Good morning FFFs!
We might have had our first real frost last night. :) It's too dark to see what the roofs look like, but it was supposed to be in the 30s. And tonight is supposed to be 28º!!!!! Finally we're getting real Autumn weather. 😉 Maybe this will be what we need to turn the trees fully before all the leaves come off. Of course our yard only has trees that seem to turn yellow. But there are others in the neighborhood that turn red.
Guess what I did last night? I wrote! You know, like on part of a story kind of writing. I actually remembered how! 😲😛 I only wrote 400 words, but I realized I hadn't written anything since the 3rd! That's 23 days of no writing!!!! I know, that's just sad, but I'm really hoping that I can now get back into it every day since the books are all published.
Oh, if you didn't read my post on Read Another Page, you might not know that Finding Joy is finally published! But it is. 😀 The Christmas books are published, but not available yet. Unless you want to pre-order the kindle versions. I'm releasing them on the 13th of November in my first ever Blog Tour. If you have a blog and want to be a part of their release, let me know and as soon as I get the form to fill out, I'll send it your way. 😊
But now back to our regularly scheduled program. Enjoy this next part of the story.
Something Different
Part 4
“Show me what to do, Father,” she breathed. “I feel like I should try to teach there, but I only want what You want.” With her heart still asking for wisdom, Lindsay strolled slowly along, her hands in the pockets of her sweater.
The unexpected tones of the clock tower striking the hour filled the late afternoon air. Lindsay started and turned to look up at the black face of the clock which stood out clearly against the white ornate work around it. Surely it wasn’t that late? “Abby is going to think I did something crazy,” she thought, quickening her pace.
Arriving somewhat breathless at the door of her room, Lindsay pushed it open and stepped inside. “Whew! That wind is really picking up. I wouldn’t be surprised if we had rain tonight.”
Abby walked into the living room from their small kitchen. “Good, I’m glad to see you didn’t let them do it. Where have you been?” she demanded, adding, “I was about to call your phone.”
Taking off her shoes, Lindsay pulled out her phone and dropped it beside her backpack. “Glad I didn’t do what?”
“Let some of the girls cut your hair.”
Lindsay laughed. “If I’m going to teach in a one-room schoolhouse, I’ll need long hair to look the part. Besides, I like my hair the way it is.”
“So do I,” Abby retorted good-naturedly. “Now come help me in the kitchen and tell me what on earth took you so long.”
After washing her hands, Lindsay donned an apron and set to work, telling Abby about her phone call and her impromptu meeting with Dr. and Mrs. Willman. “They suggested I spend the weekend praying about it, and talking to Mom and Dad. I have another meeting with Dr. Willman on Monday morning to talk about it again. I think Mrs. Willman must know quite a bit about this project, for she asked me several questions and pointed out some things I hadn’t thought of.”
“Maybe she’s part of the group getting the whole project organized.”
Lindsay shrugged. “Maybe. I’m going to call home tonight and talk it over with my parents and see what they think. You’ll pray about it too, won’t you?”
“Of course I will. I may not have any interest in teaching, but it sure would be fun to photograph!”
On Monday morning Lindsay arrived for her meeting a full ten minutes early. For a minute she was surprised to find Mrs. Beck behind the desk instead of Amy, but then remembered that Amy only worked there part time when she wasn’t in classes herself. Sitting down in the outer office, Lindsay tried to still her racing heart, and wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt several times. She didn’t know what was going to happen at the meeting, but it was difficult to wait.
When the door opened and the dean stepped out, Lindsay rose, her mouth suddenly dry. Would the doors of the school be shut in her face?
Dr. Willman motioned her in with a smile, and as soon as she was seated, he asked, “What do you think now?”
“I still want to do it, sir. If I can. My parents are both on board too. I know it won’t be easy, but–” she broke off and swallowed hard.
Folding his hands, Dr. Willman rested them on his desk and leaned slightly forward. His brown eyes held a friendly twinkle that his students all had come to know and love, while his gray hair demanded the respect he deserved. For a long few minutes he didn’t speak, only looked at Lindsay until she was sure he could read every her every thought and could tell how quickly her heart pounded.
“All right, Lindsay,” he said at last. “I’m going to give you the application to fill out. You are not the only one who will be applying though. And probably not just from here. The school spread the word about this project pretty far, and there are probably going to be applicants from across the country who, like you, think such an opportunity is too good to pass up.” He paused a moment as her shoulders dropped, then went on, “But no matter who applies and who gets chosen, I want to remind you that God never makes a mistake. Fill out the application as well as you can, and turn it in to Amy or Mrs. Beck no later than Wednesday evening.”
Almost numbly, Lindsay nodded. She would get to apply, but so would hundreds of others probably. What could a lowly sophomore have to offer? Though she was studying teaching, she had never taught before, at least not in a real classroom. Yes, she had helped with her younger siblings, and had even done a pretend one-room school with the neighbor kids when she was sixteen. But this–well, this was different. After several tries she managed to swallow the lump that rose in her throat and took the papers the dean offered her.
“Now,” Dr. Willman said, leaning back in his chair behind the wide desk, “lets talk a little about your classes and what you would have to do if you were chosen. And don’t get your hopes up,” he added quickly. “I have no part in choosing a teacher. This is just to be prepared if something should come , as I don’t think you’d have much time later.”
There was no time for Lindsay to even look over the application papers after her meeting with Dean Willman, for her first class of the morning started ten minutes later across campus. It wasn’t until she was ready to leave a building to head for lunch that she overheard some other students talking about a notice on the bulletin board.
“Teaching in a one-room schoolhouse. That would be different.”
“Yeah, but who’d want to do it?”
The unexpected tones of the clock tower striking the hour filled the late afternoon air. Lindsay started and turned to look up at the black face of the clock which stood out clearly against the white ornate work around it. Surely it wasn’t that late? “Abby is going to think I did something crazy,” she thought, quickening her pace.
Arriving somewhat breathless at the door of her room, Lindsay pushed it open and stepped inside. “Whew! That wind is really picking up. I wouldn’t be surprised if we had rain tonight.”
Abby walked into the living room from their small kitchen. “Good, I’m glad to see you didn’t let them do it. Where have you been?” she demanded, adding, “I was about to call your phone.”
Taking off her shoes, Lindsay pulled out her phone and dropped it beside her backpack. “Glad I didn’t do what?”
“Let some of the girls cut your hair.”
Lindsay laughed. “If I’m going to teach in a one-room schoolhouse, I’ll need long hair to look the part. Besides, I like my hair the way it is.”
“So do I,” Abby retorted good-naturedly. “Now come help me in the kitchen and tell me what on earth took you so long.”
After washing her hands, Lindsay donned an apron and set to work, telling Abby about her phone call and her impromptu meeting with Dr. and Mrs. Willman. “They suggested I spend the weekend praying about it, and talking to Mom and Dad. I have another meeting with Dr. Willman on Monday morning to talk about it again. I think Mrs. Willman must know quite a bit about this project, for she asked me several questions and pointed out some things I hadn’t thought of.”
“Maybe she’s part of the group getting the whole project organized.”
Lindsay shrugged. “Maybe. I’m going to call home tonight and talk it over with my parents and see what they think. You’ll pray about it too, won’t you?”
“Of course I will. I may not have any interest in teaching, but it sure would be fun to photograph!”
On Monday morning Lindsay arrived for her meeting a full ten minutes early. For a minute she was surprised to find Mrs. Beck behind the desk instead of Amy, but then remembered that Amy only worked there part time when she wasn’t in classes herself. Sitting down in the outer office, Lindsay tried to still her racing heart, and wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt several times. She didn’t know what was going to happen at the meeting, but it was difficult to wait.
When the door opened and the dean stepped out, Lindsay rose, her mouth suddenly dry. Would the doors of the school be shut in her face?
Dr. Willman motioned her in with a smile, and as soon as she was seated, he asked, “What do you think now?”
“I still want to do it, sir. If I can. My parents are both on board too. I know it won’t be easy, but–” she broke off and swallowed hard.
Folding his hands, Dr. Willman rested them on his desk and leaned slightly forward. His brown eyes held a friendly twinkle that his students all had come to know and love, while his gray hair demanded the respect he deserved. For a long few minutes he didn’t speak, only looked at Lindsay until she was sure he could read every her every thought and could tell how quickly her heart pounded.
“All right, Lindsay,” he said at last. “I’m going to give you the application to fill out. You are not the only one who will be applying though. And probably not just from here. The school spread the word about this project pretty far, and there are probably going to be applicants from across the country who, like you, think such an opportunity is too good to pass up.” He paused a moment as her shoulders dropped, then went on, “But no matter who applies and who gets chosen, I want to remind you that God never makes a mistake. Fill out the application as well as you can, and turn it in to Amy or Mrs. Beck no later than Wednesday evening.”
Almost numbly, Lindsay nodded. She would get to apply, but so would hundreds of others probably. What could a lowly sophomore have to offer? Though she was studying teaching, she had never taught before, at least not in a real classroom. Yes, she had helped with her younger siblings, and had even done a pretend one-room school with the neighbor kids when she was sixteen. But this–well, this was different. After several tries she managed to swallow the lump that rose in her throat and took the papers the dean offered her.
“Now,” Dr. Willman said, leaning back in his chair behind the wide desk, “lets talk a little about your classes and what you would have to do if you were chosen. And don’t get your hopes up,” he added quickly. “I have no part in choosing a teacher. This is just to be prepared if something should come , as I don’t think you’d have much time later.”
There was no time for Lindsay to even look over the application papers after her meeting with Dean Willman, for her first class of the morning started ten minutes later across campus. It wasn’t until she was ready to leave a building to head for lunch that she overheard some other students talking about a notice on the bulletin board.
“Teaching in a one-room schoolhouse. That would be different.”
“Yeah, but who’d want to do it?”
Do you have trees that turn red?
Are you excited about cold weather or would you rather have hot?
Do you want to help with my Blog Tour?
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