For Janie

Jane Turner French
11/3/34-3/20/13
(written on 3/21/13)

Nobody loved to tell a good story more than Janie, so I hope I do her justice. Stephen, Paul and Danny: this story is for you.

Jane was born in the Bronx to William and Edna Turner. She worshiped her father and revered her mother. She routinely quoted wisdom from her mom despite the fact that Edna passed decades ago. Her sister, Anne, was so important to her. Janie loved to brag with absolute confidence and a steely glint in her blue, blue eyes, and I quote: My big sister adores me. I mean absolutely adores me.

No story about Janie can start anywhere else but with Nelson. I used to tease Paul about his “Leave it to Beaver” upbringing, but the truth is that Jane and Nelson’s marriage makes Ward and June Cleaver’s example look paltry. Jane and Nelson’s love was one for the record books. Nelson cherished her and she him. They seldom went anywhere without the other. For them, life was more comfortable, complete, and happy in each others presence. Since Nelson’s passing in 2008, Jane was missing a vital piece of herself.

Since she was a little girl, Jane wanted to be a mom. She took being a good mom very seriously. She was so proud of Stephen, Danny and Paul; each for different reasons. She loved them ferociously. And what’s best, they know it to the very fiber of their being. They have never, and will never, have to question it for one second.

And if you think she loved her sons, you should have seen the outpouring for her grandchildren. She loved them in an unflagging, consummate way…with unwavering belief in each of their potential. Erin, Connor, Turner and Hayden were given the extraordinary gift of having a Nanny who not only delighted in their presence – literally, when they were around she would feast her eyes on them – but also she prayed for them every day. She prayed for every aspect of their lives and I can think of no greater gift that she could have given them.

While we are somewhat defined by our core relationships, I want to take a minute to attempt to describe the heart of Jane, the very core of her. The part of her that was God given – the mix of personality, interests and passions. Because, what you might not know is, she was exceptional.

Janie was a little bit shy, but once she knew you, well….you got the joy of seeing her exceptional intellect go to work. She was articulate, knowledgeable about so many things (fueled by voracious reading and nightly Jeopardy sessions), had a remarkable memory, and made lightening-quick connections to people, places and times gone by. She was funny, I mean really funny. Even in the ICU in her last weeks, her sense of humor was acute...dropping one-liners with a characteristic Janie eye-roll or wink. Sarcasm was often her humor of choice, and is a tool she passed to her three boys, and even some of her grandchildren.

If you know the Bible story of the sisters Mary and Martha, then you know that when Jesus came to visit, Martha busied herself with cooking and cleaning while Mary sat at Jesus’ feet and just basked in his presence. Our Janie was definitely a Mary living in a very Martha world. If you came to visit her, she made you feel you were the most important person in the world…seriously, bombs could go off outside, and she would still be fixed on you. She was also staggeringly generous. Early on in my marriage to Paul I learned that I had to stop mentioning anything that I needed in her presence, as the next time I saw her it would be given to me. If she could solve your problem or meet your need, she would. Without hesitation.

The most important aspect of Jane’s life, without question, was her relationship with Jesus Christ. Jane’s faith was a simple one. And by simple, I don’t mean uninformed. She knew her Bible and she was extremely involved in her church and her church family. By simple, I mean uncomplicated. Her faith was rooted in the love embodied by Jesus Christ. The love of Christ was the rudder that directed her marriage, her parenting, her friendships, her work relationships. Jesus was her companion, her guiding light, and her savior. And while we have spent the last few days literally brimming with tears because we will miss her so, we rejoice in her faith. We rejoice in the hope that she and Nelson are reunited…I can hear Nelly saying, “Joan,” (that was his nickname for her), “what took you so long?” And we rejoice in the love of family and friends who share Jane’s faith in a loving God who has prepared a marvelous eternity for us all. We rejoice in the promise that Jesus has welcomed her into heaven saying, “Well done Janie, you good and faithful servant.”

Skinny Jeans and Fairness

If you have met my eldest, you know why we call him Big T. He has grown 6.5 inches in the last year. From afar, he looks like a double stick popsicle with a head. Skinny jeans are all the rage with the youngins these days. For T, they are a fashion necessity. If he wears normal jeans, they look like bozo pants.

In anticipation of returning to school, we cleaned out T's closet to see what still fit from last year. The answer: nothing. Skinny jeans go for about $50 full price at Kohls or Zumiez. I was bumming.

The Scottish in me took over, however. I found one pair of skinny jeans for $19 at Marshalls, and another pair on sale at Kohls (for which I also used a 30% coupon) so I paid only $25. Now I felt victorious.

However, now that I am back at work, laundry isn't being done with the frequency it has been over the summer. So after many squabbles and seemingly endless bickering, I was back at Kohls with another 30% off coupon.

This was the end for Hayden (who only got one pair of skinny jeans). His invisible, proverbial cork popped and out came, "Mom, that's not fair."

At this point, you might be thinking, "Why is Jenni bothering to blog this story?"

The events of the last 24 hours have been extraordinary. My husband and my puppy were attacked by a German Shepherd. My hubby is fine...went to the doc, was given a prescription and, other than a little soreness, he's recovering fine.

My puppy Brutus, on the other hand, hasn't fared so well. He is a twelve pound yorkie-dachsund, and cuter than that renowned bug's ear. The attack has left him with a 10-12" cut across his entire back. The vet described the injury as "what it would look like if you tried to pull a stuffed animal apart not by the seams." It is absolutely tragic.

I have really been struggling with my anger and grief over the situation. I am an admitted dog freak. And have been since I was about 8 years old. Brutus is an innocent creature. He has never harmed anyone or anything. He didn't deserve what happened yesterday.

That's when it hit me. Fairness is a man made concept. It is an ideal, not reality. If it were real, then my friends on Batey 50 in La Romana (photos above) would have a house as nice as mine and as much food to eat as I do. My friend Samantha wouldn't have juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, but rather two healthy knees like my boys. Little Macey King wouldn't have battled cancer (and won, by the way) numerous times before she turned 10, while I sit here at 45 still chugging along as healthy as an ox. There is no question, life isn't fair.

What dawned on me is that fairness isn't a God-given gift, but I do believe that justice is. Justice is eternal and not of this world. I am hanging on for that.