Categories
Uncategorized

Crazy Daisies

She would rather have

Crazy Daisies in pitchers

Or Mason jars

Instead

She would rather have

Tequila and whiskey

Instead

She would rather be picked up

Taken for a ride

In blue jeans and barefeet

Instead

She would rather receive

A simple bracelet

Handwritten card

Instead

She would rather have

Chocolate kisses

Instead

She would rather be

Taken out for burgers and beer

A little live music somewhere

Instead

She would rather be

Kissed again and again

Instead

She would just wait and see

What will be

Instead

Jeanna’ Mead

6 23 a.m. 2.13.20

http://www.jeannasoul.com

Categories
Uncategorized

She Knew

Listening to this song while drinking coffee in Christmas morning

.https://open.spotify.com/track/4z8sz6E4YyFuEkv5o7IJni?si=H-jlAXihRWC4iq1qQieQS.

Mary knew. I’m sure of it.

A woman’s intuition.

She knew and she kissed her baby boy knowing full well she was kissing the face of God.

She wasn’t intimidated. She wasn’t afraid. She was His mother and she did what came naturally. She kissed Him. She loved Him. She held Him and she soothed Him.

She gave Him love and she received love back.

Imagine this, the Lord Jesus snuggling up to His mom, nestling in her embrace, loved and accepted, cherished and wanted.

Mary was filling His needs-for warmth, for food, for shelter, for attention, for compassion, for change (yes, He had to be changed.. yes,even the baby Jesus pooped).

We tend to gloss over some parts but we shouldn’t, it’s the truth.

Babies need to be changed and sometimes it stinks and it’s messy but we do it anyways, because that’s what love does.

Love does what’s necessary and what’s good and what has to be done.

Not just the things that look good and feel good, but the hard things, the tiring things and the things that take time and energy.

Mary knew it had to be done and she did it with love, with intention, and with gratitude that she was the one who was the chosen to do so.

Chosen.

Think about that for a second.

Mary was chosen to be the mother of Jesus.

And she knew it.

She didn’t understand why, but she knew she was.

So she kissed her baby boy and she kissed the face of God and He, in return, kissed her.

Today when you choose to kiss someone, kiss them with the intention and knowledge that you are kissing the face of God, too.

There is truth there.. for each and every person was created by God, for a reason and a plan that He alone understands.

We need to remember this…

Just as Mary gave Love to her baby boy, we need to give love, not just gifts wrapped in paper and tied with ribbons, with tags of a few chosen people.

We need to give love generously, gently, graciously to those people that cross our paths, that come into our lives, that somehow bump into us.

Ever stop and think that maybe, just maybe God chose that meeting, chose that person to come into your life, chose YOU to be the one that’s present and in awe of the chance to give and receive love.

Kind of like Mary was.

I think we know this.

Intuition.

We know that Love is the greatest gift we have.

So please give it, receive it, share it, find it, celebrate it, embrace it and be it.

Choose to be like Mary and choose to be like God .

I think we all want to do this just has we instinctively know that Love is what we should be giving, but we get intimidated and afraid.

We fall back on rules and regulations and on lists and others things.

We choose.

Sometimes we choose not to love, not to give, not to receive, not to embrace and not to be present and in awe.

Isn’t that a shame?

Think about it… A baby needs a mother.. needs to be held and touched, to be nurtured and loved.

It’s that simple.

And really, so is everything else.

Mary knew that.

And so do we, deep down in our soul.

So Merry Christmas, may you love more and be loved more.

Jeanna’Mead

7 32 a.m. 12.25.19

http://www.jeannasoul.com

Categories
Uncategorized

Men

Open letter to men,

I want you to know that I see the ways in which we (women) have contributed to the wounding of the masculine psyche.

We don’t often recognize that while we talk about how men have hurt women in this culture, women are also hurting men.

With our words, our actions, and our unreasonable exceptions of you.

I want you to know that being vulnerable is masculine.

That to give me the gift of seeing you in your vulnerability is a blessing, not something to curse.

I want you to know that I will never tell you to “man-up” again. It must hurt to hear that when you are stumbling, you are no longer perceived as a man.

You may even be confused as to what’s expected of you now that so much has changed.

Dear men, we still want you. We still need you.

I want you to know that your energy, your presence, your commitment and your devotion show me that I am safe, protected and cared for.

I want you to know that I can hold space for you too, just like you do for me.

I can witness your emotions, sit with your tears, or be with you when you’re confused.

You are human, it’s ok if you stumble.

I will not leave you if you cry.

I want you to know that you’re not expected to perform or be ready to at all times.

Most of all, making love is about presence, it’s about passion, it’s about true connection.

Make eye contact with me when our bodies connect, show me you’re with me, give me your energy, and you will feel our passion rise to create true love.

When things go sideways let’s laugh together. Intimacy is more than just sex, it’s about kisses, snuggles, eye-gazing, and conversation. It’s many forms of expression.

I want you to know, that you are most attractive when you are fully expressed. I want to see you dance, to laugh, to play, to hug and give/receive love.

Dear men, you are safe to be yourself.

As a woman, I promise to do my best to contribute to the rising and healing of the masculine, alongside the feminine.

This is not a one sided journey. We need women to rise, and we need men. We need you too, so please show up with us.

I want you to know that I see you.

You are valuable beyond measure and the gifts you provide are different and unique to what a woman provides, and this is why communities are made up of all genders, not just men or just women.

We are meant to work together, to support one another, to cherish each others differences, not demonize them because we have false expectations that aren’t being met.

I want you to know that I will do my healing work and support women in theirs so that projections of the mother or father are not placed upon you in relationship. And I invite you to do the same.

You are not responsible for my happiness. It is not your job to “fix me”.

You have the opportunity to lead as a conscious man in this world. To demonstrate what it’s like to live with an open heart, as a humble leader with a mission.

And I believe in you.

~ Rising Woman ~

Sometimes I must share what I’ve read and how it touches my soul.

This does.

A few days ago, another woman made a post about how when a man leaves his cell phone on silent, and turned face down, and has to unlock it when he picks it up, it means he’s messing around. She didn’t know the man but had been observing him at a coffee shop. She was quick to jump all over his case by the way he had his cell phone.

I couldn’t just let it go.

“Maybe he’s deaf, maybe he’s a massage therapist, maybe he’s a First Responder and knows what happens when a phone lands in the wrong hands.

She got her panties twisted… “That’s the way most men are.”

Bullshit.

I love men.

My best friends are men.

I’m married to a man.

I have three grown ass sons that are good men.

I know they are not perfect but neither am I or any other women out there.

When I need a real friend, it’s my guys that come.. when I’m working late, it’s my guy friends that check on me, when I’m at the gym, it’s the guys that stop by and talk to me.

Most of my clients are guys.

I realized the reason why.

I make them comfortable. They can be vulnerable and strong. They can be silent or talk to me. They can fall asleep and know they are safe.

I hold space and I hold hands. I hold secrets and I hold their regrets. I hold on when they are falling apart and I hold back the demons when they feeling attacked and alone.

I’m a man lover. I will not let men be trashed or painted with broad brushes.

I will take them as they are and make them into what they want to be.

I’m gonna stand by my man…. Every single one of them.

And that’s all I got to say about that.

👣♥️ Jeanna’ Mead

6 22 a.m. 12.18.19

http://www.jeannasoul.com

Categories
Uncategorized

Safe Words

When it is time

To step inside

Shut the door

Do what must be done

I won’t bite my tongue

Clench my fist

Hold tight for what might happen

Keep the door cracked

Just a little

Because everything

Every little thing

Is gonna be alright

Hard to explain

How the past

Tries to break in

Cause some trouble

Raise some hell

Bring me back down

Where I don’t ever want to go again

When I think it’s all over

Locked safely away

It comes out

Tries to shatter my peace

But not now

Not anymore

I will whisper

The safe words

That have been engraved

Upon my heart

Etched into my skin

Worn upon my arm

Placed all over my walls

The words that keep me

Strong and fierce

Hunkydory

Fearless

Full of joy

Living my life

Falling in love

Dancing in the dark

Riding the waves

Flying free

Feeling with both hands

Reading chapter and verse

Making big plans

Giant steps

Leaps of faith

Dreaming big

Finding magic

In secret places

Discovering treasures

Hidden away

Now when I step inside

I’ll close the door

Delight in all I see

Do what I came for

Linger just a little longer

In this safe place

With all the words

I need.

👣♥️

Jeanna’ Mead

643a.m 8.23.19

http://www.jeannasoul.com

When I decided to make the move to the Cade house, it was because of several signs that made me know it was meant to be.

One thing set me off, though, and my mind went straight down a path I didn’t want to go.

The commode closet is 4 feet wide by 4.5 feet deep with 10 feet ceilings. With white walls and white door, it was cold and inviting but more than that, it made me feel trapped. I had visions of someone turning off the lights, since the switch was outside the door, and placing a chair against the door knob so I couldn’t get out.

I shared this with a few people and they all laughed and assured me that no one would do that.

I was not convinced.

Every time I had to use the restroom,I would lock the door to the big room and leave the commode closet door open.

I couldn’t ease my mind.

Maybe it was irrational but it was my way of fighting my demons.

Then Tuesday my aunt Judy, and her daughter, Brandi and Brandi’s daughter, Mandana came into my new massage studio, carried bags and bags of treasures up the stairs and created a beautiful, sacred and safe place that bought me to squeals of pure joy and tears of happiness.

They spent the entire day and evening arranging and placing things perfectly, taking my gifts from clients and friends and putting them where I can see them and feel the love. They found paintings and pictures, pillows and silk scarves, baskets and wooden bowls, books and rocks and mixed the old with new.

Thift store finds mingled with handcrafted pieces from Europe.

Mexican shakers nestled in a bird cage.

Mirrors reflected pictures that had been painted of me that had been taken on days that I always remember as days that I felt known and loved.

A beautiful cut rock was placed next to a pitcher. They had no idea that the pitcher was a gift from a woman when I first opened my 203 Fannin location. Every time I look at that pitcher, I’m reminded of her gracious spirit.

Up on the fireplace ledge, was a little jade bird… It reminded me immediately of the song my Mema loved to sing.

“One, two, three like a bird I sing

Cause you’ve given me

The most beautiful set of wings”

It also reminded me that God has placed each person in my life for reasons and that there I am to love and live like an uncaged bird.

All these things, all the details in my massage room and even my closet meant so much but the biggest surprise was what they did to the commode closet.

They had blindfolded me… Something that took a level of trust in itself. Being unable to hear and unable to see is a step of faith for me.

They sat me down on the white throne and took off the blindfold and, just like that, my demon was slayed by the words and the art and the pictures that covered that 4 feet by 4.5 feet by 10 foot high commode closet.

Words of strength.

Words of faith.

Words that made me laugh.

Paintings by friends.

Pictures from my original studio.

Treasures from stores.

I could sit there and feel safe.

Known and loved.

They thought they were only decorating my place for me.

They did that, too.

But they really gave me the most beautiful set of wings.

They made this place safe and sacred.

They gave me what my soul needed, what I longed for, what I tried so hard to trust my Intuition for.

They took the words I had spoken and believed it mattered.

This is a gift beyond measure.

Known and loved.

I can fly.

Unafraid.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Categories
Uncategorized

Diamonds

“Does it surprise you

That I dance

As if I have diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs”

Maya Angelou wrote these words

I claim them as my own mantra

Because I know full well

That my sexiness

My sassiness

Rubs some people all wrong

They look at me as if I should be ashamed

Or that I’m too much

And I am, for them anyways

Because I dance as if I have diamonds in the meeting of my thighs

I rise up

Let the music take my body

Wherever and however

It so desires

I dance

As if there’s a fire of passion

Burning within me

It’s one of the times

When I feel most alive

My body and soul

Become one

And I’m not ashamed

Not one bit

Of the diamonds that are in the meeting of my thighs.

👣♥️ Jeanna’ Mead

7 53 a.m. 7.8.19

http://www.jeannasoul.com

Categories
Uncategorized

Kissed By Angels

She’s been kissed by angels

That’s what she had been told

About the stains across her beautiful face

She’s been given wisdom

Way beyond her years

A fierce spirit

That rises up

She’s claimed her place

In my heart

I see the beauty of her soul

The courage she has

Brimming right below

The surface

She’s been kissed by angels

Since the day she was born

On the same day

Years and years apart

From another one

That holds a special place deep within my heart

She’s got so much strength

That I wish others could see

When they first notice

All the angel kisses

Across her face

These run more than

Only skin deep

Kisses like these

Change the way she sees

Makes her believe

Creates a unique perspective

Point of view

Take on life

That most people never quite understand

So I placed my own lips

On the top of her head

Kissed her with love

That she always knows she has

She’s set apart

Standing out from the crowd

Kisses from angels

Aren’t just tossed around

Given to just anyone

God knows good and well

That when an angel leaves stains

A warrior is made

When one thing is taken away

Other things rise up

Stronger than in others

An indomitable spirit

A rare and unusual beauty

Kissed by angels

Living with grace

Standing up

Showing

Exactly what she’s made of

Making me feel

As if I’ve been

Kissed by angels,too

❤👣Jeanna’ Mead

6 58 a.m 6.7.19.

Www.jeannasoul.com

My Caroline Grace….received her first massage from me yesterday as her 15th birthday gift. The way she was so comfortable in her skin,in her beauty,in her body made my heart dance.

I love this girl after my heart.

Categories
Uncategorized

Love Big Much

The other day while riding with my daughter, Kateley, I heard the sweet voice of Luke Everett, my three year old grandson, and then my daughter’s laugh.

She glanced over and me and told me what he had said.

“I love you big much, Momma.”

Then, seconds later, “I love Jamma big much,too”

I looked back at him and said, “Do you know how much I love you?”

“Yeth,”he said, without the “s”.

“Big Much!”

Isn’t that the simplest truth?

Before we know it, he’ll start saying “so much” or “very much” as his grammar improves but the simple,beautiful meaning of “big much” is what I’ll hold on to.

“Big” isn’t small, isn’t confined,isn’t limited. It goes higher and deeper, it’s strong, it’s tough,it’s more of everything.

When I think of “big,” I think of Texas- how vast and varied this state is, bordering the ocean, touching state lines, boating rivers,lakes,mountains and rugged terrain as well as well-manicured lawns and a diverse culture…so much in one state just like love.

Big Much Love is far- reaching, unconditional, exceptional and real.

It’s a brown eyed little boy with a mischievous grin and long sandy blonde hair.

It’s Luke Everett.

And it’s how we all should be.

Loved and loving.

Big Much.

❤❤Jeanna’ Mead

10 05 a.m 5-14-19

Www.jeannasoul.com

Categories
Uncategorized

Just One Cross – 1,000 Are Not Hers

1,000 Crosses

she radiates beauty beyond compare
malachite eyes dancing on delicate features
thick flaming hair accentuating skin so fair
she has built within her own dark lair
where every aching hour is neither here nor there
transfixed on modern technologies to articulate her pain
searching diligently for ways to cut her losses
pain has nailed her to a thousand crosses
like a cask of amontillado she remains walled in
growing moss- lamenting – wailing in her literature
all the times she’s been double-crossed
she lives now in a four-walled cubicle
a home chiseled to create personal comfort
protection from human-demons devoid of true love
the pathetic and sad in endless cycles of utter despair
she feels spurned
rougher, tougher still searching for her elusive lover
trapped in an unreal reality
her unrealized spirituality zaps her vitality
she hopes for better days
& yearns for someone magical to discover her sexuality
she weeps silently and peeks outside her shuttered windows
counting endless stars – glimmering pinpoint beams of light
through eyes that seek their own purity
something to move her out of obscurity
trapped, she reveals nothing
stuffing stories of her pain that fall like rain
upon the mantle of her secure fortress
distressed with stress as her days slowly pass her by
why bother to confess or confide in wounded people
who couldn’t care less?
still, she must find a magical person to listen
to love her – to save her from madness
her tormented broken heart continually cries and wails
seeking an ounce of genuine gladness
prose scribbled on cerebral portals
bring some release from her infinite dark losses
the very fabric of her being implores her to “know thyself”
she prays silently to no one in particular to remove the painful nails
that suspend her on a thousand crosses…

the time has come to become like the albatross and fly
before she dies broken in her loneliness & fear…

-randini-

Randy E Welch

That was then
But not now
She finally had enough
Of all that crab
Those walls she had built herself
To guard her oft-broken,misunderstood heart
Came with a price that she refused to pay any longer

So she took the scissors
Cut off her hair
Let one side fall to the ground
While she stared at herself
In the mirror
As she twisted a handful of curls
In her right hand
And cut off the rest
Leaving a mess on the bathroom floor
In doing so
She opened up
The door to her soul

The less hair she had
The more she smiled
The weight of other people’s expectations
Fell away

She had learned long ago

Not to confide or confess

A cotton picking thing to anyone that just might turn around and use those things

To try to make sense

Make her change

Send her on a guilt trip

Bury her in shame

Make her fit into some cubicle

Take away her natural sensuality

God given spiritually

Inclination for mystery and magic

Just so that they could be satisfied

With what they thought she was

She finally felt as if she had just enough

Of all the right people standing along side

Filling up her cup

With all she wanted

Much of what she needed

She had prayed

Night and day

In her own way

And in doing so

She found the courage and the strength

To pack up what she couldn’t live without

Kick the rest to the curb

Lay claim to what is rightfully hers
Walk right inside her very own door

Breathing in the sweet scent of freedom that comes from

Doing what makes her soul dance within

Her well loved, well worn imperfect body
With a single stone cross around her neck

She was not lonely

Never had been afraid

She felt such purpose and peace

As if this was exactly as she had prayed and wished

Way back then

To have now.

👣💙Jeanna’ Mead

8 33 a.m 3-10-19

Www.jeannasoul.com

Categories
Uncategorized

Who We Were

5 weeks ago, I started a 6 week challenge at a gym, determined to get my body back in shape.

I sent a text to my cousin. Jeff,telling him what I was doing and explaining that I missed who I was.

I told him that I missed the body I had back in 2013 when I opened my massage studio. I missed the way I looked and felt. I complained to him that I didn’t like what I looked like now.

Jeff texted me back, and his words have stuck in my head since.

“We can’t be who we were, only who we are.”

Then he said, “Do you really want what you had then….you were obsessed with fitness, and now you’re crazy about those kids.”

Obsessed with fitness.

Crazy about those kids.

How true those words are.

Jeff is right. He really is.

I was obsessed with fitness..training every day and watching every thing I ate..and it showed. My body was toned and tight, my muscles were cut,and I walked confidently in high heel wedges and shorts. I spent hours at the gym, money on training and on fitness equipment. I arranged my schedule around my workouts and made sure that I had gym time.

That was who I was.

Things have changed,though.

Back in 2013, I didn’t have what I have now.

I have other reasons to be strong,other reasons to wear shorts,other reasons to have defined muscles.

I have four grandchildren; Riven,Luke, Charli,and Phoenix.

I’m crazy about them. I arrange my schedule to see them, to have play dates with my most favorite people.

This is who I am now.

I’m Jamma.

In 2013, I wasn’t and now, in 2019, six years later, this is who I am.

There’s a few strands of gray in my hair now. There’s more laugh lines around my eyes. I know my body isn’t as toned and tight and my muscles aren’t cut like they used to be.

I wear shorts with tenny shoes so I can run up and down ramps at the park and catch a little boy that jumps off high places, confident that I’ll catch him.

I eat chocolate fudge brownie sundaes on dates with a five year old.

I let a 2 year old pop candy in my mouth.

I lick the icing off spoons, lick yogurt off sticky fingers, kiss glazed sugar lips.

I share french fries,tator tots, and milk shakes.

And it shows.

Not just in my body.

It shows in the way that really matters.

These kids know I’m crazy about them. They know,without a doubt,that they are my priority.

They don’t care about how tight and toned I am. They care about how I tight I hug them.

They don’t notice the defined muscles, they just know I can carry them.

They feel loved. I feel loved.

As I count down the days until my challenge is finished…I find myself reflecting on these truths and the words of my cousin, Jeff.

“We can’t be who we were, only who we are.”

So for the next five days, I’ll arrange my schedule to train hard, to get in extra workouts, and I’ll watch every bite I eat and everything I drink.

I’m going to do my very best and win this challenge to prove to myself that I can still be who I was.

But then, I’m going to be who I am.

I’m going to be obsessed with who and what I am right now in 2019.

I have more now. More reasons to be physically fit, but also more reasons to be obsessed with my life,not just my body.

I have things to do, places to do, dates to the park and to stores, and hot fudge brownie sundaes waiting to be shared.

“We can’t be who we were, only who we are.”

Isn’t that amazing?

We can decide and become who we are right now.

The past- no matter how beautiful or how broken- is over and done with.

The present is now.

The future is to come.

Be who you are, now.

Obsessed and crazy,even.

Be all there for the life you are living now.

Do the very best you can and arrange your schedule so that you can love more.

See yourself through the eyes of those that really matter..not just the reflection in the mirror.

It’s really that simple.

Crazy, isn’t it?

Jeff knows me well…he’s known me long enough to understand my crazy obsessions and call me out on them and sit me straight.

I think we should all have someone that will tell us like it is

“We can’t be who we were,only who we are.”

👣💗 Jeanna’ Mead

9 38 a.m 1.13.19

Www.jeannasoul.com

P.S..I’ll always be Jeff’s cousin…and he’ll always be mine.

Categories
Gifts

Grateful Heart – a story of gifts.

Christmas morning we gathered around the living room and exchanged presents.

My pile seemed to get bigger and bigger…and my daughter, Kateley, laughed and said, “Momma,you have the most presents of anyone.”

She was right.

Not just the ones wrapped in shiny paper and tucked into gift sacks.

I had a big pile of those but I also had the sweet, invisible gift of being known and loved by so many and of knowing and loving so many,too.

This year, though, I was especially touched by the gifts I received that showed me how well I was known, not just by my family but also by clients and friends.

One son gave me a big coffee mug etched with the words, “Begin each day with a grateful heart” and I laughed because I often tell him “thank you for being my son” and he’ll shake his head and say, “Yea,sure.” but his green eyes twinkle and he squeezes me so I know he feels that love.

He also gave me the softest blanket throw to cuddle up and read and watch movies with. That son,like me, seeks out the soft fabrics, the texture of things matters to both of us.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

My daughter told me before I opened my gift that Riven had chosen it…I knew then it would be something special.

I busted out laughing when I saw the pink flamingos houseshoes and then winked at my daughter for giving me pajamas to go with them.

I haven’t owned a pair of pajamas in probably 24 years. I prefer sleeping nude, going from a hot bath and barely drying off into cool sheets.

I’ve always kept a tank top and panties handy just in case. My Mema used to fuss at me for sleeping naked, telling me that if the house caught on fire, I’ll be standing outside “naked as a jay bird” and I would tease her back that nobody would be looking at me anyways, they would be watching the fire.

But a few days before Christmas, I had mentioned to my daughter that I probably should get a pair of pajamas soon….because I had been invited to a women’s sleepover and I didn’t have proper attire.

I was heard and I received.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Then 2 packages that clearly looked like canvases were placed in my hands.

One revealed the handprints of my Riven and Luke Everett created during time with their Granny.

The other was a picture of Greg and I dancing at the wedding of our son. Chase and his wife, Lacy, back in May.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Tears sprang to my eyes again as I traced the images of us, gazing at our smiles,the way our eyes were locked on each other and the ease of our bodies.

Back when Greg and I started dating, I told him that loving me came with 3 rules.

1.Never smoke.

2. Never become obese.

3. Always dance.

He kept the first two easily and struggled in the beginning to learn to dance.

Mema took him under her wing and turned that “stiff as a board” guy into a smooth dancer that could take any woman out on the floor with ease.

Dancing was the one thing we did almost every weekend, meeting up with friends at local honky tonks for country music and dancing till the places closed down then getting breakfast at some 24 hour diner.

It was our thing and it was good.

But a few years ago, we stopped dancing…we started drifting apart and we just couldn’t connect- not on any other level, and certainly not the dance floor.

It was noticeable.

We danced well together still from habit and practice but there was no passion, no spontaneously, no laughter. Instead of making eye contact, we looked over each other’s shoulders, scanning the crowd, looking for other dance partners, smiling at strangers, sending off signals that we were clearly not quite connected with each other.

We made mistakes on the dance floor. Stumbled over each other’s feet.

Missed steps. Dropped hands. Fell out of sync.

We got angry and walked away leaving the other standing on the floor. Sometimes we would just grab another partner and show off, spinning around and doing elaborate moves with new partners. It was almost like we were trying to outdo the other.

This picture showed that the connection we had lost was back. It showed that sometimes the right song makes all the difference and if you keep on dancing, maybe, just maybe, it’ll turn into another dance….another chance.

Then, I opened the gift from my oldest son- the one that is deeply rooted in the old West and cowboy life- and found a beautiful fringed purse with a secret- a concealed handgun pocket.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

You see, I love leather fringed coats and I have two that were gifts from my Mema, both are over 20 years old and when I wear them, I feel her embrace around me….but I also feel the eyes of people looking at me.

“That coat gets too much attention…it’s so gaudy!”

Maybe it is..but it reminds me of shopping at Shepler’s and Lone Star Ranch Wear with my family, of saddles and horses, of my Aunt Jane and the Johnson way of life.

My gift from Greg was the last one I opened. He had taken Kateley shopping and together they had chosen my gift.

Black leggings, a soft pink sweater, black booties, a black jacket, and a boho leather bag.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

You see, that’s another history story. My Mom and Mema spoiled me rotten, not just at Christmas but all the time and one of the things they always did shaped me into the woman I am.

You should always receive a whole new outfit to wear on Christmas day.

When my parents were living, we opened gifts on Christmas eve and I would receive so many outfits that both Mema and Momma would wait with anticipation to see which one I would show up wearing the next day.

I see gifts of clothing as gifts of knowing. It is a special intimacy to know the size and style of someone, to look at something and instinctively know.

“This is so perfect, absolutely perfect for them.”

Every year, I’ve received gifts from my clients that show how deeply our relationships have grown…from therapeutic sessions to a mutual kinship.

For the last three years, my clients have made sure I got new cowboy boots. I teased them that one bought the right boot, and the other bought the left, but it’s more than that.

I realize that, as I touch the bodies of these people, I’ve given them glimpses into my soul and they begin to understand me in ways that make me feel known and loved.

Books and calendars, journals, teas, chocolates, blankets, carved wooden bowls for oils, wine openers, paintings and gift cards have been placed in my hands and filled my heart.

Sometimes the gifts have made me feel as if I was the naked one. How could they know me so well when I’m the one touching them and not the other way around?

I have always accepted the gifts with gratitude but one time, I had to give a gift back. I’ve regretted that since then…but at the time, that turquoise,fringed jacket showed that I was known well by one and not by another.

It was absolutely perfect at the perfectly wrong time.

Like my Mema and Momma, I’m a giver of gifts. I love finding things as I’m out and about and knowing instinctively just who it would be perfect for.

I don’t wait for special occasions, for birthdays or holidays, although those do get honored.

Instead, like the women that raised me, I like to give unexpected little presents, ways of making those that share my life feel known and loved.

Sometimes, though, I have to catch myself and hold my horses. It’s one thing to know someone well enough to see something for them and want to get it…and it’s another thing to actually give it.

It could be absolutely perfect at the perfectly wrong time.

I’ve had to learn to give and receive with clarity and intention, to make sure my heart is in the right place, to give and receive with love, with respect and with understanding….the invisible gifts that matter just as much as those that are wrapped in shiny paper and tied with bows.

Giving gifts is an absolutely perfect way of showing a grateful heart..it’s also an absolutely perfect way to find out how well you are known and loved.

I will give.

I will receive.

And I will be grateful for both.

👣💗Jeanna’ Mead

6 33 a.m. 12-30-18

Www.jeannasoul.com