THE CHEERLEADER
October 31, 2007
(Yeah! Yeah! A week late!)

THE PIRATE
October 31, 2007
(What? Less than a week late!)

Congreso Juvenil, 2007
Elgin, IL

I had an interesting personal revelation tonight. Our foster son (protegee, mentee), Bismarck, has for the first time organized a regional Youth Congress for the Hispanic churches. The first service was this evening. It continues tomorrow during the day and ends tomorrow evening.

Bob is still in New Mexico for his nephew's funeral, so I was there as the pastoral representative from JCC and Pastor of Mundo de Triunfo. The protocol in Hispanic circles (and many English-speaking ones as well) is to recognize pastors. All pastors are asked to come to the front or maybe just to stand for recognition. In English-speaking services I always stand. I am the Assistant Pastor of JCC and the Pastor of Mundo. I'm a third-generation female Pentecostal preacher. My grandmother received the Holy Spirit at the Azusa Street Revival (Los Angeles, 1906-1915) and a couple of years later, left California traveling the U.S. preaching. But that was then.

You'd think with that kind of background, I'd be perfectly confident as a female minister, and in most circles, I am. But there's something about that air/spirit of machismo that predominates in the Hispanic culture, even when female preachers are verbally accepted, that intimidates me. (I know. Those who know me are saying, "You? Intimidated? Surely you're joking") I'm not joking. I usually don't stand, go the front, whatever, when pastors are recognized unless someone specifically asks for me.

I realized tonight that not going forward was a false humility. I'm attempting to placate an attitude that I think/imagine is there. It may or may not be there. Even so, I have resolved: Never again. When they ask for pastors/ministers to step forward, whether in English or Spanish-speaking circles, I shall step up, speak up, stand up or whatever. These ministers may not even be aware that I am, indeed, in a pastoral position. So I shall (humbly) accept my place among them. If any have a problem, it is their own problem.

For me and God, His gifts and callings are "without repentance." (Romans 11:29) And I'm not going to be the one to deny that call on my life. So, sorry God. I confess I was wrong and will try not to hide behind my own skirt again! Amen.

November 2, 2006

PJ

What a whirlwind!

Bob's on his way to New Mexico. I got from the airport to the Halloween party for the Granddaughters. Yesterday I got the grades into the computer by 9:20 (the deadline was 9:00) Today I posted the lists of kids for the field trip -- who goes where morning and afternoon for the next two days. (Not an easy task, I assure you). The first of the trips is tomorrow morning. I was home by 7:40 and able to answer a few emails. Whew!

I keep thinking about the ideas from Sunday's sermon (No rollover minutes). The difference between the load limit and the load you're carrying is the margin. Everyone needs a little margin with: finances and time. Running on overload daily is not a good things. It takes its toll on health, emotion, relationships, spirit. So how do I cut the load??

Hmmmm. Must give that some thought

OBITUARY
JOHN WAYNE HUERTA
AUGUST 17, 1969 - OCTOBER 27, 2007

It is with deep sorrow that we announce the passing of our beloved husband, father, son, brother and uncle, JOHN W. HUERTA on Saturday, October 27, 2007. He was born August 17, 1969 in Silver City, New Mexico to Danny and Mary Ellen Huerta. He was a graduate from Mayfield High School, Class of 1987 and attended New Mexico State University thereafter; was a passionate Pittsburg Steeler Fan; a loving and caring dog breeder, an avid reader and enjoyed discussing Philosophy and watching movies. At the time of his death, John was the produce manager at Toucan Markets, and was a member of the Apostolic Tabernacle.

Survivors include his loving wife, Tamie of the family home; one son, Jonathan Huerta and one daughter, Jasmine Donley both of the family home, his parents, Danny and Mary Ellen Huerta of Las Cruces; three brothers, Danny Huerta Jr. of Albuquerque, New Mexico, Michael Huerta of Las Cruces and David Huerta and his wife, Melissa of Denver, Colorado. Other survivors include his nieces Desirae, Davina and Michelle Huerta, his nephews, Michael and Andrew Huerta, and Benjamin Shettsline, as well as his extended family, Emily Coss, Karen Huerta, his mother-in-law, Rhonda Davis, father-in-law Robert Donley; brother and sister in-law Steve and Angela Benson, and Ceniza and David Fletcher.

Visitation for John will begin at 6 PM Thursday, November 1, 2007 in Apostolic Tabernacle, 3001 E. Missouri with the Evening Service scheduled to begin at 7 PM. The Funeral Service will be held at 10 AM, Friday, November 2, 2007 in the same church. Concluding service and interment will follow in Hillcrest Memorial Gardens Cemetery where he will be laid to rest.

Serving as casket bearers will be Danny Jr., Michael, David, Andrew, and Michael Huerta, and Steve Benson.

The Huerta family has entrusted their loved one to the care of Baca’s Funeral Chapels to direct services.

JOHN WAYNE
HUERTA

It's all still conjecture at this point, but here's the article from the Las Cruces Newspaper: Bible leads police to real story behind man's death Sun-News report Article Launched: 10/28/2007 12:00:00 AM MDT LAS CRUCES — A Las Cruces man has died from a possible overdose and the man who discovered his body may be facing charges — though not for foul play. Johnny Huerta, 38, a Las Cruces man who was about to face prison time, reached out Friday night to a couple he was friends with, according to a Doña Ana County Sheriff's Department report. Huerta and the man, who brought along his Bible, went for a drive to talk and decided to go to a party with the man's wife. They returned to the couple's house in the 3600 block of Picacho Avenue, and Huerta, who investigators said had been drinking, was to sleep on the couch. Around 3 a.m., the wife checked on Huerta and found him unresponsive. She and her husband attempted CPR to no avail. The wife called 911 and her husband decided to leave the scene — as he was on probation, he was not supposed to have been drinking, nor was he supposed to have had any contact with his wife, with whom he had had a domestic dispute the week prior. When law enforcement arrived, however, they found the man's Bible in Huerta's car and the man could not explain how it had gotten there without him also being on the scene. "His wife was trying to protect him," sheriff's investigator Bo Nevarez said. The couple may face charges of providing false information to law enforcement, but nothing about Huerta's death indicated foul play, Nevarez said. Nevarez said Huerta of the 1000 block of Devendale may have had a history of drinking and taking prescription pills, and overcome by the possibility of going to prison, could have accidentally overdosed. Huerta's body has been sent to Albuquerque for an autopsy and a toxicology report is pending.

The Psalmist here is talking about the value of the minutes in a day. Some phone plans allow you to use the minutes unused in one billing period in the next. You may rollover your minutes. But with God:



Each morning God gives me exactly 1,440 minutes or 24 hours in which to live my life. There are no rollover minutes. As many things as I have to do, as much as I want to accomplish, it isn't possible to borrow from yesterday's unused minutes. That time is gone forever. Neither can I borrow from tomorrow's minutes. I have only 1,440 minutes or 86,400 seconds. That's it.

Here is Psalm 90:12 paraphrased:

The paraphrase speaks for itself.

So with the Psalmist, I ask God to teach me to number my days. I need to gain a heart of wisdom.

The Cat's in the Cradle
Artist: Harry Chapin

My child arrived just the other day
He came to the world in the usual way
But there were planes to catch and bills to pay
He learned to walk while I was away
And he was talkin' 'fore I knew it, and as he grew
He'd say "I'm gonna be like you dad
You know I'm gonna be like you"

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man on the moon
When you comin' home dad?
I don't know when, but we'll get together then son
You know we'll have a good time then

My son turned ten just the other day
He said, "Thanks for the ball, Dad, come on let's play
Can you teach me to throw", I said "Not today
I got a lot to do", he said, "That's ok"
And he walked away but his smile never dimmed
And said, "I'm gonna be like him, yeah
You know I'm gonna be like him"

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man on the moon
When you comin' home son?
I don't know when, but we'll get together then son
You know we'll have a good time then

Well, he came home from college just the other day
So much like a man I just had to say
"Son, I'm proud of you, can you sit for a while?"
He shook his head and said with a smile
"What I'd really like, Dad, is to borrow the car keys
See you later, can I have them please?"

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man on the moon
When you comin' home son?
I don't know when, but we'll get together then son
You know we'll have a good time then

I've long since retired, my son's moved away
I called him up just the other day
I said, "I'd like to see you if you don't mind"
He said, "I'd love to, Dad, if I can find the time
You see my new job's a hassle and kids have the flu
But it's sure nice talking to you, Dad
It's been sure nice talking to you"

And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
He'd grown up just like me
My boy was just like me

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man on the moon
When you comin' home son?
I don't know when, but we'll get together then son
You know we'll have a good time then

So whose life will you touch with your allotted 1,440 seconds today? God, help us to make a difference.

NO ROLLOVER MINUTES

Condensed from this morning's sermon by Pastor Bob.

Slides are from his sermon. Used by spousal privilege!
Shamelessly plagairized!

Lives of quiet desperation

Teaching this year has been a struggle that I've mentioned in several blogs. But about three weeks ago God and I had a good conversation and we decided that if I'm to keep teaching, I have to conqueror my own fears and disappointments and concentrate on meeting the needs of students in my classroom.

One of the first things I did in that new frame of mind was begin to find those unnoticed students (the quiet ones, the pensive ones, the ones who create no difficulty, but neither do they seek help or attention) and simply say something nice to them, give them some extra attention. Since I teach Middle School, I teach 140-150 students every day (30 at a time in 40 minute periods) so it is a challenge to find time to talk to students other than "write this in your planner", "do you have your homework", "you'll find the answer in this paragraph," "yes, that's a verb," etc. Privacy is also an issue; we're constantly surrounded by dozens of other students so personal conversation is not easy.

But this week I collected journals to record grades. In one of the quietest student's journal she had written, "Mrs. Huerta talked to me!"

I remember that day, she was the last one out the door. She looked sad, quieter than usual and I just stopped her on the way out the door. "Are you okay? You look very sad today. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

She just shook her head "no", sort of smiled and moved on. I had forgotten about the incident until I read her journal. It had to have been written later, either in another class or the next day.

I've been working to make opportunities to connect with the kids, but I'll have to redouble my efforts.

Henry David Thoreau said, "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them." Our challenge as Christians is to touch the lives of men and women so that they may find release to sing that song. Even other Christians.

Sad news

Bob's nephew, Johnny Huerta, was found dead this morning. Johnny, who is in his early thirties, is the youngest son of Bob's brother, Danny. Danny had open heart surgery earlier this year. Although I was told that Danny actually went to the hospital for heart-related problems, the fact is that he was having difficulties, but did not end up hospitalized. Prayers are still needed, however.

Bob will be going to New Mexico for the funeral some time this week. I'll post more as I have info.


Thanks for your prayers.

TIME TO GIVE THANKS

October 1970 we arrived in Elgin with all of our possessions in and on a Volkswagen bug, $7.00 in my purse, a car payment due in a week and no jobs. We were staying with friends who had 7 children, little spare room or food, but were graciously hosting us until we could find jobs and an apartment. We would eat very little food (I always have a voracious appetite!) because we were afraid we were literally taking food from their children's mouths. So we judiciously used the $7 to supplement our diet that first week.

Finally, on Saturday October 18 (our first wedding anniversary) we celebrated by having one hot dog each from Lum's and sharing a soda (notice my "Southern"...at that point it was "Soda" to me). It was the end of our money. However, the following Monday we both found jobs and an apartment. The church that we had come to help paid the first month's rent and various members donated furnishings for it, including a queen-sized mattress that the manager of a furniture store said was "water damaged" and we could just have it. (We never did find the "water stain" on that brand new mattress).

I was thankful then for the apartment, the furniture and the goodwill of our new friends. I'm thankful today for the wisdom that comes from experience. I'm thankful for friends who would still do such things for us should it be necessary. I'm also thankful that God has provided for us and it isn't necessary!

THANKFULLY,

PJ

Now, let's hear from you: For what are you thankful?

Bogging Ideas

Stories (rationale) for items lying about waiting to be put/thrown away
Travel stories: with children, alone
Lists -
Simplify
Items to elicit responses - surveys, etc.
Southern stories, growing up poor and Southern

Hmmm. I need some new life in this blog.

Ideas, anyone?

PJ

Lord's Park after lunch

Unfortunately their beautiful baby boy was asleep during picture-taking time.

Lunch today! My granddaughters with a Romanian friend.

Last of soccer season,
Part II

M2 goes for the ball (She's the blonde in black shorts with a white band on the leg)





















Here she takes control and goes for the goal!















And away she goes for the first goal of the game!












Both girls pose with their medals!













Earlier M2 keeps warm during M1's game! It was chilly out there.












And ... both girls with Papa! And like an indulgent Papa, he gives monetary rewards for a a season well-played!! :)







A good time was had by all! :)

End of Soccer Season

Today was the last of the girls' soccer games. In spite of the cold yesterday and last night, the temp finally has climbed past 70 degrees today.






M played for the first time since her arm was broken. You can see she's holding her left arm a bit awkardly, but she did well.










The end of the season awards were given. Every player received a "soccer" medal on a ribbon.








M poses with cousin Josh and Papa with her medal

In the five year old league, the coaches are on the field and have to run too! Coach Brad takes a run down the field.

The family at dinner last night
(Love the Frank Loyd Wright-esque design!)

We celebrated our anniversary with a meal at Claim Jumpers. Bob's nephew Josh is here from New Mexico for a vist. We've been having lovely 68-75 degree weather again lately. But in honor of Josh's arrival from the desert, of course the temperature has dropped more than 20 degrees. It's brrrrrr-y again!!

PJ

(Taken on vacation, July 2007)

GOOD NEWS

Today is our 38th wedding anniversary!!! Happy anniversary to us!

*Note to self: Take more pics of Bob and I together!! :)

Vaughn J. Fitzgerald

July 3, 1927 – October 17, 2007

Vaughn J. “Curly” Fitzgerald, 80 of Rockford passed away Wednesday, October 17, 2007. He was born July 3, 1927 in Knobel (Tipperary), Arkansas. He is the son of Clarence and Lena (Burns) Fitzgerald. Vaughn married Betty (Cox) Fitzgerald on December 13, 1950 in Rockford, IL.

Vaughn served with the United States Navy during WWII. He was active with the Navy for 6 years and with the reserves for 8 years.

Survivors include: his wife Betty; sons Vaughn J. (Karen) Fitzgerald, Jr. of Westminster, MD; Rodney Fitzgerald of Elgin, IL and Greg (Pat) Fitzgerald of Rockford; grandchildren Luther, Avery, Andrew, Leah, Sarah, Nick and Rachel; great- grandchildren Donovan and Ayden; one sister, Rita Pemberton, and one brother, Rex Fitzgerald of Arkansas; numerous loving nieces and nephews. He is predeceased by his parents and also his brothers Eugene, Dewey, Donny and Nyal Fitzgerald.

“Curly” owned several used-car dealerships over a 30 year span while helping several people get started in the business. He enjoyed playing cards and pool throughout his life. He will be remembered for his generosity, his comical demeanor and sense of humor as well as his fantastic stories of his southern roots.

Funeral Service will be Monday, October 22, 2007 at 11 a.m. in Fitzgerald Funeral Home & Crematory, Mulford Chapel, 1860 S. Mulford Rd., with Pastor Robert Bailey of the Silver Hill Pentecostal Church officiating. Visitation will be Sunday, October 21, 2007 from 5-8 p.m. and Monday morning from 10-11 a.m. at the funeral home. Interment will follow in Arlington Memorial Park. To express condolences online, please visit www.Fitzgeraldfh.com.

Horrifyingly Sad News

(Is horrifyingly even a word? That's how I feel...superlatively horrified and sad) My husband emailed me at work this morning with the most awful news: The father of a close friend of ours was killed last night, which is bad enough. But the circumstances still leave me shaking my head. He was killed by police gunfire while he and they were in pursuit of armed robbers. Strange how the situation changes when you know an individual in a story. There's just no way it happened the way police said it did. And I'm usually a pretty pro-police person (unless we're talking Chicago...then...I'd believe just about anything the cops there would do...or the South...Okay...ambivalence here...).

I suppose we'll have to see how it plays out. But an 80-year-old man chasing a couple of young thieves getting shot by cops seems such an incredible scenario. And the cops waiting so long to give any kind of information just doesn't ring true.

That the elderly gentleman chased thieves, even with a gun, I'll buy. Then they shoot him by mistake. Okay. Understandable, even. He was out of his element for sure. But then the story gets juiced up with the 80-year old firing at thieves on the ground, etc. uh uh. The story seemed to grow with the day, and I'm not buying it. (My momma didn't raise no dummy!)

Life sometimes has the most incredible twists and turns. Sigh!

Sadder than sad,
PJ



The story as it grew.

http://www.rrstar.com/multimedia/x1909892181

http://www.rrstar.com/

http://mystateline.com/content/fulltext/?cid=5913

http://www.rrstar.com/homepage/x1909891787

So, Smile! :)

Just Who WAS Jesus, Anyway?

Well, To Help Clarify Things:

There Are 3 Good Arguments

That Jesus Was Black:

1. He called everyone "Brother"...

2. He liked Gospel...

3. He didn't get a fair trial...

And, There Are 3 Equally Good Arguments

That Jesus Was Jewish:

1. He went into His Father's business...

2. He lived at home until He was 33...

3. He was sure His Mother was a virgin,

and His Mother was sure He was God...

And, There Are 3 Equally Good Arguments

That Jesus Was Italian:

1. He talked with His hands...

2. He had wine with His meals...

3. He used olive oil...

And, There Are 3 Equally Good Arguments

That Jesus Was A Californian:

1. He never cut His hair...

2. He walked around barefoot all the time...

3. He started a new religion...

And, There Are 3 Equally Good Arguments

That Jesus Was An American Indian:

1. He was at peace with nature...

2. He ate a lot of fish...

3. He talked about the Great Spirit...

And, There Are 3 Equally Good Arguments

That Jesus Was Irish:

1. He never got married...

2. He was always telling stories...

3. He loved green pastures...

But, The Most Compelling Evidence Of All...

Are the 3 VERY Good Arguments

That Jesus Was A Woman:

1. He fed a crowd at a moment's notice when

there was virtually no food...

2. He kept trying to get a message across to

a bunch of men who just didn't get it...

3. And, even when He was dead, He had to get up

because there was still work to do!

Idealistic Distortion

• Idealism is the “act or practice of envisioning things in an ideal form.”
• Idealistic Distortion is the tendency to see a relationship in an overly positive manner - i.e. seeing the relationship through rose-coloured glasses.

In surveys and inventories preparing couples for marriage, there is a scale called "idealistic distortion". It usually contains questions like: My in-laws will never interfere with our relationship, or My spouse could never do anything that would cause me to doubt his/her love for me. And we are all susceptible to Idealistic Distortion. We set unrealistic expectations and then "catastrophize" when things fall apart.

As a teenager I remember working the cotton fields in the South. One particular spot we picked cotton had a major highway running nearby. At lunchtime the "cotton patch stories" began. Several could remember picking cotton near a major road and a car stopped to take pictures of the workers. For this interruption the pickers were paid money. It varied by version of the story: $5, $10, $20. Any of these sums were unheard of riches to we who were working for $3.50 per hundred pounds of cotton picked. For me, that meant a 10-hour day pulling a heavy bag slowly filling with cotton and being happy to get $3.50 at the end of the day. A really fast adult picker could pick 150 or 200 lbs a day. At the end of that day, I'd go home to a partially-finished house which still didn't have hot water. After a cold shower, I'd cook dinner and fall into bed exhausted, only to get up and do the same thing the next day. (This was in the time after my mother's death.) My situation was different than some who brought the entire family and were putting food on the table by their labor. I was only putting clothes on my back. While my dad provided food, I worked every year to buy clothes for the year. No work; no clothes.

The lunchtime stories piqued my creative brain. I spent the afternoon dreaming that one of those "fancy" cars would stop to take pictures, then see that I was tired and miserable and carry me away to a new life in the big city. A life where I could live in a house filled with beautiful things, go to college, travel and see the world...and take a hot shower in a luxurious bathroom.

While my dreams have basically come to fruition, it was not in the manner in which I envisioned. My distortion was that it would just happen, magically, instantly. Instead, God has led me down a different path, but in the end provided most of the things of my dreams. (Except the luxurious bathroom...I've never had a large beautiful bathroom! Sigh! One of these days!!) At times I just didn't know what He was doing; I didn't like the path he was taking me.

Relations also mature with effort and hard work. About six months after we were married, we took a Saturday and went for a picnic to Half-Moon Bay, about an hours drive from our tiny apartment in Menlo Park, California. The scene was beautiful, romantic. We had the picnic lunch and were seated on the blanket when I asked, "Has our marriage been different than you imagined it would be?"

"Well, you're a lot harder to control than I thought you'd be," he replied. (You have to understand that we came from a conservative religious group and this was the 1960's!)

At that point, I lost it. This little girl wasn't about to be "controlled" by anybody. However, neither did I have the maturity to discuss the matter logically.

Needless to say, the picnic was over. I alternately cried, screamed and pouted for the hour's ride home, while he tried vainly to convince me he didn't really mean "control."

"And you're still married to him?" you ask.

Yes. In spite of my immature hysterics and his unrealistic expectations, we made it. We worked through it, with spit and venom sometimes, but we worked through it.

We both suffered from serious Idealistic Distortion. I could not believe that I had actually married someone who had those expectation. Prior to marriage my brain had been seriously asleep, under the influence of a distorted viewpoint.

My point? (I get lost in retrospect!) How often we suffer from idealistic distortion. We believe that certain things should happen, and happen now. We look through rose-colored glasses at all kinds of situations and people: spouse, friends, family, pastor, church, job, boss, school or neighbors. Seeing them in our view, they SHOULD do X Y and Z. It doesn't happen and we become disillusioned.

Even with God. These past two years have been difficult ones for me. I've been angry with various people, including God. Why did Victor die? Why did this or that happen?

Thinking back to the cotton field sort of put things in perspective for me. God really has fulfilled my dreams, given me the desires of my heart, but not in the manner I thought he should, nor in the time frame that I had set.

So...in this time of Harvest and Thanksgiving, I'm thankful. I'm thankful for life and health, for friends and family, for career and education. I'm grateful that God really has brought me a long way from the cotton patch!

Thankfully!

PJ

P.S. On Thursday we will have been married 38 years. (Oh my!! That long??) And he beat me to the punch on Sunday...he actually told the "Control" story in his morning sermon. I had no clue he was thinking about that time; He had no clue that I planned to use it as an illustration in my devotion at the dinner. We were both laughing. In 38 years you'd think we could as least find different incidents for illustration!!! (And for those who wonder: He gave up illusions of control long ago...and I gave up most hysterical fits. Right now he's out getting me a Starbucks Grand Mocha Frappuccino! I'm the pampered princess!!)

Fall is Here!

I know autumn has arrived. Today I put on boots for the first time, and Bob built a fire in the fireplace. It's been so unseasonably warm (ala heat stroke at the Chicago Marathon this year -- when last year the winner slipped on ice and cracked his head!). We love extremes here in Chicagoland! And I will blog more later...tonight I'm tired! Besides, the fireplace is burning brightly in the other room. The fire is beckoning me!

PJ

Making up for lost time!




No posts in more than a week, and now three in one day.







These are from M2's game on Saturday. Our little "soccercita" is learning to hang out by the goal to get the pass forward and the breakaway goal! She's getting pretty good at it. Her moves remind me of Brad.

The "General Lee"
...and the girls' designed racetrack with a wind chime at the end that the car will ring when it completes the course.

Indian Summer
Granddaughters and pumpkins

An Angel and a Scarecrow

The girls never cease to amaze me with their individuality. We were at a craft store, and the young attendant offered choices to the girls. M2 made hers almost exactly like one of the models there and responded with "sure" to most of the suggestions the attendant made. M on the other hand created her own design. She didn't want pink cheeks, but chose brown. She spontaneously added bangs and a patch to the scarecrow's face, refused the eyelashes, decided to braid the hair, and then instructed the girl as to what she wanted for a hat.

Reflections

I hadn't had the girls in a couple of weeks. We made up for it on Sunday. It was a lovely Indian Summer day, we painted pumpkins and played with Matchbox cars. They especially loved the old "General Lee" that belonged to their Dad and Uncle Robby.