Re-birth (For Nana)

My step-mom (or Nana as I call her) loves to grow flowers.  She always has a variety of plant life growing all around her house.  She plants things in the ground, in baskets, and sometimes in some very creative places.  She has something growing year round at her house.

            This year Nana was diagnosed with cancer.  When spring came around she was too tired to plant her flowers.  Her immune system was depleted so she really couldn’t leave the house to buy new plants.  Nana was content with not having flowers this year, but I was not.  Even if she couldn’t come outside, I wanted her to have something pretty to look at through the window.

            I started by buying a few flowers to fill her hanging baskets.  The hanging baskets must have motivated her to change her mind, because that week she got Dad and I to buy flowers to plant by the front walk.  Dad and I had laughed because she had been so sure before that she didn’t need any flowers planted.  She would go without flowers this year.

            The day Dad and I planted the flowers I found two plants that had definitely seen better days.  Since we were getting rid of the old and planting the new, I asked Nana what she wanted me to do with them.  She told me she was just going to throw them away, but if I wanted to bring them home to see if I could bring them back to life, I could.  She and Dad found two large pots that were full of old dirty soil for me to put the plants in.  Dad and I repotted the dying plants into the pots taking out most of the old soil and filling it with new.  That afternoon I loaded the big planters into the trunk of my car.  That week Nana began the grueling task of cancer treatments.

            Over the next few months Nana went through rounds of chemo.  Her team of doctors were preparing her body for a stem cell transplant.  Once the chemo did its job of putting the cancer into remission, they would begin the transplant process.  Meanwhile I wasn’t fairing so well with the plants.  I watered them, I talked to them, and once I even danced around them.  None of that worked.  The plants were just as dormant as they had been when I brought them home, actually I think I had succeeded in finishing the poor things off.  I obviously do not have Nana’s green thumb, but mostly I think I don’t have her patience with growing things.

            There was nothing left to do but put the poor things out of their misery.  When I pulled the plants out of the pots they were completely dried and the roots were all shriveled up.  I threw them over the fence into the horse pasture, telling them I was sorry and giving them a second of silence.  Now I had two huge empty pots sitting by my front door.  I wanted to keep the pots for future plants and I was sure I could use the potting soil in the future also.  A few months later I hauled the large pots around back and put then up against the house, not planning on using them again until next year.

            During the time of Nana’s treatments she was pretty much homebound and would be, even for months after the stem cell transplant, due to her low immune system.  This gave her a lot of time for self-reflection.  Sometimes this can be a good thing, and sometimes it can be a bad thing.  For Nana it seemed to be a good thing.  It became clear that as the drugs were killing everything old in her body to get ready for the new, she was already springing forth new life spiritually and emotionally.  Nana was growing stronger in her relationship with Christ every day.

            In a nutshell Nana’s stem-cell transplant was a re-birthing process.  I looked up the definition of re-birth in the Webster’s dictionary.  The second definition of re-birth simply reads “A revival”.  I wanted to dig a little deeper so I looked up the meaning of revival.  The first definition was “An act of reviving or the state of being revived.  I liked the second one also, “A new presentation, as of an old film.”  Well you know at this point I had to read on and see what it said for revive and there it was, the second definition, “To impart new health, vigor, or spirit to.”

            Nana’s spirit life was definitely new and revived and she wanted more.  It was the health part that we were worried about.  Nana went through two cycles of taking med’s that depleted her system completely so that the end result would be a complete re-birth of blood cells in her body.  Her cell system would be starting new again, just like a newborn child.

            One day while Nana was in the hospital having the transplant I walked behind the house to turn the water faucet on.  I couldn’t believe it!  There in one of the pots was a green shoot!  I bent down to touch it and tell it hello.  Tears came to my eyes.  “oh, Nana” I said, “It’s growing out of the old just like you.”  I had almost thrown that old dirt out because I didn’t think it was capable of bringing forth new life.  I thought the pot was empty, dead, no life in it.  Boy was I wrong.  I started watering the plant and as the weeks went on I couldn’t believe my eyes.  I smile every time I see it, and I can’t help but think of Nana.

            As the first purple blooms started coming out I noticed that something was eating on my plant.  I got a little worried.  I was attached to this little plant.  It was fighting to grow just like Nana’s new cells.  I kept a check on it every day, pulling off the leaves that had been chewed on, and watering it the days it didn’t rain.  I talked to this plant (Making sure no one was around besides my two-year old) willing it to grow big and strong and resist the pesky bugs that were chewing on it, whatever they were.

            That little green shoot is now a beautiful purple flowering vine.  It’s not just a new life in an old pot, it’s taking over!  It’s huge and beautiful.  I’m going to have to stick a climber in the pot for it to grow up because it just keeps growing and growing.  It’s funny to think that empty pot sat in the front yard all summer with no sign of life in it and now it’s over flowing with life.

            Nana’s body is still fighting to grow, but it’s wonderful to see the beautiful person she has become.  I don’t know what the days will bring for Nana’s physical body, but I do know she is in
God’s hands and I couldn’t think of a more wonderful, peaceful place to be.  I like to think that in the near future she’s going to be shooting up and overflowing with life just like the new plant in my backyard.  I look forward to the day when Nana is well enough to come and see the beautiful vine that I now call “My purple Nana”.

            Isaiah 26:3-4  You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you.  Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord, is the Rock eternal.  NIV

Falling In Love

                                                                                                             

            When we hear the phrase “Falling in love”, most of us think of a romantic love, late night phone conversations, candle lit dinners, hand holding.  These are normally the things that come to mind when we think of falling I love.

            I recently started thinking about falling in love as a whole new concept, falling in love with your family members.  It seems a lot of the time that our family members are not blood relatives but are actually chosen for us by someone else.

            You don’t have any control over the family that you are born into, yet there is an automatic love there.  Even when there is trouble, you are quick to forgive.  We grow up hearing “No one will ever love you like your brother or sister.” “Blood is thicker than water.”  “Always put your family first because in the end they are the only ones that will be there for you.”

            What happens when most of your family isn’t related to you by blood?  I know someone who absolutely adores her little brother.  She’s constantly telling stories about the newest thing he has learned or said.  After hearing one of her newest stories about him the other day, I realized that they are not related by blood at all.  He is her brother in every sense of the word, just not by bloodline.  She chooses to love him as if he were.  At that moment I realized we do choose our family members.  We choose them by choosing to love them.

            Sometimes choosing to love a family member that was chosen for us is a choice we make every day.  That’s where the “Falling in love” part comes in.  I recently realized that I had fallen in love with some family members that had been chosen for me fifteen years earlier.

            Unfortunately for me it took loss, and the fear of loss to realize how great this love really is.  You see I lost my step-dad to a heart attack eleven months ago, and my step-mom is fighting for her life against cancer as I write this.  I regret wasting all those years that I could have let the love grow deeper.  Maybe sometimes it takes a jolt of reality, a little picture of just how fragile life can be, and the fact that there isn’t always tomorrow.  For now I have whatever time God will give us with my step-mom and I hope that in that time I can be a better daughter and show her the real love that I have for her.

            Falling in love can definitely be whimsical, sweet, romantic, but most of the time it is a choice.  My hope is that you will stop and think about your choices today, and choose to fall in love with those that are already in your family.  I am blessed to have and to have had the people in my life that I did not choose, but were chosen for me.

Easier Said Than Done

“God”, I said, “I wish I were a painter so I could look at the beautiful things you’ve made and save them forever on canvas”. 

                “You are a painter”, he replied.  “You paint with words.  I give you words and you paint the picture.  Words can heal an old wound, words can help ease the pain of a new loss.  I give you words, and you paint the picture I want you to paint.”

                “Easier said than done, God.  I can’t make myself write.  I can’t make myself finish what I have started.  I have ideas roaming around in my head all the time, but I find every excuse in the world, or in my house, not to go sit at my computer.  It’s a laptop for crying out loud, I can bring it to where I’m at.  I can’t make up fiction and create a believable dialogue with kids screaming in the background.  I just don’t have time”

                “I told you, make the time, I’ll give you the words.”

                

 I was at a funeral last week and my great- aunt was getting ready to sing a song.  It was another great-aunt who had died, and she was a wonderful lady.  Anyway, before my aunt starts her song, she says a few words about her sister-in-law whom she loved dearly that had died.  She talked about how her whole life she had a job to do for Christ and she did it.  It was helping people, being hospitable, even teaching others when the need arose.  My aunt looked out at the congregation and tearfully told us that if God had given us a gift to use it, don’t wait.  I remember feeling the twist in my stomach as the tears started streaming down my face.  “Am I wasting a gift that God has given me”, I thought.  Are you?

                Is there something that you constantly feel that you should be doing, but for one reason or another you keep putting it off?  Is it writing, painting, mailing the cards you’ve collected in a drawer and meant to send to people you’ve had on your mind, but never gotten around to it.  Maybe, you’ve just had a nagging to reach out to your neighbor that you never see for some reason, but always thought you’d do it another day.  I know, I know, it’s easier said than done.  I just said that, remember.  I’ll tell you what, I’ll try if you try.  You never know, it could be the beginning of a beautiful work of art for God.

Daddy's Pillow

I was making my bed the other day when I heard my 2-year old son coming down the hall singing “Datty, Datty, Datty”.  I looked up to see him come waddling into my room. All I could see of him were his legs coming out from underneath, and his arms wrapped around his daddy’s pillow.  He waddled over to me and I looked down and said, “Thank you, good job.” as I took the pillow from him.  You see, I thought he was being helpful by bringing the pillow to me because I was making the bed.  Boy was I wrong!  He started screaming, “No! Datty, Datty, Datty” and jerked the pillow out of my hands.  He squeezed the pillow, closed his eyes, buried his face in his dad’s pillow and inhaled.  He let his breath out in a loud sigh and looked at me and smiled. That look on his little face spoke volumes.  It was as if his dad was actually there holding him in his arms & it was his dad he was breathing in, not just his dad’s pillow.  He abruptly  (as abruptly as he could with a pillow bigger than him in his arms) turned around and tried to angrily saunter out of the room, which of course was coming across as an even more pronounced waddle due to the large pillow.  I couldn’t help but laugh, so I tried to keep it quiet.

As I finished making my bed I thought how sweet it was that he was that attached to his dad’s pillow.  I suddenly had a vision of a pillow I had had only a couple of years earlier.  It had been retired to the linen closet I believe, old and stained.  It had been my dad’s pillow.  I started to giggle, because I suddenly realized that until recently I had never had a pillow that had actually been bought for me.  My whole life I had just stolen my dad’s.  I didn’t call it stealing of course, I called it borrowing.  I can’t really remember how I got a hold of my dad’s pillow’s in the first place, but I just remember how much more comfortable they were than mine, and how I could go to sleep so easy because they smelled like Dad.

I remember one time Dad brought home a new pillow that he had actually gone and picked out himself.  Within a month that pillow was mine.  I just switched my pillow (that had actually been his in the first place) with his new one.  I think he fussed, took it from me a couple of times, I took it back and eventually it was mine.  As much as Dad would fuss about me always stealing his pillows, he always let me keep them in the end.

At that moment I knew exactly how my son felt.  He couldn’t hug his dad whenever he wanted, but he could hug his pillow.  Sometimes when he wanted a hug from Daddy, Daddy was at work.  When he’s older and gets in an argument with his dad, he may be too proud to say I’m sorry, and ask for a hug, but he can hug Daddy’s pillow.  When he moves away and Daddy isn’t there, maybe he’ll be lucky enough to have Daddy’s pillow with him.  As I sit here writing this now, I wish I still had my Daddy’s pillow.  I’m 36 years old, but I’d still like to be able to hug my dad whenever I feel like it.  I am lucky in that I do get to see my dad often, but sometimes I too am filled with pride and I don’t hug as much as I would like. 

I understand the security that my son gets from his Daddy’s pillow and I’m glad for the memory I got from watching him with the pillow.  I wonder what my dad would say if he went to lay his head down and his pillow were gone?  Would he remember a time gone by or would he just think he was losing his mind, and wonder what on earth he had done with his pillow?  I’m thankful for the relationship that my husband has with his son, to make him want his Daddy’s pillow.  I’m thankful that I had a dad whose pillow I wanted to steal, and who let me steal it.  I’m thankful for all the memories, and especially all the pillows.  I love you Daddy.

I Need Your Help!!

              If you know me, you know that I am somewhat of a private person.  I love to talk and meet new people and I always listen intently and sometimes even pray with those who want to indulge their personal issues to me.  I however have only a select few that know when I have something that is troubling me, and they will probably tell you that they usually don’t know about it until after the fact.

                I’ve said all that to say this; “I need your help”. If you are a longtime friend, an acquaintance, or just someone reading this blog, I need your help.  I am writing my first novel.  I say my first because I am praying that it is God’s will that this become a career for me.  I think that it is, because I feel like all my ideas come from him and when I sit down to write the words pour out.  I could not do this without him.  I have no formal education in writing, it’s just something I’ve always toyed with mostly because I love to read so much and have since I was five years old.

                I have been working on this book since last summer and I gave myself a deadline of one year to have it complete which would put me at August.  August is fast approaching, and I am only on chapter 10.  I need you to lift my name up in your daily prayer time.  Please ask God that I finish this book in a timely manner, that it is 100% his work, and that it sells!

                I want to write meaningful fiction.  I want people to get entertained by reading my work, but mostly I want them to see how God is in our everyday lives, whether we want him there or not.  If you could please make a commitment to me to hold me accountable, and to lift me up in daily prayer, I will personally give you a copy of my book when it prints (speaking in faith LOL).

               Shew! I really just put myself on the line! It would be so easy to just quietly write and if I finish by August, I do, and if I don’t, I don’t.  It would be so easy for this to be a hobby and not a ministry, but now I can’t hide it because I have told all of you, and now I have to do it!!  If you decide to be a prayer partner with me on behalf of this book, Facebook me or send me an e-mail (ahjones@surry.net).  I intend to keep the names in a file attached to my book so that when the time comes you will get what I promised.  Also I will start lifting your name up in my daily prayer time.  That could work out nicely for both of us.  Thank you in advance for stepping out in faith with me.

Heather L. Jones

The Prayer Box

Philippians 4:   Present your requests to God, and the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Someone close to me was telling me about her “Prayer box”.  She described to me the decorative metal box she has in her house that she puts her prayer request in.  She writes on a piece of paper prayer requests or things that may be worrying her and then she puts them in the box, lays her hands on the box and prays over them.  She told me this, thinking I was going to think she was being silly. 

“Oh!” I exclaimed, “Like the prayer necklaces everybody wears.”  She didn’t know what I was talking about so I explained.

 “People wear these little charms of a box either on a chain around there neck or wrist and they write a prayer request down and put that little piece of paper in that tiny box.” 

“Yes” She said, “Just like that”. 

I went on to tell her that I thought that was a great idea.  We’re constantly told to leave our worries at the altar or at the cross.  Well, what exactly does this mean?  I’ve been to services before where you literally write your prayer request on a piece of paper, bring it down to the altar where there is a group prayer and then you get up and leave it there.  This is literally what God is telling you to do when you read in scriptures “to leave your problems at the cross”.  How many of us actually do this?  As you’re walking back up the aisle (theoretically speaking) do you feel a sense of freedom or are you constantly thinking about the issue you just supposedly left at the altar, and wondering how God is going to answer that need?

I think this whole prayer box idea gives it a whole new prospective, an analogy that you can actually see working.  A few days after this initial conversation with my friend I excitedly told her that I too had found a special box, a beautiful hand carved box that had sentimental value to me.  I decided to take my box a step further.  I told her I was going to take a verse (Phil. 4:  ) and tape it to the inside lid of the box, so each time I put a prayer need in I would remember to leave it there(Present your requests to God), and remember to put my faith to work(The peace of God will guard your heart and mind).  I have to be reminded to exercise my faith? Yes, I do.  God made me human and a very big human emotion just happens to be worry.

After sharing the verse with my friend she told me that she wasn’t exactly doing that.  She was praying over her box daily, rehashing the requests that she had supposedly left at the altar whether she was putting in a new one or not.  In other words on a daily basis she was walking back to the cross, (metaphorically of course)picking her requests and worries back up and asking for God’s help in the matter again.  We talked about how the box needs to be a visual aid in helping you exercise your faith that God is taking care of your needs, covering you in his peace that he is handling the situation his way, in his timing, and you close the lid and walk away from it knowing these things to be the truth.  You are not having positive thoughts, you are not seeking the god inside yourself where all goodness lies, you are taking your request to the one true God, you’re maker, who will supply all your needs, and who loves you more than anyone on this earth ever could.  You put your problem in that box, you close the lid, say “OK God thank you for taking care of my needs” you close that lid and you walk away in peace!  Why?  Because in a lot more places than just Philippians, your bible tells you too and tells you what happens when you do.  If you don’t have your own bible please go get one. It truly is the life handbook, not a self help book, but an operators manual from the man who made us.

I know this post is not as light as my usual post, but this is my blog, my thoughts, and God really is foremost in a lot of my thoughts.  Here is the most important part.  If you have no earthly idea of what I’m talking about, but think it would be a great theory, than I challenge you to do it.  Get your box, stick your bible verse in there, and give your problems to God, knowing that he is going to take care of them.  You don’t have to be broke or homeless to go to God for help.  If you can’t sleep at night, give it to God.  If you have a broken heart, give it to God.  If your heart hurts and you’re not sure why, give it to God.  He wants you to give him all your needs big or small.

God is here and he is real, and most importantly, he loves you like nobody ever will.

Wrestling Practice

O.k.  I’m watching my son at his wrestling practice, and thought I would work on my book a little.  Needless to say I had to stop and start blogging.  The little kids are so comical, I couldn’t help myself.  We all know that kindergartners are some of the sweetest creatures on earth It doesn’t matter what sport they’re playing (or supposed to be playing, I should say), they are in their own world doing their own thing.  I’m speaking of the boys.  The girls are ever aware of what’s going on and seem to already be trying harder to make it in a man’s world.  The little boy’s on the other hand are lying on the mat, lounging with their head in their hands.

I remember watching my brother who is six years my junior playing tee-ball.  The entire season he would stand in the outfield staring at the sky, throwing his hat up and catching it in his glove.  At times he would just sit on the ground and play in the sand.  I couldn’t understand why I was forced to go to these horrible shows.  Of course at that age it was all about me.  As a parent now I feel sorry for the coaches. 

My son is older and he seems to actually be doing a fairly well job of taking down his opponent, wait, I think they’re just lying there talking.  The little kindergartners are definitely just lying there, legs and arms intertwined. I think they may be attempting a head lock.  Oh no, the coach just interrupted their little show.

We first had our oldest son sign up for wrestling club when he was in the second grade, to help him work out his “aggressions”.  “Boys need an outlet to work out their extra energy”, we were told.  Well I don’t know about it helping with his extra energy, but watching him now, I see a big difference from three years ago. 

When I started this whole “mom of a boy thing” I didn’t really know what I was getting into, and definitely didn’t realize the complexity of it.  Well since then I’ve become mom to boy number 2, and I’m still perplexed.  Throw my husband who himself is a very large boy into the mix, and to say I’m lost some days is an understatement. 

I’ve read books on raising boys, being a mom of boys, growing strong men, and how to be married to a man.  I don’t know if learned anything valuable from the books, but I do know in my world of wrestling, baseball, and pee on the commode, I’m having a blast!

Let Them Eat Cake

O.K.  We’ve heard it millions of times, “Let them eat cake”.  Of course this is what Queen Marie Antoinette said when she was told that her subjects, the French peasants were hungry.  She was a young Queen, extremely wealthy beyond any idea that we peasants may have and just didn’t realize that they were literally starving to death. She was kindly telling her advisors to give them some of her delicious cake.  I know, I know, I may defending the late queen a little too much, but I have discovered just this weekend how important cake can be.  Enter the chocolate cake.  Chocolate, the crème de la crème of all sweets.

How many times have you heard a woman say that chocolate is better than sex?  How many men are in chocolate commercials, or chocolate cake commercials?  You see the connection between women and chocolate?  I didn’t, until just a few days ago.

I came in contact this weekend with the most delectable think I have put in my mouth in a very long time.  Chocolate Lava Cake.  Have you ever been so hungry that the first thing you ate was the best you ever had in your life?  You can be starving and eat a simple sandwich and loudly proclaim, “This is the best sandwich I’ve ever had in my life!” (this brings a friend to mind, but I won’t name any names). Maybe this is why this particular cake was so awesome, emotionally I needed chocolate cake.

What?  Did I just say “Emotionally I needed chocolate cake?” Turns out that that’s exactly what I said, and what’s even more surprising is that it’s what I meant.  Who knew?  Women really do need chocolate cake, and it can take the place of other um, we’ll just say unmentionable needs. It’s taken me 36 years to believe this for myself, but the chocolate lava cake really brought it home for me.

I, HLJ promise to never make fun of another commercial of a woman eating chocolate cake with her eyes closed while moaning with a smile on her face.  I promise to never make fun of a woman who is eating chocolate cake in place of doing other unmentionable things (whatever her reasons may be for putting chocolate cake in place of a man).

Don’t worry, to those of you who know me, there was no bad or ill-fated reason for me to “need the chocolate cake”.  It can be hard getting privacy in a house with two kids, especially when you have a toddler who doesn’t sleep through the night, or even in his own room. Enter the chocolate cake.  You can eat it right out in the open in front of everyone, and yes I do believe I closed my eyes and sighed loudly (no moaning though).

So for all the tired mothers who can’t get alone time with their husbands, for all the awesome single ladies who don’t have and probably don’t need a man, and for all the other women out there who have needs when their husbands are not around,  LET THEM EAT CAKE!  I know I will be.

Just Another Night at Our House

We had another grandiose upheaval at our house last night.  By upheaval I don't mean fight.  An upheaval at our house is a large and loud commotion.  keep in mind that besides myself the only other female in the house is our 3 year old Imperial Shi Tzu.  with this in mind and especially if you live or have ever lived in a house full of males you will understand why most of our "Loud commotions" have to do with poop.
You would think living in a house full of males who are constantly making farting noises (except Higgins the black lab, we only pray that his bombs would make noises therefore we would have time to run) that a little poop wouldn't bother them.  Nope, not my guys.  If they happen to walk by while I'm changing the toddlers diaper, gagging noises ensue.
One of the funniest family moments to date was this summer when the baby pooped in the bath tub in the camper.  That is it Was the funniest, until last night.  When I get the baby out of the tub I dry him off and then he likes me to open the bathroom door so he can run around the house streaking and screaming.  Well, last night I had been trigger happy with the camera taking a ton of pictures of him taking a bath.  I had the camera in hand as he ran butt naked into his brother's room.  Bubby's room is usually off limits (small children and animals could get lost, or worse die in there), but Bubby was in there pushing tractors around his barn yard, with the door open, so the baby happily ran in.  Of course a photo opt arises immediately.  He grabs a blaze orange and camo hat and puts it on backwards.  So, facing me is the bill of the cap and the most adorable little hiney you've ever seen.  His big brother playing with the big barn and barnyard in the background makes it priceless.
 I'm telling you this is a winning shot!  He's 16 months old so of course before my slow as Methuselah camera could get the shot, he's thrown the hat on the ground and ran to the other side of the room.  I'm determined to get that shot, so in my sweetest firm voice I say "Put the hat on."  "Put the hat on."  "PUT THE HAT ON!"
 Please keep in mind the Most IMPORTANT part of this story.  This baby does not have on a diaper.
 Imagine if you will out of no where (well, we now know just where it appeared out of) a big pile of mess that looks a lot like dog vomit is laying at the baby's feet, and oh my gosh he's getting ready to step in it!  Where did that come from , the dog's not even in here.  I mean the kid didn't even squat down! No warning whatsoever! We were looking right at him!  I jump up to grab him while I'm laughing.  My ten year old screams like a girl.  I lost it.  I have the baby dangling in my arms over a pile of poop while my supposedly "big kid" is running from his room with arms flailing , screaming "HE POOPED ON MY CARPET! HE POOPED ON MY CARPET!"  Forget gagging. I was laughing so hard I wasn't even breathing.
 Needless to say I made it safely back to the bathtub with the baby.  I cleaned the carpet and all was made right with the world.  So, no words of wisdom today, no verses, just a funny story.  No, I do have a verse.  Psalm 118:24  This is the day the lord has made.  I will rejoice and be glad in it.  So many times I've recited that verse when having a bad day, or felt that I had been offended.  Today that verse comes to mind, because this truly is a great day.  There are so many things and people in my life that I can point at and say "That's not what I asked for."  I'm so glad that God knows me better than I know myself, and that he doesn't always give me what I ask for.  I didn't ask to live in a house full of males, but I thank God for this day and I will rejoice in it, laughing loudly while cleaning up the poop.
 By the way.  I seem to have misplaced my camera. :)
HLJ