Quote Of The Day **

"Love never stands alone.

Among love's companions is patience, which is the very marrow of love and the clear sign of whether the soul is growing in grace and loving in truth or not.

This is why charity, the mother virtue, has given obedience 'patience' as a sister and has so joined the two together that one can never be lost without the other."

St. Catherine of Sienna

Letters: Jlo/God ~ Eternal Life **

Dear God,
I read your words today, that to know You and to know Jesus - the one You sent - is eternal life.
So eternal life can be now – as I know you better and in a deeper way, I already partake of eternal life.
I don’t have to wait for it. I have it now.
Thank you, Father. Thank you, Jesus.
I want to know you more. And I can do that by seeking you, spending time with you, taking your yoke upon me, dying to my self and my agenda daily.
Wow, I have eternal life.
Thank you for this beautiful day. May I serve you with my whole heart today.
Give me energy for my tasks. Give me hope for my future. Give me peace for my present.
Abide with me.
Direct my paths.
Overcome my fears.
Lift my heart.
Give me perseverance and hope.
Thank you, Father.
Bless you, Son.
Praise you, Holy Spirit.
Love,
Your daughter

My dearest child,
I love you with an everlasting love. I go before you into this day.
Fear not, I am with you. My rod and my staff will comfort you.
Surely goodness and mercy will follow you all the days of your life.
I know the number of hairs on your head - that’s how intimately I know you.
And I am turning all things in your life to good because you love me and are called according to my purpose.
Practice acceptance and thanksgiving today. Let them become second nature to you. Then you will do great things for me.
Trust in me, trust in my love.
I will never fail you, no matter what others do.
You are my beloved, my bride.
And I am betrothed to you forever.
Seek My Joy.
Let it shine from your countenance.
Tell others about me and how they can have this same peace and joy.
Pray without ceasing. Let your life become a prayer.
I love you, my child. You are lovely in my sight.

Love,
Your Father

Judi Quinton Moran 2001
(All rights reserved.)
Photo by D. Leroy, whose photos can be found at flickr.com

Slaying Giants! **

Good morning, dear friends,

Delivery day approaches - in two days my book proposal will be in the hands of the editor.
It is a glorious, yet scary, feeling to hand it over.
Yet, I praise God for His presence and power through each phase of this book.
And I praise Him for you, my loyal readers and supporters.

This morning in my devotions I read the story of David and Goliath for the first time in years.
What a wonderful story!
As I read, I thought of myself as a small, insignificant, unsophisticated, unarmed person, facing a true giant: in this case, the giant of the publishing world.
I was so encouraged by this story and David's courage and utmost confidence, not in himself, but in the God of the Ages.
I was reminded of a journal entry I wrote almost a year ago when I was so discouraged by my own giant, I didn't even want to proceed.
I share it with you this morning as encouragement to you in your battles, and also to testify to God as the source of all our victories.

April 14 of the new year of our Lord 2007 - Sat. 6 am

Yesterday was another day of pain - I had a serious migraine.
I think what set off the headache was my growing discouragement while visiting the bookstore: seeing how many books there are out there and how few make any significant impact. Most quickly fade away.
How do I think anyone would be interested in buying and reading my book with the glut of books out there?
I don't want to write a book unless it has something really important to say and I'm not sure I do.
So, I clenched my jaw the whole time I was book shopping. Thus, the headache.
I awoke this morning with my brain in a fog and feeling the pressure I've put myself under to write a BOOK, for Pete's sake. I'm not seeing clearly what this book is even going to be about or where to go from here. I just want - badly - to chuck the whole thing.
Because what's the point of going through all the pain? Just to have no one read it and no one care.
You get the gist, don't you?
I want to resign from the job. I really do.
I keep saying, "I can't do this," and the Lord says, "I know you can't, but I can."

Well, there you have it: my honest ramblings, issuing from an overwhelmed and discouraged spirit.
And, yet today, I stand here in victory.
Not my victory, because I am still the same small, insignificant, unsophisticated and unarmed human being I've always been.
But God...now that's a different matter.
Because He, too, is what He's always been:
Faithful.
"Faithful is He who calls you, and He also will bring it to pass."
I Thess. 5:24

Much love and gratitude,
Jlo

Photo by missis jones, whose photos can be found at flickr.com

Dear Mother...***

February, 2001

Dear Mother,

Head back, mouth open, you snore in your chair, content to let others move on with their lives.
That’s what I’ve tried to do, for over two years - move on with my life.
I’ve worked hard at it, and for much of the time, I've been unsuccessful.
In my defense, I've been struggling to accept an unwanted divorce after 27 years of marriage. My daily work: grief – no vacations allowed.

Then all of a sudden, a breakthrough seemed imminent. A friend I hadn’t seen for years spoke over me, prophesying I would come out of the dark forest of grief and into the light. Within the week, as another friend prayed for me, I emerged from my deep depression.
Life was no longer a constant effort. I got up without the daily disappointment and dread that sleep was over and life had begun.
I came out of my self-imposed cell of withdrawal and actually became a chatterbox again.
It had been a long time.

Just as I was feeling better, I found out your caregiving arrangements had come to an end. I had to look for a new place for you.
On hearing the news, I ran out and bought a bag of frosted animal cookies, a box of peanut brittle, and a bag of M&M’s, and devoured most of them in one sitting, making myself sick.
In your frail condition and my barely stable condition, any change was a big one. Once again, I was faced with the question: “What do I do with Mother?”

I didn’t have to make an immediate decision. I could wait until after Christmas to move you.
So I tried to forget about it, and poured myself into preparing for the holidays and my childrens’ arrival from college.
What a visit we had: my usual solitary life was transformed into busy days of walking on the beach, decorating the tree, creating macrobiotic feasts, shopping for last-minute gifts, sipping lattes, and watching movies together.
But too quickly it came to an end.

It was too much: the kids leaving, you arriving.
That seemed to be the foregone conclusion: Everyone pushed me to bring you home instead of put you in another care facility. “Just remember, Mom,” my youngest said, “you're our model. You're setting the example for us to follow.”

As the children’s departure and your possible arrival pressed in, I began to despair. I felt I had nothing to look forward to, except being shut away with you.
At the airport, during an hour-long delay, I cried and cried. The children were unable to console me.
As they moved to the boarding entrance, I grabbed onto their coat-tails: “Don't leave me,” I sobbed as I clung to them.
I’m quite sure there have never been two people more eager and relieved to board a plane!
The gate cleared, the plane took off, the last on-lookers left, but I sat in that empty gate and cried for another hour.
I even half-way pondered camping in the airport for the rest of my life. I finally gathered myself, drove home, and went straight to bed.

The next morning dawned: the day before New Year’s.
I woke crying.
In short order, I realized there were two scenarios in front of me: either I could cry off and on all day or I could blow my nose, give myself a talking-to, get in the shower, and get ready for church.
By sheer grit, I chose the latter.
Church was no miracle cure. But mingling with faith-filled people lifted me, as did the priest’s familiar chant: “Through Him, With Him, In Him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit…” I felt better.

After church, I called my friend Katrina, whose home Mom had been staying in. “Can I come over and talk to you,” I asked.

Katrina welcomed me into her paper-strewn living room/office.
I knew I didn’t need to set the stage. I just spilled out my frustrations, my doubts, my fears of my return to depression.
She listened and then she told me the story of caring for her mom at home when she was dying. “I don’t regret a single thing, Judi.”
What she said next struck a chord: “You can’t take your mom home because your kids want you to or because anyone else wants you to. You've got to find out what God wants you to do, and then you'll have no regrets.”
So, in other words, "Go home and spend time with God and listen to His voice."

That’s what I did on New Year’s Day. I studied the scriptures, read my devotional books, and spent time in silent prayer.
My devotional guide follows the church’s liturgical year. I discovered January 1 is the day set aside by the church to honor Mary as the Mother of God. The significance did not escape me as I wrestled with honoring my own mother.
Mary was quoted: “All generations will call me blessed; for He who is mighty has done great things for me.”
The next paragraph stood out: “God wants to do great things for us as well. Each of us has a place in God’s plan for the world – a mission that we alone can fill. Let us, like Mary, become vessels of grace. This can only happen as we persevere in obedience to the commands of God and as we strive to remain docile to the Holy Spirit.”
I responded in my journal: “I have a place in God’s plan for this world – a mission that I alone can fill.” Then, I asked: “What is it, Lord?”

On the very next page, I began to rough out a schedule: what it might look like sharing your care with your caregiver.
Inspiration was becoming reality. Acceptance was taking root. A familiar peace returned.
Perhaps God was saying my mission, for now, was to care for you.
Several pages later a simple list signified the decision had been made: Tomorrow – clean house. Wednesday – appointment with therapist. Thursday – move Mom home.
It was as simple and difficult as that.

Love,

Your daughter

Judi Quinton Moran 2001

( All rights reserved.)

Photo by s_myrland, whose photos can be found at flickr.com

Note: Mother passed away four months later, in April of 2001. She died in my home; I was by her side the last 24 hours of her life. I praise God that He spoke to me on New Year's Day, through Mary: what rich blessings I would have missed if I had not chosen to bring my mother home.

Jlo Makes A Fool Of Herself Again!

Hey, everybody!

Here she is again - the crazy, indomitable Jlo, in the second in her You-Tube series: Jlo On The Spot!
Hope it makes you laugh all the way into the weekend.
Yes - I know - I have no shame, but it's all in the name of good, clean fun!

I love you all,
Jlo

Jlo's Quote Of The Day *

"To accomplish a task, God's way: put people first, before the task."



Judi Quinton Moran
2008

My House Full Of Sky **

I’ve had houses on the hills and houses among the trees.
And each house, with each vista, seemed to meet my exact needs at the time.

This occurred to me just now, as I sleepily shuffled out to refill Porch Kitty’s bowl.
The birds serenaded me, in the early morning light, from the white-blossomed trees in the yard. I stopped to take in their notes of exuberance: “A new day has dawned, let’s praise the Creator!”
That’s when I thought about my view from this house - hemmed in by trees, houses on either side, and the original church in town across the street. But mostly, trees of all shapes and sizes.

What a contrast to the dream house we built in the Dundee hills of wine country ten years ago. Few trees graced the neighborhood, none my yard.
And for me that was purposeful, because the view - well, it was spectacular - and I didn’t want a single branch or leaf to obstruct it.

Instead, during the painful, plodding years after the divorce, I had the sky - in all its glory.
In planning the upper story, I situated the master bedroom at the back of the house, with a full vista of deep purple foothills and snow-covered Mt. Hood in the background. I purposely framed the view with over-size windows. Not even a valance covered the picture, lest I lose any of its sublimity.

Many an hour I spent lying on my four-poster bed, staring out at the great expanse of the heavens. From my bed, I could see only sky.
And clouds…and hawks.
I lost track of time just charting the movement of the clouds across the sky, changing shape and size in a true “motion picture“; following the great-winged hawks as they soared high above the fray.
The scene, the wide-open vista, brought peace in the midst of what seemed like personal chaos.

Now, I live in town, among the many trees, for which the Northwest is famous.
Few vistas of sky, except here and there, between the trees and buildings.
But somehow this place among the trees is just what I need right now.

Just as my house far above the madding crowd - full of sky and light and the heavens - was then. You see, when my husband of 27 years left, my vision dimmed, my dreams died, my hope seemed crushed.

The sky, the ever-moving, expansive sky lent me its vision, its dreams, its hope during those years.
I heard its comforting “voice” in those long, silent, small hours of grief:
“There’s a universe out here - a world out here - and someday you'll be part of it again. Hope remains, new dreams emerge, vision clears, and in time, if you endure, you'll see new skies ahead.”

Judi Quinton Moran 2008
All rights reserved.

Photo by mommytochrista&Ben, whose photos can be found at flickr.com