Glorious gowns of green sing Spring!
THE LETTER OF HOPE
I have been tied up with some of life’s busyness and have finally gotten back to to Finish It! by authorsbmazing for FINISH IT! #14. Hope you enjoy it!
Here is her prompt for Finish It #14
He looked at the letter. Over and over again. Maybe he was dreaming. This was too good to be true! Life had been rough recently. He checked again, if the letter was really addressed to him. If this was true, it would change everything.
Please continue…
Ben turned the letter over again. Yes, it was addressed to him: Benjamin Alstead. The name on the return label was from the man his friend Randall Cavin had identified as his biological father, William Barston. Randall had told him that William would contact Ben if he wanted to talk with him.
Ben thought back over his search for his biological parents. It had been a long search. The laws in his state kept the adoption closed, but Ben had prayed that he would find them. His adopted parents warned him,“Biological parents have their reasons to keep the adoption closed, Ben. There may be a road of hurt before you.”
Ben had studied his parents’ faces. “You know I don’t want to do this because you have been bad parents. You are the best parents in the world. It’s just that it’s something I have to do.”
His mother had sighed and leaned against his father, looking up into his face. Ben watched as his adopted father looked down at his mother. When they looked back at him, they nodded. “Ben, if this is what you really want to do, we wish you God-speed. We are here for you, son, and we’ll help you any way we can.”
And they had. But the search was not complete when they were killed in an automobile accident. The need to find his biological parents increased. They would keep him from being an orphan, without family! The search went on hold during the settling of his parents’ estate. But he knew he would have to get back into it, refusing to believe it could lead to more pain than he had now.
His year was lonely with grieving. His heart ached to find his biological parents, especially his father. Then he was surprised by the contact from his parents’ friend from years before.
“Hi. My name is Randall Cavin. If you are Ben, the son of Carl and Ashley, give me a call or email me,” he said in a letter. It had been a long time since he had heard that name, but he did vaguely remember it. He had been friends with Ben’s adopted parents but he had moved and conversation between the friends had grown sparse. Ben decided to send an email right away, confirming Randall’s suspicion.
The reply was immediate. “Ben, I read about your folks’ deaths. I am so sorry. I’m an attorney and was involved with a case and couldn’t do anything at the time. Give me a call tomorrow. I would love to know how you are and what I can do to help you.”
Ben told Randall about his search and Randall said he would like to help Ben. “But,” he warned, “it may lead to more pain than you have now.”
“That’s what my parents said,” Ben had answered. “But I have to do this.”
And so the search had continued. Then a call from Randall made Ben’s heart leap. He had found Ben’s father. “If he is going to have you be part of his life, he will write you a letter.”
Ben waited. As the month passed, he wondered if he should give up. And then the letter came in the mail. Ben stared at it. Was it really for him? Was it really from his biological father? With trembling hands, he tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter. He hands still trembled as he read, “Dear Ben, your friend Randall contacted me. He told us about you and we realized that you are our biological son. He told me about your adopted parents. We are so sorry. Ben, it has been more than 25 years that we have thought about you. We were too young to marry when you were born and it was with heavy hearts that we put you up for adoption. It was several years before we married and although we wanted to know you, we felt it was best to leave things as they were. We have thought much about it and have decided we want you to be part of our lives.”
The visit with his father and mother had been all that Ben had hoped it was. He had not only father and mother, but brother and sister. He put the letter in a safe place. It had changed his life and he would value it forever.
WHEN I’M AN OLD LADY AND LIVE WITH MY KIDS
Sent to me by a friend. Since I am going to live with one of my daughters, I thought they might enjoy it, especially the one I will not be living with! 🙂
WHEN I’M AN OLD LADY AND LIVE WITH MY KIDS
When I’m an old lady, I’ll live with each kid,
And bring so much happiness just as they did.
I want to pay back all the joy they’ve provided.
Returning each deed! Oh, they’ll be so excited!
When I’m an old lady and live with my kids.
I’ll write on the walls with red, white and blues,
And I’ll bounce on the furniture wearing my shoes.
I’ll drink from the carton and then leave it out.
I’ll stuff all the toilets and oh, how they’ll shout!
When I’m an old lady and live with my kids.
When they’re on the phone and just out of reach,
I’ll get into things like sugar and bleach.
Oh, they’ll snap their fingers and then shake their heads,
When I’m an old lady and live with my kids.
When they cook dinner and call me to eat,
I’ll not eat my green beans or salad or meat,
I’ll gag on my okra, spill milk on the table,
And when they get angry I’ll run if I’m able!
When I’m an old lady and live with my kids.
I’ll sit close to the TV, through channels I’ll click,
I’ll cross both eyes just to see if they stick.
I’ll take off my socks and throw one away,
And play in the mud ‘til the end of the day!
When I’m an old lady and live with my kids.
And later in bed, I’ll lay back and sigh,
I’ll thank God in prayer and then close my eyes.
My kids will look down with a smile slowly creeping,
And say with a groan, “She’s so sweet when she’s sleeping!”
The Backward Brain
We think once learn to ride a bicycle, we will always be able to ride a bicycle. But is that true? A fascinating video about the brain.
Knowledge does not = understanding.
Free Style Writing Challenge
Thanks, Julie, from light and life, for the inviting me to be part of the Free Style Writing Challenge. It has taken me far to long to settle down to do it, but here it is.
Here are the cut-and-pasted rules:
Open an MS Word document (or Pages)
1. Set a stop watch or your mobile to 5 minutes or 10 minutes whichever challenge you think you can beat. (Not sure what that meant so I just set the timer for 10)
2. Your topic is at the foot of this post BUT DO NOT SCROLL DOWN TO SEE IT UNTIL YOU ARE READY WITH A TIMER.
3. Fill the word doc with as many words as you want. Once you began writing do not stop even to turn.
4. Do not cheat by going back and correcting spellings and grammar with spell check in MS WORD (it is only meant for you to reflect on your own control of sensible thought flow and for you to reflect on your ability to write the right spelling and stick to grammar rules)
5. You may or may not pay attention to punctuation and capitals. However, if you do, it would be best.
6. At the end of your post write down ‘No. Of words =_____’ so that we would have an idea of how much you can write within the time frame.
7. Do not forget to copy paste the entire passage on your blog post with a new Topic for your nominees and copy paste these rules with your nominations (at least 5 bloggers).
The topic I had to write about: WHEN I WAS PROUDEST OF MYSELF
The time I was proudest of myself. I guess that’s when I discovered my poem, “The Difference” was being published. It was under the name “anonymous” because it had somehow escaped the small poem book my husband and I had put together and sold on consignment at a Christian bookstore. The book was for a printing class and it was the project my husband and I had taken together. We had chosen it because I had several poems I had written—many, in fact—and we needed a project for our class. It worked out well. My husband chose some paper for the cover, which was very nice.
Twenty years later, we found the poem in book had been published under “author anonymous.” It was quite a surprise. We had copyrighted the book and so we were able to contact the people who were using it to let them know I was the author of that poem. Several large companies had printed bookmarks, plaques, among other things, and when they acknowledged that I was the author, they gave me a royalty on what they had sold.
Selling poetry is not easy. There is a lot of poetry out there and it sells to not a lot of people. However, one man who worked for an art company got hold of me and asked if he could use it if he gave me a royalty in advance. I said yes. He sent the paper work and I signed it. I received the check and the future royalty sales of that poem were taken out of the advance. He had a beautiful picture with it, which went along with the poem so well. It was a large stone altar on one side of the poem and a door on the other. It looked so beautiful. And he put my name on it!
Actually, to say I was proud of myself was not quite the way to say it. I was blessed, proud that God could use what I wrote to bless others. Many said they were blessed by it.
I was not able to sell more of my poems because I was not well known, but to know that I was a blessing to others, even though unknown, was neat.
Number of words: 379
The words for THE DIFFERENCE:
I got up early one morning
and rushed right into the day.
I had so much to accomplish
that I didn’t take time to pray.
Troubles just tumbled about me,
and heavier came each task.
“Why doesn’t God help me?” I wondered.
He answered, “You didn’t ask.”
I wanted to see joy and beauty,
but the day toiled on, gray and bleak.
I wondered why God didn’t show me.
He said, “But you didn’t seek.”
I tried to come into God’s presence.
I tried all the keys in the lock.
God gently and lovingly chided,
“But child, you didn’t knock.”
I woke up early this morning,
and paused before entering the day.
I had so much to accomplish
that I had to take time to pray.
Now it’s the turn of my five worthy opponents:
good woman
spencesgirl
all about cheryl
Friendly Fairy Tales
send sunshine
set your timer and scroll down:
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Your topic: A time you had victory over a problem or fear
FOLLOWED!
Thanks Author S B Mazing for another story prompt for Blog Event Finish It #13. I hope you enjoy the finish of the story! The prompt: she kept looking in her mirror. The car was still following her. She was sure it was the same car. She did another unnecessary turn, just to see what the driver in the dark Suburban would do. Maybe she was crazy. Maybe he was heading the same direction she was. But there was this weird feeling. This sick gut feeling and the last had taught her to listen to her instincts.
Please continue…
The last time Lisa had been followed was when she went to visit her daughter. She had passed a man and he began to follow her too closely. She had tried to leave quite a bit of room when she pulled back in the lane, but perhaps he thought she was too close. After a few miles of his tailgating, she started to call 911. Just then, a police car pulled in front of her. She blinked her lights several times and the police car pulled off the road. He pulled back on the road behind the car following her and pulled him over. Lisa had turned off at the next corner and taken several other streets so whoever it was couldn’t find her.
It had been a long time, but Lisa could remember how she had breathed a prayer of thanks for God’s protection. It helped overcome the fear that had nagged her while the car was following her.
Now as Lisa glanced in the mirror at the suburban behind her, she had a sense of peace that helped her not to panic. She knew she was too close to home and she couldn’t go there with this guy behind her.
“Father God, I’m going to go to the police station,” she said to herself. “I sure don’t want to take this guy to my house. I ask that you would send him away!” She turned onto the next street away from home and toward the police station. The suburban followed her. Another couple turns and she pulled up into the parking lot of the police station. She left her engine while she watched the suburban slow, than speed away.
A woman had come out of the building and came over to her car. Lisa rolled down her window. “You okay?” the woman asked. “I was leaving and saw you pull up and that guy take off.”
Lisa let out her breath, and nodded. “Yes, thank you. He has been following me for several miles.”
The woman nodded. “It was a good thing to come here. Do you have a license number?”
“No. I only saw the front of the car.”
The woman smiled. She reached in the window and put her hand in hand on Lisa shoulder. “I’m Officer Kate. Tell you what, I’ll follow you home.”
Lisa nodded. “Thanks. I’m a little shaken.” Kate went to her car and followed Lisa out of the parking lot. Lisa appreciated Officer Kate’s friendliness and help. She kept her eyes open on the way home. No sign of the follower.
At her house, Lisa waved as she pulled in the driveway. Officer Kate waved back and Lisa pressed the garage door opener button. She pulled into the garage, turned off the engine and pressed the button to close the garage door. As she stepped out, she breathed a prayer, “Father God, thank you.” She smiled and pushed open the door into the house.
Never Talk To Strangers
What an eye-opener!
We’ve all been told to never talk to strangers and we probably all said the exact same thing to our kids. Easy to remember, right? Or maybe not so much. Especially when we also teach the kids not to be rude. So what is it now? Which one to consider? Should they be polite and answer questions as long as the person asking seems nice and polite and actually not dangerous? Or should they follow the don’t talk to stranger rule?
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LINK WITH THE PAST
Last assignment of Writing 101 is for Day Twenty: The Things We Treasure: Today’s Prompt: Tell us the story of your most-prized possession. For this final assignment, lead us through the history of an object that bears a special meaning to you. Today’s twist: We extolled the virtues of brevity back on day five, but now, let’s jump to the other side of the spectrum and turn to longform writing. Let’s celebrate the drawn-out, slowly cooked, wide-shot narrative. You can go with a set number — 750, 1000, or 2000 words, or more (or less!)
I looked down at the item in the box that my sister Gayle put in my hands. I hadn’t seen it for years. What memories it brought back of the fun of looking at three dimensional pictures.
These memories began with visits to Aunt Laura’s house, a small home that this widowed lady had stuffed with many things. Aunt Laura was the oldest sister of my mom’s father, born sometime in the late 1870’s or 80’s. We loved Aunt Laura and she always seemed glad to see us. However, her house was not a very exciting place for two youngsters, five and six. Aunt Laura had the answer. She would bring out her “Holmes Stereoscope” and this “machine” would bring the world outside alive to my sister and me. With great anticipation, Gayle and I would argue about who got to see it first, but at Aunt Laura’s urgings to share, and my mom’s warnings about putting it away, we would share it. As we put a card in the holder and moved it backward or forward until the picture was in focus, magic appeared before us. The double images on the stiff cardboard rectangle before us blended together in a three-dimensional picture and the walls around us opened to the waterfall cascading over the cliff; or a mother in her kitchen, baking; or a small boy and his dog kneeling beside his bed, saying their bedtime prayers. One of us would look and soak it in, then pass it to the other to enjoy, trying to wait patiently until it was time to put another card into the card holder.
We loved it so much that after a later visit, Aunt Laura said she wanted us to have it. We gasped in delight. The fantastic 3-D machine would be available whenever we wanted to use it.
And now, I held the precious machine. Its rickety state showed how much my sister’s children and grandchildren had enjoyed it. I knew it would never make it through more children unless I was there to oversee the process. I wrapped it up carefully, wondering what the value of a well beloved stereoscope was. I looked up stereoscopes on the internet and found that they were fairly recently still being made! Our stereoscope would remain a sentimental item.
Later, I wondered, would my grandchildren appreciate this old picture viewer? Would the pictures I remember be as wonderful to them as they were to me? Technology has improved things, even those things that to me are not so old, like eight track and cassette tapes.
There are other items classified as stereoscopes, among them the View-Master made in 1939. In the 1960’s and years following, they were a favorite toy of children, who like my sister and I, enjoyed the world around them reaching into their lives. They were great, but the pictures on the cardboard disks were never as nice as those on my stereoscope. But progress changes things and View-Masters were easier to use than stereoscopes.
Having the stereoscope goes beyond the fun of seeing those pictures as if I was looking at the real scene, it is about having something in my possession that links me to my grandparents and the time they grew up in. It makes me wonder what Aunt Laura thought about new inventions, like electric lights and telephones, to say nothing of cars and airplanes!
According to Wikipedia, this Holmes Stereoscope was created in 1861 by Oliver Wendell Holmes. “He created and deliberately did not patent a handheld, streamlined, much more economical viewer than had been available before. The stereoscope, which dates from the 1850s, consisted of two prismatic lenses and a wooden stand to hold the stereo card. This type of stereoscope remained in production for a century and there are still companies making them in limited production currently. It is primarily American, although it is often named ‘Mexican stereoscope.’ ”
COMING UP IN THE WORLD
Day Fifteen: Your Voice Will Find You. Today’s Prompt: Think about an event you’ve attended and loved. Imagine you’re told it will be cancelled forever or taken over by an evil corporate force. How does that make you feel? Today’s twist: While writing this post, focus again on your own voice.
The County Fair. What a neat place to spend the day with my daughters. We would get there early before the rides began, have hot chocolate and then wander through the exhibits to see what people had made or were selling. My girls were small then so they enjoyed everything, even the commercial exhibits where they could spend a little money on one of the million things being offered for sale! We would visit the animals: the rabbits, the chickens, the guinea pigs, the cows, the sheep, the pigs, the llamas, dogs, cats, horses. One year we even saw a camel! If we timed it right, we got to see the 4-Hers do their routines with their animals. There was a grandstand, but we were more interested in the small entertainment stages throughout the fairgrounds. We would take a break and get a delicious milkshake from the Dairy Booth. And when the rides were open, my girls rode a few of the kiddie rides since they were too young for the big ones. It was a wonderful day, out in the country, looking at interesting things.
As my girls grew, the visit to the fair took on different aspects. They both got involved with 4-H and were busy with the dog, cat, and rabbit projects. The days of coming for hot chocolate and wandering through the exhibits with my little girls was over, but I still enjoyed all the sights and sounds of the county fair.
And then, it changed. The county commissioners built a large building for all the exhibits, commercial or otherwise, out of the heat and weather in a nice air-conditioned building. They were planning ways to separate the animals and 4-H events from the rest of the fair; it was becoming sanitized; a place that lost its country feeling where you could buy cotton candy or elephant ears, and wander through the exhibits or into the places where the animals were. Or see, tucked in the back of the fair, farm machinery from the past or a man making animals out of a small sheet of metal. We could walk through one exhibit hall back to the outside where you could buy a piece of jewelry or a scarf, and with your gems in a bag provided by a political booth, go through another exhibit hall and out to a small entertainment plaza, surrounded by grass sitting to watch someone, or group, sing, dance or be a comedian.
The country fair was giving way to the city. I along with others felt betrayed by those who ran the county fair and decided it should come up in the world.
MY LETTER
Day Fourteen writing assignment for Writing 101: To Whom It May Concern. Today’s Prompt: Pick up the nearest book and flip to page 29. What’s the first word that jumps off the page? Use this word as your springboard for inspiration. Today’s twist: write the post in the form of a letter.
Dear Lord, You always know what to send to add cheer to my life. You are so good to me. Thank you for the beautiful red bird that fed at the bird feeder outside my window. You give me many gifts to enjoy. I always want to have a thankful heart.
Your servant,
Me
darlenescorner 