Wish Fulfillment Stories

Indian Summer

2011-01-19T17:20:00.001-08:00

My wish was that I could grow up and have a relationship with the boy in this story, Sam, and become a singer. We had been friends for about three years before we went to our second camp experience at Hume Lake, and it was at this camp that I lost my purity bracelet (in this story, it was a ring). I had been looking for the bracelet all night and crying. I told some of my other girlfriends about it, but they didn't seem sympathetic to me at all. I went upstairs in the game building at Hume (if you've been to Meadow Ranch, Hume Lake, you know this as the ARK) and just cried. Sam came in to say good night to everyone and noticed me. He took me to the benches at camp and helped me to stop crying and get into a state of mind acceptable enough for the cabin, and then walked me around the long way back to my cabin. Then, as I was just about to go up the stairs, Simon pulled me into a hug and I knew everything was going to be okay. Through the end of the week, he made sure that I was ok and he tried to take care of me. That week has been cemented in my mind, and sometime I wish I could relive it again. The night that I was crying really showed me what a good friend he was, and what a great guy he is. Camp inspired me to write two songs about this event and others, and my wish is that (when it is more appropriate for us) that we could have a pure relationship together. Marlayne helped me to hope, and in a way, she fulfilled that wish.

“Cathy – is that you?” said the distinctly male voice behind her. Cathy turned around from the registration desk then craned her neck back in order to make full eye contact with the owner of the voice. A pair of dark brown eyes crinkled at her in a smile beneath gleaming dark brown eyebrows.

The face looked vaguely familiar but the voice was much deeper which was to be expected since a good seven years had passed since she had last seen him…

“Simon?”

His grin at being recognized so quickly could have lit up the room. “You remember me!”

Cathy blushed. “Of course I remember you!” She didn’t want to tell him how her heart had beat faster for him whenever she thought of him seven years ago. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, apparently!” he smiled, waving his paperwork. “I’m one of Meadow Ranch’s camp counselors. I had such wonderful memories here that I wanted to relive them and share them with other kids. What age group are you doing?”

“Thirteen-fourteen-fifteen,” Cathy replied, double-checking her paperwork. Despite the fact it had been years since they had seen each other, her heart was still skipping beats at the nearness of him. Sam had grown at least 12 inches and filled out nicely but he still had the same gentle look in his eyes.

“Next!” called out the counselor registration clerk, holding out her hand for Cathy’s paperwork.

“See you at the campfire tonight!” she grinned over her shoulder.

“Absolutely,” Sam replied, dimples appearing on either side of his smile.

The next few hours was a flurry of activity. She unrolled her sleeping bag and put her clothing put away in the platform tent then made the rounds to introduce herself to the girls in her group. Next it was dinner in the A-framed mess hall, camp songs, and clean up followed by the first campfire of the season. It was almost the last week of August but the air was turning cold and the leaves starting to turn the colors of fall. Cathy, Elizabeth, Emily and Sophie (all veterans of Meadow Ranch) helped the male counselors to start the fire then handed out wire hangers for toasting marshmallows as the campers gathered round. As usual the girls sat together in their cliques and the boys horsed around, throwing pine cones at each other and shoving pine needles down each other’s shirts until their counselor told them to knock it off. As each of the counselors got up, introduced themselves and gave their personal testimony about finding Jesus, the kids quieted down and began to listen. At the end of the evening, Cathy stood up with some of the other counselors and sang a song that she had written herself, teaching the kids the chorus as she went so they could join in. On the last verse they all stood with their arms around each other’s shoulders and sang, swaying back in forth. Cathy’s heart filled with joy as she watched them and remembered how important coming to this camp had been for her when she had been their age.

As the campers drifted off arm in arm to their cabins, Cathy felt a little tap on her shoulder. She turned around to find Simon smiling down on her.

“That was beautiful, did you write that?” he asked.

Cathy nodded; too tongue-tied to do anything else.

“Would you like to go for a walk and catch up before heading to bed?” he asked.

“Let me make sure all my girls are safely in for the night first,” Cathy replied.

“Sounds good…meet you at the zip line in about an hour? Bring your sweatshirt; it’s going to be cold.”

“Okay.” Cathy replied. It was all she could do not to run all the way back to her camp area. Instead she walked away purposefully but she could feel Sam’s eyes on her back because of the thrill which kept coursing down her spine. After doing a head count and making sure everyone was in bed, Cathy ran to the zip line where she found Simon waiting for her. He had a walking stick with him that he had carved, a flashlight and some leftover s’mores from the campfire.

“So what have you been up to since I last saw you?” he began, handing her a s’more.

“Writing and performing my music a lot,” Cathy replied. She then went on in detail about all the opportunities God had brought her way to share her music with others and the lives it had touched. “I have been studying music and taking classes to get my teaching credentials so hopefully I can teach music once I’ve earned my degree. What about you?”

“I’m in college studying mathematics and engineering,” he replied. “I’ll be interning next year at an engineering firm but took this summer off to come back to camp as a counselor. I have so many wonderful memories here and I wanted to be involved in helping kids find the Lord or grow deeper in their relationship with God before going into the workforce full time.”

The continued to walk and talk for the next hour and before she knew it, Sam had walked her back to her cabin. He took her hand in his and looked into her eyes very intently.

“I really enjoyed talking with you, Cath,” he said. “Would you mind going for a walk with me again tomorrow night after chapel?”

Cathy nodded; she was hoping he would ask her again. There was just something about Sam that made her feel “at home” and completely accepted. “I’d love to,” she replied with a grin. The next thing she knew, he was bending over her hand and kissing the top.

“Until tomorrow, milady!” he murmured with a grin. He turned and walked off with a happy swagger in his step. Cathy turned around to find several heads peaking out the windows of cabins and doorways.

“Back to bed! We’re getting up early!” she ordered her girls who were all grinning at her. She made her way to her cabin, brushed her teeth, changed into her pajamas and lay on her cot staring at the ceiling too excited to go to bed despite the fact that she had to get up at the crack of dawn the following day. Sam had unexpectedly come back into her life again and now all she could think of was him.

For the rest of the summer Cathy was kept busy with various activities throughout the day: arts and crafts, hiking, swimming, zip lines, games but every evening she and Sam would walk together under the dark pine trees and talk about their hopes, dreams and future plans. The campers had finally stopped giving them grief over their nightly trysts and had finally come to accept their friendship as part of the daily routine. Summer was swiftly drawing to a close and Cathy was dreading when camp would finally come to an end. She and Sam had grown very close over the last few weeks and the thought of never seeing him again was weighing heavily upon her heart. She just didn’t know what to do about it.

The last evening before camp was over they went for their usual walk hand in hand. Sam was very quiet as was she; she assumed he was as consumed with his private regrets at the summer ending as she was. They walked together in companionable silence then sat down just outside the mess hall.

“You’re really quiet tonight,” Sam ventured, taking both of her hands in his. “Is anything bothering you?”

Cathy nodded. “I’m really going to miss you,” she mumbled, wiping a tear out of her eye before it could drip down her nose.

Sam let go of her hands and instead put his arm around her shoulders. “I feel the same way, Cath-“ he said softly, letting her rest her head upon his shoulder. “But I don’t want to miss you.”

“What do you mean?” Cathy replied, her heart suddenly plunging. Had she been mistaken about his feelings for her all this time?

Sam pulled his arm away for a moment, dug around into his pants pocket and brought out a folded handkerchief. “I have something that belongs to you,” he said, placing it into her hands.

Cathy looked down as he shone the flashlight down on the linen square as she unfolded it. There glistening fitfully in the moonlight was the chastity ring she had lost years ago at this very camp.

“Where did you get this?” she gasped, her throat already beginning to choke up.

“I found it after you left camp seven years ago,” Sam replied, putting his arm back around her. “I held onto it all this time in the hopes of seeing you again.”

Cathy looked up at him; her eyes beginning to swim with tears. “Really?” she whispered. Sam nodded, took the purity ring and slipped it over the middle finger of her left hand.

“Will you promise to wait for me while I finish college?” he asked, looking deeply into her eyes.

“Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?” Cathy whispered, her heart pounding.

Sam got down on one knee and held her hands in his. “Cathy …would you do me the honor of accepting this promise ring?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Cathy whispered, the tears now spilling down her cheeks with joy. “I would be glad to wait for you, Sam.”

THE END

Reviews for Make a Wish

2011-01-03T12:07:00.000-08:00

THE best book EVER!!!!
Do you ever wish your dream could come true? Or that you could have just one more moment with a deceased love one to tell them how much they meant to you? If you do, then this is an absolutely FANTABULOUS book just for you. This author is like no other author, and God truly uses her to share happiness in the lives of others. I'm still, as I sit here sharing my thoughts on this book, in awe of how completely incredible this book is.

In this "Make a Wish" book, Marlayne Giron creates short stories from peoples wishes. These stories play out like they would if it really happened. Marlayne, at the beginning of each "wish"/chapter tells a little bit about the person and their wish, and then jumps into the wish fulfillment story that stars that wish maker. Each wish is unique, some are about dreams and hopes of marrying prince charmings or knights in shining armor, some about getting that one more moment with a loved one, and some of them about getting one more chance to walk again. No matter what they are about, though, each have something in common with the one before it: they are all gifts from God. They are, simply put: beautiful. Of course, while many while make you smile, you must have LOTS of Kleenex available, for you will cry rivers after reading some (or, in my case, ALL) of them.

If there was any way possible, I would give this book 5 TRILLION stars instead of simply 5. Yes, it will remind you a lot of the "Make A Wish Foundation", but it's beautiful just like that. This book of wish fulfillments isn't just for kids, like the MAW Foundation....it's for ALL of God's wonderful children, both young and old. So, whether you have a wish or not, I HIGHLY recommend this book to every one. You will fall in love with the book and it's author. And, if you didn't have a wish before, this book will leave you wishing...and hoping...and dreaming. And, if that happens, you should contact Marlayne! With God's guidance, she'll make it come true for you. I should know-she fulfilled my wish for me, too!- http://reviewsbymolly.blogspot.com/

Heart touching fairy tales for real life
Do you have a moment in time you wish you could relive? Do you ever wish your dream could come true? Or that you could have just one more moment with a deceased love one to tell them how much they meant to you? Everyone does, no matter what their age. Author Marlayne Giron has found the way to make this happen for several people in a very unique, faith-filled way.

In "Make a Wish", Marlayne Giron creates short stories from people's wishes. At the beginning of each chapter Marlayne tells a little bit about the person and their wish, then jumps into their wish fulfillment story. Each wish is unique, some about hopes of marrying, whether it be a Japanese Christian, a Prince Charming, or a noble Knight. A few are about getting that one more moment with a loved one, a chance to say what you didn't get to say or to let them know how much you miss them and love them. For one, it is about one more chance to walk again, and another, a chance to say what he never can to his parents, play basketball with his father and take his mother and sister for a day of pampering. No matter what they are about, though, they all have one thing in common: all are gifts from God. You will run through many emotions while reading Marlayne's wish fulfillment stories - laughter, happiness, joy, sadness and heartache. But your heart and soul will be touched in a beautiful, uplifting way.-I highly recommend reading "Make A Wish" to everyone.
- Beverly Grider (Beverly's Bookshelf)

The Silver and Gold of Writing
What Marlayne Giron has done with the hardships of life is nothing short of amazing. It has often been said there is a silver lining beneath every dark cloud. Although, that is a gentle word of encouragement, the difficult part is fighting through the darkness to see that glimpse of silver. Making a Wish takes the hopes of the oppressed and hurting on a journey into their dreams to search for the silver lining. Even when circumstance will not allow for a physical change in reality, one can never stop the heart from dreaming...wishing...hoping. When we can do that beneath the wings of Christ, the silver lining becomes nothing less than golden. Marlayne Giron has taken these true-to-life wishes and adorned them with jewels of hope and encouragement. She has taken the idea of a wish, and in the gentleness of her words, turned back time for just a moment...because sometimes; all we need is a moment.

Making a Wish will stir your heart, swipe at your emotion and make you stretch your arms toward the love of an amazing God. Stretch--dream--wish...for wishes can come true. - Cindy Sproles, ChristianDevotions.us Editor

Make a Wish...Poignant and Powerful
Imagine a quadriplegic man walking again, experiencing sensation in his legs and running! It is the fondest wish of a man confined to a wheel chair since the age of fourteen, so his friend, Marlayne writes a story that fulfills his wish. She writes a story where he is the main character and can walk!

Another one of the stories, sees a young J.R.R. Tolkien fan become an "elf" and live amongst the fantasy characters that Tolkien created in his Lord of the Rings books. A woman, mourning the sudden and inexplicable loss of her daughter, experiences one last memory-making afternoon with her; another woman battling cancer and fearful of dying is visited by other dear family members who have come back to her from heaven to encourage and to calm her fears. A family that loves watching the T.V. show "Extreme Home Makeovers" get their wish to get a brand new home. An infertile young couple get to experience the joy of holding their own child... Every story comes to life with vibrant detail and throughout the telling, the author fulfills the wish of every person and gives all glory to God in the process. This is a brilliant concept, (using fiction to bless individuals in such a poignant and profound manner) and the story lines have such limitless potential! Encouraging in every way, this book is a beautiful tribute to each individual the author blesses with a "wish".
I absolutely loved this book! - Lynn Dove

Review: Have you ever wished for just one more day with a deceased loved one? Have you ever wished for something that was entirely impossible? If you have, you'll enjoy Make a Wish: Stories Written for Real People Where They are the Star.

Make a Wish is a compilation of short stories. Each story features one person whom Marlayne Giron, the author knows. The stories reflect the main characters' deepest desires, whether they are to see a loved one again, be free from a physical limitation, or realize a long-held dream.

Each story is different in its own way, and each one was touching, especially when you put the story in context with the main character's real life. This book kept making me cry, the stories were so tender and sweet. There is a Christian element to Make a Wish in that several of the stories feature a loved one up in heaven. I'm no great fan of short stories, which is what kept this from being a five-star book for me personally, but I did really enjoy this book. - http://idsoratherbereading.blogspot.com/

Exceptionally Heartfelt Storytelling by An Amazing Wordsmith!

It is not by accident that I am posting the review for this book on Valentine's Day. One of the most loving gifts I received last year was my own Wish Fulfillment story, entitled `Sword of the Spirit' (you can see my blog post here ([...]).
The story is included in this book.

The stories range from heartwarming to laugh out loud funny. Marlayne has a real gift for writing; each of the stories is a pleasure to read.

`Butterfly Kisses,' about a young lady taken from this earth far too soon, is especially poignant. `No Ordinary Day at the Mall' is Hannah, a Christian home-schooled blogger's story about her future husband - featuring her favorite - lots of flowers! It started out at the mall - but did not end there! That is a fun one! `Wistful Wedding' is amazing - a dream come true!

I especially liked the story in Chapter 35, entitled, "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes." This is the real-life story of how Marlayne met her husband, Michael. What a sweet, sweet story! They have been married for 24 wonderful years!

Marlayne has an amazing writing style; I love to read her work! Some people just have that gift, and she is definitely one of them. And she takes the person's original wish to whole new levels of tenderness and care. She is so creative and her writing is so descriptive; her imagination knows no bounds. Marlayne - take me away!

I can't think of any other book that is quite like this book. It is a combination of feel-good stories and tearjerkers that you don't find every day. You can set the book on your nightstand and read it over and over again.

The great news is that some Christian publishing companies are interested in publishing this book, as well as future books from Marlayne's computer. I just know this book would appeal to a mass audience, and I look forward to seeing where God takes Marlayne on her publishing journey, which is all to glorify her Lord!

The digital version of this book was generously provided to me by the author for review purposes.
Reviewed by Andrea Schultz - Ponderings by Andrea blog - [...]

Make a Wish

2010-11-29T13:30:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to let you all know that my next book, "Make a Wish" will be released sometime after the new year through Amazon. It is a compilation of over 30 short stories written as gifts for real people, some of which have been posted on my blog, Wish Fulfillment Stories. Some of the stories are fun and romantic while others are deeply emotional and inspirational. I have been told by just about every recepient of a story that it made them weep for a good 30 minutes or has deeply impacted their faith and walk with God.
I have created a Facebook Fan Page (click on the book cover to go to the link) and I hope you will stop by and "like" it. For those of you for whom I have written stories, I hope you will tell your family and friends about it. As far as I am aware, I am the only author who has written custom-made stories for people free upon request.
Here is the link below:

: Click on the book cover to go to the fanpage on FB

A Basket Full of Wishes

2010-10-15T09:43:00.001-07:00

I have two children, Chris and Aimee, almost 8 grandbabies (four for each of them). I wish that they all lived close to me so that I could enjoy my babies. My biggest wish is that they be saved and that Chris will find the job that he needs. I would like for my children’s dad to open his eyes and believe that there is a God and to be saved. I would love to have a major break thru for my book and it becomes a best seller. I would love to find my soul mate. We could go fishing, go hiking in the woods, ride four wheelers and go motorcycle riding, boating and all the things that make life enjoyable.

I have a secret wish that is hard for anybody to understand but I would love to have such an anointing on my life that people could see it all over me and that God would give me the gift of singing in the holy language of the Angels (Singing in tongues) and that people would be saved thru this. Also, the gift of healing so I could lay hands on sick people and have them be healed, especially Mary.

“A Basket Full of Wishes”

Mable sat at her kitchen table, eating a bowl of cold cereal for dinner. There was little point in cooking anymore when she was the only one in the house (other than her pets). She was tired from her long day at work and enjoyed the peace of quiet of her home, but it sure got lonely a lot. All of her children and grandbabies lived too far away for her to visit whenever she had the whim (which was always). She stared out the kitchen window at the fading light of day and was surprised to see someone coming up the walk carrying a big box.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Mable popped up and had it open in a jiffy but the delivery person was no where to be seen. She stepped outside and looked all the way around but could see no one nor any sign of a truck. Well, that was strange!

She bent over to pick up the enormous box wondering how she was going to lift it much less get it through the doorway but it was very light; almost as if it were completely empty. She managed to get it through the doorframe and plopped it onto the kitchen table so she could get a better look at the return address. She guffawed instantly; this had to be someone’s idea of a joke. All it said was “GOD”. The ship to address wasn’t much better: “MABLE”

She went out the front door again and this time circled her property. No one was lurking about to watch their little practical joke play out. No cars were loitering on the street.

“Harumph!” Mable snorted. She went back into the house, got a scissors and sliced the duct tape that sealed the box shut. I bet it’s a bunch of shredded newspaper with fake doggie pooh! She had the flaps open in seconds. No foul odors greeted her nostrils. So far so good…She reached in and pulled out a large wicker basket. “Oohhhhhhhhhhhhh!” she couldn’t help cooing. It was beautiful. The handle was festooned with raffia and real sunflowers, hyacinth, and snapdragons. The obligatory red plaid tablecloth edges peeked out from under the lid. On the handle was a note with handwriting.

“ONE AT A TIME” it read. Mable’s brow furrowed. What in heaven’s name did that mean? She opened the lid, reached in and found a single scrap of paper.

“Open the front door.” It read. Mable put her hands on her hips in disbelief. Now the basket was giving her orders! She reached in to see what the next note would read, hoping it would be something more interesting…like the winning lotto numbers and the winning ticket…”OPEN THE DOOR!!!” This time in all capital letters.

“Well okay!” griped Mable loudly. Great…now she was talking to a picnic basket! Might as well play along…she went to the front door and flung it open.

Mable screamed and jumped back. There on the stoop were her kids, Chris and Aimee with their families and all eight of her grandbabies!!

“MOM! GRANDMA!!” They all tumbled in; taking turns kissing and hugging her. Mable was too overjoyed to question them and ushered them all inside.

“I wish I’d a known y’all were coming – I would have fixed y’all something to eat! She exclaimed. The moment she turned around she found them all seated around the table that held the basket. The oldest kids began to pull things out one by one. First it was a large Tupperware filled with hot fried chicken. Next came biscuits, then corn on the cob, then a green salad and finally a plate of Angel Fluff brownies. The house became filled with aroma of food. “Where did-“ she began to ask then decided not to. Better to play along and see what happened next. She sat down next to Chris who planted a kiss upon her cheek.

“Mom – I have some good news!” he said inbetween mouthfuls of chicken and biscuit.

“What is it, baby?” she said, smiling at him in anticipation.

“I just got a great job and you’ll never guess where the company headquarters is!”

“Here?”

“That’s right! How’d ya know?” Chris replied, his eyes wide.

Mable glanced at the basket. “Uh…a little bird told me.” She fibbed.

“They’re paying for the relocation and everything! Not only that, but they hired Aimee’s husband too so we’ll ALL be moving back…and just in time for CHRISTMAS!”

A strange feeling began to come over Mable. She felt this overwhelming desire to cry and laugh at the same time. She glanced at the basket again; somehow it managed to look like it was grinning at her. She enjoyed her family’s company for the rest of the evening, talking and laughing late into the night. Soon they all piled out of the door, several sleepy grandbabies draped over the shoulders of their parents as they called out their goodnights and promises to be all together soon. Mable closed the door, prepared to do a sink full of dishes only to find that all had already been cleared up.

She craned her neck back and looked up at the ceiling, cupping her hand to her mouth. “Okay, Lord…what next?” she shouted. She jumped almost 3 feet off the floor and screamed when a telephone began to loudly ring from inside the basket! With every jingle the entire thing vibrated violently and began to move towards the edge. Mable dived and caught the basket just as it tipped over the edge; the phone inside still ringing madly. She was almost afraid to answer it.

“Hello?” she ventured, wondering whose voice would be on the other end. Jesus? Moses? The Tooth Fairy…?

“Mable?” bawled the voice on the other end inbetween sobs. “Is that you?”

“Junior?” she responded, pulling the receiver away to look at it as though his face would pop out of the ear piece.

“Make it stop! Make it stop!”

“Make what stop, Junior?”

“Those black things flying around my house all afternoon shrieking like the devil!” Get away from me! She could hear him scream to the things in his house. “Mable, it’s like the pit of hell opened up into my living room! There’s now here I can hide! The shrieking is terrible and they won’t stop pinching me! They keep telling me I’m going to die tonight unless you intercede on my behalf and go down into the underworld!!”

Mable stared at the phone again. “Junior – is this your idea of a sick joke?”

His bloodcurdling scream was the only response she got. She heard the phone on the other end fall to the floor and the voice of her ex-husband pleading. Her heart suddenly became very fearful for him. A warm sensation began to build in her throat, rising higher and higher until it filled her mouth. She opened her arms and mouth wide, closed her eyes and gave in the song that filled the house and rocked it on its foundations. A joyous song filled with overwhelming power. It was so magnificent she couldn’t believe it was issuing from her own vocal chords! The music went into the phone and despite the fact she was no longer holding the receiver to her ear, she could her her ex-husband quietly plainly regain his courage and order the “things” from his home in the name of Jesus. “Keep singing, Mable!” she heard him yell. “Don’t stop! Don’t stop – they shrieking in pain and disappearing! Keep singing!”

Books, vases, dishes, cups and glasses rattled inside the cupboards as Mable’s song grew more and more anointed. Junior kept screaming encouragements until finally, after what seemed an eternity, all evil had been put to flight. He returned to the phone, sobbing like a baby. “Mable?”

“Junior?” Mable clutched the phone, shaking, exhausted and exhilarated all at the same time. “Are you okay? What just happened?”

“You drove them out,” panted Junior, his voice all atremble. “I don’t know where they came from or why but your singing drove them out.” He began to sob. “I’m so afraid, Mable. What if they come back? What am I going to do?” He was absolutely terrified.

“Junior – do you truly want them to never come back? What are you willing to do to make sure they don’t?”

“Anything!” he screamed. “I’ll die of a heart attack and go to hell if they come back! Please, please – tell me what to do!” This is what Mable had been waiting most of her life to hear.

“If you pray with me and repeat everything I say and mean it with all your heart, they will never come back again.” She promised. She could hear that Junior was convulsed with sobs but also that he was listening very closely. After several moments of silence he answered.

“Okay,” he said in a small voice. “I’ll pray.” Mable then slowly and deliberately lead him in a prayer of repentance; unable to resist having him list and name all the things he had done wrong by her and his family. Junior was in no shape to argue or be prideful anymore. He was convinced that if he did not pray at that moment and receive God’s forgiveness then all the demons would return and this time they would take him down the hell with them! When it was over Mable was completely drained and Junior was exhuberant. “I don’t know why in tarnation it took me this long to come to my senses!” he crowed, jumping up and down.

“Because you were a prideful fool who needed the hell scared out of him!” Mable retorted with a smile. “Junior…it’s been a day. You’re safe now and I need to get to sleep. I’m done in and I have to get up early for my first book signing at Walmart.”

“Okay! Okay!” he said, giggling like a little girl. “I’m going to find my old Bible and start reading, right after I dump out all the booze in the house!”

“You do that!” Mable grinned and hung up. She watched as the basket lid slowly floated down and closed and waited some more. When nothing further happened she shrugged and went to get ready for bed. She slept like a baby that night and rose before the alarm, anxious to see what the basket would do next. She opened the lid but all she found was a punch of black felt pens and several bottles of water and some snack foods.

She quickly got ready, a bit nervous. She had never done a book signing before. Her local Walmart had agreed to let her bring a small box of her books to sell but had done nothing to promote or advertise the event. Mable had invited everyone she could through email and Facebook but no one had RSVPd they would come. She’s give it the college try for an hour, then pack it up and do some shopping. She drove in the early morning towards the superstore and was peeved to run into a traffic snarl about two blocks away. She made a quick u-turn and found the less known way back to the Walmart but still was perplexed as to the line of cars snaking in to find a parking space. The lot was completely filled. Must be having some sort of super giveaway she thought to herself, parking in the employee lot where she had a space set aside for her. She walked into the employee entrance with her box of books, pens, water and snacks, entered the main store just inside the book department and froze. About a thousand pairs of eyes all instantly riveted onto her face and the crowd broke into a simultaneous roar of welcome. Hundreds of camera flashes went off; blinding her.

Everything in Mable’s arms crashed onto the floor while her mouth gaped open like a cavern. There was a line of people snaking in and out among the display racks as far as the eye could see. Posters of her book were everywhere with the words screaming out: “MABLE DOTSON – TODAY ONLY! SIGNING COPIES OF HER BESTSELLER!” Some of the Walmart employees rushed to gather up her dropped items.

“Good thing you brought a lot of pens!” a young girl smiled at her, placing them back upon the table. “You’re going to need them!”

Mable allowed herself to be lead to the signing table. The young girl even had to put the first pen in her hand before she could utter a coherent word. “I didn’t bring enough books.” She finally managed to observe out loud. The salesgirl smiled at her and gestured to several dozen cartons.

“We’ve got plenty! Believe you me!” she grinned. For the next four hours, Mable did nothing but murmur hello’s and autograph her name to copies of her book. She vaguely remembered taking dozens of pictures with “fans” who bought a copy but she couldn’t remember a single thing anyone had said to her. By the time the last book was autographed; she was completely exhausted. The store manager came up to her and helped her from the chair her butt had been glued to for the past half a day.

“Mable Dotson, I’m a big fan!” he grinned, clutching one of her books to his chest. “I managed to hide one for myself. Would you mind?” Mable looked up to find a good looking middle aged man with salt and pepper hair grinning at her.

“How would you like it autographed?” she asked, unable to tear her eyes away from his baby blues. She glanced down at his left hand…no ring.

“To Sam,” he said as she scribbled upon the page. “…and don’t forget your phone # so I can ask you out for a date! Do you like to do out-doorsy stuff?”

Mable looked up at him in shock and then bellowed with laughter. He was so forward but in such a flirtatiously delicious way that she didn’t mind. She grinned at him and wrote her phone number down in very large print. Sam picked up the book, took her hand in his and kissed her palm.

“I’ll be picking you up on my Harley!” he said then left to supervise the cleanup of her book signing.

Despite her fatigue, Mable felt exhilarated. She walked on air all the way back to her car and drove home, anxious to open the basket again and see what would happen next. When she walked in the door, instead of the basket all she saw was her well used and beloved Bible sitting open on the kitchen table. A scripture verse seemed to be glowing but before she could look at it the phone rang.

“Mable? Whatcha been doing?” came the beloved voice of her close friend Mary. “Darling – you will just not believe what happened to me today!”

“What?” replied Mable, getting her reading glasses onto her nose so she could read the glowing print better.

“I got a message today to call you and ask you for prayer because tonight was the night God is going to totally heal me of all my infirmities and He wants to use you to do it!”

A thrill went down Mable’s spine and she knew the words that Mary spoke were true.

“Well then, let’s pray right now!” she said. When she was done they were both praising the Lord and giving Him glory. Mary had felt as though liquid honey had been poured all over her from the moment Mable had begun to pray. She could feel her kidneys renewed, her stomach come back to healthy life, her esophagus healed and the gout in her leg recede. Her entire body was tingling with new life and they both knew that at long last, after years of suffering, God had finally healed her.

Mable opened her eyes and was finally able to read the scripture from her Bible: “Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” Mark 11:23-25

“So who gave you the message to call me today?” Mable asked, rubbing her eyes with fatigue.

“It was a note that came inside this crazy picnic basket that some mysterious person delivered to my house today!” replied Mary.

THE END

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes (the fulfillment of my own wish in real life)

2010-07-31T13:16:00.000-07:00

This is a true story about how I met my Prince Charming, my husband, Michael.

It was 1978, I was 18 and had never gone out on a date nor had a boyfriend. I wasn’t weird looking but it seemed as though God had put a large “kiss off” sign on my forehead to keep members of the opposite sex away. I was commuting to Los Angeles daily on the public bus to attend the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising (“FIDM”) where the chances of meeting a normal, nice Christian male interested in the opposite sex were extremely dismal. I had just become a Christian the year before and was spending my hour long commute nagging the Lord daily about wanting to go out on a date. I was feeling quite desperate!

On one particular day I think the good Lord had had enough of my “kvetching” and while ‘lucky dipping’ through my Bible, the following scripture jumped off the page at me. I could almost actually hear the Holy Spirit yelling the verse at me: “DELIGHT YOURSELF IN THE LORD AND HE WILL GIVE YOU THE DESIRES OF YOUR HEART!!!” At the same time, a still small voice in my head told me to write a story that would portray my wishes being fulfilled.

I went home that day, uncovered my Smith Corona typewriter and began typing away. The title of the book was: “Jesus Wave-walker, Jesus Joy-giver”, a pretty lame title now that I look back on it but it turned out to be a pretty prophetic tale. I put myself in the story and described how the Lord called me up on the phone to take me out on a date and during that date He “introduced” me to the man He had chosen for me. At this point, I must digress and tell you that the name for my future husband, whoever he was, was always “Michael”. I prayed for Michael by name and even made a list of all the attributes I desired in my future mate: a good Christian, funny, handsome (to me anyway), had a large family, nice friends, a good work ethic, responsible, trustworthy, kind, handy, played guitar….and oh yes…had kept himself pure from women. Whenever I would tell my friends this last one they would shake their heads at me and whisper “Good luck!” under their breath. I finished my short story naming the character of the man he chosen for me as Michael. I then illustrated my book (drawing myself the way I wished I looked) as well as my “dream man”, Michael.

Fast forward four years. I was at my 8th or 9th College and Career Church Retreat in the hopes of meeting a nice Christian boy. In the past 4 years I had left FIDM, gotten a job and moved to Orange County, met my first love, Barry, (who had died 4 months previous from a brain aneurism) and was still grieving even though my feelings for him had been unrequited. I was friends with a house full of Christian men but was still being treated like one of “the guys”. I was quickly becoming resigned to the fact that I was going to die an old maid when I looked across the crowded room of the retreat’s dining room and saw a face that caught my eye (just like that verse in the song “Some Enchanted Evening in South Pacific). He was pretty handsome and I remember thinking that he was probably stuck up because he was so handsome! The next thing I knew, he was sitting next to me.

We exchanged smiles and introduced ourselves.

“Hi,” I said. “My name is Marlayne.”

“I’m Michael,” was his reply.

My ears perked up but I said nothing about his name for fear of scaring him away. Interesting, I thought. We talked politely for a few minutes then said our goodbye’s when breakfast was done. From that moment on I was his shadow. We ended up talking for hours about cartoons, my first love then his first love; the fact that I was a Messianic Jew and on and on until the stars came out and it was time to go to our respective cabins. It had snowed that weekend (despite being April) and we threw snowballs at each other the next day. I didn’t even mind when he put his arm around me and kissed my forehead (which normally would have scared me off). The last day of the retreat I was starting to fret because Michael still had not asked for my phone number. After Sunday morning’s Bible study we would all be going our separate ways and if he didn’t ask for my phone number I would probably never see him again. With that in mind, I asked to see his Bible. He handed it over to me and I wrote my name and phone number inside the front cover and handed it back reasoning that I rather come off as forward than die a spinster.

The following day, back at home I told my roommate about meeting Michael and how we had hit it off. As I left our apartment to visit Barry’s parents, I gave her some very specific instructions: “Now, Theresa, if a guy by the name of Michael calls… don’t say anything to him but call me at the Henriot’s house and let me know.” She agreed and to my delight while I was having dinner with Ruth and Al, she called and sang out: “Michael caaaalled!!”

I was ready at that moment to call him right back (impatient person that I am) but I distinctly felt the Lord instructing me to wait an entire day. If you know me at all you would know what absolute torture this was but I obeyed and waited.

The next day I called Michael back and in a very nonchalant voice said: “Hi! I heard you called yesterday.” (Little did he know that I was jumping up and down for glee at that moment.) Michael then asked me out on a date for the following weekend with his sister, her husband and another couple to go to Westwood to see the rerelease of Fantasia. I went right out and bought myself a whole new outfit for the occasion and when I opened the door of my apartment the following Saturday and saw Michael standing there I couldn’t help but think “Oh my… is he ever handsome!”

After the movie we went to Hamburger Hamlet for dinner as a six-some. Little did I know until several years later that something very unusual took place during that date while I was in the ladies room. His sister’s friend, Tina, who had never laid eyes on me until that night, had turned to Michael’s sister, Debbie and asked her: “Well, what do you think of Marlayne?”

“She seems nice,” had been Debbie’s polite response.

“Well that’s Michael’s future wife.” Tina informed everyone. Michael was instantly incensed. He couldn’t stand this girl and how opinionated she was, so the fact that she had just said this to him instilled the exact opposite reaction. NO WAY NOW! Were his thoughts at the time but God had other plans.

We dated for the next four years but 9 months into our relationship I finally got up the courage to show him my story with his name and face in it. It was a good thing I had waited until he was really “hooked” because if I had shown it to him early in our relationship he would have high tailed it for the hills! Almost five years after we met we were married. I put my prophetic story on display at our reception so everyone could see how God had brought us together – and haven’t seen it since. It simply disappeared.

My list? Oh yes, Michael fulfilled everything I had put on my list, including the last item!!

That was almost 23 years ago and we are still happily married. Michael and I were recently discussing that story and my history of other men avoiding me like they had seen a giant “kiss off” sign plastered on my forehead when Michael said one of the sweetest things to me I have ever heard:

“Well, honey, I didn’t see the words: ‘kiss off’ on your forehead…” he reassured me, planting a tender kiss on said spot. “I saw the words: KISS HERE.”

Horses & Picnics

2010-07-27T17:34:00.000-07:00

My name is Amelia. I am 10 years old. I have five brothers- Harrison, Addison, Brendan, Tate, and Nate. My family home schools and we have started a family business of making videos. We have just finished making our first one called "The Runner from Ravenshead." My family and Mrs.Giron met at CHEA, a home school convention, where we were selling our movie. She was selling her book in a booth right next to us. I have always loved horses, although I have never owned one. One of my favorite colors of horses (although I love them all) is black. My family lives in Albany, Oregon.

Thank you, Mrs. Giron, for taking the time to write a story for me. I enjoyed it very much. Hopefully we can see you again sometime soon.

Amelia sat on her bed reading a book about her favorite subject: horses. Suddenly she heard a strange noise coming from outside her bedroom window. She looked out and there in the front yard was the most beautiful horse she had ever seen. It was all white; so white it looked like it was actually glowing! The horse looked right up at her through the window and neighed loudly as if calling to her. Amelia felt a thrill go up her spine.

She raced downstairs and out the front door, letting it slam open. The horse was standing right there and it almost looked like he was smiling at her! He tossed his head a few times and Amelia understood that he wanted her to climb into the saddle. He was just the perfect size to mount without any help or the need for a stepstool. She climbed into the saddle and with a loud whinny suddenly a pair of gorgeous white angel wings sprouted out of him. The horse leaped into the air and beat his great wings. They flew up, up, up high above the clouds which looked like large wads of cotton candy below her. Amelia giggled and laughed aloud with total joy and with each laugh her horse grew larger and larger. After a short ride he began to slowly descend through the clouds, circling down gently so Amelia would not get motion sickness until they landed in a beautiful meadow. He neighed loudly and suddenly there came the sound of distant thunder; only it wasn’t thunder…it was the sound of approaching horse hooves! Amelia looked over to the nearby hill where suddenly over the rise came a small herd of horses in every color and size you could think of. They galloped near and began circling about her until they all surrounded her. Then…as if on command, they all bowed!! They went down on one knee and actually bowed their proud necks!

Amelia could not believe her eyes and wondered inside why they were bowing to her.

“You are their Queen!” spoke the horse upon which she sat, startling her exceedingly. Amelia practically fell out of the saddle she was so surprised.

“You talk?! She exclaimed.

“Of course, your highness!” responded the horse under her.

“Cool!” clapped Amelia. “What’s your name?

“Randolph, your highness!” replied her horse. “What would you like to do today?” Amelia thought about it for a minute then said, “Can we have a picnic with my best friend, Suzanne?”

“I anticipated just such a request and sent Hercules to fetch her for you.”

A neigh from high above their heads sounded and Amelia looked up to see a beautiful black horse with black wings circling down with her best friend, Suzanne, on its back. Amelia bounced up and down in excitement, waving her arms in excitement.

“Over here! Over here!” she yelled. Hercules landed upon the meadow and knelt down so Suzanne could easily dismount. Randolph did the same and the two girls ran for each other, grabbed each other’s hands, and jumped up and down with glee.

“Behold my ladies,” said her horse Randolph. The girls turned around and there on the grass was a picnic blanket and basket full of their favorite goodies.

The girls sat down and began pulling all the wonderful food out of the basket. Amelia’s face fell with dismay; all the food was stuff she couldn’t eat because of her allergies.

“Randolph, I can’t eat any of this,” she said; her disappointment clear.

“Today is different, milady,” replied her horse. “Today you have no food allergies; you may eat everything to your heart’s delight and suffer no ill effects.”

Amelia squealed with delight and dug into the brownies first, then the sandwiches, punch and fresh fruit. When they were done and their tummies pleasantly full they lay back on the grass and watched the clouds perform a show for them. They formed themselves into dancing bears and knights on horseback. Soon the clouds performed an entire play just for them. When it was over the girls clapped their hands in appreciation and then it was time for a ride!

Amelia and Suzanne each jumped into the saddle of their own horse and they cantered over the beautiful green grass filled with flowers for the rest of that day, giggling and even holding hands at times. The other horses followed along and joined them, weaving in and out and almost performing a dance as they ran alongside. When the sun began to set, it was time for them to say their goodbyes.

“See you tomorrow in the real world, Amelia!” her friend Suzanne said, hugging her goodbye.

“Okay! See you soon!” replied Amelia. They waved goodbye and then Randolph and Hercules took off into the sky and brought each girl safely home before bedtime. That night Amelia drifted off to sleep with a happy smile upon her face, thinking of all the wonderful things she had done that day.

Mary's Wish

2010-06-29T12:46:00.000-07:00

Mary and I have become good friends...sisters actually as a result of the Life and Faith Concert in Richmond, VA where she arranged for me to meet, at long last, Amy Grant. She lost all of her immediately family at a very young age. Her mom and dad both succumbed to cancer when she was only in her teens and then all she had after that was her Aunt Mary Anne and her sister, who died tragically in a head-on collision when Mary was only 18. Mary is now waging her own battle with kidney cancer but you would never know it from talking to her. She loves the Lord and trusts Him like a child despite all the physical and financial trials she is going through right now. This is her Wish Story and I hope it blesses your heart as much as it did hers. She is a wonderful woman and needs your daily prayers.

Mary cuddled her Yorkshire Terrier, Luke, close to her cheek. He seemed her only comfort lately. Things had gone so badly; their finances were a wreck, her health was not looking good and it was a daily struggle to get up and soldier on; keeping her faith intact and trusting in her precious Lord regardless of the circumstances. Sensitive to her every mood, Luke planted doggie kisses all over her face in his attempt to comfort her. Dogs are truly furry angels sent by God,she thought to herself.

She got up from the couch, restless at heart and wishing she knew what to do about all the trials that were confronting her. She opened the front door to go outside and stood blinking in bewilderment. Instead of looking out her front door at her front yard, she was looking into the family room of place that had been very near and dear to her heart.

“Is that you, Mary?” called an achingly familiar voice. A head poked around the corner of the wall and Mary felt her heart clench with joy and shock.

“Auntie Mary Anne?” she whispered; unable to believe her eyes. Her aunt’s full body came into view with arms outstretched to embrace her. Mary didn’t question the how or why; she just flew into the arms of the woman that had meant so much to her over the years and allowed her tears to flow freely. Her Aunt just held her close, rubbed her back and cooed softly into her ear endearments that she had not heard in years.

“Come and sit down, honey,” her aunt finally said, leading her to an overstuffed couch. With tears streaming down her cheeks, Mary allowed herself to be settled down, little Luke jumping up into her lap panting and smiling. “Tell your auntie what’s on your heart.”

It was all Mary needed to hear for the floodgates to open. She had been holding in her emotions so much for so long; trying to be strong but now the “dam had burst”. Her tears came out in a torrent as she unburdened her heart and her beloved Aunt sat quietly, her arms about her, letting her vent. When it was over, Mary felt cleansed and lighter inside than she had been in a long time. Her aunt wiped the tears from her cheeks with a gentle smile.

“I can’t promise that things will get better while on this side of heaven, sweetheart,” she said. “But the Master has heard your heart’s cry and knows all of your burdens and wants you to give them over to Him. In the meantime, He has arranged a little present for you as a sign of His infinite love.”

She swept her arm out and there stood before her the faces of those she had long missed; her sister, her mom, Linda, and her dad who had all been gone for so many years.

They all came forward to embrace her and she found herself weeping and laughing with joy. They all looked young and healthy and had the light of heaven in their faces. Together with Mary and her aunt they all sat down at a dinner table piled high with all their favorite foods and told Mary what they could of the wonders and delights of heaven and how they looked forward to their next and permanent reunion there in the presence of their Redeemer.

“He truly does wipe away all tears from our eyes,” said her aunt, cupping Mary’s cheek in her hand. “Just trust Him, child. That’s all He desires from you; is your child-like trust and in that you have been most faithful.”

“Can’t you all stay here with me?” Mary pleaded, holding her aunt’s hands in hers. “I feel so alone most of the time.”

“My darling daughter,” her mom Linda said, coming over and putting her arms around her. “We have never left you really. We are all with you in our hearts and talk to the Master daily about the trials and tribulations that confront you. You may not see us; but we see you and we love you. One day soon we will all be reunited in our Master’s kingdom and there will be no more sorrow, pain or suffering.”

At that moment, another person entered the room and Mary turned around to find her daughter Linda with a good looking young gentleman. She seemed older and beamed with an inner beauty that bespoke peace and contentment. Mary glanced down and saw a wedding ring on her finger and knew suddenly that this was her baby, Linda, in the future; married and content in heart at last with the man God had chosen for her.

Her aunt stood and slipped an arm about her waist, greeting her daughter and her husband. “My goodness, child, how you have grown!” Mary Anne exclaimed with a laugh throwing her arms out wide. Linda fell into them then introduced her husband to all in the room as if nothing was unusual at all; beaming at her mom with delight and pride. The couple joined them at the table and they talked long into the night, eating and enjoying one another's company.

Finally it was time for the reunion to end. Her mom, dad and Aunt Mary Anne walked her back to the couch, each of them kissing her face in turn and whispering prayers of blessing over her.

“Remember, Mary…we are with you but even more importantly; the Master is watching over you and He loves you infinitely more than we!” With those words of endearment in her ears Mary closed her eyes and when she next opened them she found little Luke sitting on the couch and looking up at a tall stranger, his little tail wagging fiercely.

Mary looked up and for the briefest of moments saw the face of her beloved Redeemer, Jesus, smiling down upon her.

“I am with you always, my dearest one,” spoke His gentle voice, filling her soul with His peace. “Even unto world’s ending. Have no fear.”

A Very Special Gift for Father's Day

2010-06-12T09:16:00.000-07:00

I always thought it was a shame that the Bible had no similar scriptures describing a "Father of Noble Character" like the ones in Proverbs for a wife of noble character and it was this thought that inspired what would be the last Father's Day Gift given to my wonderful Father In Law, Eliseo Giron. It was 2006 and he was not doing well. My sister in law, Debbie, the week before Father's Day commented that she thought this would be the last Father's Day we would had him with us and it was a sobering thought. He had lost the ability to eat because of a form of muscular dystrophy, could no longer read and do his puzzles, or paint and walking was very difficult. Father's Day was approaching and the entire family was getting together to honor him but what do you give a man who needs nothing, can enjoy very little and yet still let him know how very much he has meant to you? I felt closer to my father in law than my own dad. Actually, he was the first person I wanted to see when I learned that my own dad had been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. So with 2 hours to go before we were to arrive at his home for what would be our last Father's Day, the Lord put a "light bulb" over my head.I got out my Bible, turned to Proverbs and customized it for my beloved Father in law. We printed it out, rushed to Pottery Barn and framed it, arriving in time. I then stood before him and read it aloud and with tears in his eyes he responded that he would treasure it always. The next time I read it aloud was 3 months later at his funeral. Here below is my version of a Father of Noble Character; feel free to copy it and customize it for your dad; he will treasure it always.

A father of noble character who can find? He is worth far more than gold.

His wife and children have security, shelter and protection and lack nothing of value.
He teaches them right from wrong, the value of sacrifice and a good work ethic and is a role model for them all the days of their lives.
He spares not the paddle (which broketh upon Greg’s backside) and extends a hand of mercy to those who are penitent for bad behavior.
He is like a strong fortress, and a shield against the worries and trials of everyday life so his wife and children can live happy, carefree lives.
He gets up while it is still dark; drives to Huntington Beach to teach the children of others to provide food for his family and is welcomed by his children and spouse at the end of a long day.
He considered a safer home in Fountain Valley and bought it; and out of his earnings, he planted tomatoes, avocados, and chili peppers and maketh play areas for his children to delight in and fixes all their broken toys.
He sets about his work vigorously at the Barbershop; and cuts his son’s hair into funny bowl shapes.
He sees that his career as a teacher is profitable, but still switches off all the light fixtures at the end of the day.
In his left hand he holds the rake and the hoe and in the other he grasps the spatula to flip over his children’s favorite buttermilk pancakes.
He opens his home to the foreign exchange students and provides research assistance to apologetic ministries.
When it snows, he takes his wife and kids to the mountains for sledding and snowball fights and bandages up their bumps and bruises with bandaids.
He causes his children to sit upon his lap and give him numerous besos upon his cheeks.
His children have all grown up to become responsible parents with children of their own and who pass on the legacy of love and faith he has left to them.
He speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction has ever been on his tongue. He presides over the affairs of his household and has never eaten the bread of idleness.
His children arise and call him blessed; his wife also, and she praises him:
"Many husbands and fathers have done noble things, but you surpass them all."
Wealth is deceptive, and youth is fleeting; but a father who fears the LORD is priceless.
Give him the reward he has earned, and let his works bring him praise at heaven’s gates.

Heart of Darkness/Heart of Light

2010-05-10T20:20:00.000-07:00

(This is a true story - the names have been changed to maintain anonymonity): John's story is a heartbreaking one. When he was pretty young, his mother began selling his body to a couple of men in order to pay the rent. This went on for several years. His mother is an alcoholic, and she either gave him alcohol or at least didn't keep it away from him, and now he is an alcoholic, too. He had been doing fairly well at staying away from it--he's been through rehab--but all of a sudden, he started back in and some other things started happening in his life--things that really point to demonic activity. His wife and my daughter (who has been more of a mother to him than his own mother by far), tried to get him to go for counseling (and maybe deliverance) with her church pastor and his team. On Wednesday, John went as far as the door to the church with Jane, and she said it was as though someone grabbed him and threw him against the wall of the church. He lay there unconscious for awhile, then jumped up and ran out to the middle of the street and threw himself down in the street (this is in a city). They got him up from there and called for help. Some officers came, supposedly to take him to a mental health clinic to put under a suicide watch, but instead, they took him to a regular hospital. Then they either released him or he walked out on his own and went home. My daughter picked up Jane and picked up the kids from school and went back over to their apartment, where John proceeded to threaten Jane (that he would kill her). My daughter took Jane and the kids to her own home. John called several times with more threats, then yesterday morning called and told her that since she didn't love him any more he was going to move in with his mother (who lives in a nearby city) and from there he was going to go to another state where he will live with a man there. Jane wants him to come back if he will (1) go to church with her and (2) stay away from alcohol. Keep in mind here--John is normally a loving and gentle soul, quiet and happiest when he can stay in the background. These past few days' activities sound so totally unlike him that it's hard to believe it is the same person. I think if he has a wish to be fulfilled (at least when he is himself), he would wish to be free or maybe even to be able to start his whole life over.

John sat upon the park bench staring at nothing in particular. His heart was in shreds and filled with a darkness he could not escape. He was oblivious to the beauty around him; the soft breeze that caressed his face, the warm sunshine, the butterflies that flitted here and there amongst the flowers and the sound of birdsong. He was trapped in a vise of despair and silent desperation that closed ever tighter about him like a boa constrictor; crushing the life from him.

The steady sound of weeping slowly brought him to the surface for a moment and he looked in the direction of the sandlot where a little boy was cowering before two larger boys who were obviously bullies. They kicked him, slapped him and shouted vile things at him. John’s heart filled with rage at the plight of the little boy and before he knew it he was striding towards the bullies who were preparing to do even worse damage from the look of their curled fists.

John caught the first bully’s arm as he swung back to land a crushing blow; his rage at the mistreatment of the smaller boy filling him with a righteous anger. He threw the bully down onto the sand and then turned to deal with the next one. What he saw made him recoil in horror. It was not a boy but a monster disguised as a boy. Its yellow eyes were filled with hatred for both him and the small boy crouching before him in a fetal position, shielding his head from the oncoming blow. John quickly recovered. He would not let this thing hurt the young boy; not anymore! He flung himself upon it and grappled it onto the ground. It shrieked with an ear-splitting scream but despite its’ size it was no match for John’s fury and after a few minutes struggle he quickly subdued it. It ran off along with other one disappearing from sight.

Breathing hard and shaking with the adrenaline coursing through his veins John turned his attention to the small boy. He put a gentle hand upon the lad’s shoulder who looked up at him gratefully with a tear-streaked face. John stepped back a few paces in bewildered shock and fear. The boy looked strangely familiar and it frightened him. The boy reached up both arms to him; wanting to be picked up and comforted after his fright. Despite his unwillingness to do so, John could not find it in his heart to refuse. He picked up the lad in his arms and held him close to his breast. Together they wept; mourning the loss of innocence and the years of childhood stolen and stained by evil. John wept great heaving sobs and the harder he cried, the softer the boy cried then suddenly the boy was gone and it was John who was the little boy and he was being held in the arms of a man that blazed with a light so great he couldn’t open his eyes. His tears became a cleansing flood that washed away the grime and guilt of years past; his shoulders shaking. All the while, the man who held him whispered words of indescribable love and forgiveness into his ear. He felt his spirit healed, his wounds soothed. John’s sobs gradually abated and when he finally looked up he was staring into the eyes of eternity and in them he found complete acceptance and forgiveness.

“Who are you?” he asked in a coarse whisper although he already knew the answer.

“I am the One who loves you,” came the soft reply. “and I am waiting for you to welcome me into your heart so I can restore the years that have been stolen from you. If you will trust Me and give all of yourself to Me; the years before you will be truly blessed.”

John stared at him; he was at a crossroads. Which way would he choose? The way of life and restoration or the path of destruction. He straightened up and placed his shaking hand into that of the Savior’s and was greeted with a brilliant smile that filled his broken heart with joy.

The Bride is Writing Love Songs

2010-05-08T08:15:00.000-07:00

Written by Judy Pendell

The bride is writing love songs

The time of rejoicing is here

The fig tree puts forth her green figs

The sign that the bridegroom is near

The winter rain is over and gone

The softened soil brings forth bloom

The season of singing has come

The bride hears the call of the groom

Rise up my fair one, and come away

And you shall behold my glory

In the secret place, in the cleft of the rock

We shall sing to each other sweetly

The bride abides in the secret place

Nations rise against nations

Wars and rumors of war abound

And the earth cries out for salvation

The bride sings her songs to her bridegroom,

With the sweet cooing voice of a dove

"Return my lover and take me away"

For I am longing for love

The bride is writing love songs

The time of singing is here

The fig tree puts forth her green figs
The sign that the bridegroom is near.

A Little Bayern Goes a Long Way...

2010-05-04T20:31:00.000-07:00

Hannah stared at the computer screen before her, chewing on the end of finger while she thought about the graphic image she was trying to create. She knew what she was trying to achieve but just couldn’t seem to make her mind and fingers work together in harmony. She turned her head to look outside her bedroom window, hoping for some inspiration.

The weather outside was dark and stormy; she could hear the distant rumble of thunder approaching. Suddenly she jumped out of her seat with a scream as a bolt of lightning hit right outside her room. It sounded like a bomb going off. The lights went out and all went dark. Then suddenly the light of a fire kindled before her very eyes.

Hannah blinked a few times and looked up to see a young woman staring right back at her with the same look of shock and surprise as she.

“Who are you?!” demanded the girl, raising her hands in a threatening way. In her upraised open palms were twin balls of fire that rotated in a menacing way. Instantly Hannah realized where she was.

“Enna!” she shrieked; launching herself forward to embrace her with wild abandon. The young woman was so startled that the fire in her hands was immediately extinguished. Instead she found herself standing awkwardly as Hannah continued hugging. After a moment Hannah stepped back, feeling a bit sheepish.

“Who are you?” demanded Enna, straightening her forest gown. Hannah stifled a giggle. She found it rather amusing that a fictional character was demanding an explanation from her; a real person!

“My name is Hannah Nicole,” she replied.

“How do you know my name?” Enna continued, her brow furrowed together in suspicion. “Did Finn send you?”

“Nooooooo,” replied Hannah looking about to indicate her bedroom, computer, bed, printer, etc., only to freeze when she realized she was no longer in her room but in a forest. No wonder she was freezing!

Enna looked her up and down and the suspicious look was replaced with a look of compassion as Hannah wrapped her arms about herself, teeth starting to chatter. She removed her heavy cloak and wrapped it about Hannah and took her by the arm.

“Come with me,” she ordered. Hannah nodded obediently; she was in Bayern; and though she was familiar with the realm because of reading the books; being transported into the mythical forest in the dead of night was rather unnerving; no matter how much she had always wanted to be there.

They reached the cottage a short time later and Enna pushed her inside. It was pitch black inside but in a moment Enna had a bright fire crackling in the hearth using her powers. Hannah looked about her in barely contained glee. She was inside one of her favorite stories with one of her favorite characters! She looked up and found Enna glaring at her in a suspicious way which took her aback. She didn’t expect her favorite heroine to be so hostile.

“Are you a People, Animal or Nature Speaker?” Enna demanded. Hannah was at a loss. She looked around the rather shabby cottage and noticed some things.

“I’m a beauty-maker!” she said with a big grin. Before Enna could protest, Hannah began gathering up things she found around the cottage and to arrange them in a pleasing way. Enna watched in suspicious yet fascinated silence as Hannah busied herself transforming her hovel into something very homey and lovely.

Tears filled Enna’s eyes. This girl was a total stranger to whom she had been particularly unkind and here she had done this selfless act of beautifying her homely cottage with just what she found. She covered her face with her hands to hide the tears that began to slide down her cheeks. Her shoulders began to heave. No one had been this nice to her in a very long time.

Compassion filled Hannah’s heart and she went forward and embraced Enna to comfort her. “I’m sorry about what happened to Sileph,” she said. That opened the floodgates. Enna wept terrible deep heaving sobs and all Hannah could do was to pat her back and making soothing sounds. After ten minutes of heavy-duty sobbing Enna looked around, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve.

“Thank you!” she said, meaning every word. She looked at Hannah’s strange clothes (she was wearing blue jeans and a cute purple paisley smock top) with great curiosity. “These are strange garments,” she observed, rubbing the rayon/cotton blend in her hands. “But these!” she said indicating the blue jeans. “Most unladylike!”

Hannah looked down at her jeans with the carefully created bare patches in the knees. It would do no good to explain and Senna wouldn’t understand anyway.

“Ummmmm sorry.” She said. An awkward silence ensued then a sudden thought froze Hannah’s heart. She was inside her favorite book but how was she going to get back home? The thought of living in Bayern had always appealed to her but now that she was really here she felt totally out of place. Then another feeling made her begin to panic. “I need to use the ladies room.” She said to Senna; hoping she would take the hint and direct her to the nearest bathroom. Senna stared at her for a moment with a perplexed look on her face.

She threw out her arms to indicate the small hovel around them. “This is a lady’s room.” She explained slowly as if Hannah were mentally retarded. Hannah shook her head.

“No, you don’t understand…uhh, I need to uh…well you know…relieve myself?”.

Enlightenment came over Senna’s face and she nodded. She turned about, bent over and picked up what looked to be a pail. She held it out to Hannah with a grim smile. “You’ll need to do this behind the cottage,” she instructed.

Hannah was aghast. She had to do it in a pail? In a dark and freezing cold forest?! What was she supposed to do with it afterwards?

Senna picked up a slender twig and spoke a word over it so it would glow. “You may use this to light your way,” she said, handing it to Hannah, then gently pushed her towards the door. The cottage door opened as if by magic all by itself and the next thing Hannah knew, she was standing in her own bathroom holding a bucket and a twig that still glowed. She dropped both with a shriek which brought her mother running up the stairs.

“Are you okay?” her mom asked, not even noticing the foreign pail or the now smoldering twig. Hannah looked up and nodded, relieved to be back in her own world where there was real bathrooms with indoor plumbing.

“I saw a spider.” She fibbed. Her mom nodded, picked up the pail as if it had belonged in the family for years and without a second glance and went back to her chores.

Hannah slowly turned about her room to reassure herself that she was once again in the “real” world but for a split second, she thought she caught of glimpse of Senna’s wistful and lonely face staring back at her in her bedroom mirror…

THE END

The LA Times Book Festival

2010-04-25T19:16:00.000-07:00

This weekend for the first time, I was a participating author in the LA Times Book Fair held at the gorgeous UCLA campus.

I shared a tent with other authors from Premiere Writers, a Ning Social Network site for authors. All of them were simply great people; very warm and engaging. We worked in shifts (one in the morning and one in the afternoon) and in our free time I walked around the campus with my hubby, attracting a lot of attention with my medieval costume.

On several occasions I had complete strangers (mostly college age students) come up to me in groups and ask to take a photo with me. It was so fun! It was the next best thing to being a Disney Princess!

The weather could not have been more gorgeous and though I am exhausted and my house is a mess, it was a really neat experience to take part in. It wasn’t too bad having a picture taken with “William Shakespeare” either!

Storm Chaser - A Poem by Trentina Porter

2010-04-11T20:15:00.000-07:00

Trentina and I actually became friends through her dad at Goodreads. She is 18, in college and an absolutely amazing poet and writer. I think God really gave her some incredible writing talent. I do not normally like or even appreciate poetry but I really liked this! Let's all encourage Trentina by posting your feedback comments on her poem below and I'll share them with her!

Looking out the wooden panes I see your form;
Twisting, twirling in the image of vibrant leaves caught in the wind.
I run out to find salvation, be embraced by you once more.

The wind is nothing more but your soft breath upon my neck.

Rain falls onto my face, caressing it in slow strokes.

Even the tears I've shed for you can never be forgotten.

Those tears may be yours as well, knowing what might not be.

Looking for the answers my eyes move up, hoping to find you.

Gazing upon the gray, swirling sea of clouds I feel it;

the presence of the power that lays behind your eyes lingers

It stays on me as if I am the pray to your hungry love.

A welcome pleasure, yet that power, strong enough to take over my senses.

Light streaks across the sky, the bright light urging me on.

I walk, sprint to the ending of that bolt of lightening.

That kiss, oh how it must be you hiding in the night!

Sparks flew, lit a fire in my heart that can never truly die.

Nothing there, not even the thunder of our hearts on this night.

As much as my heart pains you are still not with me.

Here I stay in the grass, watching the clouds and wind dance;

lightening raging over the water and land in a heated passion

You're my storm, my hidden fantasy.

What I try so hard to hold, finding only each piece of you slipping from reach.

No matter the trials, the hardships, the sleepless nights I run;

and I will always run, chasing my heart and the power of your storm.

OC Christian Writers Conference

2010-04-08T19:48:00.000-07:00

All of you aspiring authors out there might enjoy this interview with Mick Silva of Waterbrook/Multnomah Press:

OC Christian Writers Conference

Book Signing at Barnes & Noble in my new Medieval Outfit

2010-03-27T22:57:00.000-07:00

This was my third signing at this particular Barnes and Noble and I have to say it’s my favorite bookstore! The manager there is so wonderful and treats me like gold.

Unlike most authors I truly love to do book signings. I love to meet new people and chat with them whether or not they buy a book. Today was a very good day. Twenty-three books in 3 hours but what was the nicest thing was getting to meet so many friendly faces and the families that came with them. So a big THANK YOU to each of you who posed for a photo with me.

It was so nice to meet each and every one of you and I hope to hear back from you after you have read The Victor! Please feel free to email me anytime.

Sword of the Spirit

2010-03-12T19:36:00.000-08:00

"I am a native Michigander; have lived in Michigan all of my life. I grew up in a home headed by my mother and grandmother. My parents were divorced before I was born, and I did not have a father figure of any kind. I accepted Jesus as my Savior in 1987; subsequently turned my back and went back into the world. I returned to Him in 2001 and will not be going back. Returning to the Lord reminded me of the joy I had been missing. This time, I felt like Peter, who said, when Jesus asked His Twelve Disciples in John 6:67 "You do not want to leave too, do you?" Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God." I am married to the most gentle and wonderful man in the world, Fred, and am the ‘mother’ of two amazing English Cocker Spaniels, Toby (born in 1995) and Shelby (born in 2004, a year before our wedding date!). I enjoy reading, movies, music, marathons, traveling, serving on the Video Tech Team and as a Women’s Ministry Life Group Leader at church and blogging at http://andrealschultz.blogspot.com.

My wish is to be able to put the past behind and live the rest of my life for His glory."

Andrea was dreaming...or so she assumed…for suddenly she found herself standing, in of all places, a blacksmith’s shop and an ancient one at that. She stood and watched in fascination as he worked and slowly became aware that she was not standing there alone. She looked to her side and then up…up…up to find a ten foot tall, incredibly gorgeous angel standing next to her. He didn’t exactly look like an angel…he had no wings and no flowing white robes but someone she knew…he was definitely an angel. Her angel. Her guardian angel. He looked down upon her with eyes full of love and affection and then silently directed her attention back to the smithy.

The large burly man was sweating profusely and hammering away with his hammer and tongs upon a long metal object. Andrea could feel the heat from the furnace but when the Blacksmith plunged the metal shaft into the heart of it, she felt as though it was she. Tears sprung to her eyes and she found herself unable to breath until once again he withdrew the metal and began pounding away on it again, flipping it over and over, tempering it relentlessly. Now she could feel each stroke of the hammer, it didn’t exactly hurt but every time the hammer fell, she sensed it. She began to panic when she saw him readying to plunge the metal again into the white hot fire and the angel put his arm about her. This time she felt only warmth. Slowly she began to comprehend…she was the metal!

At that instant, the blacksmith looked up and straight at her. While his exterior was large, burly and muscular (with rivulets of sweat pouring down him) there was no mistaking his eyes! A tingle rushed up her spine.

Several more hours passed as he worked the metal, alternating between holding it to the fire, beating it down, plunging into the water and repeating the process over and over again. Finally it was done and when he had finished it was a thing of beauty. He had affixed a magnificent hilt bestudded with gemstones and gilded with gold to the end and upon the flat of the blade he had etched a glorious design. Then he carefully wrapped it in a cloth, picked up another shaft of metal about the same size and walked out of the smithy. Andrea and her angel followed along afterwards, walking just behind him as he wove his way up a winding road to a magnificent castle upon a hill. No one seemed to take notice of any of them and he continued walking, crossing through the main entrance and finally into a glorious throne room that no words could describe. Andrea felt herself begin to tremble. Even the touch of her angel’s hand upon her shoulder couldn’t quiet her tremors. Except for the King who sat upon the throne and two knights upon either side, the throne room was empty. The blacksmith knelt upon one knee before him and presented both the tempered sword and the unworked shaft of steel to the King.

He lifted both in his hands then handed one to each of the knights upon either side of him. With a quick bow, they took up the sword and shaft and steel and began to circle each other, moving away from the throne, Andrea and her angel. It was over in seconds. The very first blow shattered the untempered steel into shards which flew in all directions. The pieces passed right through Andrea and her angel as if they weren’t even there.

The knight returned the gorgeous sword to the King with a bow, who held it aloft in his hands and admired its’ beauty. As he turned it this way and that, his smile broadened and with a nod to the worthy blacksmith, he laid it upon his knees.

“The workmanship is exquisite!” said the King to the blacksmith approvingly.

“But what of the other sword, your majesty?” asked the Blacksmith, acting as though the shards were not scattered about his feet.

“Useless.” Replied the King. “Did you not see how it could not bear up under pressure, how it shattered at the least insult? It was not tempered in the fire nor by the forge, therefore it is useless.”

Upon these words the King looked directly at Andrea and beckoned her forward. With her knees knocking, she stepped slowly forward, irresistibly drawn to Him despite her fear. She stood only inches before him and felt his arms go about her in a fatherly embrace.

“You resent and wish to forget the years of your tempering, do you not my daughter?” He said, his eyes kind and understanding. Andrea nodded, her emotions welling up. Her chin fell upon her chest and her shoulders began to heave. Pent up years of hurt, embarrassment and pain welled up inside of her and bubbled over like a gushing fountain. The King’s other arm went about her and he held her close as she sobbed and wailed until she felt cleansed inside and out. His hands then went up to cup her cheeks and his wonderful, penetrating eyes searched those of her own most deeply.

“I know every pain,” He whispered softly. “I have experienced every sorrow right beside you,” Andrea looked at him and suddenly it was the King and it wasn’t. It was the blacksmith and the King and upon his body were the bruises that he had shared with her and also taken for her.

“Only the finely tempered steel is worthy to serve in the army of the King.” He whispered, bending forward and placing a tender kiss between her eyebrows. “Go in peace, my daughter, and never resent nor regret the tempering of thy spirit.”

With those words Andrea suddenly found herself sitting up in her bed staring at the nightstand clock which read 3:00am. Had it really all been only a dream? Suddenly she got the distinct impression someone was grinning at her. She turned her head and practically screamed aloud; almost waking Fred up. Next to her bedside stood her angel and this time he had his wings on and his glowing white robes.

He started dissolving like so much sugar in a cup of hot tea.

“Wait!” hissed Andrea, reaching for him. “At least tell me your name!”

“Rupert!” he responded, solidifying just a bit. “And, yes, I have always been by your side, since the moment you were born.”

“Always?” breathed Andrea feeling both blessed and disappointed at the same time. “Then…why…?” The unspoken insinuation hung in the air, despite everything she had just experienced. Rupert bent down and cupped her cheek in his hand, reminding her again of the King/Blacksmith.

“There are many things I did protect you from, my little one,” he whispered, his eyes full of love and compassion for her, “but you will never know of them and that is as it should be. Let it be sufficient to know that all you have gone through has made you the child of God you are today, a finely tempered sword in the hand of the eternal King!”

Finally it sunk in and Andrea bowed her head in submission. Before he faded away from her eyesight she felt his kiss upon her bowed head.

“We are with you always,” came his faint voice like a sigh upon the wind and with that, Andrea sunk back into a peaceful sleep; her heart much more at peace than it had been in many years.

THE END

Ponderings by Andrea: 'The Victor' by Marlayne Giron - Book Review

2010-03-09T21:04:00.000-08:00

Ponderings by Andrea: 'The Victor' by Marlayne Giron - Book Review

Clay in the Potter's Hands

2010-03-07T14:27:00.000-08:00

"The story below was requested by Donna's close friend, Marian. Donna is currently in ICU on a ventilator and quite depressed. She is an artist, very bright, outgoing, and very creative. She has had a difficult life involving divorce and has a son in his 20's who has a hard time with her chronic illness issues. Donna has severe osteoporosis from steoid use in treating her allergies, asthma and lung conditions. She is in her early 50s. She also has alot of pain due to osteoarthritis/osteoporosis and sequelae. I think her dream would be to have shop when she could work as an artist and sell her artwork/crafts. She draws/paints beautifully and is incredibly creative with decorating and crafts. She makes her own greeting cards when she feels up to it."

The sound of the respirator filled Donna’s ears morning, noon, and all night making it difficult to sleep well. Her chest hurt, actually her entire body hurt and life looked very, very bleak and hopeless.

Donna glanced out her door at the nearby nurse’s station, wishing she could trade places with any of the people she saw standing there instead of having to be tethered to a machine simply to breath. How she longed to be free of her chronic illnesses and to just live and be creative with the gifts God had given her.

It seemed like her life was in a wasteland of limbo and she was worried about her son who had had to put up with a mom who, through no fault of her own, had been chronically ill with respiratory issues most of his life.

Now all the medication she had taken to help her in the short term was taking a toll on her body in the long term.

A single hot tear of frustration rolled down her cheek, instantly dried by the air of the ventilation mask. At that moment she felt a gentle hand brush her cheek and remove the mask. For an instant she panicked, knowing that the removal of the mask spelled big trouble but when she looked up to see who had removed it, her heart nearly stopped. It couldn’t be. Was she dreaming? Did she just die?

The figure half sitting on her hospital bed smiled at her and that smile sent waves of glorious, intense love flowing over her like a mighty river. His eyes gazed upon her with a brilliance of pure, unadulterated love and total acceptance.

“Take my hand, Donna,” said the Savior, reaching for hers. She didn’t think twice but laid her small cold hand inside that of her Redeemer’s. It was warm and the touch of his hand upon hers sent a thrill coursing up her spine. “Come with me,” he said, standing. Donna stood, unable to tear her eyes away from his face, drowning in the pulsating waves of love that flowed outwards from Him and surrounded her in a warm cocoon.

Suddenly she found herself in a different place. She was in an art studio – a studio that made her pea green with envy for it was everything she had always imagined for herself were she healthy and rich enough to have it. It was filled with glorious light and had everything an artist would ever want or need.

“This is all for you,” said the Lord, putting his arm about her shoulders and turning her about so she could see everything.

“Lord,” said Donna, totally confused. “Did I just die? Am I in heaven?”

“No,” He smiled at her. “This is just a little vacation.” He gestured to all the art supplies. “Enjoy yourself and make something for Me.” He said, giving her a wink. In that instant He disappeared. Donna stood in slack jawed amazement and regarded her surroundings again, going from drafting table and then from shelf to shelf to inspect everything more closely. Outside birds sang and the breeze smelled of honeysuckle and orange blossoms. She suddenly jumped up and down in glee, rubbing her hands together. She felt great! No pain, no difficulty breathing, no aches! She had never felt so physically free in all her life! She got out the acrylic paints and a blank canvass and proceeded to paint something beautiful for her wonderful Lord. She soon lost herself in her work and painted with gusto.

After what seemed hours she paused and stepped back to see what her hands and wrought and frowned. This is not what she had been trying to paint! The colors were all different than what she had used and the painting made absolutely no sense. It looked an angry child had taken a bunch of finger paints and used every color there was until it all blended into one large blackish/greenish mess. She just couldn’t figure out what had happened! She set the canvass aside; there was no way she was going to give that as her gift to her Savior! It had turned out hideous!

Perhaps a different medium? She went to the cabinet and found stamping supplies, a heat gun, glitter, ink pens and embossing powders. She would do an elaborate Valentine card to Jesus to tell Him how much she loved Him!

She sat down at a different table and worked meticulously. She didn’t want to over do it and make it look messy and cluttered and she wanted it to express her heart of gratitude for this respite away from her sickbed in the hospital. Hours later, when she felt it was perfect, she looked upon it and cried aloud in pain and disappointment. It was hideous!! What was wrong with her? Nothing she put her hands to do to make for Him was turning out right!

Donna felt like crying with frustration. This surely wasn’t heaven! Heaven was not supposed to be a place of frustration! She looked around the room again.

She would try one last time to make something lovely and meaningful for Him.

She found a potter’s wheel and a lump of clay on it. She had never worked with clay before but since nothing had turned out right in the mediums she was good at, perhaps this time would be the charm.

She put on an apron, sat on the stool before the gently spinning wheel and began to experiment. First she tried a bowl but it came out lopsided. Then she tried a vase but her hand bumped the clay just as she had it almost the way she wanted and the entire thing collapsed into a misshapen mess. Donna was frustrated beyond belief and so disappointed with herself. Somehow she knew the time was quickly approaching when Jesus would return and she had achieved nothing but making a mess of everything she had tried to make Him. Her head hung low with shame and she began to sob hot angry tears of frustration and grief.

“Do not weep, my beloved,” said a gentle voice behind her. Donna half-jumped out of her skin in surprise but was instantly calmed as His arms circled about her and lifted the lumpy misshapen object from the Potter’s wheel to admire it.

“I’m so sorry, Lord!” she said, trying not to sound like a whiny baby. “I tried so hard to make you something beautiful because I love You so much and nothing came out right!”

“I do not know what you mean!” Jesus replied, his eyes looking at her with a knowing smile. “It’s absolutely lovely!” Donna looked from His face to the clay back to His then did a double take. In His hands the clay had become an exquisite long-necked urn with swan-neck handle from which to pour water from. Donna’s mouth hung open…not sure what to say. Jesus turned and went to where her painting sat on the easel, covered with a cloth to hide it’s ugliness. He threw back the cover and admired it with a great big smile. It was a lovely pastoral scene of sheep grazing peacefully in a flower bedecked field under a cloudless sky. “Beautiful!” He said, turning about to smile upon her. He then crossed to the drafting table and lifted the large Valentine card she had made for him. He read her words in silence, closed His eyes in sheer delight and then gave her such a grateful smile it took her breath away.

Donna did not understand what was happening at all! Jesus again reached out his hand to hers and she walked forward into His warm embrace.

Suddenly they were back in her hospital room and He was again sitting on her bed.

Lord, she thought in her head since she couldn’t speak with the ventilator over her mouth, this was a lesson of some kind for me, wasn’t it?

Yes, He nodded, holding both of her hands in His. Even though you think what you created as a gift for Me was a mess, because it was made with love, it was exquisite in My eyes. Now let us take your life…do you think your life is a mess?

Donna hung her head, nodding, feeling deeply again the depression and hopelessness that had been her companion for so many years.

In My eyes you are perfect! Gorgeous. Exquisite! He said, his silent words piercing her dark heart like a beam of sunlight. You are the clay in My hands and though the way I fashion you may seen harsh and ugly, it is beautiful in My sight. I am making of you a heavenly vessel. You may think you have become useless and decrepit but I see you as gold in the refining fire of my love. It isn’t pleasant and it doesn’t feel fair but when you come out on the other end, you will be My treasure. Can you now see what measure of trust I have placed in you to allow you to endure so much for Me?

For you, Lord? Donna responded. But I thought that this was all just bad luck and living in a sick sinful world. I could do so much more for You if only I weren’t sick all the time!

But you already do as much for Me as I would ever want! Said the Savior, cupping her cheek in His hand. Despite all the pain and all the suffering, you still demonstrate child like trust in Me. How could I want anything more than that?

Donna had no come back for that. Suddenly a nurse entered the room to check on her. She took no notice of the Savior sitting on the bed but before leaving, Jesus whispered something only she seemed to hear and she tucked the covers around Donna’s perpetually cold feet and legs and then paused to bow her head and offer a silent prayer before leaving the room again.

Did you give her the idea to do that, Lord?

Yes, of course! Came His gentle response. Every act of kindness, every thoughtful gesture, every visitor who comes to see You to offer their love and encouragement is my personal emissary so that you will know that I am acutely aware of you at every moment of every day. I will send them to you now and then as a gentle reminder of My eternal love and care for you. While I may allow you to have suffering in this life, it cannot be compared to the glory that awaits you in the next. Continue to trust in Me, beloved. I will never fail thee nor forsake thee and when this brief life on earth is over, that art studio you visited today will be waiting for you.

With those words of encouragement branding themselves upon her soul, Donna fell into a peaceful sleep, feeling as though her Savior’s arms were wrapped about her like a warm blanket with His warm cheek next to hers.

THE END

Butterfly Kisses

2010-03-02T21:51:00.000-08:00

My daughter, Violet, was born 8/6/75. She was beautiful. We spent most of our time together. She was very smart in school,good grades and she was in nursing school the last two years of high school.She was my best friend.

She got married on Valintines day 1993 and died March 31 1993. She wasnt 18 yet but told me she always wanted to marry on Valentines day and didn't want to wait for another year after she turned 18 in August. So I signed the papers she needed to marry. She and her husband were very happy for the final month of her life. They had bought our house in Oak Hill and we was still there waiting for our home in Jackson to be ready. I was there when she passed. She had come home the night before and talked with me. I always waited up for her to come home.She worked at a nursing home as a nurse aide, and she said she was hungery and then she would go to bed, her husband had fell asleep on the couch,she didnt wake him. The next morning my husband came to me and said her husband couldn't wake Violet up for school. She had 10 more days to go.She was on the floor beside the bed (she would sometimes lay on the floor if her back hurt). When I got hold of her leg to shake her she was cold. I gave mouth to mouth and screamed call 911!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But my baby was gone.

After 3 long months the doctors could find no reason for my daughter's passing. So I will never know why. I used to pack her around on my hip until she was 6 or 7. She was small and I loved holding her.

She was beautiful, kind, smart and taken way to soon from this earth.I miss her dearly, I will for as long as I live. I pray the good Lord reunites us one glorious day.

Violet approached the Savior, her heart full with the need to ask something of Him. Although she had been exulting in the joys of Heaven for what seemed like only moments, she somehow knew that significant time on earth had passed and that a major milestone was approaching.

He turned and gazed upon her with His wondrous eyes of love and smiled. His eyes and smile never ceased to move her soul deeply. She could feel the love pouring forth from Him as if she were the only soul in all of heaven and as though He had eyes for no one but her.

“Come here, beloved.” He said, holding out his arms to her. Violet ran forward and threw herself into His embrace.

“Oh Master!” she said, her heart bursting with joy at His touch.

“I know why you are here,” He said, stroking her hair, his voice soft in her ear. “I have been expecting your visit.”

“It has been almost 17 years on earth, Master, would it be alright if I visited just this once? It would mean so much to her!”

The Savior drew back and looked down upon her with infinite compassion. “Just this once, beloved,” He agreed.

Upon the utterance of His words, Violet found herself standing in the familiar kitchen of her mother’s home. It was late evening and Donna was standing at the sink doing the dishes when suddenly her shoulders slumped in abject sorrow. Her head bowed, heavy with the all too familiar grief. Although time had softened the pain slightly, she still suffered in silence the knawing ache of sorrow and longing; she missed her daughter so.

Violet’s soul clenched with sympathy for her mom. If only she knew! If only she could but experience just a moment, just a second of what heaven was really like and know how soon they would be reunited when all her tears would be brushed gently away by the Master’s own hand!

Violet slipped her arms about her mother’s waist and laid her head upon her shoulder.

“It’s okay, mommy,” she said. “Don’t cry!”

So gentle was the embrace, so soft was her voice that it took Donna a moment to even realize that she was not alone anymore. For a moment she was taken back in time to a season of her life when her daughter’s love filled her world with sunshine.

She twirled around and stared in shock and unbridled joy.

“VIOLET!” she shrieked, dropping the dish in her hands onto the floor. Her arms flew about her daughter and the tears she had swallowed down for almost 17 years flowed down like a cleansing river. Violet stood there, content to let her mom vent her sorrow; knowing the tears would bring healing. She rocked her gently back and forth and cooed soothingly in her ear as if she were the mom and Donna were the child, patting and rubbing her back. In a few minutes Donna quieted down and she stepped back to let her eyes drink their fill of her long-missed daughter.

Violet smiled at her; a smile of pure radiant joy. “Don’t cry for me anymore, mommy,” she said, plucking a kleenx from a nearby box and dabbing at her mom’s eyes. “I am SO HAPPY in heaven! You just have no idea how incredible it is! Our Savior’s peace and overwhelming love permeates every fiber of your being there!”

“How…what…are you real? Am I dreaming all this?” choked Donna, clutching her daughter’s hands; never wanting to let go. She was more beautiful than she remembered and glowing with a soft light that surrounded every inch of her.

Violet smiled. “No, mom, this is not a dream. I asked the Master for permission to pay you one visit before we are reunited in heaven together. I have waited for this moment since the day I came home!”

“Home?” Donna repeated, not understanding.

“Yes, our heavenly home.” Violet clarified. “Now, I get to spend an entire day with you, what would you like to do?”

Donna was at a complete loss for words or ideas. One day? That was it? Shopping? NO! Eating out? Another dumb idea. Earthly food probably tasted like dirt compared to what Violet was getting in heaven…HEAVEN FOR GOODNESS SAKE!

“Let’s just sit here and talk!” suggested Violet.

Donna nodded dumbly and allowed her daughter to lead her out the front door to the porch swing. They sat together side by side and rocked. Violet laid her head on her mom’s shoulder while hugging Donna's arm against herself.

Donna closed her eyes and listened to the music of Violet’s voice as she talked on and on about being in the presence of their Lord and all the famous people in the bible as best she could in human terms.

As she spoke, Donna felt every hurt, every wound dissolve away and thoroughly heal from the inside out as if every syllable were a balm sent straight from heaven. The ache she had borne since the day she had seen her daughter’s lifeless body on the floor disappeared for here she was; more beautiful than ever and telling her about the wonders of heaven.

Exquisite peace flowed over her soul like a cool river filling her soul until she felt she would burst with joy. What a precious gift the Lord had given her in this beautiful girl; however brief on earth; she knew now they would have each other for eternity and for the first time since that awful day, eternity seemed more real than life here on earth.

Donna suddenly opened her eyes when she realized that Violet had stopped speaking. Hours had passed in what had only seemed like a few minutes.

“Mommy,” she said, gently removing her arm. “It’s time for me to go but I have one last gift for you before I do.”

Despite her disappointment Donna did not feel sad. She smiled at her beautiful Violet, wondering what could possibly be any better than the day they had just spent together in each other’s company. Violet grinned at her in a delighted, mischievous way and clapped her hands together, just once.

Suddenly a cloud of butterflies flew up and surrounded them both; all different colors and sizes. They whirled about, alighting then taking flight again while mother and daughter gasped and laughed in sheer delight. Then as Donna watched, utterly charmed, the butterflies began to rise higher and higher in a spiral with Violet floating upwards with them, waving her goodbyes with a magnificent smile.

“I’ll see you soon, mommy!” she called, her voice as clear as a bell. “Every time you see a butterfly from now on, just know that it’s me blowing kisses to you! Don’t forget!”

“I won’t, dearest one,” breathed Donna, clutching her now whole and healed heart with joy and gratitude. “I love you!”

“…and I love you!” came her last words on the soft summer wind.

Captivating

2010-02-23T23:06:00.000-08:00

     Gwyn watched in mounting frustration as her brothers August and John took turns practicing against each other with their mock swords. They had been “training” for the better part of the morning and still had not gotten around to working in the fields as their father had commanded them. They hated field work and longed to be off serving as squires at arms to the local Duke. Their father had sent Gwyn to “deal” with them.

     “Get off with you lazy lads! To the fields with ye!” she chided them in her lilting brogue. The brothers stopped and regarded her with annoyance.

     “Lazy?” repeated August, making a great show of sheathing his practice sword. A dulled ugly thing in comparison to the ones he had lusted after at the blacksmith’s shop a fortnight ago when last in the village. She could barely haul him away, so consumed he was with lust at the gleaming blades and bejeweled hilts.
     “Have ye not regarded with what gusto we have trained these past few hours?”

     “Aye! Lazy me arse.” John guffawed.

     “You’ll not be addressing me so cheeky!” Gwyn said, stepping forward, a menacing look on her face. The faces of both brothers instantly quelled and went white as a banshee’s. Their eyes round with horror. Gwyn hesitated…surely she didn’t look that fearsome! She only wanted them to get to work in the fields; not terrify them!

     “Gwyn!” squeaked John, looking past her; his body trembling. Gwyn turned and looked about just as she felt arms of iron wrap about her body and physically haul her up onto a horse so that she lay stomach down like a trussed sow.

     With sudden terror, she looked behind and saw her brothers experience the same fate. Marauding English slavers had entered their land by stealth and taken many captives. She saw a long line of her fellow villagers tied to one another by a common rope, their wrists bound and their faces gagged so they couldn’t cry out a warning.

     “Let me down off this flea infested nag or I’ll cut off your ear’s just as soon as soon as I draw breath!” she managed to growl to her smelly captor.

     “Shut yer pie hole, wench!” he growled right back at her, taking a stave and smacking her smartly on the rump. “If you don’t mind yer manners I’ll sell ye to a cathouse instead of as a serving woman to a fine manor house!”

     Gwyn was ready with a smart retort but thought better of it. She was in no position to indulge her vast vocabulary of insults on a knave who held her and her brother’s fate in his grimy hands. She pressed her lips together in a firm line and concentrated on drawing breath in the most uncomfortable position she had ever assumed on a horse. If only she hadn’t worn her corset that day; the combination of both was making her light-headed for lack of breath.

     The slavers didn’t even pause to rest for the knight, knowing the hot-tempered Celts would be on their heels like hounds to recover their loved ones. They paused only long enough to tie Gwyn up with her brothers to the rest of their unhappy countrymen and made to march triple time until they reached the sea.

     It was almost nightfall and the slaver ship was almost invisible beyond the surfline. A waiting coracle; large enough to seat 20 (if crammed in like sardines) waited upon the sand for the slaver’s “catch”. As they herded their captives into the freezing cold surf to get into the boat, Gwyn, August, and John finally got a brief moment together again.

     “You alright, lassie?” August asked her with concern. Gwyn nodded, putting on a brave smile.

     “You?” she asked both brothers. They nodded; unable to hide the naked fear in their eyes. They were all being taken from their homeland and would probably be split up; never to see each other again once upon the other shore or know of each other’s fate. It made Gwyn’s blood boil with fury. What right did these vermin think they had to kidnap and enslave freeborn Irish to work in their slaughter houses and brothels! What gave them the right?

     At that moment, the chief slaver caught hold of her arm to pull her into the coracle. Gwyn shook his arm off with a scowl and spat in his face. A hush descended upon all; except for her brothers who perked up and bellowed with laughter at the insult she had dealt him.

     Their laughter was silenced with a brutal blow to their heads and they were unceremoniously bullied into the boat. Gwyn stood her ground, arms akimbo, legs spread wide, prepared to do battle without so much as a dirk. She had grown up with two rough and tumble brothers and knew well how to handle herself. The slaver regarded her with wary eyes; trying to assess just how much damage she might be capable of doing to him. He crouched low as if he were about to spring and nodded. Gwyn realized her stupidity too late. It had been a ruse. She was grabbed from behind by a smelly bear of a man while another grabbed her by the ankles and lifted her bodily off the ground and dumped her on top of her brothers and the other captives in the boat.

     She screamed and struggled with a fury like a she-cat as they hog-tied her, bruising both herself, her brothers and the other captives by her struggles.

     “Easy Gwynnie!” August protested, grunting with pain as her knee connected with his ribs. “It’s us you be hurting not them!”

     “Aye!” grumped John, rubbing his now black and blue one with the side of his arm. The next thing they all knew the coracle was being pushed into the arms of the waiting sea and rowed to the slave ship. There they were all pushed and herded down into the bottom-most parts of the ship and chained together with leg irons. If the ship went down in a storm they would all certainly drown. The only small blessing was that Gwyn and her brothers were shackled together. They huddled in cramped misery in the bitter cold, trying to keep other’s spirits up and their bodies warm in the sickening plunge and yaw of the ship as it slowly made its’ way to Britain.

     It was a miserable trip. Just about everyone ended up sick and vomiting, causing even those without seasickness just to retch from the stench. The smell was overwhelming, the trip unending and no sleep was to be had. They were all cold, hungry, miserable and covered with filth by the time they reached shore two days later.

     Several of them had gotten sick and were now shaking with chills and fever. Gwyn and her brothers were a little worse for the wear but otherwise unscathed (except for their clothing which had become so rank it was only fit for the dung heap). They had neither eaten, drunk nor slept since the moment of their capture but instead of defeating their morale it only made them more furious. Gwyn was chafing for an opportune moment and then heaven help the poor sot when she was done with her tongue lashing!

     The next day, after a brief rest where they cleaned themselves up as best they could in a nearby stream, given stale mead and hard bread; they were then forced to march again where one by one they were sold off to various farmers, merchants and tradesmen as slaves. The slavers pocketed less than they would have liked and were saving Gwyn and her brothers for last, hoping their strong bodies and fine looks would bring a better price from the Baron to whom they hoped to sell them as a threesome. Gwyn as a maidservant/serving wench and the boys for whatever menial labor the master could think of.

     It was late afternoon after two more days of trudging when they finally reached a large estate. The seneschal had been expecting them and was waiting impatiently by the gate with a disdainful scowl. He gave August and John a sneering once over, wrinkling his nose in distaste at their “ripe” fragrance which only served to make the hackles rise on the back of Gwyn’s neck in protective indignation.

     To be sure you wouldn’t be smelling as sweet as a rose either if you had been captured, shoved into a stinking ship’s hole and made to sit in your own reek for days with naught but a dirty stream to wash in! She fumed.

     As if he had heard her thoughts, the seneschal turned about and glared at her. “You!” he said with a sneer. “Come hither!”

     Gwyn may have had shackles are on her wrists and ankles but she was no man’s slave to be commanded! She crossed her arms and stood with her feet firmly planted a shoulder length apart in absolute defiance. August and John shared a knowing look. There was no messing with Gwyn when she got her head up…

     The seneschal scowled at her, obviously unused to be defied. He slowly walked up to her, swung his arm back and backhanded her. The blow sent her reeling backwards, tripping over her shackles and sprawling onto her backside into a mud puddle. Mud spattered everywhere. August and John were incensed and lunged forward but were restrained by their slavers who had been expecting a reaction.

     “Gordon!” snapped a voice that left no doubt it came from a much higher authority. The seneschal immediately bowed and remained bowed as a large man in rich clothing brushed past him to where Gwyn still lay flat in the mud puddle, fighting back her tears of anger and humiliation.

     “Give me your hand,” he ordered, extending his to her.

     August and John sucked in their breath, wondering what their sister would do next. They hadn’t long to wait. As the master bent lower to grasp her hand, Gwyn clasped hold with both of hers and yanked down as hard as she could, catching him totally off guard. He wound up sprawling in the mud beside her, completely ruining his costly tunic and velvet cloak. All stared in hushed silence except for August and John who were practically bursting with the need to laugh out loud.Gwyn had shown them all who was boss!

     The master regained his composure, sat back on his haunches and regarded Gwyn with nonplussed look on his face.

     The seneschal grinned, anticipating that a good whipping would now be in store for the impertinent little strumpet!

     A bellow of laughter punctured that hope and deflated it instantly. The master bent forward at the waist and continued to laugh with abandon, completely surprising and disarming Gwyn, his laugh taking all the fight out of her. He stood to his feet, still offering his hand to help her up, which she accepted with deep chagrin.

     He pulled with all his might, pulling her up and then lifted her and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of meal. Turnabout, after all, was fair play. Gwyn took to this new humiliation with renewed rage and flailed and kicked at him while he marched her past the seneschal, her brothers, the other slavers and captives all the way into the main house, through several richly appointed rooms and into a courtyard where he unceremoniously dumped her into the fountain.

     She landed amongst the lily pads with an enormous plop that sent a backslash flying up to drench the Master who stood there with his mouth hanging open in mid guffaw.

     “Hah!” Gwyn shrieked at him in triumph, crossing her arms.

     “Hmph,” was the only response she got. He left her sitting there dripping and shivering and returned a short time later with a large blanket. He lifted her out of the fountain (since it was impossible for her to climb out with shackled ankles) and set her on her feet, wrapping it around her. If her teeth hadn’t been chattering so hard she would have shoved him away but all she could manage was a sneeze. He began to lead her back into the main house but the shackles made progress agonizingly slow. With a sigh of exasperation he stopped and scooped her up, carrying her into the house, up the stairs and into a room where a surprised chambermaid stood with her mouth hanging open in shock.

     He stood Gwyn back on her feet. “Get her cleaned up, into a fresh pair of clothes and bring her back before me when she’s more presentable,” he instructed, with a cocked eyebrow in her direction.

     “Yes, mi’lord,” curtseyed the maid, eyeing Gwyn in fear. Gwyn realized at that moment that her fate had been sealed. She was his property now…well,she wasn’t going down without a fight!

     She picked up the nearest thing at hand and flung it at the head of the Master where it crashed against the doorframe at the precise moment the door closed behind him.

     “I’ll be dammed if I ever bow to the likes of a fusspot like you!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs. The door reopened and Gwyn found herself ducking as an urn came flying at her head.

     “I believe you just did, mi’lady!” replied the Baron with a devilish grin.

No Ordinary Day at the Mall

2010-02-22T07:22:00.000-08:00

Hannah and Haley sat in the food court of Mall St. Matthews, people watching and sipping their diet sodas. They had had a successful day of shopping, having spent hours in clothing boutique and purchasing about 2 pairs of jeans and a cute top each (matching of course) after long and considered deliberation.

“What about him?” asked Haley, indicating a tall young man walking through the mall with a Nike bag in his arms.

“Too skinny,” concluded Hannah and Haley together in unison. They looked at each other, giggled and made the “owie-owie jinx” symbol. One after another they looked at prospective love interests only to find a major flaw (either evident or just made up for fun) in each one. They had come to the mall that day to see a special event. An author of a medieval fantasy/fiction called “The Victor” was supposed to appear at the Barnes & Noble later that day to do a book signing. They were saving the rest of their cash for later when they would get an autographed copy of the book. The mall had gone all out and had decorated the area in front of the bookstore with medieval banners. Their attention was suddenly drawn to the opposite end of the mall where they saw the crowds of shoppers hurriedly parting like the red sea before Moses to make way for what had to be the last thing they ever expected to see coming down the mall corridor. A man on a runaway horse…in a full suit of armor!

“What the….?” exclaimed Hannah and Haley together, eyebrows on the rise. The horse was coming at them full speed and it too wore armor and had gold and scarlet trappings that hung from the reins and which flew behind it. It whinnied loudly but instead of feeling terrified, Hannah felt a thrill go up her spine. Her breath caught in her chest.

“Boy whoever manages the mall must really like this book to hire someone to do this!” yelled Haley, springing up to get out of the way of the charging horse. Hannah remained rooted where she stood, a strange feeling coming over her. The mall about her began to spin and she felt herself becoming increasingly dizzy and disconcerted. Just as her knees buckled and gave way, she found herself scooped up into the saddle by the knight. His charger wheeled around and she held on for dear life as it reared and let out a loud neigh. At that moment, everything disappeared. The mall, the shops, even her friend Haley and she found herself clinging with all her might to the back of a mail clad knight on the back of a white horse that was now galloping on sod under a canopy of arched trees to a distant hill upon which stood a lofty castle.

What did they put in my diet coke? She wondered. She looked down at herself and instead of blue jeans and a t-shirt found herself in a gorgeous, dusty lavender gown of velvet, with a silk chemise that streamed back in the wind. Her hair flowed out behind her but she didn’t dare let go her grip to touch what surely must have been a circlet with attached veil upon her head for fear of falling off. The white horse snorted and the knight slowed down to give the animal a rest.

“Easy, easy…Glimraith” soothed the male voice inside the helmet. It was deeply masculine if albeit tunnel-ish sounding. He patted the magnificent beast and twisted about in the saddle, lifting the visor to reveal a pair of striking blue eyes. Hannah blinked, her mouth dropping open. If the eyes alone were any indication of what he looked like (they were fringed by jet black lashes) she was in for quite a treat when he took off the rest of the plumed helmet.

“Are you injured, milady?” he said, his black brows knitting together in concern. Hannah shook her head and shut her mouth so as not to look like an idiot by still gaping.

“Forgive the manner of my coming to fetch thee,” he continued in a gentle baritone. “But my quest was in earnest. We must make the keep before sunset and the day is already far gone.”

“Keep?” replied Hannah, puzzled, still trying to figure out where the mall had gone.

“The Court of St. Matthews…” clarified the knight, dismounting with ease. “Since you have naught but your gown and eventide is fast descending, you shall no doubt be warmer if thou ridest before me.”

With his assistance, Hannah scooted forward until she was sitting in the saddle. The knight remounted with ease behind her, drew his large cloak about both of them and urged the horse onwards into a fast cantor towards the magnificent castle which grew larger with every league they covered. Cottage fires in the surrounding village began to light as a deep purple dusk settled about them. Hannah closed her eyes, thoroughly confused but strangely at ease. The strong arms of the knight were about her and his body heat and cloak kept her warm. She had no clue what or how this was happening but instead of feeling panicked she had a strange sense of déjà vu and anticipation. She glanced down at her clothes and marveled at the gorgeous silver stitching all over the front of her bodice and the pearls which glimmered here and there. They arrived at the castle, now lit from within by torch and candlelight. The white horse clattered over the cobblestones, across the drawbridge and into the main courtyard. The knight (whose name she still didn’t know) dismounted and before she could blink had grasped her about the waist and gently lifted her down. To Hannah it seemed like the entire process was in slow motion. She felt his strong hands about her waist and was unable to tear her eyes away from his as she slowly slid down and finally landed on her feet. She swayed for a moment, a wave of dizziness coming over her again. Apparently time travel made her seasick. Her knees buckled but he was attentive to her every need and without a word scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the castle. He seemed to know his way around without even looking. His eyes never left hers the entire time until the moment he carried her into a gorgeous chamber room and set her carefully upon her feet, keeping his hands about her waist until he was sure she would not tip over again.

“Milady,” he said, bowing over her hand and kissing it gently. “I will attend thee later, in the meantime, make thyself ready for a feast is to be held in thy honor,” he said. Hannah finally found her voice.

“My honor?” she repeated. “Please,” she said, grasping his arm as he turned to go. “How did I get here? Where did the mall go and my friend Haley? My mom and dad are going to freak if they don’t hear from me soon! And…and… what is your name anyway?!!” Her voice began rising in near hysteria. At first she thought she was just daydreaming but now it was looking like she had actually gone through some kind of time domain transference of some kind with no clue of how to get back to her real life.

The knight paused, regarding her with deep concern. He removed his plumed helm and Hannah gasped at the sight of his handsome face. His eyes were the deepest blue she had ever seen and his hair, whiskers and brows ebony. His finely chiseled face was both beautiful and incredibly masculine at the same time. The kind understanding smile he bestowed upon her made her heart feel like it was melting into a molten hot puddle of mush. He took both of her tiny hands into his and held them both up to his lips.

“Fear not, beloved,” he said, his voice soft and very reassuring. “All will be well. Tonight is for thee but on the morrow all will return to what has been. Can you not be content to simply enjoy what has been given thee and let tomorrow worry about itself?”

Hannah nodded, falling under the spell of his eyes and his voice once again. A smile creased his face making her heart skip a beat.

“I shall leave thee to thy maid servant and return for thee later,” he said, gently brushing her cheek with his fingers. The heavy oaken door closed slowly behind him and Hannah sighed…finally turning around to take in her room.

“O..M…G!!!!” she squealed out loud. It was the most exquisite room she had ever seen in her life. The stone walls were covered with gorgeous tapestries all in shades of dusty blue, lavender and moss green. The canopied bed was covered in a deep midnight blue velvet coverlet embroidered with silver thread, pearls and gemstones with curtains that matched but what really caught her attention was the multitude of vases filled with flowers in complimentary colors and the candles which glowed on every available surface. It looked like an enormous valentine in jewel tone colors. If only Haley were here!

“OMG, HANNAH!” screeched a familiar voice. Hannah whirled about and found herself facing her best friend, similarly attired in an emerald green velvet gown and matching headdress, her hair longer, thicker and curling all the way past her waist. “Can you believe all this??!” The girls grasped hands and jumped up and down for joy.

“Did you see him?” Hannah asked, meaning the knight.

“Only a glimpse but ohhhhhhhhhhhhh boy, Hannah!” Haley giggled, her eyes alight. “An honest to goodness knight in shining armor!”

“He told me to get ready…ready for what?”

“Birthday celebration?” Haley guessed, taking her friend over to a gorgeous dressing table where brushes and beautiful bejeweled combs awaited her. Hannah sat down and allowed Haley to comb out her long tresses. The girls then changed into their banquet clothes, red for Haley and a gorgeous pale pink for Hannah with matching veil that drifted down almost to the floor like a cotton candy cloud.

A knock came upon the door and with a wink, Haley went to answer it like a good lady-in-waiting. Hannah could hear her gasp of awe even from where she stood on tip toe, trying to get a glimpse of the knight whose name she still did not know. He entered the room and it took her breath away. He wore a dark blue tunic edged in gold with knee high kid-skin boots and a black cape clasped at the throat with a golden chain. From his waist hung a magnificent sword but what really caught her attention was his face and eyes. He had eyes for no one but her and he walked forward bearing a bouquet of reddish/black roses wrapped with a red organza ribbon. Their sweet smell filled the room.

He went down on one knee before her and presented the roses to her. Hannah took them, trembling then gave them to a waiting Haley who put them into a nearby pewter vase. The knight arose and tucked her arm through his.

“Shall we?” He said, with a deliciously handsome smile. Hannah nodded and allowed him to accompany her through numerous hallways and corridors with Haley right behind grinning like a Cheshire cat. When they got to the main ballroom both girls almost (almost) screamed with excitement. Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty had nothing on this castle. The ballroom stretched up above their heads four stories high with large leaded glass windows that let in the full moon and stars. Candles and torches flickered everywhere and the room was filled with Lords and Ladies in the most gorgeous clothing and jewels they had ever seen. Upon their entrance everyone turned around and welcomed Hannah, Haley and her knight with warm applause. Then the music started.

The knight put his arms about Hannah, prepared to lead her into a waltz. Hannah froze, terror seizing her heart.

“Wait!” she hissed, “I don’t know how to waltz!” The knight grinned at her and pulled her closely against him.

“Trust me.” He smiled. The music began and Hannah found herself being swept about the room as if she had grown wings. She closed her eyes and let the music and her handsome knight take her away. She was barely aware of the other couples spinning about them on the floor except for every now and then when Haley would come flying by in the arms of a good looking young courtier. The evening passed swiftly. Hannah and her knight waltzed together and also with the other couples in group dances. They broke for a late dinner and sat side by side at a long table, sharing a trencher while acrobats, jugglers and jesters performed for their pleasure. The food was nothing like the fast food Hannah and Haley were used to at all but was rich, flavorful and creatively presented. Not sure what to do, Hannah allowed him to select morsels for her and had to stifle an embarrassed giggle as he even peeled a large purple grape for her with his fingers and popped it into her mouth with a grin. She never wanted the evening to end but found herself yawning with exhaustion.

“Come,” said her knight, standing to his feet and offering his hand. Hannah stood up and put her hand back into his. His fingers closed about hers gently and possessively. They felt so warm as they wrapped about her own. They walked together and soon she felt his arm slip about her waist and draw her close to his side. She leaned her weary head upon his breast and stumbled suddenly with exhaustion. It had, after all, been quite a day. She felt his arms go under her legs and he lifted her effortlessly into his arms to carry her the remaining distance back to her bedchamber. He carried her through the door and laid her gently upon the bed, covering her and removing her slippers.

Just before he left the chamber, he lifted her palm up to his lips and kissed it gently, his eyes looking deeply into her own which were heavy with sleep.

“Fare thee well, my love,” he whispered, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Wait!” said Hannah, struggling to remain awake for one more moment. “You never told me your name!” She saw his lips move in reply but could hear no sound. Sleep overwhelmed her like a wave at sea, sweeping her away from him upon its’ irresistible tide.

She awoke the next morning back in her own bed with the sun streaming in her window and birds singing outside. She sat up on her elbows and wondered to herself if it had all just been a dream or some kind of magic spell. She shook her head…it must have just been a dream… she concluded with a sinking sad feeling and then she froze. Upon her dresser sat a pewter vase and in it was the gorgeous dark red rose bouquet the knight had brought to her the night before. She flew out of bed and gazed at them, blinking in wonder and disbelief. Sitting propped up next to them was an elegant piece of parchment paper with script flowing across it.

“Dearest beloved…” it read. “…wait for me!” And below this he had written his name…

THE END

Illuminated Miguel

2010-02-06T14:19:00.000-08:00

iguel walked into the back of the RYTMO house with an internal sigh of relief. This place had become a second home for him. It was a place of peace and refuge, of learning and feeling wanted and appreciated.

“Hey, Miguel!” called out Joey with a broad smile in his direction. “I got some good news for you!”

Miguel walked up closer where he could see Joey beaming at him like a proud father. He held up his hand and in it was an official looking letter. Joey was practically jumping up and down with glee. He thrust the letter into Miguel’s hand. Trying not to let his hand tremble, Miguel lifted the letter and his eyes fell upon the logo:

Miguel read the letter in silence while Joey rocked with glee up and down on his heels.

“It’s a full ride scholarship to study graphic arts, Miguel!” he said, pounding him on the back. “I sent them some of your stuff and a letter and the graphic arts director called me a week ago. After I told him about you and your brother, and how hard you have both worked and turned your lives around, they wanted to give you a full scholarship! Isn’t that cool, mijo?!”

Miguel didn’t know what to say. Nothing could have prepared him for this enormous gift. He fought back the tears but did allow Joey to hug him and pound him on the back.

“Let’s get you something to eat and then we can discuss it if you want.” Joey practically skipped away muttering out loud to himself over and over “Miguel is going to The Art Institute! Holy Mackerel!!”

Miguel stood before the gleaming glass building both excited and terrified. It was his first day of class at the prestigious college with a brand new backpack and laptop that had been donated to him when news had reached the supporters of RYTMO that one of their own had earned a full-ride scholarship to The Art Institute based purely upon the calligraphy and graphics he had created both on computer and by hand. He tried to look calm and casual but inside he was trembling with mingled terror and joy.

“Are you just going to stare at it or ya going to come in?” said a cheerful voice behind him. He turned around and found a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at him and a bemused smile. “I’m Jessica!” said the pretty blond, sticking out her hand to shake his. “You must be new here!”

“Uh…yes, I am,” said Miguel, shaking her hand briefly. Her smile widened and Jessica hooked her arm through his.

“C’mon!” she said, propelling him into the building. “I don’t have my first class for another hour. I’ll show you around!"

For the next hour Jessica gave Miguel the grand tour of The Art Institute, showing him the registrar’s office, classrooms for the culinary institute, fashion design, and last of all, the media arts (Miguel’s career choice). Last of all she took him to the cafeteria (located next to the culinary institute’s kitchens). Incredible smells were emanating throughout the room and Miguel’s stomach grumbled so loudly it made Jessica giggle.

“Let’s get you something to eat or your stomach will be interrupting your instructor’s first class!” she said. She shoved a tray into his hand and led him to the food counter. “Don’t eat anything that has the name Debbie next to it!” she hissed, nodding at a rather disgusting looking side dish made up of what he didn’t know what! “She likes to experiment with really weird stuff. I can’t believe she hasn’t gotten kicked out of the school for food poisoning yet!”

Jessica chattered on happily while piling more food on his plate than Miguel would ever be able to eat. It all looked and smelled incredible and his stomach rumbled loudly again. They took their trays to a table and while he ate, Jessica plied him with questions he couldn’t answer because his mouth was too full.

“Hey, Jess!” a voice called out. Jessica and Miguel looked around to see a red-headed girl come towards them with a big smile.

“Are you new?” Beth asked, sticking out her hand to shake his. Miguel nodded his mouth too full to answer.

“I was just showing him around but I have to get to my next class.” Jessica said, standing up. “Since you’re on break – could you help Miguel find his first class? You guys are both in media arts.”

“Coooooooooooool!” responded Beth, giving Miguel a huge dimpled smile. “If you’re done eating, get your gear and come with me!”

Miguel was reluctant to leave all the great smelling food but he managed to tuck an apple and muffin into his coat pocket before shouldering his backpack and laptop. He followed Beth down the hall and stepped into a classroom filled with students hunched over their laptops, talking animatedly and admiring each other’s work before the instructor walked in.

Beth showed Miguel to an empty seat at a table, helped him log into his new account on the Institute’s website and got him set up for his first class before returning to her own seat.

The instructor entered the classroom with his own laptop. Once he got online, he motioned for attention and waited while the students quieted.

“Good day, class!” said Mr. Bledsoe, smiling at all of them. “Before we begin, let’s all welcome our newest student, Miguel! “

“Hey Miguel!” the class chorused. Some waved others gave him a “thumbs up”.

Not sure what he should do, Miguel nodded in acknowledgement and waved back, smiling shyly. The formalities having been dispensed with, the class began and Miguel, feeling welcomed as never before by a bunch of strangers, felt a warm feeling come over him and an emotion that had come late to him in life: hope.

His life lay before him and it was filled with hope and promise…and it had all started in a little house in Anaheim that was known as RYTMO where he had been given a second chance and loved just for himself.

He would make good on their investment of trust and he would succeed and excel in his chosen field. And perhaps in the near future, he could go back to RYTMO and help some of the new kids there know that there was a different kind of world out there than the ugly, dark and hopeless one they were used to. A world where anything was possible…

Miguel is a young, gifted teenaged boy who lives with his brother, Rene and his other family members in a one-bedroom apartment in a bad part of town where gangs are prevalent. He and Rene both participate in a ministry called RYTMO which is a music-based outreach to youth to give them skills, a safe place to hang out, positive reinforcement and unconditional love and acceptance. Miguel is a very gifted graphic artist and because of his work in creating a logo for the organization, I thought this story might plant a seed in his mind and his heart to aim for higher things in life. Here is Miguel in his own words:

"I have always had my mind on success with getting a career so that I may support them. As you know, I am interested in design and art. When I was young I was a sketch artist that drew realistic and symbolic art, mostly political of life in my city, through my own eyes. Now a days, I do graphic work of all kinds. I hope my talents can land me a career someday."

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

2010-01-21T16:13:00.000-08:00

It was 1978, I was 18 and had never gone out on a date nor had a boyfriend. I wasn't weird looking but it seemed as though God had put a large "kiss off" sign on my forehead to keep members of the opposite sex away. I was commuting to Los Angeles daily on the public bus to attend the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising (“FIDM”) where the chances of meeting a normal, nice Christian male interested in the opposite sex were extremely dismal. I had just become a Christian the year before and was spending my hour long commute nagging the Lord daily about wanting to go out on a date. I was feeling quite desperate!
                On one particular day I think the good Lord had had enough of my "kvetching" and while ‘lucky dipping’ through my Bible, the following scripture jumped off the page at me. I could almost actually hear the Holy Spirit yelling the verse at me: "DELIGHT YOURSELF IN THE LORD AND HE WILL GIVE YOU THE DESIRES OF YOUR HEART!!!" At the same time, a still small voice in my head told me to write a story that would portray my wishes being fulfilled.
                I went home that day, uncovered my Smith Corona typewriter and began typing away. The title of the book was: "Jesus Wave-walker, Jesus Joy-giver", a pretty lame title now that I look back on it but it turned out to be a pretty prophetic tale. I put myself in the story and described how the Lord called me up on the phone to take me out on a date and during that date He “introduced” me to the man He had chosen for me. At this point, I must digress and tell you that the name for my future husband, whoever he was, was always “Michael”. I prayed for Michael by name and even made a list of all the attributes I desired in my future mate: a good Christian, funny, handsome (to me anyway), had a large family, nice friends, a good work ethic, responsible, trustworthy, kind, handy, played guitar….and oh yes…had kept himself pure from women. Whenever I would tell my friends this last one they would shake their heads at me and whisper “Good luck!” under their breath. I finished my short story naming the character of the man he chosen for me as Michael. I then illustrated my book (drawing myself the way I wished I looked) as well as my “dream man”, Michael.
                Fast forward four years. I was at my 8th or 9th College and Career Church Retreat in the hopes of meeting a nice Christian boy. In the past 4 years I had left FIDM, gotten a job and moved to Orange County, met my first love, Barry, (who had died 4 months previous from a brain aneurism) and was still grieving even though my feelings for him had been unrequited. I was friends with a house full of Christian men but was still being treated like one of “the guys”. I was quickly becoming resigned to the fact that I was going to die an old maid when I looked across the crowded room of the retreat’s dining room and saw a face that caught my eye (just like that verse in the song “Some Enchanted Evening in South Pacific). He was pretty handsome and I remember thinking that he was probably stuck up because he was so handsome! The next thing I knew, he was sitting next to me.
                We exchanged smiles and introduced ourselves.
                “Hi,” I said. “My name is Marlayne.”
                “I’m Michael,” was his reply.
                My ears perked up but I said nothing about his name for fear of scaring him away. Interesting, I thought. We talked politely for a few minutes then said our goodbye’s when breakfast was done. From that moment on I was his shadow. We ended up talking for hours about cartoons, my first love then his first love; the fact that I was a Messianic Jew and on and on until the stars came out and it was time to go to our respective cabins. It had snowed that weekend (despite being April) and we threw snowballs at each other the next day. I didn’t even mind when he put his arm around me and kissed my forehead (which normally would have scared me off). The last day of the retreat I was starting to fret because Michael still had not asked for my phone number. After Sunday morning’s Bible study we would all be going our separate ways and if he didn’t ask for my phone number I would probably never see him again. With that in mind, I asked to see his Bible. He handed it over to me and I wrote my name and phone number inside the front cover and handed it back reasoning that I rather come off as forward than die a spinster.

                The following day, back at home I told my roommate about meeting Michael and how we had hit it off. As I left our apartment to visit Barry’s parents, I gave her some very specific instructions: “Now, Theresa, if a guy by the name of Michael calls… don’t say anything to him but call me at the Henriot’s house and let me know.” She agreed and to my delight while I was having dinner with Ruth and Al, she called and sang out: “Michael caaaalled!!”
                I was ready at that moment to call him right back (impatient person that I am) but I distinctly felt the Lord instructing me to wait an entire day. If you know me at all you would know what absolute torture this was but I obeyed and waited.
                The next day I called Michael back and in a very nonchalant voice said: “Hi! I heard you called yesterday.” (Little did he know that I was jumping up and down for glee at that moment.) Michael then asked me out on a date for the following weekend with his sister, her husband and another couple to go to Westwood to see the rerelease of Fantasia. I went right out and bought myself a whole new outfit for the occasion and when I opened the door of my apartment the following Saturday and saw Michael standing there I couldn’t help but think “Oh my… is he ever handsome!”
                After the movie we went to Hamburger Hamlet for dinner as a six-some. Little did I know until several years later that something very unusual took place during that date while I was in the ladies room. His sister’s friend, Tina, who had never laid eyes on me until that night, had turned to Michael’s sister, Debbie and asked her: “Well, what do you think of Marlayne?”
                “She seems nice,” had been Debbie’s polite response.
                “Well that’s Michael’s future wife.” Tina informed everyone. Michael was instantly incensed. He couldn’t stand this girl and how opinionated she was, so the fact that she had just said this to him instilled the exact opposite reaction. NO WAY NOW! Were his thoughts at the time but God had other plans.
                We dated for the next four years but 9 months into our relationship I finally got up the courage to show him my story with his name and face in it. It was a good thing I had waited until he was really “hooked” because if I had shown it to him early in our relationship he would have high tailed it for the hills! Almost five years after we met we were married. I put my prophetic story on display at our reception so everyone could see how God had brought us together – and haven’t seen it since. It simply disappeared.
                My list? Oh yes, Michael fulfilled everything I had put on my list, including the last item!!
That was almost 23 years ago and we are still happily married. Michael and I were recently discussing that story and my history of other men avoiding me like they had seen a giant “kiss off” sign plastered on my forehead when Michael said one of the sweetest things to me I have ever heard:
          “Well, honey, I didn’t see the words: ‘kiss off’ on your forehead…” he reassured me, planting a tender kiss on said spot. “I saw the words: KISS HERE.”

My Treasures

2010-01-20T08:10:00.000-08:00

As a middle-aged woman (OMG I hate using that term with reference to myself!!!), I have come to realize that there is nothing so necessary and precious in life as GOOD friends. The kind you can tell your deepest secrets to; be able to cry on their shoulder, commiserate about your spouse and/or children and talk to for HOURS and never run out of things to say or things to laugh about. Well I don’t have just one…I have FOUR.

We call ourselves Los Tesoritos (the women of the Ya-Ya-Sisterhood and Traveling Pants were already taken) aka “the treasures”. These women are my treasures. They all started out 8 years ago as only my friends but through a series of getting together every year at Christmas for dinner at Muldoons in Newport Beach with Roger’s Gardens afterwards we are now each other’s friends and close confidants.

We are all going through our own life issues (be it family problems, work stress, financial and even some legal issues that have been devastating) and we have all come to depend upon each other for moral support and a safe haven to open up our hearts to the deepest levels. We now get try to get together every few months and are experimenting with different types of events such as brunch, martini parties (Oy Vey!), high tea and good old fashioned potlucks.

I have known each one of them over 20 years each and they could not be more precious to me so it is with this blog that I pay tribute to each one of my “treasures:

Janet, Arlene, Stephanie & Rhonda – life would be abysmal without you.

WordVessel

2010-01-15T08:47:00.000-08:00

WordVessel

Emerelda

2010-01-10T19:21:00.001-08:00

Loriena scowled at the old milk cow in front of her. Benna was being unusually obstinate and uncooperative that morning and Loriena was out of patience. The stupid animal had kicked the milk bucket over for the third time in what seemed like an intentional act of ruining her already miserable existence while her impoverished family tried to eke out a living on the tiny farm. Benna mooed loudly, shifting from one hoof to the other; her udders aching with the need to be milked but agitated by some unseen pest.

“Benna, so help me, if you don’t stop your bawling and fussing, I’m just going to let your udders explode!” growled Loriena, setting down the milking stool for the tenth time. Benna finally settled down long enough for Loriena to fill the pail with the milk. Relieved, she stood up, shoved away the milk stool and bent to lift the pail when Benna mooed loudly again and kicked it over, dumping all the milk onto the barn floor.

“ARGH!!” Loriena shrieked, frustrated beyond belief. Her father was going to be sore-vexed with her for this. She reached down through the straw to fling the first rock she could find at the stupid cow and raised her arm to let fly but the rock in her hand suddenly went white hot. She dropped it with scream and jumped back. It fell onto the mud-packed floor and rolled a few feet away but the green glow coming from it was unmistakable in the early morning light.

Was she seeing things? She crept forward; hardly daring to breath, not caring that she was dragging her skirts through the spilt milk and mud. She crouched down to study the rock closer. The glow was starting to fade now. She touched it tentatively; afraid of burning herself again. The rock was now simply warm but still pulsing with a beautiful green light. She cradled it in her palms, studying it; a strange feeling building in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly a tiny crack appeared, then another, then another until it began to resemble an exotic egg that had broken. A tiny puff of smoke issued from the biggest crack and Loriena gasped in mixed terror and delight.

“Loriena!” snapped the voice of foster father, Jarrod. “What goes on here? Where’s the milk?” He got his answer when saw the large puddle spreading slowly across the barn floor. “Ye gods, girl, what has gotten into you?” he demanded, striding up to her to yank her up by the arm. Instead his attention was diverted to the green glowing oval rock which Loriena was also staring at in astonishment. The cracks had grown so large that now she could see the creature wriggling inside; fighting to free itself. Jarrod froze in his tracks.

He had been warned long ago when he had first agreed to foster Loriena that this day might come, he just had never really truly believed it would! He watched in horrified fascination as the creature finally freed itself from its egg casing and looked straight into the eyes of Loriena, imprinting itself upon her. Loriena stared right back, transfixed as if in a spell.

“Loriena,” said, Jarrod, his voice hoarse with the realization of what was about to happen. “We must get thee away, quickly! Today! Before you are discovered and word spreads about your beastie there.” He grasped her arm and carefully put the tiny dragon into a leather satchel where it squeaked in protest.

“Huh, What?” she replied, too mesmerized to respond. Unable to think of anything else except the sight of the beautiful, tiny green dragon that had looked right into her soul. She half-ran, half-stumbled along as Jarrod hauled her back into their farmhouse, talking out loud to himself the entire time.

“…she’ll need at least a month’s supply of food and water and a safe place to hide until it’s full grown. The caves of Kirtan should serve well and there is a spring nearby…” he muttered, flinging supplies onto the shaky wooden table.

“What are you doing? Where are we going?” Loriena pleaded, suddenly coming out of her stupor. Jarrod was making plans for her life without so much as her say-so!

“You must remain in hiding until it’s full grown and it can protect you!” he repeated, his eyes round with fear. “The Urgal’s have kept watch on this place for years. If they find out you have a hatchling, they will come after all of us!”

“Hatchling? Urgals?” repeated Loriena, nonplussed. “What are you talking about and what is that creature you put in your satchel?”

“No time to explain!” hissed Jarrod, stuffing cured meats, dried fruits, and wayfarer’s bread into a leather backpack at frantic speed. He added to this a warm woolen cloak, a flint rock and some kindling all the while muttering a constant stream of oaths. When he had everything packed, he pushed her out the door again and led her behind the farmhouse and into the thick woods of Kirtan which bordered the property. The pace he set was almost impossible for Loriena to keep up with; some unspeakable terror was driving him and she had no choice but to go where he led her. They marched the rest of day and took no rest until late afternoon when they reached the mouth of a large cave that was half-hidden by heavy forest and brush.

“Here you must stay, Loriena.” Jarrod commanded her, flinging the leather satchel and what looked like a strange saddle into the mouth of the cave.

“You’re abandoning me here?” Loriena began to cry, her eyes filling tears. “What have I done wrong? I’m sorry about the milk!”

Her tears seemed to bring Jarrod back to the present. He regarded her with pity and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Have you never wondered why you didn’t look like either of us?” he asked, gazing at the beautiful child he had fostered for the past 14 years. Loriena shook her head. She had never seen what she looked like, except in a wavering reflection of a brook or pool of water. “You were brought to us as an infant, for safe-keeping.” He said, trying to explain as best he could in a short space of time.

It was getting dark and he did not want to be caught in the forest at night. “We have taken care of you as if you were our own, Loriena, but you are elf-kind!” He took her hand and placed her fingers at the top of her ears which were elegantly curved into points. She gasped, having never paid attention to them before. She stared back at Jarrod whose brown eyes were now filling with tears. “It is no longer safe for you to be on our farm with that hatchling. Word will get out and they’ll come looking for you. I will come back as soon as I can and bring you fresh supplies but you must stay hidden here until it is full grown.”

“Until what is full grown?!” Loriena demanded with a scream, bringing him up short. The whole day had started off like a nightmare. First the cow and the spilt milk, then the rock that had burned her hand, then the tiny green glowing creature and now Jarrod prattling on like a crazed lunatic with every intention of dumping her in this god-forsaken cave.

“YOUR DRAGON.” He growled, pointing to the creature wriggling out of the satchel. Loriena eyes followed to where he pointed and found the creature staring up at her with an intensity she found both compelling and frightening. She was utterly transfixed, unable to tear her eyes away from it. It’s skin was a sparkly emerald green and it’s pale green eyes piercing.

Loriena! Said a tiny voice in her head. She gasped and the tiny dragon blinked at her.

“I must go now!” Jarrod said, backing away. “I’ll come back in a week to see how you’re getting on. Stay hidden and learn well!”

Loriena barely noticed him leave, still caught in the spell of the little creature. She squatted down and held out her cupped hands. It crawled forward and with a flick of its tiny tongue, settled itself into her hands. She straightened and carried it into the cave.

Fire, said the voice inside her head. Obediently she knelt down, arranged the kindling Jarrod had carried with them and set it ablaze with the flint rocks.

Hungry, came the next thought after the fire was crackling merrily away. Loriena searched inside one of the satchels and found a strip of cured meat. She tore it up into tiny pieces and put it before the tiny dragon which snatched it up and gulped it down without chewing.

The days and nights passed swiftly, so intent was Loriena on bonding with the dragon which grew at an exponential rate. When the day came that Jarrod returned with fresh supplies, he was obviously taken aback at how swiftly it had grown and was terrified at its sheer size.

“Father, come closer, Emerelda won’t hurt you,” Loriena said, patting the neck of the dragon which now towered a full man’s height above them. It was a magnificent beast and only a third full grown. It was going to be a nightmare when it reached full maturity! Jarrod balked at the idea of coming any closer but the dragon merely stared at him with benign eyes. He laid down the satchel of fresh supplies and rubbed his beard, suddenly realizing that he had not brought enough food. The beastie alone could eat every morsel and still not be sated; leaving Loriena with nothing.

“Emerelda, eh?” he said with a grin in Loriena’s direction. “It suits her well.” He looked at the meager supplies he had brought. “I don’t think there’s enough for the two of you…”

Saddle! Hunt! came the words into Loriena’s head. She went into the cave and came back out carrying the odd saddle Jarrod had left a week ago. “Is this for my dragon?” she asked, laying it at Jarrod’s feet.

He nodded, looking over the fine leather and stitching. “It will protect you from the scales.” He answered, hefting it up. He put it into her arms. “She will allow only you to put it on her.” He said, backing away. As if on cue, Emerelda went onto her belly and allowed Loriena to lay it upon her. Speaking mind-to-mind, the dragon instructed her on how to fasten it securely then lay down again so Loriena could mount.

Hunt now! No sooner had the words appeared in her mind that the dragon took off for the first time, flapping its’ great wings like a giant bird of prey. Loriena held on for dear life, barely able to open her eyes because of the streaming wind. The landscape of the forest suddenly lay far below them and clouds swiftly passed underneath as they sped through the air. It was freezing up so high but the dragon’s warmth enveloped her and kept her comfortable as they glided. Loriena could suddenly see from Emerelda’s viewpoint and with her eagle-like eyes, she spotted a large buck grazing in a meadow.

Suddenly a shadow covered them, blotting out the light of the son. A mighty roar issued from what only could have been another dragon. The noise was deafening.

With streaming eyes, Loriena watched in amazement as a blue dragon swooped down to the same level as she and Emerelda. On its’ proud back was another rider just like her, only it was a young man with a large sword and his dragon was wearing armor!

Eragon and Saphira wants us to land in that glade below, said the voice of Emerelda in her head. Without further hesitation, the two dragons folded their wings and wheeled down in spirals until they both reached the meadow. The young man leapt off the saddle of his dragon and strode over to her.

“Saphira heard the heartbeat of your dragon a week ago; we have been watching and waiting for you.” He said, removing his helmet.

“Why would you be waiting for me?” asked Loriena, her head spinning with the sudden cataclysmic changes in her world. She had gone from lowly farm-girl to looked-for elf and dragon-rider in the space of a single week.

“You have been kept in hiding until the day you could join us in the war against Galbatorix.”

“War?” squeaked Loriena. At the mention of the word, both dragons lifted their long necks high into the sky and roared, sending plumes of fire rising high…

The door to Tessa’s room flew open with a bang causing her to suddenly sit up in bed in alarm.

“Tessa, time to get up!” her mother’s voice rang out as she marched down the hall. Tessa looked around her room, temporarily bewildered. The meadow, dragons and Eragon was gone. Reality hit hard and it was a huge disappointment. It felt too real to have been just a dream! She had often day-dreamed about being in such a story after reading the book, Eragon but she had never had a dream of such detail before. With a resigned sigh, she swung her feet out of bed and attempted to stand up but instead fell over, tripping on a small round object.

She looked down and felt her heart nearly stop. With shaking hands she squatted down and picked up the large, round egg-like rock which began glowing and glittering in her hands as if it were lit from within with green fire.

“Uh oh!” she said.

Writers Conference will Host Best Selling Authors, Editors, and Agent in a One Day Event Designed to Kick Start Inspirational Writers

2010-01-09T20:34:00.003-08:00

Writers Conference will Host Best Selling Authors, Editors, and Agent in a One Day Event Designed to Kick Start Inspirational Writers

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Tea Rooms & Romance

2010-01-06T19:58:00.000-08:00

Hannah looked wearily out the window of the Boeing 747. The excitement and thrill of flying to Japan on an exchange student program had worn off and been replaced by jet lag, flying fatigue and a bit of anxiety. It seemed like she had been trapped in her tiny coach seat for a week although it had only been 9 hours. Her back was stiff, her legs cramped and all she wanted to do was to climb into bed and sleep!

Her host family, the Nakaguchi’s promised they would be waiting for her at the gate with a big sign with her name on it but now she was worried because at the last minute her flight had been canceled due to mechanical difficulties and she had been forced to board another carrier to make it to Tokyo on the same day. She had not been allowed to use her cell phone to call ahead and forewarn them about the change. If she hadn’t felt so exhausted she would have been freaking out in panic. She couldn’t read or speak Japanese and her flight was arriving at a completely different terminal than what her host family was expecting.

She shut her eyes and prayed again. Please, dearest Lord, help me to find my host family. Please send an angel or something to guide me!

Two hours later the flight finally set down in Tokyo and along with all the other travel-weary passengers, Hannah lugged her carry on luggage down from the overhead compartment, almost decapitating a little Japanese man in the process when it fell out of her grip.

He let loose with a stream of angry Japanese, scolding her. Hannah felt like crying. Going to Japan for an entire year had been such a dream for her but it was starting off like a nightmare!

She finally made it off the plane and into the terminal. The outside air within the airway between the terminal and the airplane was hot and very humid. In the space of just a few moments, she had sweated through her clothes. OMG! She had been warned about the humid weather in Japan but nothing could have prepared her for walking into what felt like a sauna!

She reached the terminal and looked around, hoping that by some miracle God had communicated to the Nakaguchi’s her new arrival status. She saw signs but none of them were in English and none had her name. Her heart sank. She turned around to take a 360 degree look around, lost her balance and found herself falling over someone.

“Ouch!” she cried out, feeling a sharp pain in her ankle. She looked down and could already see it starting to swell and turn blue. Great, just great. First the plane change and now this! What else can go wrong?

“Please excuse me!” cried a young masculine voice. The next thing she knew, she was being gently lifted to her feet by one arm by a total stranger. “I apologize for making you to trip!” he continued, helping her to balance on her good leg. Hannah suddenly came eye to eye with a strikingly handsome and young Japanese man. His mouth fell open in surprise and shock for a moment, then 5,000 years of ingrained Japanese politeness came to the fore. He bowed briefly then helped to maneuver her over to a seat in the terminal. Then he knelt down and propped up her injured ankle onto her suitcase so it was elevated.

“One moment, please!” he said, bowing again. He raced off to a local concession stand and came back with a towel filled with ice cubes. He laid it gently upon her ankle. Stealing glances at her every few moments, he set about to arrange her luggage neatly around her then he stood and bowed again. “I humbly beg forgiveness, Miss American,” he said, turning red. “I did not intend to cause you injury.”

Miss American? Hannah giggled despite the pain. “Uh, it’s okay…it was an accident,” she said, peering at her now bloated ankle and wondering how on earth she was ever going to find her host family now. She tried calling them on her cell phone but she had never used the international features before and needed her guide sheet on all the number to dial. She looked at the chagrined young man and suddenly noticed how handsome he was. He stuck out his hand to her, American style.

“Akihiko,” he introduced himself. “It translates as bright prince.”

Hannah blushed deeply and shook his hand.

“Hannah….uhhhh….just Hannah.” She said, wishing she had an exotic meaning for her name as well. Bright prince!!!!

Akihiko smiled at her and Hannah felt her heart skip a tiny beat. “Is there anything more I can to do you?” he asked in his faulty English. Hannah stifled another giggle, tempted to tell him that no, a twisted ankle was sufficient, but then she thought better of it.

“Yes, Akihiko,” she said, nodding earnestly. “Could you help me find my host family?” She then explained to him as simply and as clearly as she could what had happened with the plane change and how she was supposed to have been in a different terminal 1 hour from now to meet them. Akihiko nodded every now and then, making mental notes in his head. When Hannah was done, he stood up and flung his arm across his chest in a knightly salute.

“Never fear!” he intoned with a solemn face that made Hannah want to giggle some more. “Akihiko is here! He will save your day. Wait here!” With that he ran off and rounded up several airport employees. One went down to baggage claim to get her luggage so they could help her through customs and the other ran for a wheelchair. In no time at all, Hannah found herself being wheeled through the terminal at breakneck speed with Akihiko half riding/half pushing from behind while barking a stream of orders in rapid-fire Japanese.

With Akihiko’s help and that of the kind air terminal employees, Hannah was fast-tracked through customs and then they were speeding on their way to the other terminal to meet up with the Nakaguchi’s before they ever knew what had happened!

When she and Akihiko actually came up from behind them. The entire family was there, the two parents, daughter (who was the same age as she) and son a few years older.

“Mr. Nakaguchi!” Hannah called from her chair, waving her arms. “I’m over here!”

The entire family turned around in shock and gaped at her, wondering where she had come from and why she was in a wheelchair. Of course, being Japanese they wouldn’t think to even ask such intrusive questions but merely bowed in greeting before turning to Akihiko.

“Konnichiha, Akihiko!” exclaimed the brother of the family, a grin spreading from ear to ear. They bowed to another and then clasped hands like they were old school chums (which they were). He and Akihiko obviously already knew one another and began jabbering away in Japanese. The other family members listened politely and oohhhhed and aw-soooed every once in a while, nodding as they looked from Akihiko to Hannah as he explained what had happened.

Finally Mr. Nakaguchi turned his full attention to Hannah. “Welcome to Japan, Ms. Hannah.” He said, bowing slightly. “Akihiko has apprised us of everything. It was good that it was he whom you ran into; he is a long time friend of my oldest son, Kamiko. They were classmates and lives with his family near our apartment.”

“Oh!” said Hannah, unable to think of anything else to say. She looked over at Akihiko and found him looking right back at her with a curious look on his face. Awkward pause.

Taking the silent cue, everyone took a hand in picking up her luggage with Akihiko pushing her wheelchair like a proud tour guide.

They negotiated their way out of the concourse and then to a long black limousine that was large enough to fit everyone. Feeling solely responsible for Hannah’s injury Akihiko took it upon himself to help her get in and then when they arrived, helped her to get out and half-carried/half-walked her to the elevator that led to the Nakaguchi’s apartment. To her amazement, he even held her fully in her arms while the Nakaguchi’s daughter, Hitomi, helped to carefully remove her shoes before entering their home.

Hannah hopped inside on her one good leg until she found a chair to sit on. From that moment on, the entire family took charge. Hitomi and Kamiko brought all her luggage into the room she would share with Hitomi who unpacked everything for her, putting her clothes, shoes, and personal hygiene items away as unobtrusively as possible. Hannah was absolutely mortified but there was nothing she could do about it until she could walk again. Once unpacked, she was led back to her room and shown the blow up air mattress they had gotten especially for her.

Exhausted she crawled into bed and slept for the next 12 hours.

The next evening she woke up feeling completely discombobulated. Her body clock said it was morning but the window in the room showed a dark night sky. She looked over at the Tatami mat next to her where Hitomi was sleeping; her mouth slightly open. The alarm clock was in Japanese but it looked like it was 2am. It was going to be a long night. Suddenly she was struck with inspiration.

She got out her cell phone they had placed near her (along with the directions on how to call international) and dialed the number of her friend Mirriam.

It should be the early afternoon and Mirriam should be home and done with school…
“Hello?” answered her friend’s voice on the other end.

“Earwen!” whispered Hannah, trying not to wake Hitomi up.

“Hannah?”

“Yes.”

“So you got into Japan okay? What time is it there now?”

“Two am.”

“Jet lag is awful isn’t it?” Mirriam responded compassionately.

“I can’t talk long because Hitomi is sleeping,” Hannah whispered, glancing over at Hitomi who showed no sign of waking up. “But I just had to tell you…I hurt my ankle but I think I’ve met my Prince Charming!”

“Shut UP!” squealed Mirriam, knowing how Hannah had always longed to meet and marry a Japanese Christian man. The sound carried well out of the earpiece and Hitomi stirred.

“Gotta go!” whispered Hannah. “Just wanted you to be the first to know! I’ll email you later all the details!”

The next morning (for real), a doctor friend of the Nakaguchi family came over and inspected her swollen ankle which was now a nice black and blue color. His gentle prodding evoked a few squints of pain but he seemed satisfied that it was nothing more than a sprain. He wrapped her ankle up tight, told her to ice it regularly then left bowing.

Hitomi helped her over to the low table where the family sat politely waiting for her. She sat cross-legged since she still couldn’t kneel on the ankle and smiled thanks at all of them. They smiled back then bowed their heads and said grace over their meal. The Nakaguchi’s were one of the few Christian Japanese families that had opened their home to exchange students from America. The prayer was in Japanese but at the end everyone said “Amen” in English.

Hannah was famished; she looked at the food before her; a bowl of brown rice and hot Miso soup and of course, tea.

Just as they all finished their meal there was a polite knock at the door. Kamiko got up with a barely suppressed grin and opened the door. In the door frame stood Akihiko.

He entered the room bowing to all but his almond brown eyes were fixed upon Hannah. She felt her cheeks begin to flame. Hitomi took her arm with a smile and helped her to their room, closing the Shoji screens behind them.

“Akihiko has asked if he may take you to a traditional Japanese Tea Room for your first day.” She explained, trying to hide her grins. “I think he is smattered on you.”

Hannah burst out giggling but quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. “I think you mean smitten.” She grinned.

With Hitomi’s assistance Hannah got cleaned up and changed her clothes. The doctor had left both crutches and a wheelchair for her use. She hobbled out on the crutches while Akihiko carried the wheelchair out the front door. Armed with her camera, guidebook and purse, the family bowed and waved goodbye as Akihiko helped her into her chair.

It was all happening so fast her head was in a whirl. He maneuvered her and the wheelchair into the elevator then out to the street where he took her to a local train station. Hannah should have felt nervous, after all, Akihiko was practically a virtual stranger, but it all seemed fine somehow and she had God’s peace that passes understanding. Soon they were both on a bullet train and speeding into the Japanese countryside.

Soon Akihiko was pushing her chair towards an old Japanese tea house that had a gorgeous view of Mount Fuji. It had dark wood walls and a green tiled roof. She left the chair outside and Akihiko helped her into a small room with Tatami mats. They made her as comfortable as possible and then the ceremony began.

A beautiful geisha sat down inside the room and played a traditional Japanese song upon her Shamisen. Another geisha entered the room, sliding the shoji screens aside silently, and carried in a tray that contained the tea implements: the chashaku (tea scoop), sensu (fan), chasen kusenaoshi (whisk shaper), chasen (bamboo whisk) and fukusa (purple silk cloth) as well as the green tea powder.

Hannah watched in wonder at the elaborate preparations to prepare a simple cup of tea and could feel Akihiko’s eyes upon her the whole time. It was not proper to speak during the ceremony so they both were silent. The hot tea was first passed to Akihiko who after sipping, turned the bowl three times in his hand then offered it to Hannah.

She accepted with a shy bow and sipped the slightly bitter, hot liquid. Once the ceremony was completed Akihiko helped her back into her chair and took her further into town to a noodle house where they could talk freely and eat. They spent the rest of the day together and when the sun began to set, they boarded the bullet train again back for Tokyo. They reached the Nakaguchi home by 8pm where the entire family greeted her at the door and assisted her in. Once she was settled in a chair, Akihiko clasped her hand in his, placing a small parchment wrapped gift in her hand.

“Thank you for accompanying me today.” He said, smiling shyly. “I leave you now in the good hands of the Nakaguchi family. I hope to see you again many times before you return to America.” With another bow to her and the rest of the family he showed himself out of their apartment.

Hannah looked down at the little bundle in her hands and carefully unwrapped it as Hitomi looked on. Inside was a delicate gold necklace upon which hung letters in Japanese.

“What does it mean?” asked Hannah turning to Hitomi.

“In your language it means Destiny.” Hitomi replied.

NOTE: Hannah loved her story(above) so much that she requested a second chapter. She just couldn't stand not knowing what would happen next. So here, by popular demand, is the first "chapter two" to a wish fulfillment story...

CHAPTER TWO

“No way!” squealed Mirriam’s voice over Hannah’s cell phone when she had finally gotten a moment to herself to call her best friend. “He gave you a gold necklace??! Hannah!” she continued in her best Darth Vader impression. “He is your DES-TIN-EEEEE!!”

Hannah giggled, the whole experience from the moment she had gotten off the airplane up to now had been rather surreal and it was just now starting to hit home that she may have, indeed, met her “Mr. Right”.

“Did he try to kiss you or anything?” Mirriam interrogated, wanting to know every last teeny tiny detail.

“Of course not!” Hannah replied shocked. “No one kisses me until I’m married! Not even on the cheek! Which reminds me, I need to call my parents and let them know I got here safely.”

“Are you going to tell them about HIM?” Mirriam asked.

“Well yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees,” replied Hannah, wondering how she was going to break the news to her parents about Akihiko.

“Well tell me ALL about it after you do!” Mirriam said. “I have to get going and update my blog now. This author put me in a “wish fulfillment” story and I want to blog about it.”

“What’s that?” Hannah asked, curious.

“I’ll send you the link over email.” Mirriam replied mysteriously.

“Okay, bye!” Hannah said then dialed her parent’s house. She had sent them a quick text message that she had gotten there okay but knew they would want to talk with her too.

“Hi Dad!” she said when he answered the phone.

“Hanny!” he exclaimed, overjoyed at hearing her voice. “How was your flight? Did you get to catch up on your sleep? How are you liking Japan?”

“The flight was long and uncomfortable, I’m not quite caught up on sleep yet and I LOVE Japan!!” (Of course she didn’t say why.)

“That’s wonderful, honey. We’re very proud of you. I bet by the time you get back you will be fluent in Japanese!”

“I hope so...” Hannah hemmed, trying to think of an appropriate way to broach the subject. “Uh, Dad, I have something rather important to tell you.”

“So soon? You’ve only been there a few days,” he replied. “What could have possibly happened in that short time already?”

“I think I may have met...uhhhh...ummmmm...HIM.”

“Him?” repeated her dad. “Who-him?”

“Him-him!”

“Honey, you’re losing me. Give me a hint here.” Said her dad, completely bewildered.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad, you’re not making this easy.” Hannah moaned. “Remember all those talks we’ve had about when I get old enough for boys to take an interest in me?”

“Yes,” came the reply. “Are you trying to tell me that there is already someone interested in you in Japan after only 2 days?” His voice was incredulous. Hannah then described everything that had transpired from the plane change up to the present moment, leaving nothing out. When she was done the silence on the other end was almost deafening.

Then her dad cleared his throat. “Well, Hanny, I trust you to live and abide by the morals and guidelines we discussed and agreed upon together. If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have agreed to let you go to Japan. I’m glad you have been open and forthright with me and I have no doubts that you will act responsibly. Mom and I love you very much; and all the animals here send their greetings. Have a great time, soak up all the local flavor and come home safely to us.”

“Okay, dad!” Hannah said, relieved. “I promise to keep things appropriate. I’ll bring everyone back some great souvenirs.”

“That’ll be great, honey. Goodbye and keep in touch and take good care of that ankle.”

“I will, dad. Love to you and mom.”

Hannah hung up the phone and fell over onto her side with a big sigh. Well that was over with and it went better than she had expected. Now she could move forward with a clear conscience.

Akihiko called upon the family the next day and spent the day with all of them and especially his school buddy, Kamiko, but his brown almond eyes constantly flitted back to Hannah, causing her to blush with pleasure constantly. Just as he was bowing and saying his goodbye’s, he finally turned his full attention upon Hannah.

“Please excuse my forwarding,” he said, with a formal bow, confusing his English words. “May I ask the pleasure of accompanying you to a Kabuki performance?”

“Kabuki?” exclaimed Hannah, unable to suppress the joy in her face. She had always longed to see a real Kabuki play but there was no such thing back where she lived. The closest she could get to seeing such a thing would be to recent a National Geographic DVD or something similar.

“I would like to escort you to see a performance of Kanadehon Chūshingura at the National Theater this coming Saturday.”

“May I have your permission to do so?”

“Oh! I would LOVE to!” Hannah exclaimed, reminding herself not to jump up and down on her injured foot. “Thank you!”

The smile that spread over Akihiko’s face went from ear to ear and he almost seemed relieved. He bowed low and to Hannah’s amazement and shock, lifted her hand and kissed the top as if he were a knight in medieval England. A thrill raced up Hannah’s arm, then neck and through her hair. She could almost swear that every strand was suddenly standing on end as if electrocuted! She could hardly wait to tell Mirriam!! Kabuki and a kiss on the hand in the same day!!!

Hitomi was almost more excited than Hannah was. To see one of the most famous Kabuki plays at the National Theater was no small deal. She took Hannah shopping the next day to find a suitable dress to wear (one could not go to the National Theater in blue jeans and cotton shirt!) she explained. They found a lovely pale pink dress with cherry blossoms printed on it that was both modest and very feminine.

The morning of the play, they both got up early and Hitomi fussed over her, styling her hair up in a French chignon and placing delicate pink enamel combs on either side. They had become as close as sisters in one week Hannah wore no makeup or jewelry except for the beautiful “Destiny” pendent Akihiko had given her. When the doorbell rang signaling his arrival, she found herself hardly breathing she was so excited. By now she was able to walk unaided and with only a slight limp but he treated her like fine porcelain, tucking her arm into his and steering her in the right direction with his hand on the small of her back.

They arrived at the National Theater (where Akihiko’s uncle worked who had arranged for the last-minute tickets). Hannah couldn’t believe how incredible and imposing it was. Because of Akihiko’s uncle their seats were fabulous, 5 rows back right in the middle. Because the programs were written in Japanese, Akihiko explained the plot of the play.

“Kanadehon Chūshingura or the “Treasury of Loyal Retainers” is famous story of the Forty-seven Ronin who track down their lord's killer, and exact revenge upon him before committing seppuku as required by their code of honor upon the death of their lord,” he whispered as the curtain went down and the lights dimmed. The music began and the actors (all male) took their places upon the stage.

Hannah had a difficult time understanding everything that was going on but midway through the play she ceased to care because all she could think about was Akihiko taking her hand in his and holding it throughout the duration of the play.

Two Peas in a Pod

2010-01-04T19:31:00.000-08:00

It had been one of “those” days. Sandra’s students had been exceptionally rude, uncooperative and snotty all week and she was done. It had taken every ounce of strength she possessed to keep her cool and deal with them according to the current parameters. How she longed for the days when principals and teachers could paddle their young charges into better behavior but now the inmates were running the asylums!

It was Friday afternoon and she had a short weekend in which she must cram grading of papers, reading challenges, dealing with family, cleaning house, etc., before it all started over again. Something had to give. She felt like a rat on a treadmill! She was burned out and needed some kind of retreat. She lugged her papers, books and laptop to the car and drove home, going over in her head all the things she needed to take care of before she could go to bed. She was exhausted just thinking about it.

When she got home, she checked the mail and found nothing but a brightly colored envelope in her mailbox. No junk mail, no circulars, nothing else. She looked at it closely. Her heart practically stopped when she recognized the handwriting of her sister, Gloria, on the envelope:

“Special surprise inside for my little sister, Sandra”

All the other items in her arms slid out and fell unnoticed onto the pavement as she began to shake. If this was Brad’s idea of a joke, it wasn’t funny! She began to fume. She ripped open the envelope and suddenly the world around her began to spin faster and faster. It felt like she was caught in a tornado but instead of dust, rooted up bushes, and farm animals swirling around her, the wind was glittering like fairy dust. When the whirlwind finally stopped she struggled to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding and she felt dizzy. She looked around and sucked in her breath.

“Toto, I don’t think we’re in Florida anymore …” she murmured to herself. She didn’t know where she was! She looked around and saw beautiful, undulating meadows as far as the eye could see, weeping willows scattered here and there and in the midst of it all, a lone white clapboard cottage with a wrap-around porch, a white picket fence, geraniums growing in the black window boxes and lacy white curtains blowing in and out of the windows with each sigh of the wind. Under the eaves an orange canary was trilling a beautiful tune in its cage. With a surge of nervous anticipation, Sandra walked up to the front door and raised her hand to knock. Before her fist could meet the door it flew open and she found herself enveloped in a giant bear hug, her vision obscured by a cloud of curly, golden brown hair.

“Sandra! Sandra! Sandra!” cooed the familiar and beloved voice rocking her in strong arms. Tears burst out of Sandra’s eyes and she pushed herself back enough to take in the view. Standing there, alive, healthy and beaming was her dearly departed sister Gloria! “Welcome!” Gloria bellowed, her grin spreading from ear to ear.

“What, who, when, how-“ screamed Sandra looking her up and down over and over again, sounding like a journalist pursuing a story.

“The Master decided you deserved a weekend retreat quilting, crafting, talking and eating!” Gloria announced, her face beaming. “I have all the supplies we need, all our favorite foods but no television, no phones, and no surly students. Just the two of us! Two peas in a pod!”

“How is this possible?” Sandra demanded, allowing Gloria to pull her into the house by the hand.

“With God all things are possible!” Gloria responded with a mysterious wink, making it quite clear Sandra was going to get no further explanation. She entered the cottage and oogled at its’ cozy charm. White painted floorboards, bright area rugs, white wainscoting, cheerful yellow walls with red accessories here and there, a large quilter’s table with two chairs with a quilt already started stretched across it. There was a smaller crafter’s table with supplies spread all over it, a cheery fire in the fireplace, and a sideboard loaded with all the comfort food one could want. In the background soothing Christian worship music was playing.

“The Master thought of everything!” beamed Gloria, rubbing her hands with glee. “I’ve have been longing for this day for over a year!”

At these words, sobs bubbled up outside of Sandra and she covered her face with her hands, remembering the sorrow and grief at losing her sister and best friend in the whole world and the day of the funeral when she had had to say “goodbye”.

“Gloria-“she choked, unable to express what she was feeling. Gloria’s smile didn’t fade but her eyes became tender and understanding.

“I know it hurt to lose me, Sandra…” she said, enfolding her sister in her arms again to comfort her. “But I really am in a better place. Heaven is more lovely than I could ever express and doesn’t it make heaven seem that much more real now that you know that someone you love is there waiting for you?”

Sandra nodded feebly, unable to speak.

“We won’t be parted much longer,” Gloria said, rubbing her back tenderly, “and you will always have this time together again to look back on and find joy and hope when you need it. Now, dry your tears, sit down and let’s start! What do you want to do first?!”

With that the sister’s sat down and spent what seemed like an entire week talking, laughing, quilting, eating and just enjoying one anothers company. Sandra never saw her sister cook anything but every day and at every mealtime there was new and wonderful food all prepared, piping hot and then mysteriously cleaned up so that they could spend their time just having fun.

It all came to end too soon for Sandra and the day arrived when there was no more food prepared and all the craft projects had been completed, much to the sister’s satisfaction. It was the best time Sandra could ever remember having, completely free of responsibility, deadlines and interruptions. Just “Sandra and Gloria” time. She was sad to have it end.

“There is one more thing…well, several more things, surprises really, we have for you before you return.” Gloria said, sitting her down in a large, overstuffed cotton chintz floral chair.

“What?” asked Sandra, wondering what on earth could possibly be better than the week she had just spent with her sister? Her soul felt thoroughly refreshed but she was still apprehensive at having to leave and face the real world again. The pressure, the deadlines and the students who acted as if they were felons serving a prison sentence instead of being given the privilege of getting an education that would help prepare them for life…

“Just wait and see!” Gloria grinned, sitting down in a chair next to her, clutching Sandra’s hand to her heart with excitement. At that moment the doorbell rang, practically making Sandra jump out of her chair in fright. For an entire week there had been no noise but the sound of their chatter, laughter, music and eating. It was so abrupt it really startled her. With a grin and a wink, Gloria went to the door, and flung it open to reveal a tall, distinguished looking executive.

He was dressed in a gorgeous pin-striped business suit, was clean-shaven and had a suitcase in his hand. He walked right up to Sandra’s chair, got down on one knee, took her hand in his and in a wavering voice said just two words: “Thank you!”

Sandra was speechless and didn’t know how to respond. After him came another man, this time it was a professor of literature, then a woman in a nurse’s uniform; on and on it went until the room was filled with professionals from all walks of life of varying ages, all standing there and looking down at her with eyes brimming with tears and smiles of gratitude.

“Gloria…” Sandra said, rising to her feet, her voice shaking. “Who are all these people?”

“We have all been students of yours at one time or another or are yet to be,” explained the nurse, gesturing to all those around her.

“I don’t understand…” Sandra said, although she was beginning to get an inkling of what was happening.

“At one time, during the course of our lives as your students, (both past and yet future) you gave each one of us either an encouraging word, a helping hand, or maybe just an understanding smile that made all the difference in the course of our lives,” said the first man. “We were on a road that was leading us nowhere but the fact that you gave of yourself to us as a teacher and mentor changed everything. We have all asked for special permission to come here and tell you thank you so that you will know that your labor has not been and is not in vain.”

“Thank you Ms. Stiles!” they all chorused, gathering around her.

Sandra turned and looked at Gloria who was crying and laughing at the same time, beaming at her little sister. “Never forget, little sister, just how very proud I am of you!” Gloria said and held her close for one last long embrace.

In that moment, Sandra knew that everything was going to be better no matter what the circumstances of life might bring. She closed her eyes…ready to finally part if only for a little while.

Gloria wasn’t really gone, she was just on the other side of the veil, waiting on the day when Sandra too would join her and their reunion would be permanent. For now, it was sufficient to realize that all she did day in and day out at school, in her church and at home had a meaning and purpose much greater than she would ever be able to know this side of eternity and for now…that was enough.

In The Land of Milk & Honey

2010-01-02T21:32:00.000-08:00

Wendy is a dear friend and fellow Messianic Jew who longs to live in Israel or to make what is called Aliyah but is not permitted to by the government there because of her belief in Yeshua (Jesus). It is where her heart dwells and that is why I wrote this wish story for her. When she heard of my other stories, she asked me for one and In the Land of Milk & Honey is the result.

Consciousness came slowly…lazily…gently. The bird song somehow sounded different, the air heavier and sweeter. Wendy opened her eyes slowly and beheld dappled sunlight filtering through a canopy of grape leaves, laden with heavy purple-black grapes.

She turned her head to the side and looked about her “room”. It was simple and yet beautiful. Pure white blankets glowing with the morning sunshine lay upon her. A wooden table, elegant in its simple beauty held a bowl of fresh fruit, and a pitcher of iced tea and a glass.

With a sudden intake of breath, Wendy sat up and looked through the transparent walls of her sukkot booth. In the distance were rolling hills of vineyards and orchards and to the other side in the distance, the lake of Galilee. She suddenly knew why the air felt heavier and sweeter…the presence of Yeshua.

How had she come to be in this place; the land where her heart beat like a drum with joy and all her senses were awakened as if from a deep stupor? Yisrael. She stood slowly, hesitantly to her feet noticing at once her white linen frock, glowing as if it possessed a light of its own. On her feet were hand crafted sandals. The morning sun was rising higher and with it came a breeze smelling of roses, bay laurel and the fresh scent of the sea.

She stepped outside her sukkot booth into a garden which surrounded it. It was humming with bees and fluttering butterflies, busy collecting nectar from the numerous blossoms. With pounding heart; afraid to wake up from what must surely be a dream, she slowly climbed the nearest hill, breathing deeply in and out as if each breath were nourishment. She stood and faced the holy city, Jerusalem and was stunned. It was not as she remembered it at all. The Dome of the Rock was gone, and in its place stood a gleaming temple of gold and alabaster. The filth of the Arabic section of the old city was gone, replaced by avenues of trees and streets that glistened like gold in the early light.

“Do you like it?” spoke a familiar masculine voice. Wendy closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. It was the voice of her beloved but it was not in her head but in her ears.

“Yeshua…” she breathed, holding up her arms; tears welling up and spilling down her cheeks from underneath her closed eyes. She fell slowly to her knees. “Yeshua?”

“There is a question in the saying of my name, beloved,” came the response. “You are wanting to know if you may stay here always?” “Yes,” whispered Wendy, barely able to breath or speak.

“My precious child,” responded the Master, gently enfolding her in His embrace. “There is no such thing as time where I am concerned; for I live outside of it…and you with Me. Where I am there you are also…and my eyes and heart of ever upon this place, so in a sense…you have never left Israel and it has never left you. The body which you must inhabit within the human time domain is limited but not your heart or your soul. One day time will cease to exist and both body and soul will be reunited with me in this place that remains the apple of my eye. Can you endure until that “time” and do the work I have set before you?”

“Lord, you know my heart and soul’s desire…I will always gladly serve you.”

Yeshua smiled upon her and in the instant she beheld that smile she felt the sight, sounds, smells and “feel” of the land implanted indelibly upon her mind and heart. From that moment on, wherever she placed her feet, Israel and Jerusalem went with her and before her. A secret to enjoy between her and The Redeemer as well as the hope of the real reward yet to come.

“Now, come…” Jesus said, holding out his warm brown hand to her. “Let us enjoy this day together and converse to our heart’s content. What would you like to do first?”

Courtney's Adventure

2010-01-02T21:21:00.000-08:00

Courtney nervously steered the car down the highway, casting worried glances at her mom who was riding shotgun, her hands balled into nervous fists of extreme tension. Courtney really hated driving with her mom because she was such a nervous wreck every time. She much preferred her dad who was much calmer when she made mistakes. Even if her mom didn’t say anything aloud, she could still hear her in her head: “Courtney! You’re going too fast! Courtney! You didn’t come to a complete stop! Courtney! Courtney! Courtney!” It was enough to make her not want to drive at all but today she’d had no choice because her mom had just had a minor medical procedure with a sedative and wasn’t allowed to drive herself home and no one else had been available.

“Courtney!” shrieked her mom, stomping on a brake pedal that wasn’t on the passenger side in her panic. “Don’t you see that bus off on the shoulder!”

“Mooooooooooooooooom!” Courtney wailed. “How am I supposed to concentrate on my driving when you keep nagging me all the time-“ her eyes widened in disbelief as she took in the site of the bus and she stomped on the brake herself. The car skidded loudly to a stop. Fortunately, no one had been behind them.

“COURTNEY!” yelled her mom in protest although she had been trying to do the very same thing herself. Courtney couldn’t answer; she was in total shock as she looked at the words painted onto the side of the large tour bus: RELIANT K.

It was too good to be true! She blinked and rubbed her eyes unable to believe her good fortune. There standing in front of the broken down tour bus with downcast looks on their faces was Matthew Thiessen, Matt Hoopes, Jon Warne, and Ethan Luck. They all looked up when Courtney’s van screeched to a halt alongside of them.

“Could you use some help?” she found herself volunteering while her mother vainly tried to signal to her that she shouldn’t be talking to strangers.

“Sure could!” piped up Matt, the lead singer. “Are you a bus mechanic?” The other band members guffawed at the joke but looked hopeful.

“No but I could take you to where you need to go to get one.” Courtney replied, unable to believe she was behaving so calmly in front of her favorite band in the entire world. “There’s no cell phone service in this area for a few miles; it’s a total dead zone.”

“Yeah, we figured that out real quick!” replied Ethan. “We have a concert 50 miles from here in about 2 hours. Even if we had a mechanic magically appear now it wouldn’t help.”

“Could you give us a lift to the venue?” piped up Jon sizing up her van mentally to calculate if they and their essential gear could fit. Fortunately, they had just had the van detailed that week and all the usual junk that was in it was gone, leaving room for 4 more passengers, and their guitars.

“What about the drum set?” Ethan said. “Where are we going to put that?”

“Courtney!” hissed her mom, poking her in the ribs. “Who are these people? Let’s go! We can’t possibly help them!”

“Mom! Please do this one favor for me!” pleaded Courtney, tears welling in her eyes. “I’ll never ask you for another thing for as long as I live. SWEAR.”

Courtney’s mom looked at the naked pleading in her daughter’s eyes and couldn’t find the heart to deny her. She sighed. Teenagers and their obsessions! “Of course you will,” she relented, “but you just remember this the next time you try to tell me how mean I am!”

“Promise!” breathed Courtney, unable to believe her mom was backing down. It was a miracle! Her mom got out of her side of the van and pointed at Ethan.

“You!” she said in a motherly voice. I’ve got a cargo net in the back, we can put your drums on the rack on top. The rest of you pile in with just the essentials you need. As soon as we get to a live cell I’ll phone in your bus to our local mechanic and have it towed to his garage. Now let’s get to work!”

Courtney couldn’t believe her ears (or eyes for that matter). Was this her mother?

Her mom’s only reply was to wink at her. The two Matt’s, Jon and Ethan needed no more urging. They hauled out their guitars, cords and amps from the bus in record time and stuffed them into the van and all of them carefully helped to load the drum set on top. Within 20 minutes they were back on the road and speeding towards their destination.

“Gee, thanks for doing this!” Jon said, suddenly realizing that he did not know the names of their rescuers. “Ummm, I’m Jon, this is Ethan and-“

“I know who you all are!” piped up Courtney, bouncing up and down in her seat with glee. “You are my FAVORITE BAND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD.”

“Our fan!” exclaimed Matt, elbowing the other Matt in the ribs. “What a lucky break you came along.” We’ve been stuck in that spot since the early morning. You were the only car to stop to help us.”

“I’m so sorry!” Courtney said, ashamed on behalf of her county. Courtney’s mom twisted around in her seat to look at the men crammed into the back of the van, their instruments filling all the spare space that was left.

“Have you boy’s had anything to eat since this morning?” she demanded, her motherly instinct coming out. All four shook their heads “no” as their respective stomachs all growled as if in response.

“Courtney, take the next exit and let’s stop to get them a pizza and some drinks. Can’t go onstage and sing when your belly is agrowling!”
Courtney looked at her mom, her eyes wide in sudden mock horror. “Okay,” she hissed under her breath. “Who are you and what have you done with my mom?”

Her mom just shrugged and grinned at her. “I was a big Journey fan when I was your age. If I had seen their bus break down like these guys, you bet I would have moved heaven and earth to help them!”

They pulled up to a local Pizza parlor and while they were selecting their pizza (two pepperoni and two all sausage with onion) plus sodas, Courtney’s mom was able to use the public phone to call a mechanic who promised to take care of the bus for them. (Apparently he was a Reliant K fan as well).

Back on the road, eating pizza and sipping sodas, the mood became more sociable.

“So, do you play an instrument of any kind, ma’am?” questioned Matt T., trying to unsuccessfully bite in two the long rope of cheese that kept stretching from the back seat to the front with his teeth.

“Not now, but my daughter, Courtney here, plays Ukulele like there is no tomorrow!” responded her mom.

“Moooooooooom! Sssh!” Courtney said, embarrassed beyond all belief.

“Really?” said Ethan leaning forward. “We just wrote a new song that is just screaming for a Ukulele but we haven’t been able to find anyone to play it on the road with us and Matt is still learning. Would you like to learn the song?”

“Me?” bleated Courtney, her eyes growing as big as saucers as she looked in the rear-view mirror. “Are you kidding me?”

“I never kid,” replied Ethan with a very serious look on his face.

“He never kids,” affirmed Matt, Matt and Jon solemnly.

“But you’ll have to trade places with your mom and let her drive so you can learn the song. How fast can you pick up a song without sheet music?” Continued Ethan.

Courtney slammed on the brakes. All the guys held onto the car straps for dear life as they were plunged forward. Fortunately they didn’t lose their pizza and drinks. Her and her mom performed a quick “Chinese Fire Drill” and traded spots. At the same time Matt and Jon got out their acoustic guitars so they could help Courtney learn the song. Medical procedure be dammed this was show business!

Courtney spent the remainder of the trip turned around backwards, strumming along on her Ukulele learning the yet unperformed Reliant K’s song “On the Right Track”. She was concentrating so hard on getting it right she forgot to be nervous. An hour flew by and the next thing they knew they had reached the venue and were driving around to the performers entrance in the back where a security guard tried to stop them.

“No one allowed in but-“

“WE ARE THE BAND!” Matthew said in a commanding tone of voice, flashing his ID. “We’re late, let us through!”

The guard was about to argue but then saw the drum set on top with the name RELIANT K screen printed on the kick drum. He waved them through. Courtney’s mom swiftly pulled up to the backdoor of the concert hall and the band members piled out.

“You sure learned that song fast!” Jon enthused, unloading the gear. “If you’d like to come onstage and play with us on just that one cover it’d be great but no pressure. It’s just that we were hoping to introduce it tonight.”

“Are you serious?” Courtney said, clutching her Ukulele. “You really want me to play that song with you?”

“Well….” drawled Matt T., rubbing his head. “We will have to make you an honorary member of the band, just for tonight. Are you game?”

Courtney couldn’t believe her luck. The day had started out so lousy and now here she was with Matt, Matt, Jon and Ethan of Reliant K and she was going to play in front of their fans with them on her Ukulele. How cool was that?!

“Game on!” Courtney grinned at them. “Lead the way!”

More Than a Memory

2010-01-02T21:18:00.000-08:00

Michele Fritzler is the sister of my first love, Barry Henriot who died of a brain aneurysm when I was 22 and he was 25 back in 1982. After his death I "adopted" his mom (Ruth) and father (Al) and had dinner with them every Sunday for a few years until Ruth and Al moved up to Oregon to be closer to their daughter, Michele, in 1991. Barry and Michele's dad, Al died in 1994.

Even though I have only seen Michele less than a hand full of few times, we have come to accept each other as "sisters" because of our mutual love for her family and especially Barry. He has been gone for so long that there is barely anyone remaining in her life that ever knew him; making his existence in the past that much more unreal. It was with panic last December that I realized that I had lost her mom's mailing address and phone number and was desperately hoping that I would get her annual Christmas card so I could tell her that my book was going to be published with a dedication in it to Barry that I had put in there more almost 30 years ago.

The rain came down in heavy drops and in only moments, Michele’s hair and clothes were drenched. Living in Oregon you’d think by now she would always be prepared with a ready umbrella but she had rushed out of the house today late and distracted by all the things she needed to get done.

Now rivulets of cold rain water were beginning to run down inside her collar and drench her from the inside out. She needed to take cover. To her right was a revolving door leading into a restaurant and without a second thought she ducked in for a quick respite and a cup of hot chocolate to warm her up.

The site that greeted her eyes paralyzed and completely disoriented her. She blinked, rubbed her eyes and shook her head, her mouth gaping as her surroundings refused to change back into reality. Before her was the living room of her Huntington Beach home the way it looked when she had lived there with her brother, Barry. Immediately tears sprang into her eyes with the familiar ache that clutched her heart.

“Is that you Michele?” sang a voice from the kitchen. The beloved voice sent a thrill through her heart and her voice caught in her throat. Had she fallen unconscious? Was she having a dream? Having received no response, Ruth poked her head through the doorway. “Cat got your tongue?” she grinned at her dumbstruck daughter.

Michele’s mouth moved but no sound would come out as she stared at the face of her dear mother who had passed away just under a year ago. At that moment a figure walked up behind her and pinched her in the ribs, making her scream. She whirled around and standing there alive and as if he had never aged, was her brother Barry.

He grinned at her and gave her a bear hug but there was no feedback from the hearing aids he used to always wear. He stepped back and pointed at his head with a lopsided grin. “I hear great now!”

Michele’s eyes traveled hungrily up and down the length of him. Same wavy brown hair, twinkly eyes, mischievous grin, dimples and plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up as if 25 plus years had never passed. The tears now spilled down her cheeks unabated and a sob of joy caught in her throat. With a look of understanding compassion on his face, Barry enfolded her into his arms and let her sob. Michele could barely hear the familiar footsteps behind her on the floor and then her mom’s arms were about her.

“Al, just don’t sit there watching the game, get in here!” Ruth yelled. At that, Michele pulled back and turned around to see her father stride towards them, his arms held out wide. She flew into them, crying even harder.

“There now,” soothed her mom in her wonderful accent. “Do you really want to spend your entire visit with us crying? You’re scaring Sonny!”

“Meooooww!” agreed the gorgeous Himalayan cat, entering the room. This was all just too much!

“I don’t understand!” was all Michele could manage, shaking uncontrollably. Al, Ruth, Barry and even Sonny all stared at her in sympathy. “Am I dreaming or dead?”

“Neither!” chorused all (except Sonny) in unison. “This is a gift, sis.” Explained Barry gesturing to the family dinner table laden with a Thanksgiving turkey and all the fixings. “The Lord thought you’d enjoy one more day and meal with us all together again.”

Michele clutched at her heart. It was all too much to take in and yet she couldn’t deny it was what she had secretly longed for more often than she could say but there was still something missing. A lot of “somethings”. As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” cried Barry with a wink in his sister’s direction and bounded over to the door. He opened it up to reveal Michele’s husband, Dave, and all their kids.

“Uncle Barry!” they all shrieked, not the least bit shocked or bewildered. Barry hugged and pounded Dave on the back with glee and hugged each of Michele’s kids in turn as if he had known them all his life. They in turn hugged his neck with equal glee and then everyone circled around the table and grabbed each other’s hands.

“Barry, would you lead us all in thanks to the Lord?” smiled Ruth, winking at Michele.

“I was hoping you’d ask!” Barry grinned. At that everyone bowed their heads as Michele’s beloved brother led them all in a prayer of thanksgiving for a reunited family that was separated only by the very thinnest veil of eternity.

Three Wishes

2010-01-02T20:39:00.000-08:00

I met Darlene through a comment she left on my web page about "A Gift for Henry". I came to find out that she had lost her husband, Steve, due to congestive heart failure and that he had died in her arms a few years ago. Knowing this I could only imagine how painful this time of year must be for her and wanted to do something to let her know that God sees her hurt and pain and that He cares. Three wishes is God's special gift to Darlene this Christmas

Darlene regarded the Christmas decorations in her local grocery store glumly. She hated this time of year. Absolutely hated it! All it did was accentuate the sadness that she always carried in her heart like a heavy lead balloon. As a kid she had enjoyed the holidays as much as anyone else but all that had changed three years ago when her husband, Steve, had died in her arms of heart failure. She sighed, fighting back the tears that welled up in her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. She wasn’t going to cry in the check-out line! Not in front of all these strangers!

The box boy stuffed the last of her groceries into the bag and Darlene hurried out, her head down, her shoulders beginning to shake. She got into her car, her hands trembling with the grief she tried to suppress and yet couldn’t. She let her head drop onto the steering wheel and allowed the tears to come. She missed him. She couldn’t help it. Even after a few years, there was still a big hole in her heart that just wouldn’t heal.

Oh, Stevie…she thought to herself, not for the last time. If only we had had more time together…if only your heart hadn’t been sick…if only…

Darlene violently brushed the tears from her cheeks and started the car. She didn’t want to go down that road again. She had to get home, unload the groceries alone without help and get some dinner for herself. The very idea depressed her beyond belief.

She turned the key in the ignition and maneuvered out of the parking lot. She made to turn right, but the car suddenly had other ideas. It turned left. It shocked her so much she just gaped. Then the gas pedal depressed itself and the car began speeding up and driving itself. Darlene sat back and watched in shock as the car continued to steer, turning down streets she was unfamiliar with, stopping and starting without assistance from her, wondering where on earth her car was taking her and why. For some reason she felt no panic but a few times she caught the shocked glances of people in other cars as she half-heartedly smiled and waved at them as her car turned a corner without her assistance. Once or twice she gripped the steering wheel and tried to steer the way she wanted and to brake but the car was completely unresponsive. Why fight it? She thought to herself and sat back to watch what would happen. A half hour passed, then 45 minutes and the car was on the main highway heading north. Before she knew it, she had nodded off to sleep.

She awoke when the car came to a stop, not remembering what had happened and wondering if she was asleep, dreaming she was awake. She looked around and found herself and her car in a tiny parking lot in front of a little cottage, brightly lit with cheerful Christmas lights and a wreath on the door. There was nothing else in site. She got out of the car feeling stiff from her unexpected nap. She went up to the door of the cottage which was bright red, and knocked. Hopefully whoever lived her would let her use the phone or give her directions on how to get back home before the milk spoiled. She knocked twice.

“Come in, Darlene!” said a voice that made her heart skip a beat. A voice she had not heard in years but a voice that was dearly beloved and familiar all the same.

Heart pounding, she walked into the little cottage. There was a fireplace with a cheery fire crackling away, a Christmas tree with ornaments that looked strangely familiar and her favorite Christmas music playing on the stereo that she hadn’t played in years because it had hurt too much to listen to it.

“Welcome, home, sweetheart!” said the voice again and Darlene felt arms wrapping around her like a warm cocoon.

“Stevie?” she sobbed, turning around to face what must surely be a dream or a ghost. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, dear,” he responded with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry we had to bring you here the way we did and that it took so long but I hope the memory we make will be worth it to you.”

“We? Memory?” Darlene repeated, completely bewildered. She stepped back out of Steve’s arms for a moment and rubbed her eyes, unable to believe she was seeing what she was seeing. Steve stepped forward again and gently took her hands into his.

“I’m sorry I have ruined the holidays for you.” He said, he eyes truly sorrowful. “I didn’t want to leave you at all, you know, but my heart wasn’t made to last as long as everyone else’s. Can you forgive me?”

“It’s just that I miss you so much.” Darlene said, the tears spilling down again. “I have wished so often that I could just have you with me just one more time, just a little bit longer…”

Steve took her face gently into his hands and smiled at her. “Wish granted.” He whispered and embraced her again. This time Darlene did not pull away. She melted into his embrace and allowed herself the luxury of breathing in the scent of his hair and his clothes without all the medicine smells that he had used to carry later in life when his heart began to fail. After a few moments, Steve parted them with a smile and reached for one of the grocery bags.

“Here, let me help you with that.” He said, hefting it up easily.

“No! I’ll get it!” Darlene protested, falling back into the routine of doing most of the lifting herself because of his weak heart.

“Not necessary!” Steve said, grabbing both effortlessly. “No more bad heart!” He led her into the tiny but charming kitchen and took the groceries out one at a time. Instead of the dull, boring regular items she always got, she stared in amazement as Steve pulled out their favorite beverages, foods, and treats they used to share one at a time. It was a gourmet feast and it was already prepared and hot.

Together they sat down at the table where candlelight glowed and ate and talked for hours. Then they cuddled up onto the couch together in front of the fire and the tree, listening to soft Christmas music together.

“I don’t want this moment to end.” Darlene said at last, knowing the moment for her departure was approaching soon. Steve laid a gentle kiss on her forehead and held her close.

“Do you remember our last moments together?” he whispered. Darlene choked on her sobs, the raw wound opening up again.

“Of course I do! How could I ever forget a moment like that?” she said, her heart aching. Steve held her closer and looked deeply into her eyes, his face serious.

“Darlene, I always knew I would not live very long and have a normal life span. I also knew it would be unfair to whoever I married and my kids because of it but I was selfish asked God to grant me three wishes: 1) That I would be able to marry the woman I love, 2) that I could be a father (no matter how they turned out), and 3)…” Steve paused, his own eyes filling with tears.

“Three?” repeated Darlene, wondering what it could be. Steve sighed deeply and held her closer.

“…that when it was finally my time to leave this earth and go to heaven, I would die in the arms of the person who loved me best in this life…You.

“God gave me all three of my wishes and now He has granted this one for you. He has given you one more memory…a little more time…just a taste of the joy of our being reunited in heaven so you can still go on with your life in this world and grieve a little bit less, knowing how well I loved you and how I still love you and that I’m waiting for you. The time is growing short when we will be together again forever but until that day comes, I want you to live each day knowing that I’m still loving you and caring about you. Try to find joy again in the little things again and I’ll be right there, sharing it with you. Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll try.” Darlene smiled weakly, wishing she could stay in that little cottage with him forever.

“Now lay your head on my shoulder and go to sleep,” said Steve, holding her close. “And when you wake you’ll be back to your regular life but remember that you always carry my love and my heart inside your own.”

“Okay,” whispered Darlene, clutching him tightly. “I’ll remember. I promise.”

“That’s my girl,” Steve smiled, caressing her head until she fell asleep.

Darlene awoke with a start and looked around her. The cottage was gone and so were the tree, fireplace and Steve. She was back in her little home but there on the table was the most beautiful arrangement of snow-white and deep red flowers she had ever seen. She picked up the tiny envelope and withdrew the little card that had Steve’s handwriting on it and instead of crying…she smiled.

The Magic Quill

2010-01-02T20:21:00.000-08:00

Mirriam sat on her bed with one of her two best friends, Keaghan, staring at the blank parchment before her. The blank page stared back at her as if it had just won a “stare out” contest. Her most newly acquired treasure, a genuine fountain pen was poised just above the page, waiting for the words to flow out of her.

“C’mon, Mirriam!” encouraged Keaghan. “You’ve never had problems writing before now! What’s going on?”

Mirriam closed her eyes and set the quill down carefully so as to not drip any of the black ink on herself or anything else. She had gotten the gift little more than a week ago for Christmas but couldn’t seem to bring herself to start writing with it. It was such a special gift and so “Elvish”; it could only be used for a very, very special story; especially since she had also purchased some really expensive vellum paper that looked like real parchment. It couldn’t be just any old story…

“Just start writing something!” whined Keaghan, becoming exasperated.

Mirriam sighed and put the glass quill onto the page and began to write: Lothlorien was aglow with golden afternoon light…

Suddenly both Mirriam and Keaghan gasped aloud; their eyes widening in wonder. Instead of black ink flowing in shaky print onto the vellum was a gorgeous script with letters of living light that blazed and glowed across the page in a foreign language that seemed somewhat familiar to Mirriam.

“Look!” shrieked Keaghan, pointing to the bedroom wall. A portion of Mirriam’s bedroom wall had completely faded away (or had become invisible) but instead of looking at her neighborhood, she was staring at the limbs of a giant Mallorn tree. Keaghan nudged her in the ribs, still gaping.

“Write some more!” she hissed. Shockwaves of nervous excitement running through her veins, Mirriam again began to scratch out whatever words came into her mind. She wasn’t sure, but she could feel magic crackling in the air.

…the flet upon which Earwen and Keaghan sat was crowded with the company of other woodland elves, their bows and quivers at the ready as orcs marched under their position, completely unaware of the doom which waited to rain down on them from above…

Mirriam and Keaghan looked up and watched in amazement as the walls of her home completed melted away into nothing-ness only to be replaced with a 360 degree view of the most amazing golden forest they had ever laid eyes on from a vantage point that was at least 100 feet above the forest floor. Mirriam tucked her long hair behind her ear to get a better look and felt something strange. She gazed at Keaghan’s face whose eyes were practically bulging out of her head in mixed wonder and terror.

Mirriam felt her ear and practically dropped the bow in her left hand. Her ear was pointy!
An elf directly to her right turned round slightly and gave her a warning look. Not a surprised look at seeing a total stranger crouching next to him but a warning look as if to say: CONCENTRATE!

The signal was given and all the elves surrounding Mirriam and Keaghan stood as one and began raining down arrows upon the unsuspecting orcs.

“Earwen!” hissed an elf behind her. “Let fly!” Without a second thought, Mirriam stood, renocked her arrow and sent it flying into the neck of a large black orc. The sudden onslaught was almost over before it began. The entire company of orcs lay dead upon the footpath below. Their attack had been so swift and deadly that not one of them had been able to shriek, sound a warning horn, or escape. Their war party had been decimated by the elf-arrows of the Galadrim.

“Well done, Earwen!” said the elf behind her, squeezing her shoulder. Mirriam turned about and her mouth fell open. Standing at least a full head taller than her was someone she had never thought to see in real life, Legolas.

“Is that who I think it is?” whispered Keaghan in her ear. Mirriam nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the finely chiseled face and striking blue eyes of the elf-prince. Legolas smirked at her and waved a hand in front of her face so as to wake her from her trance.

“Awake, Earweeeennnn,” he murmured, leaning in closer. A lightning bolt of electricity jolted up her spine, freeing Mirriam from her trance. “Time to go! The lady Galadriel and Celeborn are waiting for our return.”

“What do we do now?” hissed Keaghan, grabbing onto Mirriam’s arm. Mirriam finally looked at her best friend. Her hair was now down below her waist but enough of it was tied back for her to see that her ears were pointy as well. Mirriam stifled a giggle.

“Just do what I do,” she whispered, shouldering her bow. To her amazement, Legolas reached back and clasped hold of her free hand and held it for the duration of the trek. With mounting excitement, she followed Legolas’ lead down the stairs from the flet to the footpath where the orcs lay dead. She plucked her arrow from the neck of her one kill, wiped the black blood off onto the grass and put it back in her quiver.

Legolas studied the helmet and iron collar for a moment then flipped the body over.

“You felled the leader, Earwen,” he commented with a congratulatory nod in her direction. “Not too bad for your first day out but my count is 13.” Mirriam found herself grinning at him, his comment familiar and humorous. It was strangely reminiscent of the rivalry between he and Gimli in the Lord of the Rings on the number of enemy combatants they each had killed in the war of the Ring. The forest was quiet now except for the cry of birds and the subtle sound of a quill still scratching on vellum which only Mirriam seemed to notice.

She and Keaghan followed the line of woodland elves as they made their way back to Caras Caladon to report to Galadriel of their success. Every chance she got, Mirriam would steal a glance at Legolas as well as her own body. She was clothed in the grey cloak and golden/brown attire of the Galadrim that blended into the colors of the forest and her legs were clad in knee-high, kid-skin leather boots. Her friend Keaghan was similarly attired with long hair, pointy ears and a bow and quiver that had gone unused. It took the better part of the day and was nightfall before they reached the gigantic Mallorn tree where the Lady Galadriel and Celeborn ruled the golden realm. Silver lanterns lit up all over the forest illuminating their way and the welcoming cry of the Galadrim reached their ears as they made the long climb up to the top flet.
Legolas and the other elves of their warband stood at attention and then bowed with respect as the Lady Galadriel appeared before them. Legolas stood forward, bowed and laid the iron collar and helmet of the orc that Earwen/Mirriam had shot at the feet of Galadriel. She regarded them for a moment then lifted her golden head with a beatific smile.

“Whose arrow felled the Captain?” she asked, looking from one glorious elven face to another.
“Earwen,” spoke up Legolas, since Mirriam found herself tongue-tied in apoplectic glee. Her arms was already black and blue from the nonstop pinching she had given herself throughout the trek to Caras Caladon, unable to believe she was inside Middle Earth in a story of her own creation. She could still hear her quill scratching on the vellum but it seemed like the sound was more inside her head than in her ears now.

Galadriel turned her liquid eyes upon Mirriam/Earwen and smiled. “Well done, Earwen, elven daughter,” she said, her voice as beautiful as a bell. She laid her hands upon Earwen’s shoulders in blessing. “You are the first daughter of the Galadrim to wield bow and arrow to successfully slay our avowed enemy. For this I have a special reward…”

Mirriam cast a quick glance over her shoulder at her best friend, whose face was a study in shock, wonder and disbelief. She turned back to face Galadriel and Celeborn who held forth a wooden box with a silver leaf upon its lid. Mirriam lifted the lid and inside found a crystal ink bottle which was filled not with ugly black ink but a brilliant light which pulsed and glittered in her upheld hand.

“Mithril ink,” Galadriel explained, turning it this way and that so it caught the light. “With this ink you will be a mighty story teller and whatever you write shall come to pass.”

Tears welled in Mirriam’s eyes and a sob caught in her throat. She was speechless and received the gift with shaking hands. She bowed again in thanks to the Lady Galadriel and Celeborn and turned to face Legolas who still stood behind her. In his eyes was great pride and something else Mirriam couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“I am so proud of you, beloved,” he said, caressing her cheek with his warm hand. The quill scratching in her head came to an abrupt halt the moment his arms went about her.

“Mirriam! Mirriam! Wake up! Are you okay?”

Mirriam turned her head to face Keaghan, completely disoriented. The room slowly stopped spinning and she looked down at the page before her. The ink was now just an ordinary black but the parchment was filled with Sindarin Elvish script that not even she could translate if she spent 50 years trying.

“Who wrote all this?” she asked Keaghan, holding it up in wonder.

“You did!” exclaimed her friend. “You just sort of went into some kind of trance and began writing as if you were possessed or something!”

Mirriam stared down at the page of strange writing again until she got to the last line which suddenly began to waver and change before her eyes until the Elvish script became English.
“…for when thou dost set nib to the page; the magic shall be renewed.”

“What does it say, Mirriam?” asked her friend, unable to read a single word. Mirriam closed her eyes and hugged her legs, her heart and lips remembering again Legolas’ kiss.

“Earwen,” Mirriam corrected her, opening her eyes and smiling at her best friend. “My name is Earwen and I am a shield-maiden of Lothlorien.”

A Gift for Henry

2010-01-02T18:57:00.000-08:00

SEPTEMBER 16, 1972 is a day that I will relive for the rest of my life. It happened at the Withlacoochee River in Florida, about two miles from my house. It was around 2:30 in the afternoon and I was 14 years old. I had snuck away from the house on my bicycle when I was told I could not to go swimming that day. I met two of my friends on the way to the river as planned, where we had swam many times before. If only I had known what was going to happen that day, I would never have gone! When we got there there was a man, his wife, and their two daughters swimming. We put our bicycles down, took our shirts and jeans off that we wore over our swimming trunks, and headed down to the and dove in. The water was cool and the current was flowing as usual. We swam back to the river bank and got out of the water. We decided to climb a tree which leaned over the water. We had dove out of that tree many times in the past.

I was the first to climb the tree and dive into the water, followed by my friends. We all swam back to the bank and got out. We climbed the tree again but this time we did a canon ball, swam back, got out again. Then one of my friends asked the other if he wanted to dive off his shoulders. He said yes, so he squatted to let him get on his shoulders and then stood up so he could dive into the river. After he dove in he swam back and as he was getting out he slipped back into water because the bank was getting very slippery. I ran and did a cannon ball again off the bank and as I was getting out, I too noticed that it was not so easy. I slipped a few times before I was finally able to climb back up on the bank. The wet clay was sticking to my feet so I rubbed my feet on the ground and removed most of it. My friend asked if I wanted to dive off of his shoulders and I said, "Sure, why not". So as he squatted down I climbed onto his shoulders and then he stood up so I could dive into the water. Just as I was ready to dive, it HAPPENED!!

My right foot slipped off his shoulder and I fell straight down on top of my head and rolled off into the water. I knew immediately that something was wrong. First of all, there was a tingling sensation all over my body, as though a thousand needles were sticking me! Secondly, I could not move anything. I tried so hard, but nothing would move. I KNEW I WAS IN TROUBLE. My body was not responding no matter what I tried. I was in the fetal position where your arms and knees are drawn up to your chest, floating face down in the water, drifting with the current. "I could not see anything but the black water as the river towed me further and further away! You cannot imagine everything that was running through my mind all at the same time! But the main thing that I was thinking was, "I NEED TO BREATHE!" All of my thoughts changed from what was wrong with me to, "I am going to drown if I do not breathe NOW!!!" I could not hold my breath any longer your body will take a breath whether you want to or not, IN or out of water. I knew that if took a breath my lungs would fill up with water, but I HAD TO BREATH!! I was so terrified by now because I just knew I was going to DIE!!

Just as my body forced me to take a breath, which would have been nothing but water, my friend grabbed me and turned me over. I was finally able to take a breath of air, which felt like I had waited an eternity for! My friend swam back, with me in tow, to where my other friend was waiting to help pull me out of river that had almost taken my life!!! The family that was there swimming took me to the nearest hospital where they said I was now a quadriplegic you are paralyzed from the neck down and cannot feel nothing and would never walk AGAIN!! That was 37 years ago and I have lived longer than the doctors told me I would.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.
God Bless. Henry

A Gift for Henry

Henry awakened with a start, his heart pounding and looked around. For a few seconds all he could do was to stare at the vista which greeted his eyes and then it hit him like a ton a bricks…he was sitting up for the first time by himself since the accident. He opened and shut his eyes slowly several times, the amazing view never changing and then slowly, as if he were afraid he would shatter and break like glass, he bent his neck down and looked at his lower half. Instead of thin, atrophied legs that ignored all of his mind’s commands, there were two tanned and muscular limbs. Holding his breath…he did something he hadn’t been able to do in decades…he wiggled his toes.

A shout of pure joy issued from his mouth, so loud it even scared himself. “YAHOOOOOO!” Then he did something else he hadn’t done in years…he pinched himself… as hard as he could, right above the hips in the “tickle spot” and practically doubled over with mixed joy and disbelief.

“Vicki!” he shouted, wiggling and wiggling his toes more violently. “Will you look at this? Just look!”

There was no answer. It wasn’t until he found himself standing and then jumping up and down with glee that he really noticed and took stock of his surroundings. The sky was the deepest blue he had ever seen but there was no sun. Instead an incredibly pure and blazing glow of light originated from everywhere. In every direction he looked he saw the loveliest terrain he had ever laid eyes on. Majestic mountains with craggy peaks (but no snow); fields of wildflowers broken only by gurgling brooks which fed into crystal clear lakes; wide open undulating plains of the greenest grass he had ever seen. No buildings, no bugs (except butterflies), the most delicious smell of orange blossoms permeating the air and a hint of lilting music that seemed to come from everywhere.

“VICKI!” he shouted again, frustrated that his wife was not there to share the experience with him and validate that it was all real.

“She’ll join you later,” responded a deep and profoundly gentle voice. Henry whirled around and instantly fell onto his face upon recognizing who had spoken to him. “Henry, please rise,” said the man, lifting him gently onto his feet. “I want you to enjoy this time I have given you have on your feet, not your face.”

At His touch, a surge of strength flowed through Henry’s entire body that was electrifying. He felt like he could run all the way to China and back again and not even get winded. Jesus smiled a crinkly smile at him and pointed off into the distance. Henry followed with his eyes and saw the most gorgeous tree he had ever laid eyes on. It was indescribable but even from this distance he could tell it was laden with flowers and fruit; somehow he knew that this is where the lovely perfume was emanating from.

Henry looked back into the face of His blessed Redeemer, his eyes filling with tears and his heart welling with emotion so strong he felt it would burst with joy. Jesus laid his nail-pierced hand upon his shoulder and Henry felt a thrill pass through him.

“Run, Henry!” Jesus smiled broadly. “Run!”

Despite his desire to not leave his Savior’s side for even a moment, it had been as though the words were more of a command than a suggestion. The next thing Henry knew his legs were pumping, his arms were flailing and he was racing like a cheetah through the fragrant grass towards what he knew was the Tree of Life, closing the distance faster than he dreamed could be possible. As he ran, tears of joy flew back in the wind – and a howl of laughter and sheer joy erupted from his throat. He was running. HE WAS RUNNING!!

He exulted in the sheer joy of feeling his once dead limbs alive and thriving again. Oh… if only the dream would never end…if only he would never have to wake up…but wait…he had pinched himself…and it had hurt. What was going on? He came to a stop just before the tree, amazed that he wasn’t even breathing hard. Maybe he wasn’t dreaming…maybe he was…

“You’re not dead, Henry” whispered the voice of Jesus quietly in his ear as if The Master were standing just behind him. “And you’re not asleep either. This is my gift to you for now…unwrap it and take it out whenever you feel the need and know that one day soon, it will be yours to enjoy for eternity with all your loved ones who have trusted in Me.”

Henry hung his head and wept, his shoulders heaving with gratitude. The Lord’s voice interrupted his thoughts again. “I have one more gift for you before you leave…if you’ll accept it…”

“Lord,” sobbed Henry. “It is enough that you suffered, died and rose for me and have allowed me to live a life, though broken physically, that has been abundant for you. I will accept whatever gift you want to give me but what can I do in return for you?”

“You have been giving me the best gift for many years, Henry…You.” Replied Jesus, and suddenly Henry turned around to find Jesus standing before him again only he wasn’t dressed in his “typical” biblical clothes but hip-waders and carrying two fishing rods. “I once told Peter, Andrew, James and John that I would make them fishers of men,” he continued with a broad smile that lit up everything about Him. “But today I think that you and I will just go fish for trout in that stream over there. I can guarantee a good catch but as for you …well today you’ll have to clean and fry them up. Deal?”

Henry’s mouth just hung open and then he bellowed with laughter. “Deal!” he exclaimed.

Henry five months before his accident.

THE END