Finding My Way Back Home: The Patience of Jobe

By j.i.m. lord

You know when you are born into the Jobe family, it is a given you are going to have to become a come-from-behind
stretch runner, or life is going to chew you up and spit you out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483520940

j.i.m. lord

J.I.M. Lord is the father of three and grandfather of three, of which the three grandkids have been adopted by Jim and his wife Emily after the death of their daughter. Jim & family live in Oklahoma and are on a first-name-basis with the ins and outs of food stamps, WIC, government housing, and the struggles to make ends meet by frequenting garage sales and re-selling those "gems" on Ebay...thus the lead character's name in "Finding My Way Back Home:"  JOBE!  Look for Jim's novels "Grandparents: Purpose" & "Grandparents: It Don't Come Easy" , memoirs of life in the "starting over" lane of parenting grandkids!

Book preview

…

1

1962

Do I remember anything about this day? I remember the purpose. Momma and Daddy. I shoulda been scared to death. A kid from Oklahoma, never having been so far from familiar surroundings. It had been a long drive to New Orleans,in a pickup, the four of us. 1962. A fair morning? I don't remember, but I know I wasn't frightened. I had never felt safer in my life.

We pulled through the horseman's gate about threethirty. In the morning. Our stall was waiting on us, and we drove around for a good fifteen minutes in search of the barn we had been assigned. We found it and Daddy pulled up in front. Never one to tiptoe around, Daddy got out from behind the wheel and slammed his door, announcing to the Midlands backside the Jobe family had arrived.

My daddy, Jack Jobe, and Momma, Lillian. Momma and me got out on our side of the truck. We knew the routine. Momma went to the back of the truck and met Daddy coming around from the driver's side. I went back with her and stood about twenty feet behind her and the tailgate. I stood and watched Daddy spring the gate as Momma placed her hand on our filly's little rump. The four of us. Daddy moved around to the front of the pickup bed and reached his arm through the stock fence he constructed just for our filly. He unsnapped the shank holding her head forward then clucked to her. She knew the routine. With Momma coaxing from the rear, Daddy re-hooked the shank to the bottom of her halter. He gave the shank a tug.

Come on, girl. All ashore who's goin' ashore.

I heard him talking to her. I whispered to them but I don't believe they heard me. Last one to the winner's circle is a rotten egg. I was eight.

Daddy pulled the shank toward her and she moved backwards until she was out of the pickup. Daddy had lowered the pickup bed using a cutting torch he had borrowed from a friend back home. The drop wasn't bad, maybe a foot or two. Maybe three. Our filly knew the routine. When she reached back with her left hind leg she knew the drop was coming. She came out with a little hop in her step. Backing up, she stopped and inspected the surroundings, snorting once for good measure. She turned and made sure Momma was where she was supposed to be. A further backwards glance and she spotted me coming up to join my family.

I remember now, it was misting rain. I remember because I can still see Momma standing there, her eyes sadder than I'd ever seen them before. She was clad in her overcoat and scarf. The images are clearer now, easier to digest. Daddy led our filly off into the rain. He had the same routine no matter where we might be running her. Get her out of the pickup, our makeshift trailer, and lead her around until the stiffness from the ride was all worked out. Graze her, curry her out, get her into the stall, feed her, then worry from then on. Worry and fret until we arrived back home, win or lose.

While Daddy led her around it was my job to get the stall ready: plug any holes in the stall walls, hang the feed and water buckets, muck out any leftover dung, and things like that. It was Momma's job to ready the adjoining tack room.

This track was heaven compared to some of the bush tracks we had been to. The people here provided us with a small room next to our filly's stall. It was big enough for us to sleep in. Two cots, one each for Momma and Daddy. It was crowded but there was just enough room in there to hang our halters and shanks and bridles, and to hide our feed and belongings. I usually slept in a sleeping bag, in front of our filly's stall. This was my favorite part of the trips we had taken with her. I slept on my back and she would hang her head out of the stall and let it nearly droop down to me. I slept on my back and she slept standing up, her breathing providing me with a natural breeze.

Daddy stood there holding her, allowing her to become accustomed to the new surroundings. He was dressed in his St. Louis Cards cap, tattered overalls, and his soiled workshirt. Momma tried but always failed to get Daddy to wear something appropriate for certain occasions. Daddy thought his hat and garb to be more than appropriate. He had found the hat on the road going out of town. I always wondered how it got there, who had lost it. Daddy brought it home and had Momma wash it. It lost all of its shape in the process.

Hope the trip didn't take too much out of her, Daddy said. He was looking into the filly's eyes, searching for an answer. I remember thinking at the time maybe he knew everything there was to know about horses. He was my hero. I think he missed his calling when he didn't become a veterinarian.

Momma stepped forward and touched the little filly on the neck. Daddy saw her and knew what Momma was up to. She'd rub the filly with one hand and slip her a peppermint with the other. Daddy always bellyached about this but allowed it to go on. A peppermint once in awhile he could abide. He would have blown his stack if he ever found out Momma pumped the horse with about five an hour. Our filly loved them, chomping and licking the candy til there was nothing left but the coolness of the scent. Now do you see why I didn't mind her breathing on me in the middle of the night? She had the best breath of any animal I've ever run across.

Momma said, She's always shipped good before.

He answered, Yeah, but all the way from home, Ma. We never been this far with her. He handed me the lead shank. Take her out back of the barn and see if you can find any grass for her to graze on,son.

Come on, girl. I led her around to the backside of the barn. There was no light to help us in our search for a little pasture, but I knew it wouldn't be a problem for the filly. I was confident she'd find it before I did. We walked a little ways, with me in the lead, her tiny hooves clattering on what I presumed was the path the locals used to bring their stall muckings out to the manure piles. The smell was thick, and I cut off the path and felt beneath my own feet we were off the gravel path and onto hardened clay. A few steps further and I felt the familiar tug of our filly's head. I was right, she found her own tiny pasture. She started tearing at the grass and I began my ritual, counting off in my head, one thousand one, one thousand two, until I reached one thousand sixty for the seventh time. Seven minutes. The remaining three minutes I just guessed at, my mind occupied with a feeling we were being watched, not only by two-legged creatures, but by the four-legged creatures as well. Common curiosity, I guess. I am the same way when a stranger is out and about.

I had to use both hands on the shank to pull her head away from the ground. I carefully retraced our steps and led her to the front side of the barn. I found Momma and Daddy sitting on the tailgate of the pickup. We sidled over to them and I told Daddy, We found the manure piles.

Daddy laughed. You find them or they find you, boy?

Both, I guess.

You get her stall ready?

Yessir, I told him, awhile ago, while you were walking her around tryin' to get the stiffness out of her.

Momma leaned to her left and her shoulder touched his. You think she'll be all right, Jack? Momma had seen the change in Daddy's routine, just as I had. Her tone wasn't troubled but it was pointing in that direction.

I know that tone, Lil', so you can stop your worryin right now. She took the trip in stride. All those stops back out on the road to let her stretch helped a might. I'm just takin' a little extra precaution, the trip being so long and all. Daddy paused, thinking extra hard. Momma and me and the filly watched him. His hat was tilted off at the sky and I could see the wrinkles in his forehead. They looked like a sideways fist. Shoulda never brought her here. Shouldn't have brought none of us down here. I saw that sad look ya had in your eyes, girl. I'm believin' we shipped her too far this time for her to show what she's really capable of.

Momma looked at him then at me. We all turned and stared at our little filly. She was asleep on her feet. That mare could sleep anywhere, Momma said. She looked back at Daddy and reached out with her hand and straightened his cap. "Now don't you go doubting yourself, Jack Jobe. You did, we did the right thing. 'Sides, she added, Twilight Appears ain't got a chance since she found out ol' Sunflower here was coming to town."

Life in the big city, Momma, Daddy laughed.

I said, "Ya just ain't whistling sideways,

Momma."

The fist in Daddy's forehead disappeared. He scooted off the tailgate and took the shank from me. Sunflower snapped awake. That Til-We-Met Stable, he began, casting an eye in the filly's direction, they never were much, was they?

No, sir, I laughed. Just a bunch of pretenders.

Daddy placed the shank back in my hands. Better put her on into the barn, son.

Yessir, I answered, taking her into the stall. I unsnapped the shank and she went to the feed bucket I had filled with oats. I stepped outside and closed the bottom half of her stall door. I leaned against it and watched her do up.

Daddy approached and I stepped aside, allowing him to take a look at her. Didn't lose her appetite. Good sign, he muttered. He looked at me and said, She'll be fine.

I turned around and leaned against the side of the barn. I had been thinking about asking Daddy something ever since we left home. From somewhere deep inside me I found the nerve. Daddy, when it comes to-

He interrupted me. Boy, it's a little too chilly and misty for you to be sleepin' out here tonight.

I got my sleeping bag, I said, trying to stave off the inevitable. And I'll be beneath the shedrow, I added, glancing up and eyeing the roof extension I felt looked like the barn's front porch. I'll be all right.

The argument, if you want to call it that, was over before it began. Daddy turned to me and said, I want you to sleep in the tack room with Momma. Maybe if it warms a little tomorrow ya can stay out here with the filly. I don't want ya catchin'cold.

I never questioned Daddy's judgment. Well, almost never. Yessir, I told him as I stepped into the room next to Sunflower's stall.

I fell into the cot nearest the door, clothes and all, and stared at the tin ceiling. I heard my mother's voice as she and Daddy stood out there beneath the shedrow. I tried not to eavesdrop but it was useless. I had to.

You know what he was going to ask, I heard her say to him.

Yeah, and I can't let him do it, Daddy said. I could hear him better than I could Momma. Daddy was never one to whisper. With Momma, though, I had to strain to hear her soothing voice. Daddy continued. The City Lights Stakes is too big a race to be sendin' a boy in to do a man's job.

She said, You hinted maybe he could lead her into the saddling paddock when the time came.

I imagined behind my closed lids Daddy trying to diffuse the situation. He had hinted at allowing me to help him saddle her for the race. I imagined him kissing Momma and she feeling the texture of his kind but rough features. Lillian, he said, I can't be showing up in the paddock with—His voice faded, then he added, I noticed when I put my arm around ya awhile ago, girl. What was ya tremblin' about? I could feel it on your cheek, too, and I know it ain't because of this mistin'.

Trembling? I heard her say, her voice telling him she wasn't amused with the accusation. She laughed, a tiny giggle, Me? Tremblin'?

Uh huh. You aren't a little scared, is ya, gal? I saw them sad eyes when we got out, the light of-

Jack Jobe, since when have you seen me scared?

I knew she had him there. Nothing scared Momma. Heck, I'd seen her deliver an old neighbor's colt one night, in snow deep as a bird dog's butt, in the middle of a frozen pasture. Wind blowin' so hard you couldn't keep the buttons on your coat fastened. That night,well,they don't make women like her no more. She delivered that colt, birthin' bag and all, and the bag hadn't busted when he came out.The baby colt would've suffocated but with my own eyes I saw Momma tear the bag with her teeth. Tore it plum in two, then got him up on his feet. I'd like to have had a picture of my face while all that was goin' on. I was six then, but I know I'll never forget it. Daddy? He was off to the V.A.again, having the arm he lost in Korea worked on. Momma was like that, a take charge kind of woman. I don't think she ever told him about it.

I sat up and strained to hear Daddy's reply. He said, I know, Ma, ain't seen ya… it ain't like ya, not when I go to put a hug on ya. You've always been the one to keep us all together, our backbone, when the times gave way to bein' tough. I can't afford to be—he said, his voice trailing off. There was a pause, then, I thought you might be a little worried cause I got you and the boy and the filly so danged far from home.

I went to the door and gave a peek. Momma stood away from him, hands on hips, giving him her best indignant. That's what we called the evil-eye, an indignant. She said, Were you scared when you were overseas?

He shuffled his feet and dug his right hand even deeper into his coverall pocket. I, naw, seemed like I was always too busy hidin' and crawlin' to really think about bein'scared.

Well, she said, her voice softening, maybe a little I was worried, but I know what this race means to you.

I stepped out of the tack room and stood beneath the shedrow. Momma and Daddy saw me. I swallowed what little spit I had, then said, Can I stay up with you all? I ain't tired none.

Momma smiled. She answered for the both of them. Might as well, honey. I walked to her and she put her arm around me. Come on, she said, the mistin' stopped. We can sit out on the tailgate.

I don't want to hear nothin' 'bout bein' tired here in a few hours, son.

No, sir, I said. We went out to the pickup and took a seat on the tailgate. I sat between them. I was safe, even this far from home. I looked up at Momma and tried to imagine what was going on behind those eyes. I kept searching, feeling this was a time I'd always remember. I asked her, Momma, you ain't scared, are ya?

Daddy cleared his throat and said, You didn't…you weren't eavesdroppin', was ya, boy?

I never took my eyes off of Momma. Maybe a little, Daddy.

Daddy said, "I didn't mean she was scared scared, Jackie. There's different kinds of bein' scared."

Jack Jobe! Momma said. I could feel her tense up, her hardscrabble upbringing and Irish blood rising. I wasn't no kind of scared. Ain't goin' to be. Wouldn't do no one no good. Remember, she said, I can read your mind. Remember? She slid her arm from around me and clasped her hands together in her lap. She stared out into the darkness. Her eyes never lied. Somewhere inside her she was peering back, perhaps to that time Daddy was called away. I remember. Her voice was as sad as her eyes, if that was possible. Scared? She practically spit the word out. "When you came home from the war, and your arm was missing, and you thought I wouldn't want ya anymore? Was I scared then? No. Disgusted, yes, but never scared. Disgusted that you would think I didn't want you."

Daddy sighed. I'm sorry, sis.

No need, she smiled. Just blowin' off steam. She coiled her arm around me again, then stared over me and met Daddy's gaze. I didn't run then. Didn't shy from nothing. And I ain't now. Ya coulda lost both arms and I still woulda wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Even though ya are a cantankerous old coot.

I didn't hear Daddy sputter often, but this night he did. Well, I… old coot?

I love you, Jack Jobe, and I'm here for the duration. Through it all. Good and bad. This race, I know what it means to you, and to Jackie. Don't think I don't remember. I've been there in bed and listened, and watched. I've seen the turmoil goin' through you while you slept. I know what it is you dream. I know, and not once did I snuggle close when you were steeped …not like when you first came home. I stayed on my side of the bed because I wanted you to hash it out on your own. Then…and then when I knew you had finally hashed it all out in your own mind, by your own doing, and told me we were coming to New Orleans, where the 'Big Boys' run… well, I decided right then that it was a so be it! You got to do what you got to do.

Daddy didn't say anything for a long minute, maybe two, then he said, Hell of a speech, Lil'.

Momma grabbed him by the arm and pulled his hand out of his coverall pocket. I tagged along behind them as she led him over to the tack room door. I'm not scared, Jack. I was worried, a little, but I think it was more from worrying if our ol' pickup was going to make it than it was anything else. I realized, for once in my dense mind, you proved yourself in the war and not even the Chinese could bring you down… maybe slow ya a bit, but not stop you. I finally saw that, and now, in your own mind, you've seen the next challenge, and you have to now go out and prove yourself all over again. Prove yourself to a different type of enemy, prove yourself to the Phipps and the Vanderbilts, and the others.

I stepped forward and announced, And don't forget the VanAstorbilts, Momma. She smiled at me. To us, anybody with more than two dollars in their pocket was a VanAstorbilt.

She tousled my hair then again focused in on Daddy. I know it, Jack, and Jackie knows it. You don't have to prove anything to anybody. But, I guess a man has got to go out and prove to the world that he's a man… a man, and not what he feels in his mind… a feelin' of some kind of made up failure. I ain't a good talker, Jack Jobe, but I think you get my gist. You just want to prove to the monied you can get a little filly, our little pet in there, she added, nodding to Sunflower's stall, get her ready to run and, how do you say it, Jackie? 'Leave em in the dust'?

Yes, Ma'am, I darn near shouted.

As usual, Daddy brought the talk back to reality. He stepped into the tack room and returned with an empty feed bucket. He turned it upside down and said, Take a load off, Ma.

Momma took a seat. Thank you, sir.

I knew what Daddy had up his sleeve as I watched him butter Momma up for his next move. I stood at Momma's side and uttered, Need anything, Momma?

She looked at me. I'm fine, dear.

Daddy said, I don't want to sound like a worrywart, Mom, but what if she was to get fractious with the boy? Gonna be a lot of people there, in the paddock, up in the grandstand, crowding and such. She ain't never seen this many folks in one place. Could get a little skittish.

She could be, but what makes this track different than other places we ever run her? There's hustle and bustle at every track in America. Only difference I expect to see between those places we been to and this place, is the way people are goin' to be dressed. Suits, dresses, fancy hats, and such. Different from the overalls and one-dress-for-every-occasion type folks we see back home.

I piped in with, And the attitudes.

Daddy grinned at me. A lot more attitude as well as a lot more people, Jackie. Son, I want ya to help me. You know I always encourage ya to pitch in, but I just can't see takin' the chance of the filly panickin' and you gettin' hurt. You'll get your chance someday. He turned and walked down the shedrow a few steps. He stopped at the filly's stall door and peered in at her. He opened the door then looked back at me and Momma. I expect you all better be gettin' some shuteye. Comin' up on four o'clock and I 'magine this place'll be wakin' up in about a half hour or so. He closed the stall door and disappeared from sight.

Better do as he says, Jackie. Maybe if we hurry we can doze off before the din commences around here.

I didn't say anything. I helped Momma off her bucket then went into the tack room and jumped on the cot nearest the wall. I gave Momma the other cot because I knew she'd get up before me and wouldn't want to be crawling over me to get outside.

I don't know how much sleep Momma got but she was gone from the room when I woke up.

2

I stepped out beneath the shedrow and witnessed what being near 'big time' racing was all about: horses, grooms, trainers, owners, exercise riders, dogs, cats, lead ponies, radios blaring--a city within a city.

Momma sidled up to me. She laughed, then her eyes brightened, the sadness having disappeared. It was a perfect day to make a run at the big boys. She said to me, I can't believe you slept through all this.

The bustle was overwhelming. I stood there in awe. The bush tracks back home were never like this. Oh, back home the scene was the same, horses coming in and going out, barn animals afoot, grooms taking care of their stock, and on and on--the same, save for one clear and definite difference, the pace. I was used to the thirty-three and a third saunter of life back in Oklahoma, and this place was on seventy-eight revolutions per minute. I told Momma,Can't believe I slept through it myself.

Life in the big city. She patted me on the shoulder, then added, About your Daddy thinking I was scared last night… She paused, her eyes searching the immediate area for what I presumed was any sight of Daddy. Last night I was scared, she whispered. But just between you and me and the front gate, Jackie, coming this far from home, in that old rickety pickup, never gave it a second thought.

I asked, Then what, Momma? I was stunned. I never thought I would ever hear Momma admit such a thing.

Nothing I can't handle, she said. It's just, and don't you ever tell your Daddy what I'm about to tell you.

Okay.

Back home. If your Daddy knew how I felt about leaving that boy in charge of the Supply and the farm, well, he'd think I didn't trust his judgment.

I said to her, You mean Ned?

Uh huh. I just never trusted him. He has sneaky eyes. Don't think he knows whoa from sick 'em.

But Momma, he's watched the store and the animals before, when we'd be off in Kansas, or over in Pawhuska, at one of the tracks around.

I know, I know, I'm probably worried for nothing, but we ain't never been this far from home, away from the house, for this long of time.

It'll be all right. Ned is okay, I guess. Never pulled nothin'. Like Daddy said, told him, open the Supply, close it, and put the day's money beneath the loose slat in the Store floor. Feed the animals, check the troughs, then wait for mornin' and do it all over again.

I guess you're right. He's always come through in the past. Guess I'm just getting old. This day and time, it's just hard to trust anybody completely.

Ned can handle it. Besides, Momma, he ain't no kid. I think he's 'bout thirty-three or somethin'.

I know. I just call anybody younger'n me a kid. She looked at me and winked. Let's go find your Daddy.

3

At three-forty the following afternoon, Momma stood outside our little filly's stall and watched Daddy and me place the bit in Sunflower's mouth, then slip her race bridle up and over her head and ears. While Daddy fastened the throatlatch, I ran to the tack room and returned with my brushes and currycomb. I went over her like a snap inspection was due. Her coat was already shiny and coppered as a new penny. I took pride in keeping her coat like she had been poured into it, winter and summer. I never allowed a hair to get out of place. I finished brushing her, then pulled my hoofpick from my back pocket. I went from hoof to hoof, cleaning and inspecting, each foot, all four frogs, sniffing for any sign, any clue, any suspect of a lurking infection. Satisfied with the tour around her swimmer legs, I raised up and said, She's ready, Daddy.

Good enough for me, Jackie. Then Daddy said something he'd never said to me before. Thank you, son, I'm really proud of you. He turned away, noticing my Momma standing at the stall door.

We're both proud of you, Jackie. Your Daddy, he don't say it a lot, but he never could have accomplished what he has without you.

I stroked Sunflower's neck. Thank you, I told the both of them, then I stared the filly straight in the eyes. You can do it, ol' girl. You'll show these bigshot stables what you're made of.

Ain't got much pedigree-wise, Daddy stated, scratching at the arm that used to hang at his side. Kinda like me.

Pedigree-wise, all four of us are pretty well Mutts, Momma half whispered.

Uh huh, Daddy agreed. But we make up for it in heart.

And baby girl here, I said, rubbing her whiskery muzzle, got a heart so big it barely fits in her chest.

There was an uneasy pause amongst us. I can't read minds, but I felt the three of us now knew it was all up to Sunflower.

4

I can still remember those final hours we spent in New Orleans, as Daddy led Sunflower around by the reins of her race bridle. She was alert and on her toes. Fact was, her coat shined so brightly, our ancestors probably sat up in their graves and actually felt some of that old Jobe pride return.

I followed behind. Momma stood back, admiring Daddy, her face glowing with a hope I imagine ain't seen much in these parts. It was as if we were the only three people there on the backside of the track. Nothing else mattered. The three of us were three-quarters of the puzzle. Sunflower made the family whole. Success was everything: An inheritance for years to follow was within our grasp. My grandchildren's grandchildren collective souls were about to be earned. Our lives were about to change forever and I tried not to think about anything but winning.

We stood there watching Daddy holding Sunflower, saying nothing, the moment being beyond words. I knew my folks in this moment and time, their peak. I was only eight but I knew this would be the moment they'd look back on in their twilight years with either a nod and wink, or with the total mind poison of failure.

Seven horses stood between Sunflower and the finish line, six not worth considering, and only one with a chance of crumbling their vision of the passing years. And her name was Twilight Appears.

Daddy turned to Momma, searching her features for faith and support. She winked at him. He said, "Well, I guess this is it."

Momma kept her reply short and to the point. Guess so.

I noticed what I believed to be a hair out of place on Sunflower's withers. I smoothed the area with my hand, denying the brush and currycomb the final feel of her coat before she entered this modern-day arena.

Daddy looked at me and stated, Got a lot of gooduns runnin' at her today, boy. Now don't ya go gettin' all upset and un-business like if she don't do so good. Ya hear?

I could only muster a Yessir.

Those fillies waitin' on her over yonder, they got the blood of all the king's men's horses runnin through 'em. This ol' gal, all she got is the hope and knowledge and prayer an ol' one-armed man could give her. It's a combination. Then he hesitated. I could see it in his eyes, the hope he had placed squarely on our filly's back. Then, almost as suddenly as his hesitation had appeared, it disappeared. He concluded, Hope, knowledge, and prayer, three-fourths of the puzzle. He added, And heart.

Momma said, She'll do fine. No point in fretting over her now.

Uh huh, Daddy replied.

I said, She'll do better'n fine. She's gonna win.

Daddy continued to walk the filly around, tiny circles, never widening, lessons learned, lessons lived. You and the boy got some seats picked out, girl?

She nodded. Momma's eyes followed him everywhere. I was only eight but I knew how so in love they were, how much Daddy wanted to make life a little easier for her, and for me. I realized the dreams he had for us, the same dreams, just like a million other dreams across our country. The dreams reached only if Sunflower ran like Daddy knew she could. I have an idea of where we'll be, she stated.

A tiny whirlwind raced through the barn area. We felt the wind and Daddy checked Sunflower for any reaction. She held her composure, then Daddy said, Careful, Lil'. Anymore wind up under your cotton print and we're all goin' to know what for.

Silly, she teased him. Then she said, To tell you the truth, Jack, I haven't given it much thought as where we might sit. You goin' with tradition? Watch it all from the railing?

Uh huh, he grinned. He gave Sunflower a little nudge with his hip. No grazin', girl. Not til after ya done your business across the way. He turned his attention back to Momma. Ain't never watched a race from a grandstand in my life. Guess I'm too old to start now.

Momma held her hand out to me. Come on along, Jackie, we better be getting' over there. She watched him. Her eyes were glistening. I could feel the hope she wished for him. No tears, just a slight misting. There was nothing more to do but walk over to the grandstand and find a place to sit. I edged over to her and she placed her arm around my shoulder. I gave her a hug.

Turning, we started for the track. I said to her, Guess this is it.

She smiled. Without looking at Daddy, she said, Good luck, Jack Jobe.

He called to us. Gonna give 'em hell.

I hollered, See ya in the winner's circle! We, me and Momma, had maybe taken five steps when I stopped. I couldn't hear Sunflower's hooves crunching across the path to the paddock.

Reviews for Finding My Way Back Home

[arcadia95 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Reviewed By Jane Finch for Readers’ Favorite

Finding My Way Back Home: The Patience of Jobe by J.I.M. Lord is an epic novel following the life of Jackie Jobe as he struggles to overcome a tragic event that occurred when he was eight years old. It was an event that will stay with him through his growing up years and into adulthood. Horses and racing are in his blood and, although he is haunted by those early memories, he has a dream to win the most important horse race in the world. He is encouraged by a loving and supportive family, but blighted by the Jobe name and all that he feels it implies. Jackie’s journey is not an easy one, troubled as he is by the challenges that he must face to realise his dream.

The author, J.I.M. Lord, has done a very good job in relating this family saga. Jackie Jobe has dreams but is haunted by his past. I was gripped by the first chapter which introduces Jackie as a young eight-year-old who learns a hard life lesson at such an early age. The story then joins Jackie with his wife and two children. He now works for the company his father previously owned – and which he feels should rightfully be his – and life continues to be a struggle. Jackie’s life journey takes him through hopelessness and despair to fulfilling what he believes to be his destiny. This book is so well written that the reader is taken on the journey too. This is a gem of a book with good old-fashioned family values at its core. An emotional life journey that had me reaching for the tissues.