One of the places I chose was the base of a thorn tree on the Mt. of Beatitudes.  Debbie, a new friend and special woman, came and placed a rock in the shape of a heart in my hand.  She had seen me when I thought no one had...thank you Father for always knowing my needs before I do.

There was never a moment when those waves of sorrow and grief would suddenly overwhelm me, that God didn't place someone in my path to comfort me, and share my loss.

I had prayed for God to speak to my heart, oh how he answered my prayers.  This group of fellow "pilgrims" became my body of Christ.  They met me, just as Christ had met hundreds of the people following him 2000 years ago and we stood on this holy ground and they were my Christ incarnate.   We worshipped together, laughed together, rode camels together, floated in the Dead Sea together and drank lots of really bad wine and ate multiple cans of Pringles together.

Yes, again God had answered my prayers in far greater ways than I might ever have imagined. 

With Love,

Janet

Our Group Walking the Ruins

Kristen & Sue Minor

Women at the Wailing Wall

Really Bad Wine on Tap...Really Bad!

Pringles, just had to be there...

Beginning of our 24 hour trip back

Religions of Israel

Food & Work in the Old City of Jerusalem

The Unexpected

The Beauty of The Holy Land

Ephesians 3:20 "Now glory be to God who by his mighty power at work within us is able to do far more than we would ever dare to ask or even dream of, infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts or hopes."