To Give Hope – Part 2

Good morning, FFFFs!

It's 32º right now and I'm glad I'm not outside. Yesterday morning we woke up to a very light dusting of snow on the porches, roofs, cars, and such. Snow in October? That doesn't happen here. Or at least it didn't. :P

This week has been busy in a different way. I found out early this week that all the free audio codes I had been given from ACX were going to expire on Nov. 12th. (They do give me more in another place that are different.) Well, I didn't want to just leave all these codes to expire, so I sent out emails, a newsletter, and have talked to people. I'm giving away as many codes as I can find takers for. :) It's been a lot of fun! So far I've given out 175 audio codes! Some are to people who already know my books, others are to people who know I write, but have never read anything.

Did you get any free audio codes yet? If not, ask. I still have around 27 for "Gift from the Storm" and 30 or more for "The Old Mansion's Secret" plus some of the others. If you know of any friends who would like either of those audio books (just because I had extra of them), send them my way. I'd love to give out some more copies.

What else have I been doing? I've practiced the violin for a Thanksgiving special some friends are playing at church. I wrote! No Christmas story this week. I had an idea for a new "Kelsey" story so have been working on that. It's been such fun! I do like Kelsey and her sisters. And the other characters. I taught writing classes. Only two more to teach before we break until January. Now that sounds strange!

Here's the next part of this story. There's one more part after this.

To Give Hope

Part 2

    Mr. Stillman reached out and tapped her head. “This. This is what’s wrong. You were playing with your head and not your heart. Your head was running all over the place and dragging your heart along with it. You are doing the same thing about composing this song for Grandpa’s quartet. Composing something, anything of value anyway, must come from the heart. If it doesn’t, then it’s a waste of time.”
    “I know!” Clara burst forth. She’d been a student in her dad’s classroom and knew all the right things. “But I can’t do it! There’s nothing there! It’s all dark and minor and won’t go anywhere.” She struck an E minor chord on the piano with force.
    “Play through the darkness then, Clara. Is there nothing but darkness and despair? What about the joy of the Lord is your strength, or God being a Father to the fatherless and a judge of widows. I know that my Redeemer liveth. Why aren’t thou cast down O my soul? Casting all your care upon Him for He careth for you.” Mr. Stillman stood up and rested a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Give them hope, Clara. Give light in darkness and joy instead of mourning.” He squeezed her shoulder and walked away to the far side of the room.
    Staring at her hands resting in her lap, Clara thought about her father’s words. Was that the trouble? Had she been so focused, and so distracted, by the sadness and pain around her that she couldn’t see the hope that was offered? Was that why she couldn’t compose the song her grandpa wanted her to write for the quartet he played in?
    Her father’s call roused her, and she rose from the bench to find him holding out the viola and a bow. She looked from the instrument to her dad. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
    “Play through your darkness and find the hope, Clara. You can’t do it on the piano as that’s not the instrument you love best, and you can’t play it with your heart when you aren’t one with it. Take this and give the sadness and despair a voice. Then give them hope and offer joy. Play with your heart and talk to God as you play. You’ll find your notes.” He placed the instrument into her hands, kissed her forehead, and then moved to the door. Turning, he said, “Don’t try to write anything, just play.” With that he was gone.
    Clara stood for a moment looking at the closed door. Then, tucking the viola under her chin, she tested out the strings. They were in tune, and she began slowly, softly, to play. The notes rambled at first, until her fingers began moving almost of themselves. The notes were a cry for help, a sob, a feeling of anguish. Clara closed her eyes and let the music flood around her as she prayed and pleaded for strength, for hope, and for joy.
    Gradually the notes began to change. Bits of hymns found their way into the despair. Lighter notes, like birds singing, brought a smile to her lips, and soon Clara was so wrapped up in her music that she didn’t notice the door opening or see her parents peeking in. She was alone with her music, and with her God.

*

    Lowering the viola at last, Clara sank into one of the chairs and rested her instrument on her knee. She felt exhausted, but refreshed at the same time. The heavy weight that had kept the music from spilling out of her fingers was gone.
    A light knock on the door made her look up to find her dad standing in the doorway. There was a smile on his face. “Supper’s ready. And don’t say you want to get started composing first. You skipped lunch and need a good meal before you start because I have a feeling you’ll be at it a while.”
    Clara laughed. “You’re right. I am hungry.” Rising, she hung up her viola and bow. “Thanks, Daddy,” she said, going to him and giving him a kiss. You understand me better than I do sometimes.” She slipped her hand through his arm and walked beside him down the hall. “I found the hope and light, you know.”
    “Yes. I could hear it.”

*

    Clara worked into the wee hours of the morning composing then sat down on the couch in the music room for a little break. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but before he left for the conservatory, her dad found her with her on the couch head pillowed on a stack of music books. With a smile he lifted her head gently and replaced the music with a pillow, spread a light blanket over her, and left her sleeping.

Have you ever fallen asleep someplace besides your bed?

How do you deal with stress and frustration?

Did you get any free audio books?