The Road Less Traveled

Lost in Translation!

2009-01-30T20:21:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I wanted to show off my son's carpentry work. The building that the window is mounted in is a 40' by 60' three bay doored garage. But could you tell that by the picture? Not today! I was trying to highlight my son's craftmanship and what did I come up with? A picture of a stained glass picture in a window. (My son didn't make the picture. A man by the name of Russell did.) It is the last bit of an obsession. The obsession was to send him (my son) a ton of pictures that was a bit by bit showcase of the work on the garage from the escavating on up to the completed building as it was in progress. Read the post under this if you are the least bit interested in what I was thinking... It's been a long day and I'm out of here. Visit my son's new web site and see his handiwork!

http://www.distinctremodeling.com/

Rat Girl by Default

2009-01-30T19:36:00.000-08:00

I hadn't intended to post about the Rat Girl car. The last time I posted the rat I had to delete it because someone told me that it was out of my character to be ranting about the issue that was bothering me... I guess it should have been at least! Oh, well! What can I say? God's still working on me.

What I had intended to post was in a set of pictures that I had in a program. I clicked on one and these four appeared! That's wonderful to know as I didn't know how to post more than one picture at a time. Only problem is, the picture that I had intended to post is still back in the other program in the photo tray along with the other five that were all hanging out together.

I think I'll type up a book tonight! I have a new job - Praise the Lord! And I've been trying to type on a straight keyboard... What a mess for me! Control Alt Delete is Greek on it even! Can you imagine trying to find the right keys? I learned how to type on my split key board and the other ones are just awkward and even a bit painful to use. I'm happy type, type, typing away!

What I was going to post was a picture of the Rat Girl in stained glass that is hanging in the window of my husband's shop. I was going to carry on about my son's new business venture. He's (my son) a carpenter and does excellent work. He built the shop with my husband and it's huge and gorgeous both! It's on our property and blends in with the house and doesn't take away from the landscape at all. I'll post the picture on the next blog, which will post after this one. I'll also put a link for my son's 'under construction' web site. Why don't you visit him and tell him that his mom says Hi! http://www.distinctremodeling.com/

Book Giveaway!

2009-01-08T20:18:00.000-08:00

No, it's not my book that is on the giveaway! Shadow World is still just a figment of my over-active imagination. My friend Kelly has a book giveaway on her blog. Here is the link. http://enroutetolife.blogspot.com/

My Lulu Storefront

2008-11-10T17:14:00.000-08:00

AN ARTFUL EYE FOR DETAIL

2008-10-04T15:02:00.000-07:00

Okay, and so here I are. Here I am. Here I were? Yes, that's it. I were. I am. I are... I'm pretty busy in my brain is what that is all about. I've been thinking, and that's always a frightening proposition. And no, please don't correct me. And pleeeease don't tell me to think more highly of myself! When someone assumes that I don't care for me and that I'm putting myself down that tells me a lot about them right out the gate! It tells me that they don't know me very well - no - not very well at all! And why is that? It's because I never really had an identity until I found my place in Christ and so I hang out pretty okay with myself, and why not? I'm a child of the King! And I know that right well! Honest!

Anyway, what have I been up to? Not a whole lot of anything that a person could actually put a finger on, but I've been pretty busy just the same. Been searching for work and that's always fun. But I still get a bit giddy when I wake up in the morning and consider that I don't have to go to work... I was pretty done with my work taking care of the elderly. The physical aspect was a bit draining as a lot of my clients errantly believed that they were my only client... and even more so than that I was starting to lose my patience with some of them. Some people can be a bit testy! I think it was the ones that felt like I owed them something that were the worst. I did my work as a servant and they would treat me like their personal slave... Bit of a difference in mind set. I did what I did because I wanted to, not because I had to... And I wasn't no slacker either. Heck, it was in my heart to help these people and so I rolled up my sleeves and gave it my all. Anyhoo, no more fussing. I'm just glad I'm done.

I guess 'bit' is my word for the day. I hate it when someone overuses a word, and here I am. I wanted to change the word a couple of times but it just fit. Guess that's just how it goes.

On to the heading and my task at hand... I'm going to see about offering my services to people to help them to self-publish some of their writing. I figure that it's gotten to be pretty simple for me to upload pictures and to format books and I love to create covers, so why not? I'm a little nervous about reading the 'copy' though! Especially the thought of bad poetry! Bad poetry to me is like scratching on a chalk board or hitting a sour note in a bar of music. It makes me wince in pain. Is that theatric, or what? I have to laugh at myself. I think that anyone who writes poetry has written bad poetry at some time or another! Myself included! And don't even get me started on a novel that doesn't make any sense! I've made it a life-long promise to myself that when someone asks me to read their manuscript for a proposed novel I'm just not available! I will for this endeavor, but the rules are, I'm not a copy editor for grammar corrections, or a book doctor. I want to work on clean manuscripts when it comes to consistency of story and plausibility of plot. I can handle dealing with sentence structure and obviously incorrectly spelled words and maybe the incorrect usage of words, but other than that I'm just in it to format the thing and make it a reality. With poetry or for non-fiction I can see myself sorting and structuring the contents, but not for fiction! If I'm feeling like throwing the book across the room then it is highly unlikely that we will be working together long... I'll send you off to have someone help you clean it up... You being who I'm talking about, and who ever is reading this, surely that isn't you?

AN ARTFUL EYE FOR DETAIL is what I'm calling this endeavor. I considered saying, adventure, but that aspect of the deal is yet to be seen. I've already got a couple of ladies that I may be looking at their poetry. One is a freebie as she helped spur me on in my thoughts to do this in the first place. She will teach me what I need to know to cover all of my bases. I guess her book is a template for the real deal. I'm interested to see if people can actually follow simple instructions. I'll have their book all in order but it'll be up to them to open up the Lulu account and to actually create the book. I don't want to mess with any copyright issues that could possibly arise and so this way I'll stay protected. If they have me design a cover using someone else's artwork and I don't know it then I won't be in trouble, so long as I don't publish the work. If they publish something that they have no rights to then it is their mistake and liability. I have more integrity than that, but I know that not everybody does. I guess that's how there are even thieves in the world in the first place... Hmm. Novel though... And I can ask them if it is their own work, but how would I know? Problem solved. I won't chance it... In this modern day of technology I can't even know if a photograph is copyrighted by a different person than by the person who supplies it to me... Nope, no chancing it! Not this girl! I'll have to set up a billing structure and until I get gainful employment I won't be able to start this business anyway. I'm getting pockets full of money from Unemployment that I can't afford to lose! Not if we still want to eat, and have you seen the prices of groceries lately? Kidding about the pockets full of money... I'm looking for a job, but I already said that, didn't I?

An American Writer?

2008-09-29T22:22:00.000-07:00

So, what do you think about my photoshopping me into the sky? I'm not really sure. I would have liked to have placed me down and to the right a little, but for the life of me I couldn't get me to budge! And I would have liked to have figured out how to resize me too... Some things are just easier to figure out than others, at least for me. It's a program that I am not familiar with, but maybe if I mess around in it (the program, that is) long enough I'll figure it out.

I've abandoned my blog for way too long. Well, I did have a post up for a couple of weeks, but one of my clients, (former now, as I don't have a job and so surely I have no clients?) anyway, she told me that it was out of character for me to have the story up. Maybe it was the title... I took it off. It's really a shame though. It wasn't out of character at all, she just thinks way too highly of me? Surely not? What's a nice Christian lady like me doing posting about stoning someone to death? Truly it was a silly story and it's not my fault that I have some woman running around on this planet thinking that it's okay to annoy me past tears! I've been trying to get the victory and just ignore her, but some things are easier said than done! At least my blood pressure isn't elevated any more every time I see her... Maybe I'm getting there and I just won't know it until I arrive! I hope that's the case because I'm really tired of the scenery - I don't care for "One more time around this mountain!"

As I look at the picture I see that it is a little silly itself... Such is life. The story that I'm posting today isn't a silly story at least. It's one of my favorite shorts for my book, On a Ramble. I guess because I put a lot of me into it. I'll get on with the story and try not to be such a stranger around here... And as I consider it I think that this short will end up in Crooked Places Straight as it's not really the right tone for the Ramble book. I'll have to sort that all out later. On a Ramble isn't going to be put together and have its final edits until I write my last story for it, WE WON! But who knows? Once I write that story it may well end up in a different book too... Too much to be thinking that's for sure! One way or another I'll write the story and then I'll close the book...

An American Writer

Now what in the world could a blue eyed all American girl know about An American Writer? How does one get to be An American Writer? Must one go abroad? To be culturally savvy surely one must be a world traveler? Is that not true?

But how about the mean streets of indifference? Can not a person gain insights and understanding in the stained and dirty suburbs of any given city within the parameters of any given society? Are not the basic needs of any culture centered upon humanity as a whole? People need to feel included and accepted and understood. People need the warmth of a touch; the healing mercy of a smile; a compassionate glance of tolerance.

Is there not a oneness with creation that begs belonging?

You can teach me about all of the pain and the suffering and the great injustices of the world. You can teach me about all of the world religions and belief systems. You can teach me about Socrates and the great minds of days gone by. But can you teach me to care? I mean to really care: To reach out my hand to the helpless; to the desolate; to the rejected. Can you show me the way to right all of the past wrongs? Can you show me how to restore lost cities, lost hopes, or lost dreams? Is there anything that I could possibly have to write that would matter? What kind of a message can a girl from the city, from the country, from the uppermost part of New York have to say?

A world traveler? No, I am not. As a young divorced mother of three I did go to Mexico once. I saw the poverty and the lack. I saw the hopelessness and despair. But these things I saw on the memory of the back hand of a less than honorable man. These things I saw first hand as macaroni and cheese, out of a box, no less, was a mainstay in my children’s diet for lack of education, income, and opportunity.

And how about intolerance? That I experienced outside of the conventional box of religion or politics. That I experienced at the back of the line; the welfare line as I was forced to ‘apply’ for State assistance. Was I greeted with compassion or care either one? No. I was greeted by an overworked paper pusher that most likely could afford Velveeta cheese with her macaroni and not much more. And my tears? They were wasted on indifference and a harsh predetermination that surely I was from poor stock or just lazy. How about abused? Was my pain no less real than any others that had suffered before me? Did I need to know of far away and far reaching social injustices and calamities to experience my own devastation and sorrow? What atomic bomb had savaged my childhood, and what ghastly plague had robbed me of my dignity? What greater loss can one experience that equals the loss of one’s own self?

Do I, a woman, a mother, an American, dare to compare my suffering with the great travesties of the world? Not even. My pain was only a scratch compared to the gaping wounds of those who have gone before. My pain had remedy; resolution; an end. So much suffering goes uncharted for the vastness of the wound – a world of pain and suffering, winked at by a society that considers their Starbuck’s coffee a cultural experience.

Am I naive? I am. Apathetic? Sometimes. Observant? Always. Am I an American Writer? I guess not. But what am I really? I am a voice; a voice of compassion; a voice of concern; a voice of hope: A voice of an American. I am the voice of a writer bleeding red, for the slaughtered, bleeding white for the innocents, and bleeding blue for the honest and true.

(C) Audrey Semprun
Joyful Noiz Ministries
4/8/08

Newest Creation

2007-10-03T22:13:00.000-07:00

I've been wandering around the planet not doing anything of any great significance... That is if you don't count working myself into an early grave! I've pretty much left my blog alone as I liked the book cover that I had been displaying. What can I say? Yesterday's child has been replaced with tomorrow's adventure. I've got lots and lots of stories for On A Ramble. I can call it a done deal any time, any time that is, after I write the final story. "WE WON!" I look forward to that day! I'm still fighting for my daughter's Social Security. I have people tell me that I will never win. They don't know me very well. My daughter needs to have an income and a safety net and I'm not going to give up fighting for her rights, ever! There. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

If anyone is actually reading me then they will be pleased to know that I am now a contributing writer for http://granolabardevotional.blogspot.com/ . My first devotional will be coming into publication later this month. They have been very warm and inviting over there and I look forward to submitting often! I've never written devotionals, but hey, this multi-faceted writing life is getting more and more interesting all the time!

Do I appear to be off task? I know - what's with the Crooked Places Straight? It's brewing in my spirit. I have a couple of things that I have written lately for a couple of different pastors. I'm tired of hearing them have to apologize for speaking the word of God in love. I've gotten out my shovel and just started digging! The first entry to this book is going to be, A Dissertation on a Dispensation, and the first and last line of that little ditty is, "This is as close to an apology as I ever intend to come for what I write." I guess that speaks clear enough! After that I might be putting a short called, "A Life Well Spent" which I wrote for my most recent pastor. He has retired from the church and is going to be ministering in a different capacity with more of a world outreach mission. I love him dearly. The runner-up for the first entry after "A Dissertation" is "Sin Soup". It's delicious. I wrote it for my daughter's pastor. He said it was a bit scary at first, but as he read it he thought that it was phenomenal! Phenomenal for a writer is icing on the cake that is not only sugar-free, but fat-free also and chock full of flavor! Wonderful response! And with that intro I'll let it speak for itself... God is gracious, use a napkin.

Sin Soup

The pot is brewing – simmering – stinking up the place. And there stands the Pastor, stirring in his heart and soul – pouring out of himself – ministering grace and mercy and a good dose of the need for repentance. But he may as well as be serving cyanide for as much as his ingredients for a life of abundance and peace are spewed out – rejected as a bitter pill.

All of these self-professed chefs are so in love with their hard-hearted stubbornness that they would rather die than give it up – whatever IT may be. Some are thriving on anger and self-pity and are serving up unforgiveness like a badge of courage – daring to hate, and daring any to try and touch them. If they were to let go of the past then Lord help them, it might open up the door for a real future. And then what would that be? The thought of no longer being a victim tastes of surrender – and no – they would rather fight their way to Hell than to do that!

And what about the green-eyed monster – poured into the mix from so many different outlets? Layer upon layer of envy and jealousy and strife: Even to the point of being jealous over the goodness of God! Why has He been pouring out blessings over Sister Sue? Doesn’t He know that my voice is sweeter? Doesn’t He know that my offering is more seasoned, more desirable? And what’s the deal with the Smith’s new home? And why can’t I have a new car? Meanwhile the widow woman digs deep within her own broken heart and adds a small shake of salt into the pot.

And where is this God of mercy and grace, the patron’s cry out, refusing the necessary diet of knowledge of the righteous indignation and judgment of God – and ignoring the crucial ingredients of a life consecrated to God in humility and holiness. Self-righteousness and judgment are poured into the pot instead, by vile and unsanctified vessels of dishonor.

The soup is sour, they complain, never even realizing that it is their own concoction that is wreaking havoc all around them and causing all of the dissention and putrefaction and unrest.

“Lord,” the Pastor cries out, “Help us.”

“I’ve got just what you need.” And with that the Lord opens up the portals of heaven and as His mercy rains down He reaches forth His nail-scarred hand – and with the compassion that comes only from a Father adds one drop of His precious blood to the soup. One drop and what was once a pot of rotting flesh was transformed into a feast to satisfy the hungry masses.

God is a Spirit. Those that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth. And the saying, ‘love covers a multitude of sin’, was not said in vain. And the saying, ‘pick up your cross daily and follow me’, was written for a reminder that the pot of stinking flesh – it would be back on the fire tomorrow and every day thereafter – the only redemption coming from the blood of the Lamb, and the word of our testimony, and loving not our lives unto the death: The death of self: Surrendering to the newness of life which can only be found in Christ. And in Christ we will truly offer up a sweet-smelling offering, acceptable unto God.

The Lord will perfect that which concerns me; Thy mercy O Lord, endures forever; Forsake not the works of thine own hand. And Lord, please bless the works of this Pastor’s hand – and please season the pot of his congregation with the wondrous working power of your blood. Amen.

Never surrender to discouragement, but surrender to the Father who is able to sustain you.

Audrey Semprun
Joyful Noiz Ministries 9/3/07

BOOK PREVIEW!

2007-04-24T22:49:00.000-07:00

Creepy, Creepy Spider

The spider bite scar held a place of prominence in the child's life and on the child's arm - and then came time and forgetfulness, distance and chubbiness that shrunk the remembrance almost completely.

Oh, sure, the place that was forever tattooed on her arm remained - but the memories were few and far between. That is until the boy surmised, "Hey, when were you ever bitten by a brown recluse?" The young man was genuinely surprised by his discovery.
She put the over-sized spoon down on the stove next to the pot of simmering chili and looked at her oldest son: Tall and lean, but nothing close to scrawny, that one. Definitely not a Mama's boy, but not a Daddy's boy either. A man on his own. If you asked him he'd tell you he does all right for himself. If you ask his mother, surely her reply would be a non-committal, "He's my son."

Instead of answering his question she poses one of her own. "How'd you know?"

She was about four - just a skinny little whisper of a girl. Hanging out at Grandma's house with all the cousins. Her mother's clan.

The stairs leading down to the basement were crude and narrow, as was the stairwell with its cold and unpainted cement walls. Grandma's basement was better than most. Had plenty of room and make-shift beds scattered throughout. Nice and warm and comfy.
Until the scream. She woke herself up with a blood curdling scream. And the pain. Her left arm was on fire.

Betty is an artist. First rate. Been at it for years. But Betty has a secret side too. She is a closet writer. She's got this book of poems. They aren't anything that she cares to share, thank you anyway, she tells the woman with the mostly never noticed disfiguration on the back side of her left arm.

Her unwillingness to share her boundless imagination has left the scar lady a bit frustrated. She would like to publish the woman's book of poems.
"I'd be glad to do it. No cost. Really. I'd do it for my own copy of your book," she offers, to no avail.

She couldn't help herself. Within the scarce few pages of the said book of poems were some really creepy poems about spiders.

So, what's the fascination with spiders? No great fascination really. One of the poems was about vindication. 'Murder in the Morning.' Delicious.

A fear of spiders is more realistic. Or maybe fear isn't the right word either - no - it's more of an aversion. The woman doesn't want no spiders in her space. None. They are not safe around her. She'll do whatever it takes to rid herself of any creepy, creepy spider's presence - any spider. Tiny isn't good enough. They are out of there too. And that little kid song, 'Itsy Bitsy Spider' is one of those things that she'd rather that it had never been written - creepy.

She can't remember when Halloween became offensive to her, but it has. Year after year it's the same old thing. Spiders great and small - black and gruesome - everywhere! At the grocery store - at the bank - is there no place that is sacred? And the webs! Sticky white or grey webs harboring Lord knows what! Spiders maybe? Real, hairy, creepy spiders! It could happen!

As if pretend spiders weren't bad enough, she has to go out and find real ones too! She helps out this guy. He's sorta blind, kinda. She's dusting - dusting up a storm. Notices the cob-webs outside of the window sill that she is dusting. "You've got a bit of a mess outside. I'll go get it."

Off she goes with a broom. She'll get that mess out of there in no time. Sweeping away, even humming. She's enjoying the fresh air and the help that she's being for the old guy.
She brushes the wall with the broom. What a mess, but she's getting it all knocked down real nice. Except she disturbs a visitor of the old man's home - his resident spider! She screams and throws the broom up in the air. Shaking, she goes back inside. It's clean enough she determines. Creepy!

She puts the incident behind her. No more cob-webs for that old girl! Hadn't she learned her lesson?

So how was she to know that she was carrying this big brown hairy spider in all of that card board? She was shoving it all into the outside trash can and there it was, crawling right at her! She stretched her arms out in front of her as far as she could and thump. She bumped the spider off into the bushes instead of the trash can. "Today was your lucky day." She told the big brown hairy intruder as she shook off the chills that were running down her spine. Way creepy.

Did it go into the trash can after all? With caution as her guide, she didn't want the thing crawling up her leg, she leaned over and searched the twigs and the brush. No spider. She stepped around the can and looked behind the thing. Still no spider. She checked on her shoes and pant legs - then shook off the creeps and headed back inside.

"Brown spiders are aggressive. There were a bunch of them where I use to live in California. Really creepy."

"Err... Stop! I don't want to talk about spiders!"

The brunette looked at the blonde, but was not unkind. She well could have said, "Then why'd you bring them up?" but she didn't.

Then there was the small child. Right up out of the blue she says, "When a brown recluse spider bites you it can leave a blister this big." As she puts her two small hands together and makes one rather large cupped object lesson.

Creepy crawled down her spine as she replied to the little girl, "Yeah, I know. And when that blister pops it leaves a scar just as big."

"Yeah," the little girl replies. "It's the poison. It spreads."
"I know," the aged, but once a child herself, replies. "Like this." As she pulls up her sleeve and lets the child examine the handiwork on the back of her left arm.

"The blister popped?"

"My aunt popped it. She thought it was a boil. The poison spread all over. See?"

The little girl was readily shown all of the tiny scars that surrounded the larger, prominent, but faded, scar.

"When did you get bit?"

"When I was a little girl. I was in my grandma's basement. The spider bit me and it hurt so bad that I woke up screaming."

"The bite didn't wake you up. It takes a couple of hours for the pain to set in."
The woman with the bite - the child with the insight.

A week had passed after the big brown spider on the box incident. More cardboard boxes.

"Could you maybe just push the other ones down?"

"There's a spider out there!" The woman protested.

"No there's not," the older, wiser, woman replied. "That's gone."

There was no sense in arguing - but she knew the truth - no - that spider would never be gone! It would be there - she knew it. In the trash can - beside the can in the shrubs. Lurking under every piece of card board there ever was from then on out. She would just have to watch - just have to be careful. She would just have to deal with the past, the future, the hidden, and the stealth, creepy, creepy spider crawling up the water spout...

Audrey Semprun
Joyful Noiz Ministries 2/29/07

Manifesto

2007-04-23T19:42:00.000-07:00

And that’s how it all started. I will not read his writing. He had an agenda and as far as I can see the whole nation jumped on the band wagon. That is except for those poor innocents and those scarred souls that were left behind. I don’t figure that if you are going to do something dastardly that you deserve to have your manifesto published, or your evil pictures plastered all over the press.

I woke up in the middle of the night and here I am again. Except for this time I’m laying under a desk just waiting, having an eye conversation with a young man – wondering if I’m next. When I wake up out of that, I’m laying there hot: Extremely hot. I’m wrestling with my blankets, wrestling with my dream, and wrestling with my imagination – telling it to settle down, go back to sleep. I don’t want to get up and write. I’m not going to get up and write. I am tired.

And I look at the clock: One-thirty. What in God’s green earth am I doing awake at One-thirty in the morning? It’s Monday morning. Work comes way too early and way too dirty to be laying awake thinking about somebody’s manifesto that I refuse to read – I refuse to even give a name – at One-thirty in the morning.

If that sounds like anger, I believe it is. I believe that it is righteous indignation. It’s not me that was assaulted, murdered, but it was everything that I have always believed in – stood for. It’s everything our nation stands for: For life, liberty, and justice for all: And what about the pursuit of happiness? Hello?

I hear my grandfather clock: It tells me it’s Two. That means it’s not quite Two. I need to get that repaired, but in the scope of things I don’t think it’s of major importance.

I finally went back to sleep. I didn’t hear my husband get up for a change. Oh, he tries to be quiet, and he does real well, but sometimes I hear him just the same. Five AM and all is well. I told him on Saturday that he needed to be sleeping in on Saturday and not getting up at Five O’clock in the morning. Nobody gets up at Five O’clock in the morning on Saturday. He just laughed at me and told me that he had things to do.

My hubby always gets up at Five O’clock. Not me, I don’t get up at Five O’clock. But I was awake this morning at Five O’clock by goodness. Hubby dearest forgot to tell his alarm clock that he wouldn’t be needing her services. Oh it came on peaceful enough – nice and quiet – it was that gal that talks on Calm: KAHM 102.2 on your FM dial. The music was playing nice and low, but I couldn’t’ even enjoy the music because all that I could think was that I need to be resting. I have to get up soon.

And then when I finally adapt to the noise, whereas I wanted silence, hubby finds his oversight and turns off that wonderful little box that I had finally adjusted to, and so he woke me up again. And then I finally got up for the day. And there it was – right there on the front part of my brain. I will not read what that man wrote.

An Angel of Mercy

2007-02-08T19:41:00.000-08:00

Have I completely sold out or what? It took me fifteen years to write this novel. Am I really willing to take a chance of 'corrupting' my baby by self publishing her? I've been told by a very good friend that I should press forward with the books and not to look back. Look back at what? A chance for validation? A chance for a larger audience? A chance for fortune or fame?

You know what I want? I want my baby to be read. And I'd also like to pay off my mortgage. Why? Well, to have the book read means that I have not wasted all of these years that I have invested in her. To have her read means that she will have the opportunity to minister to souls that are hurting. And the mortgage? I'd like to see my husband retire before he works himself to death and my home is lovely and I'd like to stay here.

I was fortunate to be born in an affluent nation, a spoiled nation. I know that there are children who are suffering and the poor will be with us always. Always. I want to be able to minister hope to the hopeless. Idealist? Yeah, that's me.

Where did I get my education? Which one? I told a client one time that I didn't need her help with the dishes, that surely I had already earned a doctorate in doing dishes. I enjoyed sharing that line until a different client countered my cute little pun with, "Did you also earn a doctorate in doing counters, cause mine sure is a mess." And isn't that just how it is? Just when you think that you have mastered something someone comes along to show you quite plainly your inadequacies.

Back to my question. Where did I get my education? And again, which one? I have had many educations. One as a small and defenseless child. One as a rebellious teenager. One as a lonely young mother and abused wife. One as a hopeless soul, sick in heart and mind. One as a new creation. One as a diligent student of the Word of God. One as a student in the school of social outcasts and churchery rejection. One as accepted in the beloved. One as a young mother. One as a seasoned adoptive mother. One as a rejected wife. One as a wife of a man of God. One as a mother of a disabled child. One as an educator of disabled children. One as a sister. A daughter. A grand-daughter. One as a High School Student. One as a High School dropout. One as a High School Graduate.

I have taken out my shovel and I have dug up the church. Can I sell it to the CBA? Not hardly. I don't have the resources, the time or the education to jump through their many hoops. But how do I let go of one dream and dare to pursue another? I don't want to 'publicize myself.' I want to be like the young teen that I once was in my many educations and watch my lowly little cigarette that is touched to a blade of grass ignite a fire that cannot be quenched... (I only burned up a small field, but at the time it felt like I had set the world on fire.) I guess that's what I want: To set the world on fire.

NOW AVAILABLE!

2007-01-13T22:38:00.000-08:00

I have finally released my book of poems, And The Glory. It is not a real long book, but one that I am blessed to be able to put my name to.

It is beautifully hard bound and I have also made it available to download onto your computer.

My son created the cover and I am so proud of him. It never was my intention to splash my name on the cover like it turned out. Mychal suggested to write the title of the book along the side of the book as it appears. Then we put my name on the top, but the font was so tiny that we couldn't read my name. We changed the font to match the title and when we pulled up the new text my name was bigger than the book. It was crazy fun. We then reduced the size so that my name would fit on the cover and went with it.

I took the photograph of the clouds on my way to take my little grandbaby girls to the babysitter about three blocks away from my house. It was a dark and dreary day but I had my camera with me just in case. I had a different photograph that I had held on to for years for the book's cover. When I finally found Lulu and was ready to actually do something with my poems I uploaded the original photograph and it looked really bad because it was taken in landscape where as it needed to have the other angle so that it would format into the 6x9 and not get stretched out of shape. It was a gorgeous picture and I was so disappointed that I couldn't use it afterall. Day after day I took my camera with me wherever I went hoping and believing for just the right picture for the cover of my book.

The sun came out for just a minute and I pulled over onto the side of a winding road and started snapping away. My cover photo is untouched. The colors are the true sight that I was blessed with that day.

How can I not stand in amaze at the greatness and the glory of God?

I completed my combination book of Memoirs also. I've been busy! I've decided to hold off from offering the combo book for sale yet as I have a friend of mine who is interested in possibly editing the work and then helping me to seek legitimate representation.

I love what Lulu offers, but still, that book contract(s) is what I have my heart set upon. I've got my novels to consider, and my mortage! Hubby sure would like a hand with the note!

Now I'll have to get back to finishing my trilogy. I'm going to press myself to start finishing some of these works in progress! First, Destiny's Child. Then either The Back Track Conspiracies, or Character's Folly - Which ever one starts falling out of my brain first!

Check out my books on Lulu. I love the quality that their set up allows! (And a little hard work! Not to mention a brilliant son!)

EVEN IN SILENCE http://www.lulu.com/content/197711

AND THE GLORY http://www.lulu.com/content/299467

What the heck. I went ahead and put the other books out there too. Now I can move on...

A PATH OF PEACE http://www.lulu.com/content/227180

MEMOIRS OF A LADY PREACHER http://www.lulu.com/content/551577

The Parties Over

2006-12-23T17:56:00.000-08:00

You know the saying, "Write what you know"? Well, I guess to say. I more than got snarked on Miss Snark's blog. I was eaten alive and spit out.

I do appreciate all of her hard work though and dedication. No sour grapes over here, but I am licking my wounds.

Here's the bad, the bad, and the ugly.

I said unto you when you were in your own blood, Live.

Emily McPherson was special. She had been swept up from the meaningless wasteland of nothingness by the Ultimate Authority, and had been taken into His very bosom. But Emily couldn’t be content just looking down upon her fellow discarded souls. She had a longing to go to them – to help them – to do something – anything. The problem was; what could she do? She was only a teen, and alone: And that world down there. It was full of Scrogens: Horrible death-dealing Scrogens.

Justin St. Clair had found the love of his life, he was certain of it. Everything about Emily cried out for him to take her in his arms and love her. She awoke passions in him that hadn’t been stirred since the realization that his sixteenth birthday, his age of un-accountability, was fast approaching and the man that he had been was tracking fast back into adolescence. Could he bear to let her track on into adulthood without him? Was he willing to fast track so that he could reverse the regression, at least for a little while? But the cost; was he willing to pay the cost? To fast track would send him on to end track: Bag and tag and he was done. Was it worth it – One lifetime instead of countless others? And if he chose to continue on his track’s natural course, could he protect his beloved from THE BACK TRACK CONSPIRACIES?

Here, have some pruning shears.Now go read the post on XYX.Start over.And for dog's sake think of something other than "scrogens" to use as a name.I'm not sure this even reaches the standard of mess.

posted by Miss Snark at 12/23/2006 03:56:00 PM 6 comments

Ah, new - how refreshing

2006-12-22T22:21:00.000-08:00

Now, this is fresh and new, but interesting? I'm not so certain! I'm over here obsessing about Miss Snark and her crap o meter. Hey, am I witty or what? I hadn't put the toidy and the COM together until this instant. I'm quick, what can I say?

I've got The Back Track Conspiracies 'hook' up for public flogging on Miss Snark's blogsite. http://misssnark.blogspot.com/ My entry is #394.

When I wrote the hook I was diligent, but now I'm losing my confidence. I've noticed that the 'winners' are pretty much light and have some sort of sexual innuendos. Not all of them, but a lot. There are a lot of young adult entries also, and Science Fiction Fantasy. I don't even write SFF!!! But, I guess I did, or I do, or I am... (If you feel like correcting my grammar, please refrain.)

Anyhoo, I might get chewed up pretty good. I see essential elements of a hook that are missing in my submission now that I didn't foresee, but right now I'm too tired to think to say which ones. I know that I've left too many things unsaid about the antagonists, and too much said about Emily's background. Yeah, back-story. Back-story, that I'm good at. Just like run-on sentences... I was taught to write run-on sentences I'll have you know. Somewhere in primary school. Was rewarded for the longest correctly punctuated sentences, I kid you not. I know that I have partial sentences going on. Like I said, if you feel like correcting my grammar, please don't!

I'm rambling. Why am I rambling? Cause I'm tired and I haven't updated my blog for a while and I hate how blurred the NANOWRIMO picture is... I wanted a change.

Maybe I'll blog about Christmas. I doubt it. Christmas is in my heart, but my soon to be critiqued entry is on my mind! My writing is my passion. I know that the Lord knows that He is my first love. I'm okay with that and not ashamed to say so.

The Back Track Conspiracies has a couple of explanations and chapters posted below. Only one more thing I'll say, If the book seems to be dark it is. It took me 33,000 words to get to the light.

Cheers.

NaNoWriMo 2006

2006-12-01T23:15:00.000-08:00

I can't believe that November has come and gone. I survived, but barely!

So much in my little pea brain that spilled out onto the paper, but so much yet to write!

I'd like to end The Back Track Conspiracies where I left off, but that isn't the way it's got to be.

I've left far too many storylines unfinished, and far too many thoughts unwritten...

Such is life. I want to write a lazy-arsed novel, but I don't get off that easy. I guess I have to let the thing brew a little bit more though, cause I'm drained of ideas.

How much light do I want Emily to have to share?

What's Justin going to do?

What about Tony? Will he appreciate the sacrifice that Raymond made for him?

Is the SSS going down?

Will the murderer meet with justice?

What about dark and sinister Jason? Is there any closure to his character?

Who is the new character that I have to create for the 'strapped with seniors' luncheon?

Will Reeses' husband ever make his back track?

Will Hazel learn anything from her mistakes? Will she actually say the life line?

How am I going to get rid of Kathryn?

Will Regina get caught as a spy as she joins the SSS?

Will the FDC ever get it right?

How'm I gonna end this thing?

"Oh don't you see? It's plain to see, to me they all are Emily..."

Will that work?

How about "Who is going to care for the Scrogens?"

Is that an epilogue, or is it the forerunner of the ending?

Can I go to bed now?

Scrogging Granny, TBTC Chapter Fourteen

2006-11-08T18:57:00.000-08:00

Chapter Fourteen

“I really think that it’s time for her to go.” Anthony approached Denalda about Margaret. The old woman was starting to show a decline in her health and Anthony didn’t want the added burden to be on his wife’s shoulders. She had hinted herself that she was tired and that her grandmother was fast losing her usefulness. Anthony thought that it would make the decision to place Margaret easier on Denalda if it came from him and he decided that he was okay with being the bad guy.
“The FDC has a lovely complex. They would take good care of her. Of course, you know that you would have to sign away all of your familial rights, but otherwise I think that it’s a good choice, all things considered.”
Denalda acted surprised at her husband’s suggestion but it was only a good front, because deep down she was relieved. She was grateful that her husband was sensitive enough to know that it would hurt her too much to have to carry the responsibility of having made this decision on her own.
“Do you think she’d really be okay there?” Denalda put on a caring granddaughter’s demeanor and played it to the hilt. “Do you think that they’ll be able to place her?”
“She’ll do fine. There are lots of people out there that would love to have the chance to adopt your grandma.”
“You think so?”
“Sure, why not? Look how good she is with Tony. She’ll make some family a real nice granny.”
“And maybe after she tracks out she could come and find us? I mean, I wouldn’t want to lose her forever.”
“Of course you wouldn’t want to lose her forever. And I’m certain that she would come and find us. Look how good she is with Tony.”
“Did someone call me?” Tony peeked his head around the corner.
“Come here, sweetie. There is something that we need to tell you.”
Tony climbed up onto his mama’s lap and looked intently into her eyes.
“Grandma is going to go away, but it’ll only be for a little while. We’re going to give her to a nice family.” Denalda was trying to break the news gently.
“No! Don’t give grandma away, Mama, I want to keep her!” Tony was terrified of losing his playmate and his best friend.
“Grandma hasn’t been feeling well, son. She needs to go to a different home, one that will be able to take care of her.” Anthony was trying to soften the blow for his little guy.
“I’ll take care of her, I promise! I’ll get her food and water, and I’ll play with her when she wants to.” Tony was not ready to send his granny away.
“No Tony, it won’t work. She’s much too much of a responsibility for you. It’s best this way. I’ll have to go and tell Grandma.” Denalda was kind and gentle to her only son, knowing deep down inside that what they were planning to do was wrong. But she was determined. The wall that had been looming over her had finally been broken down and she was going to run with the opportunity to have her freedom at Anthony’s suggestion. It made her feel a sense of disconnectedness to the whole deal since it came from the mouth of another and not her own.
“No, mommy, no!” Tony screamed as his mother untangled him from being wrapped around her legs, as he was trying desperately to stop her. She freed the young child and handed him to his father. “Please, hold him. I’ll go and talk to her.”

---------------

“Grandma, are you busy?” Denalda knocked lightly as she let herself into the room that her grandmother had occupied for the past several years, since shortly after little Tony had been born actually.
“Not at all Denny, come on in.”
“I needed to talk to you about something.” Denalda braced herself for what she was going to have to say.
“Sure kid, go on.”
“Anthony came to me tonight, and we were discussing you and your continued health issues. You know you haven’t been feeling well.”
“No, but I’m sure I’ll be all right. Surely it’s just a cold or something.”
“Grandma, you’re getting old.”
Margaret stared blankly at her granddaughter. She had a queasiness in her stomach and was afraid that she knew what was coming.
“I’m afraid that you have come to be too much for us to take care of.”
“I’ll try to stay out of the way, Denalda. And I could help with Tony more if you want. Please don’t send me away.”
“I’m afraid it’s not up to me. Anthony wants me to make the arrangements at the FDC. I’m sure that they will be able to place you in a good home.” Even as she spoke, Denalda remembered what had been said at the Society’s last board meeting about budgets and budget cuts, but still she smiled at her grandmother and continued on with her line of lies.
“There are plenty of good families out there just waiting for a granny like you.”
Margaret said nothing. What could she say? She was about to be scrogged.

---------------

“No, ma’am, she’s still potty-trained. No diapers yet.” Denalda was trying to be patient, but she hated all of the stupid questions.
“Does she interact well with children?” The snub-nosed intake worker asked with a nasally huff and a snort.
“Yes, she’s good with children. She practically raised my little boy.” Now with that Denalda should have had at least a pang of guilt, but felt nothing but irritation at having to take so long.
“Is she prone to outbursts or childlike tantrums?”
“No, she doesn’t have tantrums! She’s a good granny.”
“Then why, may I ask,” in her nasal drawl the woman snorted, “do you want to give her away?”
“Then why do I want to give her away? That’s not a fair question.”
“It’s mandatory that you answer it, ma’am.”
“You mean I have to answer it, or you won’t take her?”
“Precisely.”
“I just can’t take care of her anymore.”
“Thank you. Just leave her and her things in the lobby. Once you are gone we will dispose of her properly, er, I mean, we will place her.”
Denalda had quit listening after the woman told her to just leave her and her things in the lobby. Would it have made a difference had she heard the woman’s slip? It was doubtful, very doubtful.

TBTC Chapter One

2006-11-05T08:56:00.000-08:00

Chapter One

Justin knelt down and gently placed a blanket over the battered teen’s naked body. He then cradled her in his arms and stood. Who could do such a thing? Who could hurt her so badly and then just throw her away? He could tell by the flexibility of her bruised and torn body that she was alive, but surely she had been left for dead? Draped over his arms she looked so young and so frail. He carried her over to the ambulance and his two assistants helped him carefully lay her out on the gurney.
“Man, this is bunk.” A red haired, freckled faced Matt shook his head in disbelief.
“No doubt.” A tall and trim Pete solemnly agreed.
A pretty roughed up Jane Doe started to stir.
“Shh, be still. You’re okay.” Justin lightly placed a reassuring hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “We’ll take good care of you. It’s okay.”
Jane, (at least to them), groggily opened her eyes. As she became more aware of her surroundings, and of the aches and pains that were searing through the whole of her being, she was alarmed. She clutched a hold of the thin rescue blanket, held it to her trembling chest, and tried to sit up. She was shaking from the cold and exposure of having been left out in the field some time in the night. Weakness overtook her and she collapsed back down onto the portable bed.
“Who are you, and what have you done to me?”
“Nothing. We haven’t done anything to you. We’re paramedics. We’re trying to help you.” Justin’s eyes relayed a sincere sadness and concern for this victim of whatever circumstance that had befallen her. Those Scrogens. I’ll bet it was those stinkin’ Scrogens, Justin thought bitterly, but kept his thoughts and his anger buried inside. He was good at that. How many years had he carried the memories, the anger? Too many to count. He shook it off and gave the dainty little brunette with the bewildered doe eyes his full attention.
“But how – how did I get here?” The three young men just looked at their precious cargo and said nothing. What could they say? They were as clueless as she was about the whole situation.

---------------

The hospital gown was a warm reprieve from her emergency blanket but still the question of what happened to Jane Doe remained. She had been beaten up pretty bad, but by who, and why? She was a sweet young thing. It didn’t make any sense, and she couldn’t’ help answer any of the questions either. Jane Doe didn’t know what had happened. She hadn’t even known her own name –
Justin could tell by the tracks in her arm that she had never done this before. White, red, yellow, green – he must put it all together, what it all means. White, she was a virgin of the purest sense of the word, a first-tracker. Red, she was fertile; a
member of the sisterhood of the blood covenant. Yellow, they had a record of her at the Family
Distribution Center, the FDC, as it was commonly referred to as. Green, she had been logged out of the FDC. The FDC was far too busy for any sort of immediate, accurate record on a former resident there.
What could easily be accessed about the young girl was that she was at least seventeen and had most likely just tracked out of the age of un-accountability. Her name was Emily McPherson and although he knew nothing else, Justin knew this, Emily needed him. She had no one, absolutely no one. Justin had researched her back-round and had found that she was a first-tracker with no known parents. Now, for a fresh-tracker that could have been no big deal, but for a first-tracker that was odd: A first-tracker had to have been fresh born and not a recycled tracker. Where, he wondered, were Emily’s parents and why wasn’t there a record of them?
Justin was a pre-cycled, back-tracker. He had begun his back track after he had first tracked out at the age of seventy-nine at the request of his nephew Stephen. Stephen had long since end-tracked, but Justin hadn’t forgotten… Mercifully, when Justin reached the age of un-born then he would be recycled and the only thing left of his former track would be his nationality and his gender. The rest would be forgotten, except for the wisdom that he gleaned; that he would take with him to his next track. Justin had a lot of knowledge under his belt. The trouble was, he was seventeen and would soon reach the age of un-accountability. He would have to surrender himself and his freedom to the FDC upon tracking back to the age of sixteen.
Justin wasn’t comfortable with the proposition, but that was just how it was. He could fast track and reverse the track and no longer regress in age, and begin once again to progress in age, but that wasn’t a choice to be made lightly. A tracker could track back and forth literally forever, that is unless they made a conscious choice to end-track and Justin wasn’t that unwise.
So there he was, a young man, getting younger every day: And Emily, a young woman, getting older every day. The time was closing in on him where he could no longer take care of himself, at least not legally. And Emily, she had no one, that is, except for Justin.

---------------

It wasn’t long before Emily was well enough to leave the safe haven that she had found at the hospital, but where to go?
“So you get to blow this joint, huh?” Justin had been a faithful friend.
“So they tell me, but to be honest – I don’t know where I’ll go.” Emily’s light brown hair rested gently on her shoulders and she looked the perfect picture of youth, health, and vitality.
“I’ve got a friend. Her name is Valerie. She would probably take you in. She’s a nice gal and I think you’d like her.”
Justin had worked with Valerie for years. She was the desk clerk over at the station from where the ambulances were disbursed from. He had been considering asking her about Emily but hadn’t wanted to approach her without his newfound friend in hand. Valerie put on a tough front, but was a softie at heart. Justin didn’t want Valerie to turn Emily away sight unseen. He knew that if he had the girl in hand then Valerie would in no way be able to turn her away.
“Valerie, huh? Wow. Thanks. It’s a pretty scary world out there.” Didn’t Justin know it! And if she thought that it was bad now, just wait. Emily couldn’t remember anything about her life before her ‘accident’ as she chose to call it. Surely the first time that her eyes lit upon a Scrogen that young girl would be trippin’ out! Justin wanted to brace her, but how could he explain that giant grass-hopper like creatures were wandering around everywhere? He decided that he’d just walk her through it, and give her a little education along the way.
As the two stepped out of the hospital and into the bright sunlight they weren’t far up the sidewalk when an object lesson, Emily’s first Scrogen, stepped out from a side street and scared Emily near to death.
Justin immediately came to her defense. “Unclean! Unclean! Step back! Out of the way!”
The Scrogen tucked its head even lower to its chest and hurriedly crossed the street. Emily found herself holding tightly to Justin’s arm.
“What was that? How horrible!”
“I wanted to tell you, but I just didn’t know how. That’s a Scrogen. They’re all over.” Even at his words Emily saw two more approaching. Justin lifted a hand of authority over the ghastly creatures and they high-stepped it to the other side of the street, same as the first one, their heads tucked down into their chests, not daring to make eye contact.
“We have authority over them.” Justin softly explained. They can’t hurt us, at least not during the daylight. If a Scrogen is caught harming a tracker then they are tracked out with no questions asked.
“Oh, and they die?” Emily was trying to sort things out.
“No, but they have to track all over again. Most of them choose to end-track ‘cause it’s just no fun to be a Scrogen.
“End-track? I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s our life-cycle Emily. We all track. We track forward and when this life is through we are processed and then we track backwards. See here,” Justin lifted Emily’s wrist into his hand and turned it up for her to see. “These are your track marks.”
Emily was fascinated. She hadn’t even noticed them before. She had tiny little dots that started on her wrist and worked their way up her arm.
“And you can tell things about me by these?”
“Everything that a tracker needs to know about you is etched right there in your arm.”
“You have them?”
“Sure, see.” Justin offered out his arm for Emily to read and then took it back before she had a chance to be able to comprehend what dots he had. Not that she would have a clue what any of the track marks meant, but Justin wanted to protect his privacy just the same.
“You sure have a lot of track marks.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been around the block a time or two.” Justin smiled and Emily felt safe and secure.

Sneak Preview: THE BACK TRACK CONSPIRACIES

2006-10-28T20:03:00.000-07:00

The Back Track Conspiracies

The Beginning:

Ezekiel 16:2-6

Son of man, cause Jerusalem to know her abominations, And say, Thus saith the Lord God unto Jerusalem; Thy birth and thy nativity is of the land of Canaan; thy father was an Amorite, and thy mother a Hittite. And as for thy nativity, in the day thou wast born thy navel was not cut, neither wast thou washed in water to supple thee; thou wast not salted at all, nor swaddled at all. None eye pitied thee, to do any of these unto thee, to have compassion upon thee; but thou wast cast out in the open field, to the loathing of thy person, in the day that thou wast born. And when I passed by thee and saw thee polluted in thine own blood, I said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, Live; yea, I said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, Live.

The New Beginning:

“What are we to do with all of these discarded souls?” Emily McPherson addressed the Counsel. “Who would have ever thought that Earth could ever come to the place that they could no longer contain all of the peoples born there?”
“Don’t you know?” The Counsel gently addressed their newest member. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know – but she needed to…
“Longevity is a place of ‘beginnings’ for the souls who didn’t make it on Earth. The non-breathers.”
“Non-breathers? How can that be?” Emily was perplexed. “Everyone has to breathe.”
“Yes, that’s true. Everyone has to breathe – to survive.”
“You mean – ” Tears threatened Emily’s eyes.
“Exactly.” Came a solemn truth.
“Are they – my people?”
********************
“It’s never been done before.”
“No one’s ever asked.”
“No one’s ever qualified. She’s one of them.”
“How will she survive?”
“Counselor?”
“I have placed my light in her. I will watch over her.” The Ultimate Authority had spoken. His will would be done.

The Metamorphosis of a Scrogen:

First Stage –

In order to become a Scrogen you must first determine that a loved one is no longer living a ‘quality’ life, or they have become more of a bother than you are willing to deal with. Next, simply turn them over to The Family Distribution Center so that you don’t have to be bothered with them anymore. In turn the FDC will assess the viability of the surrendered soul and most likely recycle them. They will scrog (to be cut off, dwarfed) the troublesome individual and the burden will be lifted, or so one would think, but that is just the beginning…

Second Stage –

Nauseousness and overall fatigue overwhelms the ‘loved one’ of the dearly departed, (if the former family member is so judged and eliminated by means of being scrogged). This strange and sudden ‘sickness’ will send the ‘victim’ to bed. From there the skin and fat begins to wither away. As the weight drops off it is necessary to hospitalize in order to sustain life. Then the ‘transformation’ begins to be apparent and the medical officials recognize the ‘real’ problem and the patient is then transferred to the Transformatory. No one becomes a Scrogen the easy route – by waking up transformed into this ghastly grassed hopper. All suffer the agony of loss – the loss of themselves.

Final Stage –

After the ‘victim’ is admitted into the Transformatory and fully a Scrogen, they are told a statement and asked this question, “You own a shame. What was their name?” Then the transformer etches the answer, which all have to claim, onto the trembling shoulders of the weakest, to the bravest, and even the foulest former person…

THE BACK TRACK CONSPIRACIES:

Back Cover Copy

Emily McPherson was special. She had been swept up from the meaningless wasteland of nothingness by the Ultimate Authority, and had been taken into His very bosom. But Emily couldn’t be content just looking down upon her fellow discarded souls. She had a longing to go to them – to help them – to do something – anything. The problem was; what could she do? She was only a teen, and alone: And that world down there. It was full of Scrogens: Horrible death-dealing Scrogens.

Justin St. Clair had found the love of his life, he was certain of it. Everything about her cried out to him to take her in his arms and love her. She awoke passions in him that hadn’t been stirred since the realization that his sixteenth birthday, his age of un-accountability, was fast approaching and the man that he had been was tracking fast back into adolescence. Could he bear to let her track on into adulthood without him? Was he willing to fast track so that he could reverse the regression, at least for a little while? But the cost; was he willing to pay the cost? To fast track would send him on to end track: Bag and tag and he was done. Was it worth it – One lifetime instead of countless others? And if he chose to continue on his track’s natural course, could he protect his beloved from THE BACK TRACK CONSPIRACIES?

The Back Track Conspiracies NANOWRIMO...Soon!

2006-10-16T22:39:00.000-07:00

What is a Scrogen?

2006-10-14T08:44:00.000-07:00

Is it a bug? No. Hardly. Oh, sure, the picture, that's a bug. A grasshopper. I used it because I didn't know how else to capture something that I can only faintly identify with. Actually, I can't really identify with it at all, but I couldn't use a human likeness for something that breaks my heart and rips upon my spirit like a cancer, but worse. It's death by selection. Death by selection. I mean it, death by selection.

I'm not talking about suicide. I'm not talking about murder. I'm not talking about some dread illness. What I am talking about is loss of usefulness. I'm talking about a bother. I'm talking about a burden. I'm talking about a mother. Is it your mother? It's not my mother.

I am not a happy camper. I have no recourse. I have no place for the shame. It's not my shame. It was not my choice. It was not my business. I am sad, but so hollowed out by the situation that I have no tears. Nothing. I could do nothing. Nothing. I can do nothing. Nothing. Could I pray? What? For the dead? I'm not Catholic. The only time that I pray for the dead is when I hear of a death that came unexpectedly and my heart is pulled for that particular soul. Only then I will pray for the Lord to rest that soul, to give them peace.

I prayed for Rose when she died. Now that, that was murder. Did I tell? No. Was I sure? Yes. How did I know? Rose told me that he was going to kill her. I told her to leave. She was sick and elderly and had no where to go. She told me that he threatened to shoot her right out loud. I told her to leave, or to call for help, but deep down inside I thought that it was just a ploy to get my sympathy, which she did, but not my help... (I wasn't working as a social worker at the time or I would have been legally obliged to report the situation. Legally, I was clear. But morally? I'm not so sure...) Rose did nothing either, except for die. Self-inflicted gunshot wound. Suicide 'he' told me. "You're kidding" came out of my mouth. "No, I'm not kidding. She shot herself." "I'm so sorry." I stammered and hung up the phone. I didn't want my friend's murderer to come kill me. I couldn't let him know that I knew. I called a friend of mine. A chaplain at the jail. Told of the situation. Was asked if I had any proof whatsoever. None. I had no proof whatsoever. Was advised to trust it to the Lord's hands and just let it go. It would endanger me and I couldn't prove anything... Rose had never once spoke of suicide, but murder, yes, that we discussed. And another thing. When I was talking to 'him' he was rambling on about there being two guns, identical even, and he had sold the one. He didn't know that she even had a gun... I didn't care to listen to his alibi. I knew it was a lie. Rose died several years ago now, but I will never forget. How can I?

All that was extra. Rose was scrogged, but in a very violent way. Most people when they get bored or tired or weary of caring for their ailing family member, they go the civil route... Them, they are what I am terming a scrogen. Death by morphine, or death by cumadin, yeah, that's a good one. Thin out grannies' blood so much that she has 'fainting spells' and when she topples over she can break her hip and then the skilled doctors can operate on her and then when she bleeds out there is no accountability, no shame. Just a dead old lady that was in the way... But before that, don't forget the delusions. Yeah, grannie got delusional. Didn't like that new medicine... Made her dizzy, and then when no one would do anything about it, except for to force her to take it, then came the paranoia. Grannie wasn't paranoid. Grannie was scrogged.

This is a non-fiction introduction to my soon to be work in progress, The Back Track Conspiracies. I got issues and I have found a cut and dry and most likely very bloody way to deal with them. I'm going to let people run around being as ugly on the outside as they are in the inside. It sickens me. Maybe I can boil someone else's blood for a change. I'm coagulating over her. Thick and sticky and oh, so reddddddddddddddddd.

November is National Novel Writing Month. Don't be looking for a 'safe' Christian book. I am bleeding out of my box and there are bound to be casualties. Not for the faint. I have temporarily laid down my sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, and I have picked up my machete which is my weapon of choice for those who had no choice and no voice.

Life is sacred.

God Bless America

2006-09-10T19:50:00.000-07:00

September 11, 2001 was a tragic day for our nation. I captured this picture yesterday. I'd say that it was a God thing. I was trying to capture a rainbow, but the Lord showed me His hand and hope for a future. We were driving down the road and I never saw the flag... that is until it appeared on my camera preview of the picture that I had just taken.

I wrote this poem weeks after that fatal day in September. It speaks for itself.

May the Lord add His blessings to my words.

TORN ASUNDER

The black claw of death
Gripped our Nation
Threatening to choke the life
Right out of her
But, United we stand
And our flags flying high
Determined to defend her or die

Dark was the day
That our innocence fled
As terror overtook our skies

The twin towers stood tall
The tallest of all
Stood tall in magnificent grandeur
As they came down
In a black plume of smoke
Humanity rose from her ashes

Free Enterprise was there
From executive to server
The tall and the small and the proud

We will not bow down
To the terrorists’ bondage
For we are the brave and the free

Those souls that were lost
Such a high price to pay
But the goodness within them
Built a tower that day
With a foundation built on the best

New York’s finest were there
Running hard into danger
And we will never forget
No greater gift could one give
Than to lay down his life for his friend
He’ll receive his reward in the end

Wisdom cries out
Her voice to be heard
God is in control

Then justice chimes in
Announcing Him
God will make things right

Vengeance is mine
Thus saith the Lord
I will repay my enemies
Burning up the dross
And redeeming the lost
With love, and with peace
And with mercy

Let not iniquity say
I have had my day
For you’ve not weighed the cost
Shot straight to Hell
In the fiery ball
Now dead in the fiery inferno

Yes, our innocence died
And America cried
That bleak and dark day in September

Just Cause I Can

2006-09-03T00:14:00.000-07:00

Another slight, (but only slight) disappointment. My entry for Miss Snark's current Crap O Meter missed the lottery draw. I guess that's okay as this is an incomplete manuscript and she has stated that that would be an automatic 'no thanks.' In the submission guidelines she did say that a work in progress was okay to submit. I guess she should have added, but will be rejected! (Although my rejection was not formal as I never made the random cut for entries.)

Anyway, I enjoyed the writing exercise. Character's Folly is far from complete. My characters balk when I suggest that maybe they are a short story... I really do need to get back to writing!

I haven't heard anything from that 'nice man' that I submitted my proposal of my two memoirs to. I googled him and wondered why I didn't do that first! Oh, the complexities of life! Oh, well. I had a friend tell me that what I did was charming. Another friend laughed and told me that she understood how it could bother me, who the guy is and all, but she thought that it was pretty amusing. She tried to be comforting but her chuckles kept me from taking her compassion for me and my publishing blunder too seriously. I won't elaborate but suffice it to say a 'Dear Sir' at the very least was most definitely in order!

Back to what I'm up to :

CHARACTER’S FOLLY
General Fiction

Dear Miss Snark,

While searching on the internet for an inspiration, a thought, or simply a reason to write, I found that you are now accepting submissions for your Crap O Meter. I have been a devoted Snarkling ever since your blog was recommended to me by a fellow Nanowrimo (November is National Novel Writing Month) contestant last November. She suggested that I bone up on my writing skills when I sent her a brief outline of my many writing projects and had stated that that I had written three Fiction Novels. She told me that I would have earned a Nitwit of the Day award from Miss Snark. Needless to say, I was filled with trepidation, and curiosity! I have not been disappointed with your website, nor have I been called the dread, Nitwit. I’ve come close, but no cigar!

Character’s Folly is an experiment in character development, and who could help an author to develop characters better than the actual characters themselves? From the ragged remains of a memory that is getting less proficient as time passes comes the discarded characters of my youth. They kept me from going to sleep one night, and have been nagging me ever since! They have even turned up on my blog. I was interviewing some of the characters from my current work in progress and I’ve been slam-blasted by these ‘other’ irate characters. “When the heck are you going to finish our book?” My question is: how am I supposed to know? It’s their book, isn’t it?

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Miss Audrey

Character's Folly

Daniel McClure had absolutely had it. How long was he expected to sit idle in that woman's sub-conscious? He had never asked to be created, nor had he asked to be discarded! It suited him fine to exist within the pages of her little book, just fine. And to think - she had the story one-fourth of the way finished! Mitzi had been created and a manipulator, but a love Daniel would never forget just the same. Now he didn't even have the memories! The nerve!

Jessica Tomkins wasn't too happy either. She had been so young, and had so many hopes and dreams. Finally she had made her way to The Big Apple, New York City! It was all a girl could ever ask for! But where was that modeling contract? Where was the man of her dreams? Again, it was that woman who had planted such hope and aspirations into her heart, just to show her that it really didn't matter - at least not to her! The traitor!

Penelope Gernswick was much too much of a lady to speak out against her creator. She never had cared for the nickname the woman had given her, but otherwise she held no ill feelings. The life of a socialite and debutante wasn't all that it had been cracked out to be anyway. What was the difference if 'Lopey's' voice went unheard?

And then there was that buff blonde guy who wore blue jeans and a sports jacket to formal gatherings and was accepted just the same. Too bad his character was so shallow that his name became obscure!

It was time for a resurrection! Time for a revolt!

"Do you know of any other discarded characters?" Daniel asked with purpose. He needed to get some weight behind him; needed to find strength in numbers.

"I always wanted a little sister," Penelopy spoke out. "We could call her Suzie."

"What are you talking about?" Objected Jessica; not wanting to join in the ranks of not only the discarded, but with the un-created.

"Why not." Penelopy countered Jessica's obvious rejection of the idea. "If she would have kept writing, then maybe she would have thought of her."

"You're a dreamer." Daniel fussed, not at all upset, after all - wasn't Penelopy and he headed for a future in part two of the once planned four section novel? He wasn't supposed to know that; that woman had tried to plot around it, but he did. He could tell from the moment that Penelopy was created that she was made for him...

A Circle of Friends. So many storylines, so many ideas. And now they were gone! And not only that, but the title had been thought up by someone else, and their novel now owned the name! What a dreadful shame! And all because she decided to throw the book away!
Crap O Meter entry that will never be critiqued...

Do you think this is too much?

2006-08-19T12:23:00.000-07:00

Here is my latest plunge into the publishing industry. Why post it? Why not? I am hopeful, but cautious. Rejection is not my idea of a tasty intellectual snack. As I have briefly mentioned to a friend, These memoirs are more of a distant relative than really kin. Now how is that for dis-association of myself?

A Proposal of Two Completed Memoirs

Quote: F.M. Savage "How I write my sermons"

"If one is in dead earnest after some definite end, and is seen to be in motion toward that end, it is human nature to be interested in seeing whether he gets there." End Quote

EVEN IN SILENCE, The Journey of a Lady Preacher, was written in earnest, seeking to reach a definite end. Through my memoirs I take people in first person to places that I have been and show the grace and glory of God that I have experienced along the way. This is a completed manuscript that is about 50,000 words and there is a completed sequel, Follow me Down, A PATH OF PEACE, which is also about 50,000 words.

My insights are fresh and revealing. I have been honest and transparent. I have been redeemed. I share hopelessness and despair which is wrapped in hope and forgiveness. Jesus is the thread that binds the fabric of who I am and my stories are worth reading.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Audrey Semprun

OUTLINE:

EVEN IN SILENCE, The Journey of a Lady Preacher

Opening Poem:

The High Road

East, a road, I’ve not yet traveled,
A place I have not seen.
I set my face East, towards the Eastern Gate,
But for now it is but a dream.
To South I say, I know you well,
My best intentions gone wry.
But I’ll set my pace East, and on I’ll go,
To the forever of sweet bye and bye.
The beaches of West know my name,
The salt, and the sand, and the sea.
For West was my home, I grew up there,
Yes, West was a great place to be.
I placed my future upon a star,
And released it unto God.
So Northward I look,
And hope and dream,
No, North doesn’t seem so far.
Now I travel with all that I am,
My life is in God’s hands.
So forward I go,
To the Eastern Gate,
To fulfill my destiny.
I’ll dig my feet in,
And through thick or thin,
I’ll reach Eternity.
12/21/05

Chapter One
"Whom Shall I fear?"

Job 31:34 Did I fear a great multitude, or did the contempt of families terrify me, that I kept silence; and went not out the door?

I know fear. I understand the clutches that fear can have on a person’s heart. I know what it’s like to be afraid. I know what it’s like to be swallowed up in darkness and sink into the depths of despair. Depression is no stranger to me. Paranoia knows my name. Heart palpation’s were common and suicide was my friend. I wanted to die. I gave up. I had no desires. I had no strength.

Chapter Two
"Where Is God?"

Psalms 31:18 Let the lying lips be put to silence.

Abuse comes in many different shades of sorrow. In my life I have visited abuse first hand, and let me tell you, it’s not pretty. I’m not a bitter person. I’m not cowed. I’m not so wrapped up in self-loathing or self-pity that I can be of no service to anyone. Sometimes I think back on different perpetrators of my abuse and it angers me. Not in an unhealthy, emotional way, but in a real life down to earth way. Some things are just out and out not right.

Chapter Three
"The Cry Of My Spirit"

Psalms 32:3 When I kept silence, my bones waxed old through my roaring all the day long.

The Lord gave me a ministry very early on in my walk with Him. He even graced me with a name for that ministry. I am, Joyful Noiz Ministries, and have been for years. Only thing is, it is only in writing. I’m not published. I am not a public speaker or anything. Heck, I don’t even teach a Bible study. None the less, I am Joyful Noiz Ministries, and I always will be.

Chapter Four
"Oh, The Dread Silence"

Psalms 35:22 This thou hast seen, O Lord: keep not silence: O Lord, be not far from me.

In all of the uncertainties in life the above scripture is my prayer. I need the Lord to be by my side as I wade through the emotional roller coaster of the realm of the unknown. I need to know that He is with me, and that He will always be there.

Chapter Five
"Transitions"

Psalms 39: 2 I was dumb with silence, I held my peace, even from good; and my sorrow was stirred.

Change doesn’t come easy to me. As I consider what else I have written I can see that a lot of things don’t come easy to me! Oh well… Anyway, I am not fond of change. I like things to be the same. I don’t bore very easily to say the least. I guess constants can go hand in hand with absolutes in my life. Trouble is, the saying that the only thing that is constant is change, is so true. I’ve tried to encourage myself with a little phrase that I don’t even know where came from. “If nothing changes, then nothing changes.” Change is good, or so they tell me.

Chapter Six
"Baptized With Fire"

Psalms 50:3 “Our God shall come, and not keep silence: a fire shall devour before him, and shall be very tempestuous round about him.”

Our God is a consuming fire. Is it any surprise that He would use fire as it suits Him? I am not surprised. There are two specific ways that I consider fire when I think about the Lord. The first one is the Lord’s protection. He promises Jerusalem that she will be a city without walls, for He will be a fire round about her and will dwell in the midst of her. I have witnessed the protection of the Lord for years and years. Even before I came to know the Lord again after I had purposefully walked away from Him He protected me.

Chapter Seven
"The Mercy Of God"

Psalms 50:21 These things thou hast done, and I kept silence.

I have heard that God’s mercy is greater than His wrath. I believe that to be true. God is long-suffering, not willing that any should perish. My life is a testimony of the mercy of God. God is so very gracious. I was lost, destined to spend an eternity in Hell, were it not for the mercy of God.

Chapter Eight
"Seeking Treasures In Darkness"

Psalms 83:1 Keep thou not silence, O God

Isaiah 45:3 States, “I will give you the treasures of darkness and hidden riches of secret places:” And God has done just that. My favorite passages in the Bible are found in the book of Isaiah from Chapter 40 through to Chapter 66.

Within those pages I have not only found Jesus, but I have also found just exactly what that scripture had promised, treasures in darkness. Those treasures were not only in the Word, but also in the circumstances that I discovered the hidden riches of secret places.

Chapter Nine
"My Salvation Story"

Psalms 94:17 Unless the Lord had been my help, my soul had almost dwelt in silence.

Isaiah 53 (Quoted from, Out of the Darkness, a personal testimony) “Who hath believed our report?” It began. “And to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?” That got my attention. I read on. “He was oppressed, and he was afflicted. Yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth.” And then down a little farther, “Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise him.” By this time I was crying. Could it really be Jesus they were writing about? How could it be any other? I reasoned within myself.

Chapter Ten
"Today Is The Day Of Salvation"

Psalms 115:17 The dead praise not the Lord, neither any that go down into silence.

I write with purpose. I write to bring to light the severity of the situation. We are mortal people. We have an immortal destiny. It is our choice whether we will spend that destiny in harmony with God, or in discord. Will we make peace with our Maker, or will we buy into the enemy’s lies? “He who dies with the most toys wins.” Wins what? Satisfaction? Fulfilled desires? Wealth? Stature? Or how about the age old, “If it feels good, do it?” Now, that’s a good one. Anything goes, right? Then how about the skies the limit? Do whatever you want.

Chapter Eleven
"A Cigarette, Some Hope, And A Prayer"

Psalms 115:17 A time to keep silence, and a time to speak.

I will work, while it is yet day. The darkness is coming when no man can work. What do I mean by that? What I mean is that things in the world are at rest right now. Things are calm. There is coming a time when there will be chaos and darkness of every imaginable kind. Already the world is taking on a bend for the night. It states in the Bible that good will be mocked, and evil will be embraced. That time has come.

It is not my station in life to address all of the controversial issues that are running rampant. It is my station in life to address the issues as they present themselves in my space and time. I can’t save the whole world, but I can save one soul at a time. Yet it is not I that saves, but the Holy Spirit that draws people unto Himself.

Chapter Twelve
"Every Knee Shall Bow"

Isaiah 15:1 In the night Ar of Moab is laid waste, and brought to silence.

There is an impending time that we are all going to choose sides. We are either in the Lord’s army, and in His favor, or we are not. We can choose to deny Him, but He cannot deny Himself.

I don’t stand on my beliefs because of a hopeful faith. I stand on my beliefs because of a conviction that I have deep in my soul, and a knowing in my spirit that tells me, IT IS TRUTH. I began seeking truth once I had experienced such a Divine change in my life. I wanted to do the right thing from that point on. I wanted to please the Lord.

Chapter Thirteen
"Accepted In The Beloved"

Isaiah 41:1 Keep silence before me, O islands; and let the people renew their strength: let them come near; then let them speak: let us come near together to judgment.

I joined the Thespians when I was in High School. It wasn’t because I was such a great orator. It was because I had a best friend that was. She did dramatic interpretations I think it was called. I remember listening to her as she practiced her recital.

‘Chris’, by Susan Webb… “Maybe if I tell you everything then you can tell me why people act so strange. I’ve never told one person everything, I mean everything. Oh, sure, I told those doctors just what I thought they needed to know, you know, like that guy that comes on that show every Tuesday night, no, wait a minute, they took that off. That really was a shame, I really did like that show…”

It’s funny that after so many years I can so vividly remember someone else’s speech. She was good at it though, and she was my friend. She did many other recitals and I couldn’t tell you a single line of any of them, but Chris, well, it was special. It was about a little boy who accidentally killed his friend. It was so powerful and moving that no matter how many times my friend told the speech I cried.

Chapter Fourteen
"Praise The Lord"

Isaiah 62:6 Ye that make mention of the Lord, keep not silence.

When I came to know the Lord as my personal Savior I had it a little rough, to say the least. I was alone with three kids and the only transportation that I had was a wagon, and it wasn’t a station wagon either, but a child’s toy. I would walk down the sidewalk feeling like a mother hen with her little chicks trailing behind. It really was a humbling experience to put it lightly. I learned a lot from that time in my life though, and wouldn’t change the experiences for the world.

Chapter Fifteen
"The Wrath Of God"

Isaiah 65:6 Behold, it is written before me: I will not keep silence, but will recompense, even recompense in their bosom.

There is a painfully obvious difference between ignorance and evil. When I was growing up making all of those terribly wrong choices I was plain out ignorant. I wasn’t evil. I didn’t try to come against God, or to deny His existence. Oh, I was rebellious, which it says in the Bible that it is the same as witchcraft, but I wasn’t Hell-bent.

Chapter Sixteen
"False Religion"

Jeremiah 8:14 The Lord our God has put us to silence, and given us water of gall to drink.

The heading for this chapter is, “False Religion” and a person might think that I am going to spend a good amount of my time going on a tangent explaining my theological beliefs and maybe even slamming what I personally consider to be ‘cults’. That is not true.

You see, there is a spirit that is prevalent in many hearts and lives and it is a religious spirit. It is even dangerously close to the scripture reference that comes against having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof. And sure, now would be a good place for me to interject all the faults and what not of others, but I will not. What I am going to expound upon is myself.

Chapter Seventeen
"The Will Of God"

Amos 8:3 And the songs of the temple shall be howlings in that day, saith the Lord God: and there shall be dead bodies in every place; they shall cast them forth in silence.

“Please don’t mistake my kindness as weakness.” I have heard my husband use that phrase before, and every time it makes me feel so proud of him. My husband is a very compassionate man. He is also very stable and insightful. He has had this employee or that for years that have had some kind of substance or alcohol abuse that he has had to tolerate. I’ve asked him about it, and he tells me that they need him and that the Lord hasn’t released him from trying to help them.

Al helps people because it’s a part of him to do so. I am also compelled to help people. In doing so I have learned that it’s not always going to be appreciated, or even received kindly. I don’t help people to earn their approval, although that is always a special bonus. I help people because I enjoy it. I thrive when I am making a tangible difference in someone’s life.

Chapter Eighteen
"Practicing The Presence Of God"

Habakkuk 2:20 But the Lord is in his holy temple: let all the earth keep silence before him.

When I was a baby Christian I had a time early on in my walk that I would fast about a week out of every month. It was a wonderful time in the Lord. I would sense the prompting of the Holy Spirit for me to fast, and I would. If I felt the leading on a Monday then I wouldn’t take anything into my body except for water until Sunday morning. The reason I would break fast on Sunday morning is because my communion was my ‘break-fast’. I got so comfortable with fasting that I made myself break fast so that I wouldn’t develop an eating disorder.

During those times of fasting I would spend hour after hour in the Word and in fellowship with the Lord. Sometimes after days without food I would get really hungry. I would silently complain to the Lord that I was hungry, and I distinctly remember the Lord impressing in my spirit, “eat my words.” As it was the only food I was going to allow myself to eat until I broke my fast with communion I would get back in the Word and quit fussing.

Chapter Nineteen
"Remember The Miracles"

Acts 15:12 Then all the multitude kept silence, and gave audience to Barnabas and Paul, declaring what miracles and wonders God has wrought among the Gentiles by them.

The adoption of my sweet little Sara was a huge miracle in my life, but I would be amiss if I failed to remember the little things. I’ve found that God really is a God of details. He doesn’t miss a thing. I couldn’t say how many times I’ve gone looking for something and knew that the Lord was going to come through for me. I go expecting.

Chapter Twenty
"Hearing From God"

Acts 21:48 And when there was a great silence he spake unto them.

I recently completed a Bible study in my Sunday school class. The name of the course was “God’s plan for your life.” We had a unit on ‘hearing from God.’ It was really good and well worth bringing to my remembrance.

The Lord speaks to us in many different ways. One way that comes immediately to my mind is closed doors. I have even considered writing a book called, “God doesn’t close doors, He slams them!” I kind of thought that I might have mentioned that book before. I found it in Chapter Five. Maybe I won’t worry about writing that book after all. Surely by the time I get this all out of me I’ll have gotten it out of my system! I can’t help but smile. I know me too well…

Chapter Twenty-One
"A Faith Walk"

I Timothy 2:11 Let the women learn in silence with all subjection.

“You can go.” I heard it as plain as the day is long. I was ecstatic! I didn’t know how, but I knew that the Lord had opened an impossible door for me. Oh, there was no doubt in my mind that it was the Lord! I knew that I couldn’t go! I was a single parent with three small children. I couldn’t afford to go all the way across the country. But there I sat, elated! I was going to Baton Rouge, Louisiana to a Jimmy Swaggart camp meeting! Five full days of hallelujah praise and glory!

Chapter Twenty-Two
"Walk In Wisdom"

I Peter 2:15 For so is the will of God, that you may put to silence the ignorance of foolish men.

I never got this great urge to be a lady preacher. I never had this profound call. What happened is that I have evolved into a minister of the Gospel and I chose “Lady Preacher” as my signature when I joined a Christian Writer’s group online. It just suits me. It’s all about my writing really.

What I write shares the Gospel. When I had my ‘born again’ experience I began to first write songs, and poems and parables. I then began my first Christian novel. (I had begun a novel in my early twenties, but I had thrown it away.) Next I added a few short stories to my writing experience. I also write Scripture Chain Reference Stories, which are solely the word of God making a point using only scriptures. All of my writing is scripture based and deals with life issues.

Epilogue
"Worthy Is The Lamb"

Revelations 8:1 And when he had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour.

I am a living epistle of the goodness and the grace of God. God has rescued me and ransomed me from a fate I could no way have avoided. I owe my everything to the Lord. He has shown me such grace and mercy. He has delivered me from a prison of emotional instability and torture. He has released me from the bondage of living a life of careless abandon.

I will walk all of my days in the light and the love of the Lord. I will one day cross out of this life and enter into the joy of the Lord. My destiny is in His hands, as my heart is in His care. I will trust the Lord at all times. His praise shall continually be in my mouth. My soul shall make its boast in the Lord, the humble shall hear there of and be glad.

Closing Parable:

The Seashell

A lonely lady wandered by the sea. The waves tumbled onto the shore in rhythm, as the sound of her feet softly made their own song.

Timidly stepping into the water, she felt something resting against her foot. She reached her hand down into the mysteries of the ocean floor and found that she had discovered a seashell.

The beauty of the shell captivated her, and she knew that it was to be hers, for she could not part with the treasure that she had found.

She clasped it next to her breast and was filled with joy of life. Her heart beat rapidly and she knew that there was something special about the shell that she had found.

Perhaps it can tell me the why of everything, she thought dreamily. She raised it to her ear, and it did. 1/85 A parable about Love. A parable about Jesus.

End

Outline:

Follow me Down, A PATH OF PEACE

Opening Poem:

Our Blessed Hope

I hear the sound, of a distant silence,
Telling my spirit
My Lord is near.
Leading me onward,
Leading me forward,
Leading me past the realm of fear.
Leading me to a hope of glory,
Leading me to a place of peace,
Leading me to His very presence,
Leading me to His sweet release.
Not right now, you can’t go with me,
But if you’ll follow, you can go.
Look well to all I have taught you,
And you my child, you will know.
The path I take, they’ve gone before me,
This path I take, will come again.
I am following in the footsteps
Of my Savior, and my friend.
And He will lead me ever onward,
To my home that’s far away.
Away from pain, and away from sorrow,
And away from you for a brief tomorrow.
He’s coming back, and I’ll be with Him.
He’s coming back, to claim His Bride.
He’s coming back, for His children,
For His family to join His side.
Let not your heart to be troubled,
Let not your spirit be dismayed.
Our hope could come at any moment,
Who can tell, maybe tomorrow’s today.
3/19/97

Note From Author
"Prophecy Smooth Things, So They Say"

Psalms 78:2 I will open my mouth in a parable: I will utter dark sayings of old.

Proverbs 14:12 There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the way thereof is death.

If it doesn’t hurt anyone, then how can it be wrong? When a person chooses to do what ever they please so often more than not it is themselves that get hurt, used, or disillusioned. We live in a day and time of the philosophy, “If it feels good, do it.” But you know what? Those warm fuzzy feelings go away. In their place so many times unrest settles into your spirit in a deep sense of dissatisfaction and sometimes self loathing. Peace is vanquished. (World Book Encyclopedia definition of vanquished: Defeated in a battle.) There is a battle that rages for our soul.

Chapter One
"The Path Isn't Always Smooth"

Genesis 49:17 Dan shall judge his people, as one of the tribes of Israel. Dan shall be a serpent by the way, an adder in the path, that biteth the horses heels, so that his rider shall fall backward. I have waited for thy salvation, O Lord.

There are many obstacles that try and keep us down, or from trusting God. One great obstacle that I have witnessed time and again is that great dreaded absolute, Death. I experienced death once again very personally just yesterday with the passing of my uncle. I had been contemplating writing about death, but not the death that came on the doorsteps of my thoughts. The death that I was contemplating was my cousin Kenny’s death which came so suddenly and unexpectedly a year ago. My Uncles’ death was one year and a day after I lost my cousin.

Chapter Two
"God Never Closes One Door Without Opening Another"

Numbers 22:24 But the angel of the Lord stood in a path of the vineyards, a wall being on this side, and a wall on that side.

God never closes one door without opening another, and He also never takes anything away from you without replacing it with something better. That is a truth that I have experienced to be true, and of great comfort.

I remember when I knew for a fact that it was time to leave California. How did I know? It was pretty clear! If it hadn’t been for the graffiti that began surfacing on my apartment complex’s walls, then it was most certainly when I was standing in my dining room and I watched a poor old lady get robbed down on the sidewalk right across the street from my apartment in broad daylight! Oh, she wasn’t close enough that I could shout or help, but she was close enough for me to know that it was time to be moving on!

Chapter Three
"Only God Knows The Secret Places Of Our Hearts"

Job 28:7 There is a path which no foul knoweth, and which the vulture’s eye hath not seen.

In my life I have found a serious tendency to hide my faults and to try and accentuate my strengths. Am I so different than other people? I think not. The trouble lies in trying to impress or appease others…

Compromise is a relatively simple enough word, but its ramifications are monumental. Now here would be a perfect place for an example. I can’t right off hand come up with one though. What does come to my mind isn’t an outright compromise, not like one would think, but a compromise just the same.

That would be when we compromise what we believe to be the right thing to do for what we ‘feel’ like doing. I pretty much know right from wrong. I also can pretty easily discern good from evil. That said, my question then is, “Then why do I act the way that I do?”

Chapter Four
"An Audience Of One"

Job 30:13 They mar my path, they set forward my calamity.

If God be for us, then who can be against us? It’s extremely important to dig your feet in, set your face, and keep steady your pace. It’d be real easy to pick up your toys and go home, and many do. Many people get disillusioned with people and completely drop out of the race. Who is the loser then? You can’t win a race if you don’t finish it.

What race? I’m talking about the race for the prize. The completion of the journey for that blessed day that the Lord announces, “Well done, my good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of the Lord.”

That prize won’t come without sacrifice or cost. Jesus laid it all on the line for our salvation, yet so many are destined for destruction and don’t realize that they have other choices.

Chapter Five
"What Kind Of Legacy Will I Leave?"

Job 41:32 He maketh a path to shine after him.

Isaiah 40:6-14 The voice said, Cry. And he said, What shall I cry? All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field: The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: because the spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it: surely the people is grass. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever. O Zion, that bringest good tidings, get thee up into the high mountain; O Jerusalem, that bringest good tidings, lift up thy voice with strength; lift it up, be not afraid; say unto the cities of Judah. Behold your God!

Chapter Six
"Choices"

Psalms 16:11 Thou will show me the path of life.

If you sow to the wind, then you will reap a whirlwind. That is a scripture found in the Old Testament by an Old Testament prophet. The saying still holds true today. You will reap what you sow; it’s a matter of fact.

I could go onto a mini Sermonette, but I won’t. I don’t much feel like preaching. I guess I’m just tired and haven’t been feeling well. I’m pressing on anyway. ‘Choices’ is a difficult subject for me, as I personally don’t like them! Oh, it’s not so bad if the answer is obvious, but when there are several different factors and when the final result is of great importance, that is when I’d prefer to pass, thank you!

Chapter Seven
"A Double Minded Man Is Unstable In All Of His Ways"

Psalms 27:11 Teach me thy way, O Lord, and lead me in a plain path.

James 1:5-8 If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him. But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like the wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed. For let not that man think that he shall receive anything of the Lord. A double minded man is unstable in all of his ways.

Chapter Eight
"The Unsearchable Depth Of God"

Psalms 77:19 Thy way is in the sea, and thy path in the great waters, and thy footsteps are not known.

Isaiah 55:6-13 Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near: Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater: so shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.

Chapter Nine
"Life Is For Living"

Psalms 119:35 Make me to go in the path of thy commandments; for therein do I delight.

There is a sense of joy that overshadows a true believer’s life. That joy can even be apparent in the midst of sorrow. I learned of my Grandma’s death on a Saturday and I sang with the choir on the following Sunday morning. I didn’t want to give in to the despair that was threatening to wrap itself around my spirit.

I had the opportunity to return to the place of my childhood and go to my Grandma’s memorial. I had been praying that I would be allowed to see my Grandma just one more time and to be able to hug her neck. I didn’t get to see her alive, but when I passed by her casket as I paid my last respects, I leaned over and I hugged the neck that used to be my Grandma’s. Oh, sure, I knew that she wasn’t there, but I had been praying to hug her neck, and that was the last chance I had to do it.

Chapter Ten
"Absolute Point Of Reference"

Psalms 119:105 Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.

Psalms 119:11 Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee.

I know that I have stated quite adamantly my desire for absolutes in my life. I’m thinking that the references are most likely in Even in Silence. I thrive on absolutes, and the greatest comfort and satisfaction that I have is in knowing that the word of God stands forever. People can deny it, and they can refute the validity of the truth within the pages of the Bible, but they can’t change the meaning or the permanence of the holy word of God.

In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. Those couple of sentences are the first words in the book of John. In those words are not only an absolute, but a mandate from God the Father to acknowledge Him as also God the Son.

Chapter Eleven
"God's Disclipline"

Psalms 139:3 Thou compasseth my path, and my laying down, and art acquainted with all of my ways.

Have you ever felt the sting of, ‘I never get away with anything,’? Boy, I have! All the time, it seems. I never get away with anything! The biggest problem with that is, that I shouldn’t be trying to in the first place! Now isn’t that an eye opener?

And you know who generally ‘catches’ me? My poor hubby! And boy does he get mad! I guess hurt is the better way to put it. He can’t believe it when he finds me trying to pull one over on him. Only it’s not really him that I’m trying to get over on, it’s just principle mainly. Still, I know that when I pull something and get caught that I deserve the reprimand, and he doesn’t deserve the hurt.

Chapter Twelve
"Overcoming"

Psalms 142:3 When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then thou knewest my path.

I was catatonic with disappointment once. I spent a few days in the darkness of my room, crying. I couldn’t seek comfort. The Lord delivered me out of the hurt and devastation that I was experiencing with a song. I had gone on a short road trip with my hubby, even though I didn’t want to go. On the trip the Lord gave me a song. As I wrote the song the oppression lifted and I was set free from the bondage of the situation.

The memory of that time is still a bitter pill, but no longer unbearable. It just came to my mind, but isn’t anything that I’ll share. The important part of the deal is that the Lord was faithful and delivered me even when I was too upset to be able to seek Him. I was too hurt and overwhelmed to cry out to God. In His infinite care and mercy God reached out to me.

Chapter Thirteen
"Even As By Fire"

Proverbs 1:15 Refrain thy foot from their path.

I am not going to attempt to get to Heaven by going through Hell. Now that may seem like a strange statement, but I mean it. I hold somewhat to what I’ve heard to be called a Calvinistic view. I believe with my whole heart that I am eternally secure in my salvation.

Do I feel that my faith gives me a right to sin my heart out and the Lord will accept me anyway? Not at all! I would no way want to stomp my way up to those pearly gates and announce my arrival and demand what is rightfully mine! I have been equally persuaded that a person can lose their salvation if they are living like the devil and turn their back on God. Listen to what I am saying.

The reason that I am secure in my belief that I am eternally saved is because I am sincere in seeking the Lord and I live to please Him. Sure, I fall terribly short, but I’m still out there trying. I’m not living like a heathen and pretending to be a saint. God knows the secret places of our hearts. He knows if we are only in this whole Christianity thing for the ‘door’ prize. There are no secrets that can be kept from the omniscience of Almighty God. Our all-knowing Creator isn’t going to have the wool pulled over His eyes so to speak. We aren’t going to be able to deceive the Father of lights with darkness and secret sins.

Chapter Fourteen
"Seize The Day"

Proverbs 2:9 Then thou shalt understand righteousness, and judgment and equity, and every good path.

I saw courage speeding down the sidewalk on a wheelchair today. Hanging on with their hair flying in the wind were two little girls. And then to top off this unbelievable picture a third little girl standing on the back of the wheelchair hanging on as they flew along… What an amazing sight! This woman was tooling down the sidewalk, I kid you not, and with three little girls all sharing her wheelchair. Incredible!

I wanted to stop my car and go and follow them. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know what put that young woman in a wheelchair, and what gave her the courage to stretch herself way outside of her limitations and throw caution to the wind and dare to live! They weren’t just moseying along I tell you! They were really going at a breakneck speed for a wheelchair!

Chapter Fifteen
"A Hard Lesson"

Proverbs 4:14 Enter not the path of the wicked.

Oh, be careful little mouth what you speak… The words to that little song are so very instructing, and yet so evasive! How many times do we find ourselves in situations that we really can’t quite figure out how we could have ever gotten there?

I ran into a woman today that I had crossed paths with before. We didn’t speak; in fact, I turned the other way and made a conscious decision not to look her direction again. Now why would I have someone that I felt so strongly about that I would do that? Because of my mouth, that is why. And I hadn’t even done anything wrong! I had gotten into a situation that I thought that she would rectify as she was a business owner and I was certain that she would handle the dispute between one of her employees and me. Boy was I wrong!

Chapter Sixteen
"Right With God"

Proverbs 4:18 But the path of the just is as the shining light; that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.

Jesus exhorts us to, “be ye perfect, as I am perfect.” Now, isn’t that a tall order? I’m thinking so, especially after my last chapter! Don’t think that isn’t still fresh on my mind! I enjoy the Lord’s sense of humor. He’s working on me, and having a time at it, and I’m being worked on, and not always all that ecstatic! I know what the Lord expects from me, but I sure don’t always produce!

My pastor is always reminding us to put our faults and our weaknesses under the blood. He will softly remind us to First John One Nine it. First John One Nine states that if we confess our sins then God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. I’m pretty good at putting things under the blood, and why not? That is the key to where all forgiveness flows and also the key to a ‘right’ relationship with God. I don’t want to be at odds with my advocate and my Savior! I want the Lord to stick up for me and to be on my side. It states in the Bible that if I hold iniquity in my heart then the Lord will not hear me. When I cry out to God I need Him to hear me!

Chapter Seventeen
"Faith Seeds"

Proverbs 4:26 Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established.

My past caught up with me today. Her name rings so many distant memories. Not all of them are good, but so many of them are. She and I go back a long way, and in this relationship, she goes down pretty far. By the time that we had met I had already found my footing, but her path was not sure. That’s an understatement.

My friend, Dana and I met when she was just a kid. She was out there though. She was busy doing what she wanted to do. She was full of ideas and ideals. She was also full of mischief… She didn’t mean any harm, but her life was a mess.

I won’t go into all of the things that she has had to overcome through the years, but I will say that she has had to deal with enough adversity to last several lifetimes. It is only by the grace of God that she is even alive today to be contacting me, let alone to share such a good report!

Chapter Eighteen
"Divine Favor"

Isaiah 26:7 The way of the just is uprightness: thou, most upright, dost weigh the path of the just.

I’ve been wandering around for several years now doing my best to do the right thing. I have been rewarded for that diligence with what I could only call Divine favor. I have been so fortunate in so many different areas of my life. I have a wonderful husband. I have been blessed with six healthy children all of which I have a good relationship with. I live in a beautiful home in a nice community. I have many things to be thankful for.

I’d like to elaborate on a friendship that I have been blessed with. I know that I have been incredibly blessed to not only know this couple and their teen age son, but to also have the privilege to call them my friends. I’m not going for sensationalism here. I just believe that I have had a chance of a lifetime and isn’t that what I’m about, sharing moments?

Chapter Nineteen
"Relationships"

Proverbs 5:6 Ponder the path of life.

In the opening of EVEN IN SILENCE, The Journey of a Lady Preacher, I started out with two pretty lengthy scriptures, (Psalms 138 and Psalms 139.) I didn’t pick those scriptures at random. I picked them with purpose. They speak volumes to my soul. (Or should I say spirit?) Within those two chapters it is established that God knew me before I was born and that He was going to complete the work that He has begun in me.

I never fully understood the concept of being known before I was born, that is until I was impressed in my spirit that my first born son was going to be fathering another child. I was in my extremely spacious bedroom doing my laundry when I heard the internal prompting of the Holy Spirit speaking to me. Just out of the blue, on an otherwise ordinary day.

“Bryan is going to have another baby.”

Chapter Twenty
"Commitment"

Joel 2:8 They shall walk everyone in his path.

“Grandpa, why are you so mean to Grandma?” I was
indignant, I was tired, and I was also very pregnant. That was not a great combination! I had been awakened at about five in the morning to the sound of my Grandfather making unreasonable demands upon my Grandmother. I was not a happy camper!

I had lividly hobbled out of bed and I confronted my not-so
nice Grandfather who was sickly and bed-bound. I stood over him with all of my wrath and indignation. I was just and I was angry. I was also shocked… I had scared the poor old man half out of his wits. I’m not sure if anyone had ever confronted the man about his bad behavior before. Not only that, but he was a helpless invalid! Shame on me!

Chapter Twenty-One
"The Lord's Army"

Isaiah 43:16-19 Thus saith the Lord, which maketh a way in
the sea, and a path in the mighty waters; which bringeth forth the chariot and horse, the army and power; they shall lie down together, they shall not rise: they are extinct, they are quenched as tow. Remember not the former things, neither consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.

God is going to lay it all on the line, and it will be His people
that are left standing. There isn’t a power in heaven or on earth that can come against the almighty power of God. But don’t think that there won’t be opposition. Already the masses are trying to gain strength in numbers. A scripture in the book of Romans comes right straight to me. “What shall we then say to these things? If God be for us, then who can be against us?”

Chapter Twenty-Two
"The Diety Of Christ"

(A Scripture Chain Reference Story)
A Labor of Love
I Corinthians 12:3 Wherefore I give you to understand, that no man speaking by the Spirit of God calleth Jesus accursed: and that no man can say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost.

References: Holy Bible King James Version

1. Isaiah 48:12
2. Revelation 1:8
3. Revelation 1:11
4. Revelation 1:17,18
5. Isaiah 9:6
6. Luke 2:11
7. Revelation 21:6
8. Isaiah 12:2,3
9. Jeremiah 2:11-13
10. Isaiah 44:3
11. John 4:10
12. John 4:14
13. John 7:38
14. John 4:22-24
15. John 14:6-10
16. John 3:5,6
17. Isaiah 26:2-4
18. Isaiah 26:9
19. Isaiah 55: 6
20. Isaiah 25:1
21. Revelation 19:11-13
22. John 1:1,2
23. Psalms 23
24. John 10:11
25. Isaiah 40:10,11
26. Hebrews 13:5,6
27. Jeremiah 13:15-17
28. John 1:1-10
29. Isaiah 58:10,11
30. John 12:35
31. Matthew 5:14-16
32. Isaiah 45:5-7
33. Mark 12:29-31
34. Titus 1:1-4
35. Titus 2:10
36. Titus 2:13-15
37. Isaiah 44:8
38. Mark 11:22
39. Luke 18:7,8
40. John 8:29
41. John 16:32,33
42. John 3:13
43. John 8:58
44. John 10:30
45. John 10:37,38
46. John 12:44,45
47. Isaiah 45:21-23
48. Romans 14:7-11
49. Philippians 2:9-11
50. I Timothy 3:16
51. Luke 8:39
52.Luke 10:16-24
53. Isaiah 29:13,14
54. Jeremiah 5:21,22
55. Job 28:28
56. Matthew 10:16-22
57. Psalms 27:14
58. Luke 21:19
59. Matthew 24:9-13
60. Isaiah 24:18
61. Matthew 16:24,25
62. Mark 13:13
63. Matthew 28:18-20
64. Isaiah 25:8,9
65. Isaiah 26:19
66. II Corinthians 5:14-21
67. Galatians 2:20
68. John 3:3
69. I Corinthians 15:22
70. I Corinthians 15:26
71. I Corinthians 15:41-47
72. I Corinthians 15:53-58
73. John 3:5,6
74. Galatians 1:11,12
75. Revelation 19:10
76. Jeremiah 9:23,24
77. Deuteronomy 6:4,5

Reflections on Love

I reached to give my Lord my heart and realized that I had already given it to him. Then my soul came into my mind and I realized my soul never was mine to give. Always my Lord has owned my soul. I took a breath and realized my Lord is my breath. The “I love you’s” I have already and will continue to fulfill. Now for the “And yours”
2/6/85

Closing Poem:

Growing to Perfection

Beyond the powers of darkness lives our Savior, Jesus, the Christ, the precious Son of God.

Lord of lords, King of kings, Priest and Prophet, the living Word, our Messiah.

His light is shinning brilliantly for he is The Bright and Morning Star, Emanuel, The Prince of Peace;

And he is reigning with sunshine, creating a rainbow, from the Alpha to Omega, of hope, in the heart of man.

He is Faithful and True, a Loyal Servant, our Friend, Almighty God Incarnate, the Son of man.

A heart right with God will shed its life sustaining blood for others, as did the Crucified, Sacrificial Lamb of the Calvary Cross. Sacrifice proves the depth of a love.

Challenged, but undefeatable, the Comfort of Love will enable even the frailest of flowers to grow in courage and knowledge, despite the fiercest winds of doctrine threatening to destroy the tender plant.

Richly scented, as the petals of a rose as it opens bravely, patience delicately perfumes time, sending a strong sweet smelling aroma of wisdom into the air.

Fancy free and joyously a little bee hums happily, carrying wisdom’s nectar to the shore of disbelief, stinging the blind eyes of doubt into seeing Truth.

Doubt is left in the wake of faith as Truth righteously feeds hungry souls with the Gospel of The Bread of Life.

Spiritually propelled, Truth dares to roar down the treacherous waterfalls of circumstance, without fear, to where the calm water of Eternity lead to where the waters run deep, and where Our Great Redeemer catches Hell with his Omnipotent net of Power, and casts it, along with Death, down forevermore, as the Rock of our Salvation stands exalted, giving abundantly life everlasting in flowing fountains of Mercy. Grace is gloriously seen in the pollen of the full bloomed Rose.
9/6/85

End

If anyone has actually made it to the bottom of this post, and that by reading and not merely scrolling down, then I would offer to post for that 'honest' soul any chapter in either of the two books upon request.

What Would Sarah Say?

2006-08-16T16:48:00.000-07:00

So hubby tells me, "I think that the Lord wants me to give Vickie this car."

Now me, I'm not so certain. The last time that hubby gave away a car, well, okay, not the last time, but one time, it came back to bite him. Oh, he didn't get miffed, but I sure did! I won't go into any details as this blog is after all, world wide and I don't need to be airing dirty laundry in this forum... Anyway, I wasn't as confident as my hubby appeared to be that hubby was actually hearing the voice of God in this situation. Vickie is a nice woman, don't get me wrong. I just wasn't feeling quite as generous I guess I'm saying.

I know that doesn't put me in that great of a light, but that's just how it is. I know that my husband works awful hard for everything that we've got and he put that paint job on that car himself. It took him a lot of time and effort, not to mention the expense of materials and the purchasing of the car in the first place. With my job I just don't help out with our living expenses all that much and I hate that hubby has to work so very hard.

Anyway, I tell hubby that I'm not so sure about the deal and I tell him of my reservations. Hubby is ready to walk away from the idea, except he drops this wonderful thought on me. "I just don't want to miss God on this." Okay, so I have to step back and consider it all. It's my friend and hubby has expressed that it is me that has to offer the car... So I get to thinking about it but I say nothing to hubby. A few days pass and again hubby expresses his great desire to give Vickie the wagon. This time he chimes in, "I think I'll give Vickie the car. I am going to offer it like Abraham did Isaac, and if God doesn't want me to give it up, then He will stop me."

That's when I got really creative. I asked hubby, "I wonder what Sarah would have said about Abraham offering up Isaac? I bet Abraham didn't ask her if she wanted him to sacrifice their son."

Hubby responded like what I would call a typical man, now correct me if I'm wrong! "She would probably have done the same as Job's wife did, tell him to curse God and die."

He had a point. I bet Sarah wasn't asked her opinion in the matter.

I released any concern that I had in the deal. I did insist that it was his car and his responsibility to give it to the woman though. Hubby had been clear to me that a gift that didn't cost you anything was not a gift at all. As it was not mine to give, I was quite happy to leave him to the task at hand.

Our pastor had been speaking on tithes and offerings at church. Hubby had stepped out of the sanctuary, but I didn't miss the point when the pastor said that the Lord blesses us with an overabundance so that we can give from our excess. The wagon was an extra car that was just sitting in our driveway, along with two cars, a mini van, a truck, and an SUV. Cars to my husband are worthy investments...

You know, the first thing that Vickie said was that she was going to use the car and go to Las Vegas to see her son. She hadn't seen him all summer and her car (that is broke down) wouldn't get her there. The wagon will serve her well.

"You just watch how God blesses me." Hubby smiled as he released the reliable transportation to the single mother of three...

I shouldn't have kicked and fussed so much. I know exactly what being a single mother of three looks and feels like. I was there. One of these days hubby's going to tell me that the Lord told him to give away a car and I won't give him any grief at all... maybe... one day...

Spoiling Small Child

2006-08-12T23:13:00.000-07:00

VOTE FOR SARA! My youngest is running for class President! My shy little Sara. She has already been elected to be the classroom secretary! Then she won a place on Student Council and now she's running for class President! Of course I am amazed, and pleased beyond reproach!

I made up these pretty little flower pots for Sara to distribute to the 5th grade teachers and one for the office, another for the library and then one for the computer room. We'll be using this photo on her campaign posters so that whenever the students see the pretty flowering (red) plants then they will think about my Sara. Each pot has Sara 4 on the rim and VOTE on the base of the pots. Hubby fussed that I wasn't writing like people read... Sometimes a girl's just got to do what a girl's got to do! I added the 4 to appease him. I would have just left it with Sara on the rims and vote on the bases myself.

It took me quite a while, but an accomplishment that I can be proud of! I already had the little pink pots so I just needed to glue a little plug in each one so that they didn't need a drain plate and then I had to write on each pot, and then paint them. I had a plant that I wanted to transplant and so I used it for the pots. They are a succulent and super easy to deal with. Now just to keep them alive! I had dealt with a few starts a week or so ago that is doing well and so I am extremely hopeful!

Sara got up the nerve to go down town with me today and audition for The Wizard of Oz musical that The Elks Theatre is going to be putting on in October. Except for when we got to the cost of $350.00! I had no idea! Sometimes I amaze myself at my ignorance! Here I was hoping that it wasn't a group all ran by politics! It turned out worse than I ever imagined! The main characters are charged $600.00 each! Not only all that but there are three different casts!!! Talk about a major financial money-pit! I know that the Elks Theatre is an historical landmark, but really! Anyway, I was shocked and a bit miffed. It took Sara a lot of courage to even consider auditioning. Sara has a beautiful voice. Once I saw how much cold cash the peoples expected to have handed into their hot little hands the small child and myself exited quietly with her autistic friend right beside us. At that point in time we were all happy to have each other.

My child is socially challenged and this production could have really done her a lot of good. She's come a long way, but still, any time that she stretches herself outside of her narrow boundaries is good for her emotional well-being. And the friend, the little autistic boy. Well, I don't even have to say how much having a part in this production could have meant to him!

Oh well, such is life. There will be other opportunities. We have a nice little local theatre. I'm going to try and keep my eyes open for when they audition for their next production. And while I'm at it, I'll make sure to call the friend to join my little girl!

I think that if Sara had had her heart set on being in The Wizard of Oz then her daddy would have forked over the dough. It's a lot of money, but he knows how much good it would have done her. But then again, maybe not. The schedules that we would have had to keep were horrendous! Anyway, Sara wasn't all that sure that she would be able to be in front of so many people in the first place. She has sang in the school's talent show two years in a row and had a solo in a church program last summer, but otherwise she keeps a low profile. Last year she sang "Soak up the Sun" with a soundtrack by Cheryl Crowe and had the whole auditorium silent as they listened to her sing. Her voice is captivating and it makes me so proud of her.

I could brag on, but I guess I won't. I'm glad that I got Sara's little pots planted. Now all they have to do is bloom! We have about a week for them to get acclimated to their pots. I made an extra one for Sara to keep, and one to give to a friend. They will be gifts to the teachers whose classes they are displayed in... (if such a thing is allowed!) Anyway, that's my blog.

I Don't Like to Fold Cold Clothes

2006-08-10T21:56:00.000-07:00

You know, I don't mind doing the laundry, I really don't, but please, please, don't expect me to fold cold clothes! There is something warm and friendly about laundry fresh out of the dryer. Not hot mind you, but warm clothes. Hot clothes are not pleasant. And if you're messing with hot clothes then you had better watch out for the snaps and zippers 'cause they'll burn the stink out of you. And not just your hands either. If a snap happens to rest against any exposed skin then you've had it. Hot clothes tend to be wrinkled too if they get too hot. And cold clothes, well, that's a no-brainer. Cold clothes are most definitely wrinkled! They are also just outright unfriendly to the touch. There's a stiffness most unpleasant about cold clothes and the coldness of the clothes is plain out anti-social. But warm clothes, ah, now that's a pleasure. They feel nice and they look nice.

Notice the picture above. Now those were some warm clothes. And not just 'touched up' warm, but fresh warm clothes, although there really is no difference whether they are fresh warm or touched up warm as long as the touched up warm clothes have had adequate time to be 'freshened up'. And don't go mixing darks and lights! It's okay to wash light colored clothes with your whites, so long as you don't intend to use chlorine bleach, which I never do anyway. Have you ever noticed that if you use chlorine bleach on your whites they get this 'used' feel pretty straight away. And forget about the elastic in socks and uns if you use too much bleach! You may as well have gained fifty pounds overnight because the things just hang after your miraculous weight reduction when you go to wear the things! And if you're washing the darks with the lights then your pinks and yellows will have a not so pretty grey hue to them, not to mention your not at all whites...

I'm not a gardener. I love pretty trees and shrubs and flowers, but I hate, and I do mean hate, to get my hands dirty. There is something just utterly yuk about wet, or dirty, or sticky hands that drives me to tears. And then what really gets me is when I get that dish towel all soggy from washing off and drying off my hands while doing various kitchen chores. The same thing happens when I'm getting ready for the day. I'll put on lotion and wash and dry my hands. Then I'll remember that I hadn't rubbed in all of the lotion on my legs. Back to the sink when I'm done and to the now lightly damp towel. I won't get redundant, but I must wash and dry my hands about ten times by time I get my makeup on and my hair done and lotioned up. Again with the soggy towel! I do not like soggy towels! And cold soggy towels, forget about it!!! And don't be leaving that dish cloth in the sink floating in water if you want me near it! Wring it out, it's not that difficult!

Or how about if I get out of the pool and for any given reason decide to soak my head again before calling it a day? That has got to be about the worst if I don't have an extra towel and have to actually dry off with a damp towel! When that happens, which is incredibly rare, I am miserable!

While I'm all about what I don't like I'd like to say that I do not like to look at fat bellies. Now, a trim and tan tummy is youthful and cute, but when blubber is all you have to parade then you need to pull some length into your shirt and go home. And I don't appreciate knowing what kind of panties you have on either. Moderation in all things is the winning key!

I won't go flaunting my personal properties in public, and I'd appreciate it if you would pay me the same courtesy. And fat old men. Do me a favor. Wear a shirt at least!

There. That beats the heck out of worrying about the Middle East and the state of the Nation!