“Just call me Jimmy,” said Jaime Rodriguez. We met at Sherwin-Williams Paint store a couple of weeks ago — both of us customers, waiting to be waited upon. It became very apparent that he was well-known by the sales people — he is a paint contractor. Since we have a rental property that needs some work, I got his name and number, and we met a few days ago at the property site so he could give me an estimate.

During that meeting, Jimmy expressed how well he had been doing before “9/11”, but that things were beginning to get a lot better now. I also shared that my plastic surgeon had said the same thing — guess people would rather use their money for essentials than to spend it on elective surgery when times are hard. I explained the reason that I was at the plastic surgeon — to have my nose replaced that had been partially removed due to skin cancer surgery.

Jimmy told me that he had lost his mother to cancer when he was only 7 months old. She could have had treatment that probably would have saved her life, but she had to make a choice between having treatment or having the baby she was carrying. She made the choice to have Jimmy.

He said that he values life, knows that he was put here to accomplish something, and thanks God every day for his good life. He said as a child, they were very poor. He had 2 sets of clothes and one pair of shoes to wear to school. At age 15, he prayed and asked for direction. He said his prayers were heard. He received encouragement and many people along the way helped him to make a good living and to have a good life. He had tears in his eyes as he spoke of his mother and the sacrifice she made for him.

What an impact this had on me — I think about the difference in this mother’s decision about the life she carried versus other would-be mothers’ decisions to end the life they carry . . . for whatever reason. I can’t understand the liberal view on abortion — how hypocritical their views (i.e., save the salamanders at Barton Springs and stop the heartbeat of a fetus).

God bless Jimmy’s mother!

Sample pieces of fabric for McKenna’s “Mumbo Gumbo” quilt.

Thanks to my good friend, Betty, I have step-by-step directions and samples of how to put this quilt together for Kenna. Betty has been working on this quilt pattern for a while for her niece and it looks just like something Kenna would enjoy, too. Some blocks that Betty has put together appear at Heather’s blog site.

My dear mother passed away June 14, 1982 at the young age of 64. Today would have been her 88th birthday. She had a very rare heart disease called amyloidosis. Her cardiologist had only seen one other case in his 15 years of practice, and that was as an intern. We were told at the time of diagnosis she only had a short time to live. Indeed, it was short! Within 4 months, she was gone. She knew that it was terminal — but not once, not even for one second did she ever show a pang of self-pity; not once did she ever cry in front of me and say “why?”; not once did she act depressed or take a drug to help her through the day; not once did we discuss what was ahead. She dealt with her feelings, her fears, her emotions alone.

On my 39th birthday, even though I know now that she didn’t feel like going out to eat with us, she dressed and went. Her appetite was gone, but she ate a few fries. After the birthday dinner, we went back to my parent’s house, visited a short while, kissed and hugged goodbye and left. She died in her sleep that night.

It doesn’t seem like 23 years ago that this big hole in my own heart was created or that my wet eyes and dry throat occur whenever I think about her. No, I wouldn’t pray for her to be here with us in the physical condition that disease brought upon her. However, I shall never ever stop mourning her. Those of you who still are blessed with a mother to hug, a mother to kiss, a mother to confide in, a mother to complain to, a mother to ask her opinion, a mother to call, a mother to go see, or even a mother to be mad at (I can’t imagine that) — remember that there has never been, nor will there ever be, anyone like your Mom!

So, even though she’s not HERE to hear me, I have faith that she is close and knows I am wishing that I could hug and kiss her today and say, “Happy Birthday Mother, I love you!”

. . . Christmas, of course! Now, why is that on my mind on a hot summer day in August?

‘Cause I miss our grandkids and look forward to when they have some time off from school. Of course, we are close enough to visit on weekends, but those are treasured days when their little family has some time together. Terry and I will be out of town this weekend, but by next weekend we may just have to make homemade ice cream and bribe them to come over.

I’ve started a list of “How You Know Your Grandkids Have Been Over”:

• The Hershey’s chocolate syrup can is empty
• One end of the front porch contains empty glass jars and lids (critter jars)
• Critters (lizards and grasshoppers mainly) are scarce — still hiding out else they end up in glass jars for the day
• I step on a loose “bb” or Lego toy in the carpet
• My eye shadow and other makeup isn’t where I left it
• A “tad” of green toothpaste is on the bathroom wall, close to the sink
• Our poodle dog, Beau, has been sleeping a lot more than usual
• The guest bathtub has a variety of boats and Fisher-Price “Little People” around the edges
• Our dirty clothes hamper in the guest bath has several changes of clothes in it (McKenna)
• Mamo is wearing a heavy dose of purple eyeshadow, dark eyebrow pencil, bright lipstick, face powder, and Avon perfume along with several pieces of jewelry (the sparkly ones!)
• The sugar spoon in the sugar bowl is covered with sugar from someone dipping in for bites.
• And worst of all — the house is MUCH TOO QUIET!!