Refreshing

 Good morning!

It's a quiet Friday morning here. There is some traffic on Broadway, but not much and it's pretty quiet. A few birds chirp, a cicada sings, and a faint breeze stirs the curtains. It's 61º right now though it is supposed to get into the low 80s today. Time to savor the quiet and calm. Have you ever wished you could bottle up the quiet of early morning so you could pull it out in the middle of a crazy day? I don't know where that thought came from, but it sounds nice. ;)

This week has not been a writing week. However, I did get my proof copies ordered of "Lake Wood," "What Tommy Didn't Know," and "Saving Miss Christmas." And if you are wondering, the last book is the title of this year's Christmas Collection. And the middle title is a New Years story. I posted it before, but added a new ending to it. :)

I've also been really working on updating my website! It needed it! So far I have the bookshelf updated, and all the pages with one book. I even added all 4 Woodbreak books. Yes, "Lake Wood" has a page now! I haven't gotten to the Short Stories page, the Christmas pages, or created a new Pocket book page. But I've made progress. You can check them out on Read Another Page.

Yesterday I got a phone call asking if I could start work next week instead of on the 6th of October. The County Clerk's office is crazy. People are coming in waves, the phones keep ringing, and the filing is stacking up way too high. So, I'll be going in for 4 hours each day next week Mon-Thurs.

Today's story is one I wrote and first published many years ago in 2011. There is so much going on right now with everything that I thought we could all use a reminder of who is in control.

 

Refreshing

    It was quite chilly when I crawled out of my sleeping bag and, unzipping my tent door, stepped out into the crisp morning. Everything was quiet and still. The brown grass at my feet crunched with each footstep. Stately, old pine trees stood guard on the bit of land which juts out into the aqua and teal lake where scarcely a ripple disturbs its placid face. Across from my camping site, on the other side of the lake, march row upon row of trees, up the mountainside, until the snow-covered cliffs halt most of them.
    I gave a sigh of contentment. This was the first time I had gotten to be alone for more than fifteen minutes since the whirl of things began. I don’t know when the whirl started exactly, it just seemed to creep up and then I was in the midst of it all. Now at last maybe I can get some much needed rest, to try to sort things out, to understand, to consider, to decide. Out here alone I hope to be able to find the peace and joy I had. Alone? No, not really. My Heavenly Father is here and that is all I need. It was His hand that guided through all: weddings and funerals, births and deaths, over-work and no work at all, excitement of courtships and heartache of breakups, tornadoes and earthquakes, political unrest and political victories; all combined to frazzle a mind already bewildered with the many decisions of everyday life.
    I think I’ll just sit here today by my campfire and let the quietude of the mountains and water calm my feelings as I read the dearest book in the world. How can I help but grow refreshed when the Author of each word and thought is my Lover and Friend, my Father, my Savior, my Jesus? If I knew Him not, I would surely be the most miserable of all persons.
    Some people thought my coming away into this wilderness alone was just a way of trying to escape from everything and hide. They were somewhat right. I am hiding from everything. But not as they think. My Hiding Place is the Rock in a weary land, the Shelter in storms, a Tower, a Shield, a Refuge. No, I don’t expect everything to be perfect when I return, but it will be okay.
    The sun on those snow covered peaks is glorious! The birds are singing above me, and I hear a squirrel chattering somewhere. Maybe I’ll go sit on that rock in the sun. No worries, no cares, no thought for tomorrow. Isn’t that how life is supposed to be? I can echo the psalmist when he penned the words, “Oh that I had wings like a dove, then would I fly away and be at rest.” But it wouldn’t be the same rest which the Shepherd gives to His sheep. On the whole, I am glad, thankful even, that I have a heart which can feel pain and joy, love and sorrow, and my Savior’s matchless, boundless, endless mercy, grace and love!

    My days alone here are ended. I’m going back to be ”in the world but not of it.” Peace and rest fill me as I go with my All-In-All.
 

Would you like some bottled up peace and quiet?
Did you go check out the Woodbreak pages?
Would you like to go camping?

At the Lighthouse – Part 2

 Hello!

This is late, I know. But I promise I have a good excuse. 

Last night I had gone to bed at the normal time around 9:40. But around 11:30 I was awakened sort of by hearing someone calling out. Then they shouted "Someone please help!" But it wasn't nearby, and while I could hear what sounded like some boards crashing, I wasn't fully awake.

Then I heard sirens. Not unusual since we live a few blocks from the Police station, the Fire station, and a few blocks farther from the METS station. However, these sirens turned down our street. My sister and I got up and looked out the windows. It was a fire truck, another fire vehicle, and a police car. We thought they were heading to Freddy's since he'd had a few heart attacks this year. As my sis headed back to bed, I noticed a strange orange/yellow glow behind Freddy's house.

"There's a fire!"

"Where?" Sis wanted to know. I told her and then we both headed to the back room to look out the windows. The house to the south of Freddy's was almost fully engulfed! Flames were shooting from the roof, the widows, the back. It was crazy! A police car parked in the middle of the road near our house to block traffic. It was an hour before they had most of it knocked down. There were still some stubborn parts that refused to die and kept flaming back up. But after an hour we decided to head back to bed since we really couldn't see much.

After all that excitement I wasn't tired and was having difficulty settling down. The flickering lights of the police car on our ceiling let me know that they were still there. Now and then I could hear voices. Around 1:30 the firemen started up a chainsaw to cut part of the wall away. And that make me wake up more again. I'm not sure when I went back to sleep, but it was probably around or after 2.

[If you want to see the news video, you can go here.]

So, we slept in some this morning. :)

This week I've not done much writing, but I did get two short stories ready to publish. One will be free when I send out my newsletter, so make sure you are subscribed to my Read Another Page newsletter. I've also been working on the Christmas play. It was approved, and now I just have to copy the play for each of the cast members.

But enough of that. Here's your story.

 

At the Lighthouse

Part 2

    Great was Mr. Sullivan’s astonishment when he was awakened and saw his only son standing before him. For several minutes he could only hold on to him and whisper, “Marshall, my son, my son.”
    “I’m home now, Father.”
    “But what about college?”
    The story of the unmailed letters was repeated and then the three reunited Sullivans fell to talking.
    It was growing late when suddenly Mr. Sullivan started up in his chair. “The light. I must go light it now.”
    Marshall rose at once saying, “No, Father, let me. Please, it will be like old times. Leigh can go with me to make sure I still remember how.” And, without giving his father time to object or protest, Marshall started for the stairs calling behind him just as he used to do when a boy, “I’ll race you to the top, Sis!”
    It wasn’t until the lights were lit and the brother and sister were standing on the balcony below the light, watching its beam flash far out to sea, that Marshall spoke his thoughts. “Father doesn’t look very well, Leigh. What’s wrong with him?”
    Leigh didn’t answer right away and her brother turned to look at her. “Has Dr. Armstrong seen him yet?”
    Leigh shook her head. “No, Papa won’t let me call him. I think he’s overworked and tired. He needs to get away from everything for a while and rest.”
    For a moment Marshall looked thoughtful, then he spoke. “Invite him for supper on Tuesday.”
    “Papa?”
    Marshall snorted, “Dr. Armstrong. I’d like to see him again. I’ll have to make sure I see all my old acquaintances, you know.” He smiled, and Leigh gave an answering smile in return. It was good to have Marshall home.

    Marshall hardly gave his father time to do anything other than relax in his chair, for he took complete charge of the light, laughing when his father protested and running up and down the steps declaring that it was keeping him in shape. Leigh watched with delight, for she saw that with Marshall home the two of them could run the light. Then she would grow grave. If only they could persuade their father to take a vacation.
    When Tuesday came, Marshall casually remarked at the breakfast table that he would like to see Dr. Armstrong again and Leigh said she would invite him to supper if that was all right. Mr. Sullivan nodded. Dr. Armstrong was a good friend and he would enjoy a chat with him himself.
    Supper was a pleasant affair with Marshall telling about life at college, and afterwards Mr. Sullivan and Dr. Armstrong settled themselves in armchairs in the living room while Marshall tended the light and Leigh washed the dishes. As soon as the light was lit, Marshall joined his sister in the kitchen remarking, “It looks like a storm is blowing in.”
    Leigh sighed, “Did you mention it to Papa?”
    “No.”
    “Well, if it comes Ted and Henry will be over.”
    Marshall stopped drying the plate in his hand and looked at Leigh with puzzled eyes. “The Larson boys?” he asked. “Why?”
    “All the men around here have been taking turns coming over when it storms, to help whenever they are needed, because Papa just can’t do it all anymore,” Leigh explained.
    “Well, I’m home now,” Marshall declared, “and this is my lighthouse.”
    His sister didn’t reply.

    There was a storm and, as Leigh had predicted, Ted and Henry came over. Both were glad to see Marshall again and left most of the work in his capable hands. Mr. Sullivan tried to help, but he tired so quickly that Dr. Armstrong, who had been there when the storm broke, insisted that he let the boys take care of things.

    “Marshall, Papa must have a rest,” Leigh repeated as the two of them strolled along the sandy shore. “Even Dr. Armstrong agrees with me.”
    “I know,” Marshall agreed. “You don’t have to convince me, it’s Father. Did you write Kathryn?”
    Leigh nodded. “I hope I hear from her soon. A few more such storms as we’ve had will send Papa to bed for a long time I’m afraid.”
    The brother and sister walked on in silence for several minutes before Leigh spoke once more. “Marshall.”
    “Hmm.”
    “If I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer?” She had stopped and stood looking up into her younger brother’s eyes.
    “Of course I will,” he replied, wondering what was coming.
    “Do you want to spend the rest of your life living at a lighthouse and keeping the lights burning?”
    Marshall’s voice was quiet but firm when he answered, “Yes, Leigh, I do.”
    Smiling as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, Leigh said, “That is all I wanted to hear.”

    The letter came the next afternoon and even with its plea for a visit, it took Leigh’s passionate appeal to rest for her sake and Marshall’s keen logic and firm assurance that the light would shine every night before Mr. Sullivan was convinced that a trip away from his life at the lighthouse was for the best. But, at last all was settled.

    Standing at the door of the lighthouse, Leigh and Marshall waved good bye to their father as Dr. Armstrong drove him away to the train station. Leigh sighed, she would miss her father, but he must get a rest. Besides, she thought, glancing at her tall brother, Marshall was home and they would together, take care of the light until the rightful lighthouse keeper returned in health.
 

Did you enjoy the ending of this story?

Have you ever seen a house fire near you?

How was your week?

At the Lighthouse – Part 1

 Hello, Fiction Fans,

I do have a story for you today. I need to get some more written for this blog. I actually made a list of all the stories I had started or wanted to write but hadn't started yet. There are 15 titles on that list! And probably 6-8 of them would be blog stories if I can get them finished. Though I might decide to publish a few of them some day.

Speaking of publishing, I designed the cover for "Lake Wood" yesterday! I'm waiting for the synopsis to be written, and I have to format it, but then I can order the proof copy! Right now the scheduled release date is Nov. 10. If I can publish it sooner I will, but I don't know if I can.

This week I did a lot of work on the Christmas Play for church. I had one idea that I was planning on doing, but when I went to write it, it just wouldn't work. So . . . I brainstormed with my sister for a while and got nowhere except that I could have certain cast members different ages than I had first thought. My mom was able to give me a small idea for a message for this play. And then the ideas flooded in. I wrote 2k that evening and another 1k the next day and finished writing it. Yesterday my sister and I had fun picking the names for all the characters. Now it's time to format.

I also did some work getting ready for our next King's Daughters' Writing Camp. Doors open on October 1st.

I don't think there's anything else to say. Enjoy this first part of your story.

 

At the Lighthouse

Part 1

    Mr. Sullivan sighed and put one rough hand on his back after he shut the door of the stove which he had just lit while he grasped the back of a chair with the other. Straightening up was more of an effort than it used to be and he sank gratefully down in a chair before the stove, as the fresh logs caught fire with a sputter, and closed his tired eyes.
    The smell of fresh, hot coffee filled the little kitchen and the ticking of the clock on the shelf gave a happy sound to the peaceful morning scene.
    “Papa,” a gentle but sturdy voice sounded softly from the doorway. “Why don’t you go up to bed and get some rest. The others are still sleeping, and I can fix breakfast when they wake up. Please, Papa,” she urged, placing her hand on his rough one.
    Looking up into his daughter’s face, Mr. Sullivan smiled. She looked so much like her mother had, the same brown hair that neither curled nor frizzed, the golden brown eyes which showed every emotion in their clear depths, the lovely mouth seemingly curved into a constant smile and the hands and face darkened from hours in the sun. Leigh was her mother all over again and Ira Sullivan felt a lump rise in his throat.
    “Please, Papa, go to bed now,” Leigh begged. “The storm is over and the sun is coming up in a clear sky. I can take care of everything. Get some rest.”
    “All right,” the older man finally agreed. He was tired. Every muscle seemed to ache and it was with difficulty that he stood up. Gently his daughter helped him from the room and watched his slow progress up the winding stairs of the lighthouse to his room.
    “If only Marshall were home,” Leigh mused, opening the windows and breathing in the fresh sea air. “This job as lighthouse keeper is getting too hard for Papa. He isn’t as young as he used to be, before Mama died.” She busied herself about the lower rooms, opening the windows to let in the cool breeze before entering to the kitchen. “What he needs is a vacation,” she muttered, her thoughts returning to her tired father. “If only I could send him to visit Kathryn and John and the children. The rest would do him so much good and I know Kathryn would love to have him. Perhaps it would work. I think I’ll write to her today and send it when the post comes. But--” and here she paused recalling the one problem which had thwarted her plans many times before. Who would take care of the lighthouse? It couldn’t take care of itself nor could you just ask a neighbor to run over and light the lamps each evening. It had to be someone who knew lighthouses, someone who had grown up with one, who knew the responsibilities, the challenges, the dangers as well as the delights and pleasures of such work. Here her thoughts turned once again to her younger brother. Marshall knew all about lighthouses. He had helped alongside his father since he was strong enough to carry a lantern. But Marshall wasn’t there. He was away at college. That had been Mr. Sullivan’s dream: to have his son attend college.
    “Now Marshall is gone when Papa needs him the most,” Leigh sighed.
    Hearing movement in the room above her, she began to prepare breakfast for the crew of the small fishing vessel wrecked during last night’s storm and rescued by herself and her father. Her own troubled thoughts would have to wait.

    It was afternoon, clear, sunny and warm, when Leigh, leaving her father dozing in his favorite chair wandered forth from the lighthouse out into the sunshine, across the rough green grass on the hill down to the beach. The waves rolled in from the deep blue Atlantic ocean leaving white foam along the golden sands as they receded only to rush back the next minute and reclaim it. Washed up by higher tides were sea shells; some were broken but many lovely ones lay half buried on the shore.
    Wandering slowly along, stopping now and then to pick up an exceptionally lovely shell, Leigh at last took off her hat, pulled the pins from her hair and let the wind off the sea cool her face. She looked lovely standing there, her brown hair blowing behind her, her long dress simple but well made and fitting her perfectly from the plain collar down to the hem at the top of her boots. So she stood, silent and still, unaware that she was being observed until a manly shout caused her to start in surprise and whirl around.
    “Marshall!” she exclaimed, so astonished that she couldn’t have said anything else had she had time.
    She had no time, however, for a young man was racing down the slope and the next instant had her in his arms and lifted her off her feet to kiss her and laugh. “I thought I’d never get here. The train seemed to make twenty more stops than were on the schedule and then the stage had to make two other stops before it could drop me off. My luggage is out near the house. I looked in but Father was asleep and then I saw you out here and just had to come see you. You don’t know how good it is to be back again!” How fast the young man talked. “You haven’t got any idea of how lonesome I was for the sea. College was great fun, but I’m glad it’s over with.”
    Somehow Leigh managed to put in a few words, “Over with?”
    Crossing his arms, Marshall put on an aggrieved air, “Don’t you read anything out here?” he asked. “Fine sister you are not to even know you are looking at a college graduate. One who, I might add, was sixth in his class.”
    “Oh Marshall, I’m so proud of you, but why on earth didn’t you write and tell us?” Leigh demanded.
    “I did.”
    “I didn’t see any letters. Papa wouldn’t have hidden them . . .”
    The young man gave a sheepish grin and reached into his pocket. “I forgot to mail them.”
    “Marshall!”
    Then the two, the taller, broad shouldered, younger brother and the smaller, sturdy older sister laughed.
    “Come to the house now and see Father,” Leigh said at last after the laugh had subsided. “He will be delighted to see you again.” And she led the way across the sandy shore towards the lighthouse.
 

Have you ever been in a Christmas play before?

Are you excited for the next "Woodbreak" book?

Do you plan on doing the writing camp?

Zero Story

 Hi!

    I was going to get a story picked out and ready to post today, but then I left town and left my list behind. So . . . You'll have to wait until next week. Unless I find something. But since I'm at my grandparents' and will be heading home Friday morning, it's not likely. (I'm writing this Thursday late afternoon.)

    What has your week been like? Anything going on?

    Saturday was a busy writing day. I wrote almost 3k words and finally reached the end of "Lake Wood"! It was so exciting to finally reach it since I had tried before and then ended up needing to change things. This story is longer than either "Jim Wood" or "Anna Wood". Sorry. ;) Hope you won't mind too much.

    Sunday was a busy day! We had the usual Sunday School, and then I worked nursery for my sister. There was a baptism at the beginning of the service and 7 people were baptized. Then we had missionaries speak. After church we had a fellowship meal. (My sister was in charge of setting all the food up which is why she couldn't work nursery.) And combined with the meal we had a wedding shower for someone. Then we came home. I read. So nice. :)

    Monday was a see-how-much-we-can-get-done sort of day. I reread and edited the last 9,700+ words of "Lake Wood" and then transferred and printed it so my editor could read it whenever. I also did some other things.

    Tuesday my mom, sister, and I headed north to visit my grandparents. They are both in their 90s and still living at home. We hung out and visited.

    Wednesday it was in the 60s in the morning so Sis and I went walking before breakfast. It was nice to get outside. Spend most of the rest of the morning reading and relaxing. I wasn't letting myself even think about what things I needed to get done by certain times. :) We played our usual game of Dominoes after supper.

    Thursday was again in the 60s and we walked. There's a nice park a couple blocks from my grandparents' house and a walking/biking path to it and through it. There are always several people walking their dogs. Oh, I got to see the two owls that live in the neighborhood. You probably don't think of owls living in suburban neighborhoods, but these owls do. I helped Grandpa work outside in the afternoon for a little while and probably ended up with 25 mosquito bites or so. :P Oh well. I'm sure we'll be playing Dominoes after supper again. It's something we all enjoy.

    Speaking of Dominoes, do any of you lovely readers have the game of Dominoes (Double Fifteens)? If so, do you all play it? Would you be interested in testing out our instructions for the 8 variations we've created and perfected over the years we've played? I'd like to get them published so others can enjoy them, but I thought someone who hasn't played all these versions with us should try our instructions first. If you are interested, let me know.

How was your week?

Did you get any writing done?

Do you play Dominoes?