From my devotional reading today which touched me . Max Lucado's book, In the Eye of the Storm.

A day is coming when everyone will hear Jesus' voice. A day is coming when all the other voices will be silenced; His voice--and His voice only will be heard.

Some will hear His voice for the very first time. It's not that He never spoke, it's just that they never listened. For these, God's voice will be the voice of a stranger. They will hear it once--and never hear it again. They will spend eternity fending off the voices they followed on earth.

But others will be called from their graves by a familiar voice. For they are sheep who know their shepherd. They are servants who opened the door when Jesus knocked.

Now the door will open again. Only this time, it won't be Jesus who walks into our house; it will be we, who walks into His.

The greatest gift we can leave our children and a peaceful assurance for us before we leave them here on earth is the knowledge that they know Jesus, not from an intellectual viewpoint but from a relational  day to day dependence on Him and living for Him. This assures us and them that in the after-life we will see each other again. No amount of gold or silver can buy that.

People laugh when I tell them that I will be growing marijuana in my farm. They think I'm joking,so they don't question my statement or maybe because they're afraid of my answer. So. Yes. I am serious---I will be growing them.

When I was growing up, our house was surrounded by it because my dad used it as a panacea to everything that ails us. Stomach ache? No problem...boil the leaves and drink the water. Mouth ulcer? Magical...just let the sap from the stem drip on the affected area and voila, that gaping hole in your mouth gone overnight. So you bet, it will be in my farm. I just wish my dad is still alive today so he can help me in my farm now, as he was truly an organic farmer to the bone. But no worries, if all else fail, there's always the internet.

Yesterday, I was watching this documentary "Cash Crop", it's about growing medicinal marijuana in California. Chat walked in and she was horrified because my 3 year old step-grand was watching it with me. I said: She's watching the cows and the dogs around the land, and the "happy" sleepy people singing. What's wrong with that? Oh well.

I am belly aching for Kalya to get here so I can see how she looks like and have a glimpse of her personality, but I am also ready to get back to my own elements under my own roof. Oh wait, I don't have my own roof anymore except in the Philippines, a country with 7107 islands....is that even during high tide? Me no know.

Yesterday I went to the farmers market here in Canada and I found this berries that I haven't seen anywhere in the US. It reminds me of the fruit that once grew abundantly around our house when I was growing up; we call it sineguelas.

This is called Kiwi berries; very soft and sweet and it came from New Zealand.

I almost ate everything before I realized I might be able to save the seeds and plant them in my farm. I'm not sure if they will germinate but worth the try.

Ok am here in Canada waiting for Kalya.  The wait is tiresome but exhilarating at the same time. Chat said I could start a vegetable and flower garden, yeah?----but where? You can't tell where the backyard ends and the lake begins. Well, beyond that skeleton of an apple tree is the lake.

 

  Well, since I can't do anything outside because of the snow and I can't drive because I don't know where to go, I might as well practice babysitting Kalya's 3 year old sister. I told her she will do what I tell her to do; not the other way around. I have to lay the ground rules right off because her favorite word is "no." When I told her she's the model and will do what the photographer tells her to do, the immediate answer was: "No, I the princess not model".

 

Yesterday, I was ordered to make strawberry shortcake. I don't even eat them, and make them? Well, I indulge the redneck and his landlord.

Ok, I did it but under one condition: they have to play with my cat. Well, not quiet my cat....this is the neighbors' cat that they use to bribe me to make the cake.

When I first came to America I bought jewelries not as an investment but for looks. And I had a husband who indulged me in buying them; and he didn't buy junk either. As I got older and wiser, I realized I didn't really like them on my body---I only liked them to show off, to make me feel I have value and to make my friends think "I got it made."

Then I met Jesus. I started to feel confident enough about myself; realizing I have value worth way more than silver or gold. The blood of bulls and goats or lamb didn't redeem me--the blood of Jesus did. I slowly shed  them off of my body and stored them. And I'm not bragging, I had lots to store. And because Chat is unique, in that she didn't and still don't care about "real" expensive jewelries but love expensive designer bags instead, I started to get philosophical in the logic of storing them. As my late husband used to tell me when he didn't see me wearing them: "I didn't buy them to be stored, if that was my intention, I would have just left them at the store." So I began to clean out my collection from the low end gold and traded them up for one with a higher gold content. My collection were now investment quality. The ones with stone(s) settings on them, I kept as is because stones has to be set in either 14k or 18k for strength.

Then 3 years ago, I converted them into land, which is now my farm. But I still got a few left and I know that if I leave them with Chat, it will end up in the forgotten pile. Then Kalya comes into the picture and the whole scene changes; everything now has meaning, a purpose and a hope....which her name pretty much mean---Redemption. But, I still don't want to leave the whole collection to Chat to give to Kalya later.  The solution came to me last night: I will pick one for every birthday of Kalya and with it will will be a story how the particular piece of jewelry came. This will give her a glimpse of her late grandpa, Don. Then I will put the piece in a box for her to open when she turns 7. She will  then have 7 pieces and 7 stories. Why 7? because 7 is a number of completion, a year of jubilee and Redemption! Her grandpa Don would be proud how I learned and remembers the biblical significance of the numbers. And if internet still exists 7 years from now, Kalya will read this too. Mazel Tov Kalya!

Yesterday, I walked in to hear the Redneck playing a new tune I haven't heard; he has completed the new song he's been working on. I asked him what the title is going to be and he said "I'm thinking if amazing Jesus is good enough." I said, "why not uber cool Jesus?" And I say that because I don't have the words to describe the man who said: While you were yet sinners, I died for you. Romans 5:8. (my paraphrase) Well, we're still kicking it around as to what the title will be.

Since I can't be in the group Rock Bottom Remainders, I thought I'd  just create my own band. In this picture, it took 6 takes for me to look like I can sing or play, or even know how to hold the guitar. The Redneck sings and play, while I only play the lottery.

I am counting the days when Kalya will get here. In the meantime, I am floating. I use the word "floating" because at lunch with my writer friend today, she described me as a "floater". "You're the kind who doesn't care about having roots, you don't care about material things and you're a floater." I processed the statement slowly and she continued. "So it's good that you don't have your own apartment and you don't have your own car now, so you can just continue floating to where you want to be." Partly, the arrows hit the target. But really, my brain is so fogged up I don't even know what this all means anymore. Yes, I don't care about "stuff", and I don't want to be tied down (to people, places or things) so I can just pick up my bed and walk, but I'd like to at least have a place I can call home. Right now, Cebu is it.

Well, after my friend and I parted, I went to Starbucks and picked up a cup of coffee and 3 petite vanilla scones covered in thick icing and downed it like I've been starved for a week. Then I walked next door to Bed Bath and Beyond and bought this.....a juicer. I may not be able to afford another car but I can afford this. Also, I reasoned that if juicing is too much for my meat craving body, at least I could use the vegetable/fruit pulp for composting and feed it to my plants instead. And if this machine ends up next to my Vitamix in the storage, then Kalya can pawn them when she's old enough to walk to the pawn shop.

Well, I finally went to sleep around 5 a.m. this morning, then I awoke at 830 and made coffee. Around noon, I decided to go to the post office to see if my order of seeds came. This is currently my new source of getting high---collecting seeds! I am just beside myself thinking and waiting when I could put them on the ground. I have about 30 different kinds of veggies,fruits and herbs seed. But I am most excited about this Minnesota midget melon and the Sakata, they're sweet suckers. Another seed that gives me the pitter patter is the beefsteak tomatoe, I could not wait to harvest them, I mean plant them first. Then there's the Borage for it's medicinal value but also because it's a fast growing herb, it will be good for my chickens and goats.

It's been a week of me slowly weaning myself off of Lexapro because it doesn't do much for my anxiety, but now I'm reminded that it cures my insomnia as long as I'm on it. It's now 3:25 a.m. and I am wide awake, so I finally just got out of bed and made me a cup of coffee, munch on some pork skins and a bar of  Snickers chocolate. I don't keep candies of any kind in my pantry but Chat has left several bags of assorted candies which I forgot to give away last Christmas. So now it's very handy for nights (or morning) like this. Not cool. Definitely.

So what happens when I don't sleep? I get depressed. And what happens when I am depress? I start to not accept what is, not let go of what was and my faith struggles with what will be. Not cool. Definitely. So now I miss my old apartment, I miss my old life (what life?) And I am nostalgic for my old, old car. And I am weepy for my 2 dead cats---whose names I can't even remember. Or did I even name them? And just now, after my 3rd bar of Snickers and several pork skins, I am horrified for my arteries getting clogged and that I'd gain 27 lbs. by daylight. I better stop and wobble back to bed.

I am waiting for a very important package to arrive any day now. And I can't wait to meet "her". Kalya will be here soon and I have so many stories to tell her. And this is the kind of conversation I prefer: one way. She won't argue or question my stories. At least until she learns how to talk. I am thinking of maybe start working on that book again while I prepare the farm for her also. Life for me has suddenly become purposeful, meaningful and motivating. After all, that's what Kalya means: redemption.

The farm will be planted with fruit trees and scattered with chickens and goats. And lots of cats for her mama. Dogs will come later when her brother Yahalom arrives.  Until then, I continue to sleep and finish the dream.

The Redneck had to go to Louisiana the other day to take care of his taxes, so I decided at the last minute to ride with him instead of sit here in Dallas just counting my gray hairs. Along the road, I saw a barn like structure that says Farm and Garden. Redneck knows that a place like that is my equivalent to Chat's Neiman Marcus, so we pulled in..... and look what I got! I should have taken pictures of the cans of seeds and rack after rack of packaged seeds. The lady who owned the place was so sweet and gave me valuable information about seed preservation. And you can buy them by the scoop---not to mention it's a steal of a price.

Two days ago I was burning from the heat.(Well, maybe not quiet) Yesterday, when I got out of church the windshield was covered in sleet and right now it's 18 degrees. Remember when I was in the island and I said I miss the cold? Forget I said it. I miss the island.

And I miss my street kids.

And my crib in the city.