10/15/2021

Jacqui’s Friday Flowers in October

Last year I became a huge fan of Dahlias. Not sure why this flower wasn't on my radar before, but now that glitch in my flower-lover brain has been fixed. 

Not only are Dahlias beautiful flowers, but I really appreciate them blooming not only in late summer but in October when the weather on Canada's pacific coast is headed toward the winter rainy/gloomy season. 

Most of the Dahlia photos that I took (and the ones I've included below) were from Victoria's Government House Gardens or Beacon Hill Park, but a few (like the last two) were incredible finds on or near city streets. 

Jacqui ❤️ ๐Ÿ’

Dahlias

Dahlias

Dahlias

Dahlias

Dahlias

Dahlias

Dahlias

Dahlias

Dahlias

Click here to see my September blog post and a hefty stack of Hydrangea pics ๐Ÿ™‚ 

To see more of my flower pictures (during the February to October flower season in Victoria, Canada), visit my Facebook and Instagram pages.  


~ * ~ 


Jacqui Nelson - Author Picture
Fall in love with a new Old West where the men are steadfast & the women are adventurous. I love writing stories about women who are Wild West scouts, spies, cardsharps, wilderness guides, trick-riding superstars, and more. 

Read an excerpt from all of my books at JacquiNelson.com/my-books

Join my newsletter & read Rescuing Raven (my Deadwood 1876 gold-rush story) for FREE at JacquiNelson.com/download-my-free-read 

10/01/2021

HANDS

 what story do yours tell?

Our hands work for us in many ways. Sometimes they're our voice. Sometimes they express more emotion than we can say aloud. Sometimes they share through touch. I notice people's hands. I love how they are decorated, how they're unique, but especially what they do. More than anything, I hope others find mine as helpful and friendly. What story do your hands tell? Is it a story you're satisfied with, or remembering, or are you in the middle of creating something new?

Angi


My husband and I travel and always stop for sunsets. We've got thousands of pictures of them and still aren't tired of seeing another. In fact, we have an entire wall (during the fall) of sunset pictures we've taken. My hands have shared a beer with the ones I love in many places. I hope the story they tell is that I stopped and appreciated the things and people around me.


Jacqui


Coffee gets me moving and makes me stop as well. Get out of bed, make coffee—then settle down at my desk and write. Visit family or friends—and sit with a cup of coffee to talk. Walk to a coffee shop to meet an author friend—and then (with the buzz of the other coffee lovers around us) sit down with our coffees to write and talk about what we wrote or planned to write next. Since the COVID-19 pandemic started, I haven't been to a coffee shop to write with a friend, but I'm hoping to get back to doing this in 2022. Fingers crossed :) The world’s pace seems so hectic that the opportunity to have a getaway where I stop and hold a cup of coffee—and focus on someone’s words or my own—is an opportunity I love seizing. ~ Jacqui 


C.H.

 

The moment I saw the above picture, I thought of my Heavenly Hubby! DJ and I were always digging in our yard to build things: flower gardens, veggie gardens, playhouse for the kids, motorcycle shed (for the 5 motorcycles the men in my life have,) the wisteria arbor, drainage, a patio...the list is huge since we bought our home in 1982. DJ and I never minded getting our hands dirty. We always had the same reaction driving past a field that had just been plowed--we'd take a deep breath loving the smell of the fresh-turned earth. One of the first things I noticed about DJ the day we met--aside from his broad shoulders, bright green eyes, and crooked smile, was his hands. 

            


I sketched DJ's hands for art homework back in '75, and he patiently sat at my folks' kitchen table while I concentrated and tried to do justice to the beauty I saw there. Even at 17 years old, I sensed the strength in them. During our lives together, our children and I depended upon that strength, and he gave it lovingly without question until eleven months ago, when the good Lord called him home. He's waiting for me, and I look forward to grabbing hold of his hands and never letting go.


Amanda


Hands express so much of who we are. In pre-covid days a handshake was a sign of an agreement, integrity. Whether a friendly welcome, a kind pat on the hand, perhaps a grip of courage or joy. Hands tell a story and that has never been more real to me than recently as my family and I walked my husband/their father/his mother’s son home to his eternal life with Jesus.

My husband and I took each other’s hands many times during the years we dated in our last years of high school, clasped in prayer asking for Gods help, Joyfully clasped as we were married, gripping hands-white-knuckled as our kids were born, comforting one another as we said goodbye to parents and finally holding tight, praying for strength after receiving the news of a cancer that gave him only days to live.

I took this picture during one of the last lucid moments during his week-long home hospice stay. To me, it’s a symbol of our wedding vows of “til death do us part”- a few days later, I held his hand and walked him to be home with our Lord. While I miss him terribly, I give praise and thanksgiving that I will see him again down the road. Until then-- as we adopted the psalm verse that began our friendship which turned into 43 years of blessings & love- so will it always stay rooted in my heart. “O magnify the Lord with me. Let us exalt His name together.” (Psalm 34:3)  


Lizbeth

Last month I wrote about my dad who passed away four years ago after battling dementia for ten years. I'm using my memories of Dad one more time here to talk about hands. One thing that is special and a comfort to me is remembering how often I went with my mom to visit, to sit with Dad, and talk to him, to help feed him and hold his hands. But the most special thing from those last years is that, because I am very lucky to babysit my grandchildren once a week, I more often than not spent part of each of our days together bringing them to visit Great-Grandpa. Dad lost his ability to speak during his last three years, but his eyes spoke volumes whenever his greats came to visit. And his hands played such an important part of our visits. We would set baby Riley in Great-Grandpa's lap and push them in the wheelchair together. Dad would not want to let him go and his hands, no matter how frail otherwise, would hold Riley securely. Riley would NEVER cry and would hold Great-Grandpa's thumbs in his tiny fists. Dad would rest his whole hand on Riley's head like a blessing, and I think old and young together would feel peace. We all held hands a lot during those times. Because we didn't have all the words, our hands were our instruments of love and communication. I am blessed to have this picture of Dad's hand topped by Riley's. The old bequeathing life to the young. The young giving comfort to the old. God was so good, holding us in His loving hands, and giving Riley and my dad this first and last year together.


What story do your hands tell? Is it a story you're satisfied with, or remembering, or are you in the middle of creating something new?


9/17/2021

Jacqui’s Friday Flowers in September

The vibrant purple-blue Hydrangea is the one that always catches my eye. It caught my eye so much that one summer I took a chance and bought a potted one to put on my balcony. Unfortunately, it only lasted for that summer. I guess it must have been an annual type. That's my story and I'm sticking to it! Luckily, many years ago my mom gave me a perennial Hydrangea from her garden and it still lives. 

I'm also lucky that so many people in Victoria have Hydrangeas in their gardens. Gardens I can walk by and photograph. Here are some of those photos -- from my previous balcony and beyond. 

Jacqui ❤️ ๐Ÿ’

Hydrangeas
The Hydrangea that brightened my balcony garden for one summer

Hydrangeas
The eye-catching purple-blue shade that always...catches my eye :) 

Hydrangeas

Hydrangeas

Hydrangeas

Hydrangeas

Hydrangeas by Victoria's Empress Hotel
Hydrangeas by Victoria's Empress Hotel

Hydrangeas

A very uniquely colored and shaped Hydrangea
A uniquely colored and shaped Hydrangea

Click here to see my August blog post and a lot of Sweet Pea, Sunflower, and Coneflower pics ๐ŸŽ‰๐ŸŒป 

To see more of my flower pictures (during the February to October flower season in Victoria, Canada), visit my Facebook and Instagram pages. 


~ * ~ 


Jacqui Nelson - Author Picture
Fall in love with a new Old West where the men are steadfast & the women are adventurous. I love writing stories about women who are Wild West scouts, spies, cardsharps, wilderness guides, trick-riding superstars, and more. 

Read an excerpt from all of my books at JacquiNelson.com/my-books

Join my newsletter & read Rescuing Raven (my Deadwood 1876 gold-rush story) for FREE at JacquiNelson.com/download-my-free-read  

9/11/2021

THROUGH MY LENS

 We Will Never Forget 9/11/2001

We hope you'll take a moment to 
NEVER FORGET

If you've visited the 9/11 Memorial, then you may have noticed a white rose amidst the names. 


They are birthday roses set out for each hero. 

Here's more about that story from the Memorial site.

And here are some pictures from my visits.


I shared my short story on the tenth anniversary. Here it is again.


























































Where were you? 

I shared my short story on the tenth anniversary.

9/03/2021

STORIES OF THE HEART

We wanted to share some feel-good moments from our life. Stories from our Hearts was originally conceived by Amanda McIntyre. If you get a chance read more by clicking the link in the right sidebar. I know the authors at GLIAS are all grateful to the healthcare professionals this past year. I am super proud of my daughter for not only following her heart but for also receiving her registered nurse diploma. That would be hard enough. And yet, she did it during a pandemic. She didn't shy away from helping those in need. I admire all the healthcare profession especially those who have gone above and beyond with sacrifices of time and separations from their families. Another shout out to my cousin who is also a nurse in Oklahoma City, working the front lines of the Co-Vid 19 floor. Prayers to you all.


My life has been so blessed with "heart" stories, I barely know how to pick one. I have an incredible mama who is 92 and still very active. I also have an amazing supportive husband and two grown children and their perfect spouses along with three grandchildren who make my life complete. But my true heart story belongs to my dad. It will be four years this October since we lost him to dementia. I'm pretty sure everyone reading this has dealt with this terrible disease in some way, so my story isn't about how awful it is--mine is about how wonderful the memories of helping care for a loved one who is slowly changing. 

In 2009, after returning from living away from my parents for three years, I started taking my dad on monthly dates. He was already showing signs of his losses to come--having trouble finding words, forgetting a few things. But we did all kinds of cool activities--visiting museums, our state's Governor's mansion at Christmas, going to movies, to local landmarks, miniature golf. And we always went somewhere fun for lunch. Over the next five years he grew less and less able to do physically demanding things like walking far--but we still managed to enjoy our dates. Finally, when he was no longer able to speak or walk well, we limited our time together to lunches out. He loved Indian food and IHOP, so we frequented two of our local pancake and curry establishments a lot the year before he had to move to a nursing facility. He spilled on his clothes, he sometimes couldn't find his mouth. But I helped him as he'd allow and, as long as he could make it into the restaurant, took him no matter what anyone might have thought . 

When he was no longer at home, my amazing mother drove every single day to see him, rain or shine. I went usually once a week, sometimes twice. And because he was lucky enough to know two of his great-grandchildren, I brought them to visit regularly as well. No matter where he was in his mind, he always seemed to know Mom and the babies. He held them tenderly, hated for them to be taken away, and they brightened his day. Also, whenever I was with him at mealtime, it was an honor to help feed him -- a continuation of our wonderful years of lunch dates. 

I was not special. My whole family treated Daddy this way. I'm proud of how we tried to help maintain his dignity to the end. When he passed away, we were glad he no longer had to be trapped in his silent body, but I feared that maybe the last years would be painful to remember. It turned out they absolutely are not. They are some of my greatest heart treasures. I learned to be patient, to be somewhat accepting of what I couldn't change, and how to honor someone wherever they are at. So--I thank my dad for the lessons of love he taught me, even when he had no idea how much I was learning!

For as long as I can remember, I've had poor eyesight. It’s made me extremely appreciative of any day I've been able to see. I'm very nearsighted and have astigmatism. I've worn glasses since I was around 7. When I was 22, I had a detached retina (that didn't get fixed in time to save all of the sight in that eye) and doctors have told me I'm legally blind in that eye. 

The other week I went to a specialist eye doctor to have an assortment of extra eye exams. The good news is there’s nothing new happening with my eyes. They are just their usual bad, which isn’t great but at least nothing hugely new and hugely concerning is happening. 

So far I don't have glaucoma, but the pressure on my eyes is on the edge of acceptable, so that's something to still have monitored regularly. 

I was told I have a cataract in the eye that had the detached retina. The doctor said it has been there for some time (but this was the first time I was hearing about it) and it may have resulted from the detached retina. He said he wouldn't recommend doing anything with the cataract unless a cataract developed in my other eye. Apparently, cataract surgery should happen on both eyes to...something about keeping them in sync. But he also said cataract surgery would put me at more risk of another retinal detachment, so I'm definitely putting off any cataract surgery for as long as possible. 

This specialist eye doctor also told me that he’d lived in the city (778 miles away from where we were now) where I had my detached retina surgery. He talked like a detective in a mystery novel trying to figure out if he (or one of his colleagues) had done my retina surgery 30 years ago. It's a small world. And I'm very appreciative that he is my doctor now and he (or one of his colleagues) was my doctor back then as well. Thank the heavens for good doctors! 


The year 2020 was a tough one for all of us, but our family also experienced one of the most joyful moments in our lives--the birth of our grandson. Henry has been such a blessing in so many ways. 

He's now 18-months-old, and is the smartest, sweetest little guy. And he LOVES books...just like his mommy and his Nana! Here's a picture from his first day in his new "big boy" classroom. He's found a book and is engrossed. 

I never imagined myself as one of those doting grandmas, but, boy, am I ever! I'm so glad we live within driving distance so I can get my "Henry fix" at least once a week. Yet another blessing, living close to my kids. More than ever, I am thankful for family and for the gift of life.



They say that hindsight is 20/20…perhaps that’s true. When something so traumatic occurs in your life that you haven’t a moment to process the news, you pray while you hold your tears inside, keep your head down, focus on the situation, and do your utmost to do whatever is required to carry on for the good of all. 

There have been many times in the last 45 years when the traumatic has occurred, but the keeper of my heart and I had our faith to carry us through as we did what was needed until we’d made it through to the other side of the trauma, whole as a family, whole as a couple, saying grateful prayers of thanks.

When my darling was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer on January 21, 2020--four days after his 65th birthday, we prayed and never gave up hope that he would pull through. His surgeon was confident, and after 8 hours of a successful surgery, he was effusive in telling us he’d removed all of the cancer—no further treatment would be necessary.

A few months later we received the call from his oncologist; the results from Sloan Kettering had been delayed because of the pandemic, but their second opinion was clear--chemo would be necessary. DJ took it in stride as he planned to fight this disease. He went through two rounds of chemo before the side affects had him on his knees in pain unable to walk. Still he soldiered on, confident that he would arise the victor. We never stopped praying, never gave up hope.

While there is far more to DJ’s heroic battle, and the on-going struggle to accept the hole in our lives where he once stood, our family is slowly mending nine months after we said goodbye to the rock that we depended upon. Each of us in turn has said that we were carrying on because we knew that is what “Dad” (in our children’s case) or “DJ” (in my case,) would have wanted and expected us to do. Remembered conversations and favorite sayings are part of our everyday lives now, slowly filling a bit of that hole with the essence of the man who once stood beside us, loving us, cheering us on—or telling us to accept what is and keep moving forward. I see bits and pieces of DJ in our sons, our daughter, our son-in-law, and our grandsons—and everywhere in our home and gardens…where we worked side-by-side to make it truly ours.

Life is a precious gift that I give thanks for every day. In my daily prayers, I thank God for the gifts in my life: life, another day, family, hearth, home, love, health, hope, and words. Whatever higher power you believe in, and I truly believe there are far more things in Heaven and on earth that we have yet to understand, do take a moment to say thank you for the gift of life and please do not ever take it for granted. 

I need to remember a story from my heart. Something that inspired me. So I'm not going to chat about the current world or things that I've been battling this year. Travel with me to a time in my life where I was single with two kids. Back to the time I held eleven jobs in one year (many simultaneously). Back when asking for help just wasn't in my vocabulary. Back to when my current life philosophy of paying it forward was created...

My car broke down all the time. Sometimes when my dad was out of town (he drove a big rig), in order to get to my second job (cleaning a small office building at night), I pulled my two small children in a wagon over two miles three nights a week. We ate a lot of spaghetti and green beans back then. Please don't misunderstand my story. I never went hungry. My parents were present and I could eat at their house anytime I wanted (or needed). It was my pride that prevented asking more often. This went on for a while. And then one evening, several bags of groceries were waiting at my apartment door. I had friends from church, from college, and from old jobs and no one ever admitted to the generous gift. I never found out who.

And during the same year, I received three different envelopes through the mail with cash. Totally anonymously again. And the person or persons never said anything. You might assume, like I did that the donation was from my parents--believe me when I say that wasn't in their wheelhouse. They paid for the kids' shoes, bicycles, and constantly found reasons to send them home with new clothes. So I knew the person giving to me so generously was for real. They didn't embarrass me by handing it to me face-to-face. The experience changed my life...along with meeting my mentor and friend a few months later.

I had taken a job which required me commuting to Dallas. A friend mentioned a job at the university and I didn't really give it a thought. But that week, my car was hit in traffic three times. I took that as a sign and interviewed. Meeting Raedean changed me forever. Me took me under her wing (she took all her employees) and had a different supervising attitude that I wish I could have duplicated. One thing I'll never forget is going on break with her once a week. Sure we covered office improvements, but she always, always asked if there was anything she could help with--professionally or personally. Shoot, you could do that in the 80s. Those little caring conversations changed how I spoke to people. Those weekly fifteen-minute breaks showed me how important it is to remember just to ask people how they're doing and really listen to their answer. 

After I married Tim. I stayed home with the kids and volunteered. I hope I helped a little a long the way by picking kids up for a practice, or reading in a classroom, or finding softball gloves so girls could be on a team, or chatting with high school kids about their lives. Tiny things that I hope made life easier on parents or let kids know they mattered. I never forgot the anonymous donations and how they made me feel. I try to Pay It Forward as often as I can. Just last year, I was writing a note to a missionary family that due to the Co-Vid shutdowns I wouldn't be able to send my yearly donation. I didn't have to send it, Tim's job came back full-time.

God showed me how to love. My mom showed me how to be kind. Raedean taught me how to listen. And an anonymous donator taught me to share my blessings.

Gratitude is always the center of any heart story. I’m trying to be more mindful of being grateful, seeing my blessings around me, and because I’m blessed, being a blessing to others. Here is my prayer of gratitude—my hope that more people would appreciate the teachers that everyday face uncertainty in their classrooms during these tumultuous times. I implore you to support them however possible, work as a team for the betterment of your child and ALL the children in the schools.

 Be mindful of the incredible pressures these teachers are getting from all sides and how they are doing their best to simply be good teachers and help their students to view themselves as productive, special people. Teachers--the good ones, and there are many-- are doing their best incredible odds-much of which they have no control over directly. While it’s a stressful time for us all during this pandemic, let us stop and be grateful that we have public schools and many, many good teachers out there who wanted to teach because they’d been taught by good teachers. Thank you, Sam, Kate, Andrea, Shannon, Dave, Melissa, and so many more, past & present, that honor the profession of teaching with their integrity, determination, and kindness. We could ALL learn a lesson from them!


Hope you'll share your heart stories with us.

8/20/2021

Jacqui’s Friday Flowers in August

Victoria's flower season starts early compared to other parts of the world, so sometimes it feels like the explosion of flowers is over by August. But August is still a great time for a lot of wonderful flowers like Sweet Peas, Sunflowers, and pink or yellow Echinacea/Coneflowers. 

Sweat Peas are hard to find in Victoria, so I was very lucky and very glad to find a patch on a trellis in Government House Gardens in 2020 and on a chain-link fence behind Christ Church Cathedral way back in 2017. 

Jacqui ❤️ ๐Ÿ’

Sweat Peas in Government House Gardens
Sweat Peas in Government House Gardens

Sweat Peas in Government House Gardens
Sweat Peas in Government House Gardens

Sweat Peas behind Christ Church Cathedral
Sweat Peas behind Christ Church Cathedral

Sunflowers

Sunflowers

Sunflowers

Echinacea/Coneflowers

Echinacea/Coneflowers

Click here to see my July blog post with Red Hot Pokers, Daisies, and Victoria's iconic hanging flower baskets ๐Ÿ’๐ŸŒˆ

To see more of my flower pictures (during the February to October flower season in Victoria, Canada), visit my Facebook and Instagram pages. 

~ * ~ 


Jacqui Nelson - Author Picture
Fall in love with a new Old West where the men are steadfast & the women are adventurous. I love writing stories about women who are Wild West scouts, spies, cardsharps, wilderness guides, trick-riding superstars, and more. 

Read an excerpt from all of my books at JacquiNelson.com/my-books

Join my newsletter & read Rescuing Raven (my Deadwood 1876 gold-rush story) for FREE at JacquiNelson.com/download-my-free-read