At the Mercy of the Storm - Part 1

Just for the record, I will be posting something for you all to read later today. It has been a busy but fun week and today everyone left earlier and the rest of us are packing up to leave soon. I should be able to get on here at Grandma's, so, if you read this blog before I post a story or poem, you'll just have to come back.

Later in the afternoon-


I am now back at Grandma and Grandpa's and after some lunch and a nap (colds and a busy week sure can make you tired) I thought I ought to get this posted. Since it is the last Friday of the year 2011 I had wanted to write a poem or something like that, but I didn't have time. I didn't even think about the fact that today was Friday until I was in bed last night. And this morning with packing up, saying good-byes and keeping the kids out of the way (We ran around the then empty large room, climbed up to the top of nearly every bunk bed downstairs and did all kinds of things.), I didn't have time to write anything. So, you will just have to put up with this story.

At the Mercy of the Storm
by
Rebekah M.

    “They that wait upon the Lord . . . shall mount up on wings as eagles.” That was the verse Thad had read early that morning before they took off. It had seemed appropriate for the two pilots, Garret Lang, pilot of a small passenger plane and his co-pilot, Thad Ashby.
    Now it was growing late. Garret and Thad were flying half a dozen passengers to Phoenix. Having been delayed by a storm in Detroit, they were later than Garret liked for he always prided himself on his punctuality. He was a younger man than many of the pilots flying commercial planes, but he knew planes inside and out having studied anything he could get his hands on about them as a boy.
    “Thad,” Garret was studying something out of the front of the cockpit, “check Control in Denver and find out what the weather is like up ahead. I don’t like the look of those clouds.”
    Thad only responded with a brief nod. Fiddling with the radio he called, “Control, this is J-seven-nine-o-three, we need a weather check.” For a moment he pressed his headphones against his ears turning the radio knobs. At last he glanced over at the pilot. “I’m getting nothing but static.”
    Garret took his eyes briefly off the dark clouds before him to look at his co-pilot. “Keep trying, and,” he added, turning his eyes back before him, “give our location in case they can read you.”
    “Yes, sir.” Thad returned to his radio trying everything he could to make contact with someone, anyone. It was useless. Nothing but static came through.
    Suddenly Garrett’s voice broke a momentary silence in the cockpit. “That is one large storm and in another ten minutes we’ll be right in the midst of it.”
    “Should we try to fly around it?”
    “There’s no opening. I’d climb, but I’m afraid we’d have to go higher than possible to get above it.”
    “A different airport, sir?” Thad suggested.
    Garret frowned. “There is one not too much farther dead ahead. We’ve been fighting head winds for the last hour. I don’t think we have enough fuel to turn and try to make Denver. Besides,” glancing out the other cockpit windows, “it appears as though the storm has just about encircled us!”
    It was true. In every direction they looked, dark storm clouds embedded with flashes of lightning were to be seen billowing and rolling. Instantly the pilot pressed a small button and spoke into his mic.
    “All passengers, please buckle your seatbelts as we are approaching rough weather. Thank you.”
    Hardly had he switched off his mic when a gust of wind shook the small plane from tip to tail. Garret didn’t take time to look at his co-pilot as he exclaimed, “Here we go!”
    From then on, neither man spoke unless it was needful, for both were busy fighting to keep the plane on course and in the air. The storm was all about them now. Blinding flashes of white lightning were everywhere, claps of thunder were constant and the rain pounded the small plane in torrents while the wind tried tossing it about one minute, slamming it down the next and doing its best to rip the wings from the man made craft which had dared to invade the sky.
    Suddenly what Garret had feared would happen did. A bolt of lightning knocked all power from the plane. The lights dimmed and went out, the gauges stopped working leaving the pilot flying by sight and sense only.
    His voice was tense as he said, “We have to land this baby as soon as possible. If lightning hits the engine or fuel tank . . .” He let his sentence die in the air. There was no need to finish it. Thad well knew what would happen.
    After several intense moments, the pilot spoke again, “I’m going lower. I don’t know what the terrain is like nor do I know what direction we are going, but we have to try to get out of these clouds!”
    Thad merely nodded as he tried to peer out the window and pierce through the dark, storm filled clouds to the ground somewhere thousands of feet below them.
    Praying as he fought to keep the airplane on its descending course, Garret flew by feel alone, for the flashes of lightning blinded him to everything. Those moments felt like years to the young pilot. His muscles were taunt and sweat was dampening his shirt. Never had he experienced such a storm. Grimly he clutched the controls, his knuckles, had he been able to see them, turning white from the intensity of his grip.
    Just then Thad gasped out. “The ground! I see it! It looks like a field,” he finished as the sky, having for a split second lit up the ground, vanished leaving them once more in darkness. Then, without warning, a sudden flash, more blinding if possible than the ones before, surrounded them and a thunderous roar seemed to swallow them in sound. The engines coughed, sputtered and died.
    “There’s no turning back now,” Garret remarked grimly. “Just pray that you did see a field because this little ship is going down.”
    “Can’t you glide any longer?” Thad questioned anxiously.
    “It’s all I can do to keep her nose slightly tipped up so she won’t go into a spin, but this wind--” He stopped talking abruptly as a flash illuminated the ground only a few hundred feet below them. It looked like a field or a plain; at least there were no trees to tear off the wings as they tried to land.
    With hands steady on the controls, but heart in his throat, Garret eased the nose of the plane down and for the first time that night, he thanked God for the flashes of light, for by them he was able to see the ground which was coming up more quickly than he had thought.
    Neither pilot nor co-pilot said a word. Each was praying. Then there was a bump, a sudden sense of being thrown back against the seat, a crash, a rough bone-jarring shaking and the feeling of hanging almost sideways. A final jolt and then stillness. Only the rain drumming on the plane and the rumble of thunder were to be heard.

The W and B Christmas - Part 4

Good Morning FFFs,
I am really writing this yesterday late morning. (Okay, okay, so my grammar is really bad.) I suppose it is almost noon, so it will soon be afternoon. :) I wasn't sure if I'd have time in the morning to post since we will be leaving for our annual Christmas get-together with Mom's side of the family. We won't be back home until the 1st. But, since I'll have a computer, I will be posting something next Friday.


This will be the last post before Christmas, so I wish you all a wonderfully blessed merry Christmas! 


P.S. You can still leave comments. (hint, hint) I'd love to know what you think of the rest of this story especially since it is supposed to go in "Ria and the Gang."

Now it is today and since I had a little time, I thought I'd get on here quickly. Last night my bother and his family came over for supper and presents. Such fun! Goof Ball (almost 4) couldn't wait to give me my present! I wish I had a picture to show you.  They were red slipper socks with stuffed Santa heads on them. :) I had to put them on  right away and wear them all evening. :) For their family present, I had written clues that they had to follow to find the gift. Pickle Puss (5) thought it was a great game. 

Well, we'll be off to Grandma's in a little while. Going to go finish packing.

The W and B Christmas

Part 4

    Waking later, Ria felt refreshed and began to wonder what to do with herself. She knew that if she once began to think about what the others were doing out at the farm, she’d begin to cry. But it was hard work. She could hear cheery voices in other rooms and wished she had someone to talk to her. The nurse who came in seemed much too busy to be bothered with one lonely little girl and Dr. Friesen hadn’t come by. For what seemed to her a long time, she lay in quiet solitude. If she could only look out the window, things wouldn’t be so bad, but the curtains were drawn and she couldn’t open them from bed. True, the nurse had told her to ring the bell if she wanted anything, but Ria couldn’t get herself to do it.
    “I’m afraid I will cry after all if something doesn’t happen,” she whispered to herself. “This is the worst Christmas I’ve ever had. And the loneliest.”
    “Ria?” a voice whispered.
    Turning her head quickly, Ria saw Ed peering in the half open door.
    “What--?”
    “I brought something,” he grinned and moved into the room. After him Pete, Jack, Tom, Al, Will and Phil came trooping in with smiles and “Merry Christmas!”
     For a moment Ria was speechless. Then her face broke into smiles and, though there were tears in her eyes, she laughed softly. “How did you manage to get away?”
    “Oh, that was easy,” Phil boasted, leaning against the wall with arms crossed while Al pulled up a chair and sat down beside his favorite cousin.
    “Will,” Jack beckoned him to the window, the curtains of which he had opened. “Stand here and get ready.”
    What was going on? Ria wondered for Jack then slipped out of the door, making sure it was shut behind him. She didn’t ask anything for the others were talking. She didn’t have long to wait, however, for soon Will said in low tones, “There they are.”
    Then Phil took over. “Al, Ed, put our coats over Ria. It won’t do for her to catch cold. Tom, guard that door! Will, open the window. There. Now, Pete you have the rope, let it out. Ed, Will, give us a hand here.”
    Something was up! Ria knew but didn’t dare ask, for the merry twinkle in her brother’s eyes as well as the grins on all the faces told her she would soon know.
    There was a soft scuffling noice outside and Phil called quietly, “Shh. Ed, give him a hand.”
    Suddenly Walt’s face appeared in the window and his low but cheerful, “Merry Christmas, Ria!” was no sooner spoken than Ed was half leaning out the window again and then Jimmy crawled in.
    Not sure quite what was going on, Ria stiffled a giggle as Winston almost fell into the room head first.
    “Sorry, Win,” Pete spoke in hushed tones.
    Winston just grinned and began brushing the snow off his coat.
    One lad followed another until at last, Jack,the last of the gang, climbed in, the rope was pulled in and the window was shut.
    “Sorry,” Tom told her, “we couldn’t get the others on such short notice.”
    Shaking her head, Ria giggled softly. “I should have known you would think of something. Now if only you could think of some way to smuggle me out of here and take me to the farm, I’d be the happiest girl in town.”
    Jack, always one for adventure and excitement, was ready to try, but the common sense of the older members vetoed the plan. “It would be hazardous to our health if we even tried it,” Pete said looking at his brother, and Jack subsided with a shrug.
    Letting her eyes wander with delight over the boys brushing snow off their coats and filliing the room, which only a quarter of an hour before had been so lonely, she spied Dave watching her with a mischievous look. Suddenly he pulled out a snowball from his pocket and began tossing it up in the air and catching it again all the while moving slowly closer and closer to her bed.
    Just when Ria felt sure he would throw it at her, Johnny suddenly caught the ball and grasping Dave by his coat collar, shoved him over to where Jack and Pete were standing.
    “Here, Jack, sit on him if he doesn’t behave.” Then he opened the window and tossed the ball out where it belonged.
    “How are you feeling, Ria?” Ray and Fred had made their way through the throng of lads to Ria’s bedside.
    “Still not great, but much better since you all came.”
    The talk in the room was almost continuous and all Ria had to do was listen and ask a question now and then, but even that last was hardly necessary with fifteen boys standing and sitting about the room ready to fill in any gaps in the day’s happenings. Ria didn’t hear much of what was said for she was busy thinking. She had never realized just how special the whole gang was to her nor how much she meant to them. A warm feeling stirred at her heart as she glanced at the faces so familiar and thought of all the ones who weren’t there. So many people to love her and care enough to make sure she didn’t spend a lonely day. Then her thoughts drifted to Mary on that first Christmas morning. She had been far away from family and friends. Only her husband had been there. What did Ria have to complain about? Jesus had been with her all the time and Dr. Earl had come in often and the nurse, and her family had stopped by and now the gang had come. “Ria Mitchell,” she told herself, “you don’t have any reason to feel sorry for yourself!”
    All at once Phil, who was standing by the door, hissed, “Hush!”
    Instantly the room became so silent that the voice of Dr. Earl Friesen could be distinctly heard down the hall talking to someone.
    The lads looked at one another. Was he going to come there? What would he say when he discovered the entire room full of boys? “We should have kidnapped Evie,” Winston whispered softly. “She could have kept Earl occupied.”
    “I’m afraid it’s too late now,” and Tom glanced at Ed.
    “Some of you should hold the door shut while the rest of us escape out the window,” Dave suggested, only to have his brother, Jack, murmur that they’d leave him to hold the door.
    Lying in bed, Ria didn’t know if she should laugh at the gang’s predicament or not. Before she could decide, the door to her room opened and in walked Dr. Friesen. No trace of surprise showed in his face at the room full of silent boys. Without a word he shut the door behind him, crossed the room and looked out the window. Every eye was on him. What would he say?
    After a long moment of intense silence, in which the lads were beginning to grow uncomfortable, the doctor remarked quietly, “I’d tell you to depart as you came in, but since this is the second story and the snow is rapidly melting, unless you want to end up in a room here yourself, you’d better leave by the back entrance. And make it quickly.”
    The boys took the hint and with quick farewells to Ria and hopes that she soon would be better, they departed. Ed lingered after the others. “Don’t fret about missing Christmas, Sis,” Ed whispered as he stooped to drop a kiss on her cheek, “We’re waiting until you get back home.”
    Putting her arms around her brother’s neck, she returned the kiss and said, “Thank you. Tell the rest of the gang I said this has been my worst . . . and best, Christmas ever!”

The end until I write more of "Ria and the Gang."

Thoughts or comments about this story?

Western Christmas - Part 3 . . . & 4

Good Morning Western Wednesday Christmas Readers!


It is hard to believe it is the 21st of December all ready! Last night we had hot gingerbread for supper! (What is the difference between coffee cake and gingerbread when you are having a breakfast meal for supper? Not much.) I love gingerbread! Especially hot! :)


I was told no one would mind if I posted the last two parts of the Western Christmas today. If you do mind, I guess you can just wait until another day to read Part 4. I was going to only write three parts to this story, but they made me write another part. :) I didn't think you'd mind. :) I'd love to know your thoughts when you finish reading it.


Enjoy your day and come back for your Friday Fiction to finish the story of The Worst and Best Christmas. 

This story has been removed for publishing purposes.

A Pint of Judgment

Another of my top four favorite Christmas stories.

A Pint of Judgment

by

Elizabeth Morrow

This little story, first published in 1939 is one that I love. Little Sally Tucker wants to get her mother something extra special this Christmas, but what? In reading over her mother's Christmas list with her sister, they discover 'a quart of judgment' handwritten at the bottom. That is what Mother wants most. The question is, what is judgment? How would you explain it to a seven-year-old? You'll be charmed and delighted with this simple yet touching story of love.

The Birds' Christmas Carol

I love this book. I grew up reading this sweet story and still read it each year. In fact, I just finished reading it again yesterday.

The Birds' Christmas Carol

by

Kate Douglas Wiggin

I love This story Having heard or read it every Christmas for as long as I can remember, it has become a part of my Christmases. Carol Bird, who was born on Christmas morning, plans and makes a special Christmas with the help of her family and Uncle Jack for the “Ruggleses in the rear” in honor of her 10th birthday. I find myself laughing as well as shedding a few tears as I reread this story year after year. I would recommend it to any age.

If you would like to listen to the story this year, you can download it for free here.

The W and B Christmas - Part 3

Good Morning Friday Fiction Fans,
I really was going to post something yesterday. I just completely forgot about it. Hmm, maybe I can get it posted tomorrow. We'll see.


Today is going to be busy! This week has been fairly busy, but today caps it all. :) This morning we clean house and get things ready for our Christmas Open House. That involves turning the sewing room into a play room for the little ones, packing the two large closets in the "new room" (we've had the room for two years) with all kinds of things so we can fit people in. Putting fresh greenery out in some places to replace the dried branches, and who knows what else. We don't know who all is coming since not everyone RSVPs, but we always end up with a huger crowd and we love it! I just wish all of you readers could make it. But then we might not have room for everyone. :)


Other than writing our family Christmas letter, I've done no writing this week. I've been reading Christmas books. I have two left: "The Bird's Christmas Carol" and my favoritest of favorite Christmas books, "The Twenty-Four Days Before Christmas." I'll give you a review on "The Bird's Christmas Carol" next week. Perhaps next week I'll start writing something else. But, then again, perhaps not. And I know I won't get anything written the week of Christmas since we'll be spending the week with family. But don't worry. I do have things to post.


Anna, thanks for pointing out the mistake. :) I'll mark it on my paper copy. I hope you all enjoy this next part of "The Worst and Best Christmas."

Part 3

Last week . . .

    “If I do everything I’m supposed to tonight, can I go to Grandma’s tomorrow, just for the Christmas party? Please,” she begged.
    Slowly Dr. Earl began to shake his head. “The drive out there would be too rough for you tomorrow--”
    “Then can’t I go home tomorrow? Please! You have to let me go home for Christmas!” Ria’s voice rose in pitch and her hands clenched.
    Earl walked back over to the bed and sat down beside it. “Ria, I want you to listen to me a minute.” His voice was soothing but compelling.
    Obediently Ria lay quietly, watching his face.
    “First, if you get yourself all worked up about this, you are only going to make yourself sick, and then I won’t be letting you go home for several days. Second, I’m not going to promise anything right now. Let’s wait and see how you are feeling in the morning, all right?”
    Ria’s eyes dropped and she didn’t reply. How could this happen? Why today of all days in the year. It could at least have happened during school and given her a vacation from it. And what about the big family party at Grandma and Grandpa Foster’s? They’d have it without her. Everyone would be there, except her. Would they even miss her? She wouldn’t have any visitors tomorrow if she stayed here, that was for sure. They would all be too busy having fun at the farm. She would just have to spend a lonely Christmas. Then she thought of home. Why, she’d miss Daddy reading the Christmas story tonight! And she wouldn’t be there when they all opened gifts in the morning! She’d miss it all. There just wouldn’t be any Christmas this year if she couldn’t go home tomorrow.
    A hand was placed on her shoulder and a voice called her from her thoughts.
    “Let’s just wait and see about tomorrow, shall we?”
    Ria nodded, staring at the white wall until Dr. Earl left.

    She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew, she was awakened by a sound. It was soft at first, then it grew louder and Ria could tell it was singing. The door to her room was open and she could see lights flickering. The singing came closer.

“Silent night, holy night
Shepherds quake at the sight
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing, “Alleluia!”
Christ, the Savior, is born!
Christ, the Savior, is born!”

    It was carolers! Ria lay in her dark room listening to the sweet, well blended music as it came to her from down the hall, and watching the faint flickering of the candles in the dim hallway. Carolers coming to cheer the hearts of those who couldn’t go home for Christmas. The song ended and all was still. Ria lay with bated breath, what would they sing next? Would they come past her room or just stay down the hall? Then the first notes of a new song came softly through the hushed hospital corridor.

“Oh, holy night!
The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of our dear Savior’s birth.”

    Tears began to roll gently down Ria’s cheeks. She had nearly forgotten. Christmas wasn’t just about presents under the tree or parties out at the farm, it was about Jesus’ birth. He left His home in heaven to live on earth and to die so that all who believed on Him could have everlasting life.
    The song continued to fill the lonely rooms with its message of cheer.

“The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger,
In all our trials born to be our friend;
He knows our need,
To our weakness is no stranger
Behold your King,
Before Him lowly bend!”

    “Dear Jesus,” Ria whispered, “thank you for coming to be my Savior and my Friend. I need one right now ‘cause I’m tired and lonely. I want to go home for Christmas, but I’m glad you will stay with me. And after all, it is Your birthday.”
    The carolers moved on down the hall, singing one song after another, the soft yet rich strains of the carols bringing comfort and joy to all who heard. Ria, drowsily watching the flickering candle lights of the singers, listened to their songs and thought about that first Christmas so many, many years ago. But before the quiet carols had quite faded into memories, she had fallen into a deep sleep.

    The light shining in the window awoke her the next morning and for a minute she couldn’t remember where she was. Then it all came back to her, the pain in her side, the trip to the hospital and most of all that today was Christmas day. This was the day she had looked forward to for months, had counted the days to it long before others had even given it more than a passing thought. And now here she was. She wondered what the day would be like. “If it wasn’t Christmas I might have visitors,” she thought.
    “Merry Christmas, Ria!”
    Ria turned her head to see Dr. Earl in the doorway; there was someone behind him.
    “Mom!” and Ria reached out her arms. Mrs. Mitchell hurried forward and gently held her daughter. “I didn’t think you’d come today,” Ria whispered.
    “And leave you all alone this Christmas day?” Mrs. Mitchell shook her head. “We will have to leave you, but Daddy and I wanted to see you and so did some others.”
    Eagerly Ria looked past her mother to see her father and all of her brothers gathered near the door.
    “Merry Christmas,” they greeted her.
    Ria could only smile a teary smile and squeeze her mother’s hands. This was more than she had hoped for. Mr. Mitchell kissed her and the boys came over.
    Chris was the first to say something, “Hey Ria, we got snow last night!”
    “We did?”
    “Yep, about four inches. Not enough for a good snowball fight though.”
    “At least it covered up all the ugly melting snow,” Johnny added.
    “Chris,” Ria said, “make a snowball and throw it at Dave for me, will you? I never did get one thrown at him after the first snowfall when he dropped one down my neck.”
    Chris grinned. Now that was the kind of thing that he would enjoy. “I’ll do more than throw it at him. I’ll put one down his neck.”
    “And get yourself in a mess,” Ed chuckled.
    “Oh, Walt will help me,” Chris spoke with confidence and the others laughed.
    When it was time for the Mitchells to leave, Mrs. Mitchell offered to stay with Ria, but with a smile, Ria shook her head. “No Mom, they couldn’t get along without you at Grandma’s. Just give Grandma a kiss for me and tell her I’ll be there as soon as someone,” and she looked past her mother to the doorway where Dr. Friesen had just appeared, “let’s me leave.”
    “Don’t you know it is all just a plot to give me some Christmas cheer since I can’t go to the farm either?” he asked with a grin.
    “I guessed as much,” Jimmy told him.
    “We’ll be sure to tell Evie you’ve got yourself a new girlfriend,” Johnny laughed and ducked out of the room quickly.
    “Go ahead,” Earl called after him. “Maybe she’d come out to visit.” As he spoke, Dr. Friesen had been watching Ria. Now he glanced at the others and nodded his head towards the door.
    Feeling more tired than she had ever remembered feeling, Ria closed her eyes as soon as her family left and only mumbled replies to the doctor’s questions.

To find out the rest of the story, come back next Friday.

Any comments, questions or thoughts?

Western Christmas - Part 2

Well, it wouldn't be very nice if I forgot to post the Western Wednesday's story, would it? I was trying to decide what I'd post this morning and then I realized it was Wednesday! I didn't have to decide after all. :)

This story has been removed for publishing purposes.

Thanks.