"Daytona Race - February 19, 2008"

     Wow! What a fun weekend - a hurry up and wait kind of weekend but nevertheless an AWESOME one. We spent a lot of time waiting in traffic, que lines and just mobs of people, but it was too much fun!

 

     We got to see our friends - Reed Sorenson (driver of the Target car) and his parents, Becky and Brad. That was really nice. Got to see lots of drivers and lots of historical cars and things that they brought in for the 50th anniversary. Got to see 2 wonderful races.

     Life is so good and God blesses us all the time.

"A Long But Good Story - February 4, 2008"

A friend sent me the following e-mail and I generally hate the really long stories, but for some reason or another (probably my love of animals and the fact that I can really relate to the Dad) this one touched me ..... It's probably not true, but the moral of the story is an awesome one. I hope it touches you too.

A Good Story

"Watch out! You nearly broadsided that car!" My father yelled at me. "Can't you do anything right?" Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle. "I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt. Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess. The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone. My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.

The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered in vain. Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article." I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog. I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon.

After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs? All jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons. Too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?" "Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog." I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said.

I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch. "Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly. Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!" Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.

We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw. Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal. It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship.

Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet. Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night. Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind. The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers."

"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said. For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article... Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter, his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . .and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.

Life is too short for drama and petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.

Laugh, Love and Forgive - what better words to live by. Remember that I love you all and you are the reasons that I smile. . . .

"Talledega! - October 6, 2007"

Oh my goodness!!!! I had an absolutely awesome time at the races this weekend. The guys on the team are so much fun and soooooo sweet. I just love being around them.

I got an extra special treat this weekend - I got to score for the team and it was so neat! And to top it all off I got paid for it! I wanted to do it for free just because they let me come and hang out, but Brian insisted on paying me. I got my cake and got to eat it too!!

On Thursday, Kenny Schrader came over and hung out with us for a while. I was standing outside by the car taking some pictures when Kenny came out of the hauler and walked over to me. He leaned over and asked me "just how dark is our locker room?" and then turned around and walked back to the hauler. After I quit screaming and laughing - I realized that most everybody on the team was in on the joke and was laughing right along with me.

Somebody told Kenny this story (which is actually true): After the Sonoma race, I got back to the shop around midnight and went in to take a shower. I had just gotten lathered up good and had started washing my hair when the lights went out (no one knew they were on a timer). So I stood there in the dark, laughing at myself, taking my shower and trying to figure out what I was going to do (there were several walls and turns to get back to the light switch). When the team came in the next morning, everyone got a big kick out of the story.

Well, Kenny being the jokester that he is thought it would be funny to ask me about it. Kenny came back over after I quit laughing and we had a good laugh out of it! He is such a sweet person and really nice.

Got to get up close and take picutures of lots of drivers and such and you know how I love that!

Sometimes I have to pinch myself because God has been so good to me - I may not be famous or rich, but I am one of the luckiest and most blessed people on the planet and I will be forever grateful for all that God has given to me.

Always remember that I love you all.

"Heading to Talledega! - October 2, 2007"

Woooooo Hoooooo!! I'm heading to Talledega on Thursday to hang out and help cook for Ken Schrader's ARCA car team. I'll get to see all of the guys that I went to California with in June and I'm really excited! I loved going to the race in Sonoma with these guys and I know that this weekend will be just as much fun. I can't wait....

Becca will be heading to Myrtle Beach to work with Dusty's team - I hate that I'll miss being with them, but I'm gonna love being at Talledega and I'll get to see them at the South Georgia race and the Lakeland race later on this month.

This weekend, the ARCA cars race on Friday, the Craftsman Trucks on Saturday and the Cup cars on Sunday. It's going to be like hunting on a baited field! I know I'll have some great pictures after this weekend!

I have to work tonight and then sleep for a little while in the morning. Most of the rest of the day will be spent doing my prep work for the food I'm cooking and I'm also making food for Becca to take to Myrtle Beach.

I'll have handbells and choir at church tomorrow night, will come home and sleep just a little and then get up about 4:30 Thursday morning and head out for Talledega. I'll hook up with the guys at the hotel in Anniston and then off to the track to get our credentials and set up.

I am sooooooo LUCKY and BLESSED - how many people get to live their dreams like I do ? - God has been so good to me and I praise him for all he's done in my life and the blessings he has given to me. How AWESOME he is!!

I love you all and hope you have a great weekend too!

"Becca's Coming Home! - Sept. 17, 2007"

Well, the last 24 hours have been interesting. Becca called me yesterday, very upset that all was not well with her boyfriend Chaz. We talked and to make a long story short, she asked if she could come back home. I must admit that I have been praying for this for many months, so ~ thank you, Jesus ~.

We still have a ways to go, but this is a major start and I'm thankful for it!

Some of the dispatchers and officers that I work with usually get together for breakfast on the last morning of our rotation when we get off. This morning Becca joined us and we had a nice breakfast together (along with 5 others). It was a little early for her (we get off at 6:00 AM) so I'm glad she made the effort to come eat with us. It was lots of fun.

She left breakfast this morning to go back to Chaz's house to get her stuff and that's where she is now. I'm headed to get some sleep - It's been 26 hours since I slept last and I'm beat.

Remember that I love you . . . . Jo

"Those You Touch - September 12, 2007"

Everything you do touches someone in some way - some in good ways, some bad and some in ways that you will never know. Your smile, a frown, the comments you make, the things you don't say when you should, a touch, a hug, a kiss on the cheek, little things you do that no one ever knows about, things you do that you shouldn't that everyone finds out about . . . . They all affect those people around you.

Remember the old saying "What goes around comes around"? The older I get the more I find that this is sooooo true!

What brought all this on was a message I got yesterday from a sweet, beautiful young lady that I have known since she was a small child. She went to church with us and moved away many years ago, but would come back to visit often. She never failed to talk to me and give me a big hug when she'd come back which always made me feel wonderful. I always wondered what I did to deserve such kindness, but you know what - it doesn't really matter. What matters is that I did it. And everytime she remembers me with the hugs, smiles or messages, it is like a little reward from God telling me that I did a good job.

Remember those around you who have touched your life and tell them you appreciate it while you still can.

Thank you sweetheart - you know who you are! I Love You.