Through an Author's Eyes - Part 10

 Happy Black Friday!

I hope you all had a good Thanksgiving. I did. I got to spend most of it at my brother's house with his family. We hung out and ate, played a little ping-pong, and some other games. Then we came back to out crazy, full, messy house. Since we'd gotten help from my two oldest nephews on Wednesday, we have all the boxes that were in storage back at our house. Along with other things we'd forgotten we had sent down there. Now we don't really have places for everything yet, and so we have boxes stacked all over!

But, my parents are back to sleeping in their own room again! After 4 months of living in the living room, they are glad to have a room again. And my sister is back in the sewing room. Not all the shelves are here and up yet, but she can at least keep sewing in her newly redone room. But I still can't write. Our room is a disaster. And did I mention that our washing machine went out last week? We got a new one, but it's not hooked up yet. That makes things a bit interesting. Hopefully it will get hooked up today.

Anyway, that's that.

This morning my mom and I are going to tackle the back room where we usually put all the Christmas stuff we don't use during December. Then this afternoon the youngest 3-4 nieces and nephews will be coming over while my brother and older nephews work on their new addition, and my sis-in-law and oldest niece help decorate the church. Then tomorrow my oldest niece is coming over to help us decorate.

And today is Black Friday. It's the first time in a few years that I don't have books in Perry's Indie Author Sale, but I just didn't have time to set anything up. But I do have one Thanksgiving story that is Free today if you haven't gotten and read it already. You can find it HERE.

And now enjoy this next part of this author story.

 

 Through an Author's Eyes

Part 10

    Picking up her purse and Bible, she carefully made her way to the stairs. She knew it would take her longer than usual to get down the stairs. Somehow going down was worse than going up and half way down she stopped, turned around and proceeded to take the steps backwards.
    “Are you going up or down?” laughed Aunt Yvonne from the foot of the stairs.
    “Down. It’s less painful to do it this way.”
    “A niece who thinks,” Uncle Cleveland remarked. “It must be because she’s a writer. We come up with all sorts of situations for our characters and then have to figure out a way to get them out, don’t we?”
    Taking the last step down, Annette turned around and nodded. “Only this time I know what my poor MC is feeling. I never did before.” Shaking her head, Annette gave a slight chuckle and then stopped with a frown. “Why do I hurt all over?” she moaned. “I hope I don’t regret saying I want to climb a mountain.”
    “Well, as long as you don’t climb in cowboy boots I reckon you’ll do fine. You said you are used to climbing the Appalachians.”
    “True. And I’ve never ridden a horse before. Levi should have warned me I wouldn’t be able to move.” And she pretended to glare at her oldest cousin as he came into the room.
    He looked like a cowboy even with his church clothes on for he wore a western style shirt, dark denim jeans, cowboy boots that weren’t filthy, and a shiny buckle was on his belt. His hat was in one hand and his Bible in the other. “You wouldn’t have believed me if I had, would you?” he asked.
    “I don’t know. But you didn’t even warn me! I don’t know if I’ll get on a horse tomorrow or not.” She nodded her head once for emphasis.
    “You will. Are the others already outside?”
    “Here they come.” The rest of the family hurried into the room and together they walked out to the suburban.
    It was a forty-five minute ride to church, but Annette didn’t mind. The scenery was lovely and she scarcely took her eyes from the windows. “Oh!” her exclamation came suddenly. “I didn’t know we were going to Cats Claw!”
    “Yep,” Savanna said. “On Sunday the population more than doubles. There’s the church.”
    Annette followed the pointing finger and saw with delight a white church looking like it was taken straight from an old catalogue or magazine. It even had a tall white steeple and she wondered if a bell still hung from the tower. As she gingerly climbed from the vehicle, she watched the people going up the steps and into the church. Most of the men had on cowboy hats and boots, only the women seemed out of place for not one was wearing a hat with flowers or even a bonnet. “So much for going back in time,” she whispered to Savanna who had joined her. Ava slipped her hand into Annette’s and together the three girls crossed the grassy yard.
    Each step was painful for Annette, but she decided to grin and bear it, as her mother would say and when Bethany came up, she returned her hug without wincing too badly.
    “Sore from the ride yesterday?” Bethany asked in low tones.
    “What do you think?” Annette grimaced. “And Levi says I have to ride again tomorrow.”
    “It’s the best way to work out the soreness,” Bethany assured. “But come on.”
    Inside the church, Annette was thankful to see cushioned chairs instead of the hard pews she had expected.

    By the time the Vogel suburban pulled into the home ranch, Annette was tired. Not only had she heard a really good sermon, but she had been introduced to so many people that she couldn’t keep names and faces in her mind. All she wanted was lunch and a long nap. Climbing out of the suburban, a groan escaped her lips without her permission. She had hoped the sore muscles would ease as the day wore on.
    “You need to take a long leisurely walk this afternoon down the lane and back to loosen you up,” Aunt Yvonne remarked.
    Annette raised her eyebrows. A walk? She didn’t even think she could walk to the house let alone make it down the lane! She looked down at the ground. There was grass just a few steps away. If it weren’t so hard to sit down . . .
    “Should I carry you?” Levi questioned.
    “Don’t let him!” Savanna hurried over to say; Annette shook her head. “I’m afraid that would hurt worse than trying to walk.”
    Somehow Annette hobbled or staggered to the porch, moaned her way up the stairs and sagged against the wall inside. She didn’t want to go upstairs until she had to. And she certainly didn’t want to go up and then come right back down for lunch! Nope, she was going to remain downstairs and would eat lunch in her church clothes. Slowly making her way into the kitchen, she asked, “Can I help get lunch ready?”
    “There’s not much to do, but you can get paper plates from that cabinet if you want. We like to keep lunch simple and the dishes even simpler,” Aunt Yvonne replied. “We’re just having sandwiches, fruit, carrots and chips.”
    Annette managed to get the plates out without too much difficulty, but carrying them to the counter was hard and required silent groans with each stiff step she took. Her arms weren’t too sore and she was thankful for that.
    Ava did most of the talking during lunch, then everyone pitched in to clean up and Annette was soon free to make her slow, painful way up the stairs and to her room. “I can do this,” she muttered to herself, pausing on the seventh step and eyeing the rest of them. “I never knew riding a horse was so–well, painful and used so many muscles! Won’t Dad get a laugh when I tell him how sore and stiff I am.” A rueful smile crossed her face as she started upward again. “He’d tell me the same thing Levi is: Get up and ride again. That’s what he always told me when I was stiff and sore from hiking. He’d say, ‘Annette, we’re going to hike again tomorrow. And the next day until you get over being stiff and sore.’”

Did you have a good Thanksgiving?

Have you started decorating for Christmas?

Are you planning on shopping some book sales?

God is Still Good

 Good morning dear readers!

It's cold this morning. Below freezing right now, but the sun is coming up in a cloudless sky. It's going to be a good day.

This week has had it's ups and downs. Trying to be patient about finishing up the rooms so we can move back in them, and things not happening as quickly as we'd like. But yesterday the last of the trim in both rooms (not counting the closet off the sewing room and the hall) got the last of their trim up! Now I can finish spackling and do the touch up painting! Then we have 8 outlets and 1 light switch to do, and put up the closet shelves and stuff in my parents room and we can hang curtains and move them back in!!!! We are so excited!!!! Forget writing, I'm going to be working on the rooms today. And tomorrow.

Also today, my grandpa is coming down. He wants to see the rooms and he's bringing us some drawers that only the Lowe's up there had for our cabinets. 

Last night I spoke to a group for the first time about my writing journey. There were only 5 other people besides me. It was nice to start off with a small group. And yes, it was rather fun. I think they enjoyed it and it looked like some of them were interested in a few of my books. 

Thanksgiving is coming. We are going to my brother's for the day. That will be fun. I heard there is, or at least was, a chance of snow for Thanksgiving day, but I rather doubt it will be anything but rain. We just don't get snow this early most of the time.

Anyway, I'm keeping this really short because I need to get everything done on the computer that I can before breakfast so I can just work on the house. :D I hope you enjoy this short little story and the reminder that God is always good.

 God is Still Good

 

    Corina hugged her friend’s furry neck. “Come Maria, we’ll go back to the house. I’m sure Papa can help us.”
    The young alpaca nuzzled the small girl and walked quietly behind her across the yard and around the stone wall. It was cold, but Corina didn’t feel the biting air for she was well bundled up in warm clothes and a hat was pulled down over her dark hair.
    Coming up next to the house, Corina stopped. The door was open and Papa’s voice sounded stern.
    “You have been allowed to wallow in your sorrow and grief too long, Elia. It is time you returned to work and to God.”
    “God. He didn’t care about my Bridget when her time came!”
    Corina heard the pain in her brother’s voice.
    Papa’s voice was softer but no less firm. “You are wrong, my son. God was there and He took your Bridget home to live with Him. But he left you with a little daughter. A daughter who needs her papa to be strong and to provide for her. You have not done that, my Elia. You have turned bitter. You are like the pigs that love to wallow in the dirt and mud. They can be clean but they wish not to be. You too are wallowing in what is not clean and pure. You would rather sit and do nothing and blame God when He is good.”
    “If He is good, why did He take my Bridget, Papa? Why?”
    Carina felt her eyes fill with tears. Bridget had been such a dear older sister to her. She too had wondered why God had taken her.
    “My Elia,” Papa’s voice was gentle, tender. “I do not know the ways of God. But I do know that He gives and He takes away because He is good. Pain and suffering, grief and death are the fault of mankind, not God. When your mama was so ill before she died, I asked the same questions. And I got an answer. I prayed, but God chose to say no. I too say no to Corina at times just like I said no to you and Manuel when you were young. It was not that I don’t love you. It was because I did love you.”
    Corina listened hard and heard what sounded like a sob. Turning, she wrapped her arms around her alpaca’s neck and hid her face.
    “Pray for me, Papa. I don’t understand, and I feel so lost without my Bridget. I want to trust that God knows best, but I don’t see how taking my daughter’s mother could be best.”
    “I do not see it either, my son.” Papa’s voice was husky. “I still do not understand why He chose to take your mama either. But this I do know, though He slay me, yet will I trust Him. I will be praying for you, Elia. Bring your little one over and let Corina mother her for a time. She is always mothering the orphaned animals.”
    “Thank you, Papa. I will. I must go now. The neighbor can only stay a little. Can I come here and work?”
    “Of course. There is much to do.”
    Corina looked around and saw Elia leave the house and stride away. He hadn’t seen her. Papa came to the door and looked after him. Then he turned. His face was gentle as he looked at her.
    “Are you willing to mother your little niece, my Corina? It is hard to be without a mother, and your brother is still hurting.”
    “Oh, yes, Papa. I will take care of the little one. Maria will help me.” She hugged her furry friend. “Papa, God is still good, isn’t He?”
    “Yes. Always good, Carina. Never forget that.” 

 

How has your week been?

Anything happening that makes you excited?

Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?

Go With God

 Good morning, readers,

It rained last night. I woke to the gentle patter of raindrops on the roof and skylight. I didn't know it was supposed to rain.

Yesterday was a good day. I painted the primer on a window that all had forgotten needed painted. Got the rest of the floor laid in the sewing room. Some of that I actually did myself which was rather fun. A friend came over after lunch, and he and my dad got all the trim up that they could do in that room. One place in the closet we have to find out from the guy who is going to build shelves if the baseboard should be on there or not. And in the room, we have to get a few other boards painted to go around the cabinet they put in. But wow! It sure doesn't look like our house any more! Very exciting. In the evening my dad and I cut and sanded the boards for my parents' room. They need primed and painted.

But, not only did a lot of work get done on the house, but I wrote! Yes, I did. It was only 341 words, but that's so much more than none at all.

Today the grandkids are coming over to spend the day. They haven't seen the house since we got sheetrock up. We are going to put a few pieces of furniture together that will go in the sewing room. And who knows what else. But before they come I'm going to work on filling in all the nail holes and cracks between the trim pieces. 

Our goal was to get my sister moved back downstairs today, but we decided not to try. Since the room isn't completely done, and she's too busy with orders to take time to move now, and she doesn't want to be trying to sew when construction is still going on down there, we'll wait. But that's okay. We made great progress. Now we can focus on getting the master bedroom done. Then we'll have the hall. But that might wait a bit.

Anyway, that's been my week. Here's a short little story I wrote back in July.

 Go With God

    The late summer sunshine came through a hazy layer of clouds and a breeze tossed the young man’s brown hair making him shiver.
    Samuel hugged himself to try and ward off the chill of the mountain air. “You’d think that being higher like this and closer to the sun it would be warmer not colder,” he said to the towering pine tree beside him.
    The tree shook its branches as though laughing at the idea, and Samuel had to smile too.
    Pausing on the rocky outcropping overlooking a vast panorama of mountains with sharp ridges and blanketed by pines, Samuel sighed and the smile left his face as one thumb slipped over the strap which held is precious guitar on his back.
    “Uncle James said it takes pluck to move on after a loss like mine. But it’s not pluck, it’s God. I know I’ll see my sisters again and my parents. I didn’t always act like I believed it though. Fourteen is a hard age to lose the ones you love most. If it weren’t for Miss Hope and my music I wouldn’t have made it these last three years.”
    His hands gently rubbed the red knit sweater Miss Hope had made for him before he left to seek a life beyond the small village and farms hidden in the valley. He knew he’d always be grateful to her for sending out letters for him and finding a place in a music shop with one of her cousins.
    “Remember, Samuel,” she had told him before he left, “your musical talent is not something you acquired by your own effort. It’s a gift from God. Always use it for His glory.”
    Samuel had promised. How could he not when Miss Hope had pointed him back to the Savior and the peace He offered after the tragic railway accident?
    Gently lifting the strap of his guitar over his head, he sat down and gently began to strum the strings. His music blended with the sighing of the pines and the rustle of grass. He would rest a few minutes before picking up his duffel bag and setting down the other side of the mountain to the bus stop which would take him away from the mountains, the farms, and from those who had taken him under their wing.
    “Go with God, Samuel,” Miss Hope had said, her eyes brimming with tears but a smile on her lips. “And write often.”
    “I will. Goodbye.”
    With one final strum of the strings, Samuel rose, settle his instrument on his back and returned to the path where he picked up his bag and set for once again.
 

Have you had an exciting day this week?

 Did you do any writing?

What do you think happened to Samuel?

Whomsoever

 Good morning dear readers,

Life is super busy these days. Somehow mixing camp and working on the house and other things equals crazy. Ready for a quick rundown? 

Last Friday: Finishers came to do the last coat of mud. My dad and I spend the afternoon and half the morning painting trim and doors. (And I hurt my back doing so because the saw-horses were a little too low.) I babysat my youngest niece (17 months) in the evening while the others watched my oldest niece play volleyball.

Saturday: We were ready for the guys to come do texturing at 8. They said they'd come at 9. They came at 10. I was also babysitting my youngest niece and nephew. 

Sunday: I taught in Children's Church, had a fellowship meal after church. Relaxed in the afternoon. Back hurting.

Monday: Wanted to paint but my back was in no shape. Tried to catch up on other things. Finally got to write 564 words!

Tuesday: Worked as an election judge all day.

Wednesday: Painted primer all day.

Thursday: Painted paint! Got one room, closet and the hall done. Went to my oldest niece's volleyball tournament in the evening. I didn't stay until the end. (I watched the first game she played and knew her team was heading to the championship, but that game didn't end up starting until 10:30 PM.)

Today: Finish the paining, install light covers, take up paper off floor, other things.

Our weather has been cold this week and some cloudy days. But it's supposed to warm back up into the 60s and 70s, so it will be nice to air out the house.

I hope you enjoy this short story. 

 

Whomsoever

 

    Mrs. Lane sat on the shady back porch her open Bible in her lap. But she wasn’t reading. Her eyes had stopped on the word “Whomsoever” and her mind had slipped back to a long time ago. Way back when her daughters were young.

*

    The sky looked like a watercolor painting. Blues, purples, pinks, and clouds of blended orange, yellow and pink. Along the horizon the colors had blended into a rosy red as the sun sank below the edge of the land. A moon, looking almost out of place sat in the middle of the sky and a flock of birds, only black silhouettes against the colorful sky, flew below it.
    “Amelie!” Mrs. Lane called.
    The little girl jumped from the swing and ran to the house. “What, Mama?”
    “Supper is almost ready. Will you go find your sister?”
    “May I have a drink first?”
    “Of course.” Mrs. Lane returned to the stove and her singing while her youngest daughter got a drink. “Whosoever will may come.”
    “Mama, what does whomsoever mean in the song?”
    “You mean whosoever?”
    Not sure what the difference was, Amalie nodded.
    “It means everyone. Anyone who wants to may come.”
    Her thirst quenched and thrilled by her mother’s words, Amelie dashed across the field and over the hill. She knew where her sister was playing. Any time she could, twelve-year-old Annalissa disappeared to the Caster’s home.
    The Casters were poor and shy. Mrs. Caster was sickly, Mr. Caster was out of work, and there were a dozen hungry children to keep fed and clothed. Annalissa enjoyed playing with the children, cuddling the baby, and helping out however she could.
    “Annalissa!” Amelie called, running down the hill. “Annalissa!”
    Annalissa appeared around the side of the barn holding the hand of a small dirty child. “Amelie, is something wrong?”
    Panting for breath, Amelie shook her head. “No, but Mama is inviting anyone who wants to for supper! She said whomsoever and said it means anyone can come!”
    “Are you sure?” Annalissa stared at her little sister.
    “I asked her what it mean and that’s what she said. The Casters can come for supper!”
    “But . . . but Mama doesn’t know I play with them, does she?”
    “I don’t know, but she said whomsoever and she had a big pot of soup on, so she must be expecting more than just us and Papa! Won’t that be just lovely?”
    Annalissa nodded. “Nobody’s very clean.”
    “That’s okay. She didn’t say anyone who was clean, but whomsoever will. They will won’t they?”
    “I’m sure they will. I don’t think Mr. or Mrs. Caster can come though. But I’ll get the rest. You run home and tell Mama I’m bringing them.”
    “All right!” Whirling, Amelie raced back home. “Mama! Mama, she’s bringin’ ‘em!”
    Mrs. Lane hurried out to the stoop. “Bringing who? Amelie what are you talking about?”
    “The whomsoever, Mama! The ones you were singing about. Annalissa is bringing them. It’s all the Caster children. They would like a good meal, and you didn’t say anyone who was clean. But they can wash their hands. Oh, Mama, won’t this be just the most splendid time? Is Papa home? Have you told him about whomsoever?”
    Feeling rather numb, Mrs. Lane could only shake her head and watch her daughter dance inside to repeat the story of the whomsoever to her father. “I guess I do have enough soup. I just won’t can any of it,” Mrs. Lane remarked to the darkening sky. “I never thought one word in a hymn would bring an entire houseful of young ones to dinner.”

*

    Mrs. Lane smiled. “I didn’t know at the time that I was feeding a future son-in-law, or that he would become a minister. Annalissa makes a lovely minister’s wife. And Amelie, well, she is still finding those ‘whomsoevers’ wherever she goes.”
 

Was your week busy?

Would you like the "whomsoever" to show up at your house?

How's the weather at your house?