I hope you all had a good week. Was it a productive week? Mine was.
All the decorations got taken down and put away last Friday and the house got cleaned. We babysat the kiddos and had a good time playing with them and building a house in their living room which was large enough for them all to "sleep" in. :) We are all waiting the arrival of the new baby, a girl! Pickle Puss is thrilled to be getting a sister after four brothers. Funny Boy didn't want a sister at first, he wanted another boy to play army with. But I think everyone is excited about the new arrival.
I tried writing "Dr. Morgan" last week and it was terrible! I got about three sentences written and stuck. I couldn't come up with anything and every sentence I tried sounded flat and boring. I tried again on Tuesday (babysat Monday night so didn't write) and got 300 words written. That was better. Still slow, but at least it was progress. Then came Wednesday evening. This time before I started around 5:00, I played the piano a little and did a little exercise. Got a start before supper. Then after supper I did something else I do now and then when my story requires some thinking before I can write again. I lay on my bed with my feet on the slanted part of the ceiling. :) Okay, so I'm rather strange. What can I say, I'm an author. ;) Anyway, all those things and prayers seemed to work and I got 1,400 words written. Yesterday I skipped the piano, but did the exercise and the feet on the ceiling and wrote 1,500 words. This story is really moving along. Some fans had quite a few questions and one of them sparked a new idea and it's really taken off and added a dimension to the story I hadn't thought of. :)
This week I also got some positive feedback on the TCR books. A dad of one of my fans, started reading the series and LOVES it! He placed an order for "the next 6 books." :) He's also made suggestions for things that might happen in later books. If you have ideas for later books, let me know and I'll jot them down on my idea pages. :) I can never have too many ideas.
But I'm going to get on with other things and let you enjoy this next part of . . .
A New Life
Laughing, I pulled back and replied, “I’m not cold a bit. Why this snow is very invigorating and I enjoyed every minute of my walk, but I must go tend to Mary Mildred.”
However, I hadn’t gotten three steps up the stairs before Mr. Carmichael’s voice stopped me. “Mary,” he questioned, “did you have enough money for a car fare?”
With hand on the rail, I looked back over my shoulder. These people were so good to me, taking Baby and me in when we had no place to go. Somehow I knew they would understand. “I did when I started back, sir, but there was a young girl who didn’t have a warm house or plenty of food and well . . .” I didn’t have to finish, for Mr. Carmichael smiled and nodded. He understood.
I had reached the upper hall when his quiet voice came floating up to me, “The Lord loves a cheerful giver. Catherine, she is one of the Lord’s loved ones and no mistake.”
That night, as I sat in a little rocker which Mrs. Carmichael had given me when I came, and cuddled my sleeping daughter, I looked out the window at the snow covered branches and the bright twinkling stars above and thought about what Mr. Carmichael had said. “One of the Lord’s loved ones.” A year ago it never would have been said.
* * * * *
“Here ma’am,” a bright voice caused Mrs. McKinley to turn. There was a neatly dressed young lady standing beside her in the aisle of the streetcar. In her hand she held out a bit of pasteboard. “I do hope you will join us at the meeting tonight.”
Politely Mrs. McKinley took the pasteboard and read “Gospel Meeting at 7th and Broadway. Free admission. All are welcome.” When she looked up again, the girl had gone, so young Mrs. McKinley tucked the notice into her handbag and prepared to walk the last few blocks to her house.
As she and her husband sat together before a small stove, Mrs. McKinley produced the invitation and added, “Would you like to go, Robert?”
After a quick glance at the printed words, Mr. McKinley laughed. “No thanks. I don’t feel in special need of their religious meetings. You weren’t thinking of going, were you Mary Lou?”
Mrs. McKinley shook her head. “Only if you wanted to go.”
The meeting was forgotten and the young couple went about their daily lives with never a thought for the One who made them and loved them. All was forgotten until one spring day, late in the afternoon. Mrs. McKinley was coming home with a basket of sewing to do when a sudden spring shower commenced to fall. Seeking shelter from the downpour that had begun so quickly, she found herself inside a church where a meeting was going on. There she heard of the Savior’s great love and such a longing came over her to be one of His children that, when the meeting was over, she made her way up to the minister. A long conversation was had between those two, the elder, grey haired minister and young, eager wife. When at last she left the church, Mrs. McKinley had a peace which she had never felt before.
* * * * *
I gave a sigh as I rose to put Baby in her little bed. “Your papa didn’t understand what had happened to me that night, Baby,” I whispered sadly. “He didn’t understand and didn’t want to. If it had not been for the precious verses I found in Mother’s old Bible which had been buried deep in my trunk, I don’t know how I would have continued.” Quietly I prepared for bed, turned out the light, and in the shimmering, silver glow of the moon on the snow I knelt down to pray.
“Oh Father in Heaven,” I murmured, “I thank you for this new home for Baby and me. For providing for us when we were in such need. Now I ask you to bless my Robert wherever he may be. Oh Father, you who said that if we ask in faith believing we shall receive, grant your salvation to my Robert! Faithful are you who have promised. You have never failed me even when times were hard, when difficulties seemed to almost overwhelm me, yet you were faithful and delivered me from them all.”
How long I knelt there praying for my husband, I don’t know, but the peace of God filled me and at last I lay down and slept.
* * * * *
“Listen Mary Lou,” Robert said one night in early summer, “I don’t mind if you want to be religious, but don’t preach at me.”
Mrs. McKinley nodded. How she longed to have her husband one with her in this new experience, but he wanted nothing to do with it. His heart seemed hardened
With a sudden change of subject, Mr. McKinley remarked, “I do wish, Darling, that you could get out of the city before summer’s heat is fully here. I’m afraid you’ll get sick.”
“Where would I go?”
“That’s the problem, I don’t know.”
Mrs. McKinley laughed brightly at the expression on her husband’s face. “Don’t worry about me,” she assured him. “I’ll be all right.”
Summer came and with it intense and oppressive heat. There were days when the young Mrs. McKinley felt wilted and listless. “I can’t go on,” she murmured to herself one especially hot morning. “This heat is just too unbearable. It seems to have drained nearly every drop of energy from me.” Picking up her Bible she opened it and read, “The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.” Flipping over a few pages her eyes caught the words: “The Lord is my strength and my song.”
“Father, be my strength and my shade. I’m so tired and weary. Help me to have strength that Robert might not worry about me. Be Thou my song.”
Within an hour, clouds had covered the sky and a breeze began to blow. With a smile, Mary Louise McKinley whispered with a song in her heart, “Faithful is He that promised.”
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Any idea for "Dr. Morgan" or TCR?