Mid-month Mention: Prayer is the Best Support

I need to compose a mid-month mention post full of helpful and uplifting links. At this point, I cannot do so. I am still feeling numb from a hellish week we endured. Much of it, I cannot share. I will share what I can.

At 5:30 a.m., on the last Wednesday in May, I was downstairs having my devotions. After a large thwump, the power went out. I tried to fumble my way upstairs without spilling my coffee. I crept toward the bathroom (where I keep the candles), tripping over Toby (ugh!). Unfortunately, candles themselves are of no use if you can't find matches or a lighter. I also could not, for the life of me, find the flashlight on my phone (I never use it). Our large flashlight had dead batteries. Great!

Finally, John woke and immediately called the power company. All was still black outside so no indication of what we were dealing with. The sun rose, revealing the true scenario. Another limb had fallen from a tree out back. It took out the entire pole and unit in the back yard. The power company arrived to deal with the situation. My husband hooked a generator up to the kitchen refridgerator.

We waited and waited. Trucks filled the driveway, blocking the garage so we could not take our other cold food elsewhere to store. Here are some photos I snagged of the damage - again, I apologize as photography is not my strong suit (is anything?):

I sent out a prayer request to my family, acknowledging my gratitude that it wasn't worse because at least the limb did not, once again, take out portions of the roof like last May. In response, I received messages that sounded like, "Wendy is so put-upon, Lord; help her with yet another complication to her life." Or, advice as to what we should do: "Start cooking [um, no power!] or grilling as much as you can [much of the time it was pouring rain]."

Then, there was the biggest kicker: "Perhaps you should consider having a tree-trimming company come out to assess the property, if you can afford it." Hmm. If only we had thought of that. Wait, we did, long before this! We had tree-trimmers come. They cut down one perilous tree, but explained they cannot go near limbs near power lines. That is the jurisdiction of the power company. We had the power company come out and assess. They claimed there were troublesome areas, but they'd have to get to it later. Unfortunately for us, later was not soon enough. A new pole had to be put in and the power was not restored for 7-1/2 hours (we're grateful for their quick work and know it could have been out for longer than that). We lost some food from the garage fridge, which had climbed to 52 degrees.

Needless to say, when even greater difficulties descended at the end of the week, I did not feel warm fuzzies about sharing. Instead, I fasted and prayed on my own. I did not reach out with prayer requests to family members full of advice. We continue to cling to God, the only One who can do the impossible. In these other dire situations, we need miracles! [Praise God, we saw dynamic answers to two specific importunate prayers!] 

We continue to beg God to change hearts and transform lives. How I pray God will redeem the years the locusts are eating! Please, if you are a praying person, lift our family up in prayer. And if someone asks you for prayer, think twice before launching into advice 😉, just 🙏! After all, it's the BEST thing you can do!

Added 6/11/26: We woke to another tree down. It broke at the trunk. Ridiculous! Again, we are so grateful it did not damage the house. Nobody has come out yet to chop down and take away the other limb, so now that job is just bigger. You can see the ruts in the grass from where they took equipment back to extract the old power line and pole. That's 3 downed trees in a little over a year. Add in the limb that took out the garden fence while we were away at Bryce's wedding in September 2024, and it makes 4. Sheesh!

 

Mid-month Mention: So Grateful

This month, I am deeply grateful for one special thing! I am fully writing again! My son's near death by overdose in June 2023 derailed my mojo. For 14 months, I could not work on writing projects. I was able to read and maintain my blog. My daily morning pages still came without effort. But, I couldn't rouse myself to approach a project. 

On the first day of September, I decided if I couldn't write, then I could devote a half hour each day to seeking markets for what I've already written. Marketing my novels seemed too ambitious, so I focused on magazine markets. I stumbled upon Just Between Us, a Christian digital magazine founded by author Jill Briscoe. The magazine had a call for articles with a 9/1 deadline. I felt I had just the piece, so I pulled it out and re-wrote it to the specifications they gave. I really didn't expect much after so many months of discouragement. Two days later, I received an acceptance letter. My article, "When the Journey Becomes the Gift," will air on 11/25/25 in the Just Between Us digital magazine. You can subscribe to the magazine here.

This was just the encouragement my heart needed. A few days later, I wrote a flash fiction piece under 500 words and entered it into a competition (judging does not occur until January). I scoured the internet for contests and calls for submissions. In mid-October, I started working on a book project. It is something I had considered doing prior to my liminal period. Since I have already been charting my purging progress, I added this component to my daily tallies (sadly, the purging has almost evaporated with this new pursuit). 

September started tentatively, only working 43% of the days in that month. I wrote and submitted 2 pieces and worked on market research (easier than writing). My September total was 12 hours devoted to these writing endeavors. In October, I spent 100 minutes in research and worked on two different pieces. I wrote on 15 of the 31 days in October for a total of 11.5 hours. My word tally came to 8786 words (nothing near what I used to complete when I did Nanowrimo). I tried to enter into this slowly.

In November, I set a new goal. I wanted to write at least 1000 words a day. While I haven't managed that every day, for the first 16 days in November, I wrote an average of 1267 words per day. I spent 18.5 hours writing with a total of 20,274 words in the first half of the month. This is worth a mid-month mention! This is huge for me! I'm so very grateful! Stay tuned for a post on 11/25/25 with direct links to my article.

How Not to Celebrate Milestone Anniversaries

This week, my husband and I celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary. Well, that's not entirely true because we barely celebrated. To be honest, I cannot remember a single time we've done anything remotely significant to memorialize our milestones. Still, I'm blown away by the fact that we've reached these milestones and I'm grateful to God for getting us through obstacles and challenges that might have foiled other couples. Marriage is hard work, and we've seen our fair share of difficulties. I just wish we exhibited more gumption in celebrating that hard work. It deserves more than we give it. Don't make our mistakes!

At our 10th anniversary, we were fresh on the heels of a year and half long separation. I couldn't find a lick of evidence remaining on how we celebrated our 15th anniversary in 2005, between the births of our second and third sons. I know I was pining for a third child. I wanted to give our middle son a closer sibling, a shorter gap than the 8 years between our first two sons. For our 20th anniversary, I did not mark the occasion with a blog post. It seems we went away to our annual  Wisconsin Bible camp, CBLI. Often, John would drive out to the camp and we would go out for dinner while another camper kept an eye on our sons. It appears he did not drive up that year (a bit farther from IN than it was when we lived in IL - or perhaps that was the year he went to leave, only to find a flat tire on the truck).

I did recognize our 25th annniversary with this blog post, but cannot remember doing anything significant to celebrate it. Our 30th anniversary fell in 2020. Yes, you guessed it! We didn't do anything to celebrate. I made up this list of 30 small ways to observe our anniversary and we ended up not completing more than a handful of those 30 ideas. We have prayed together more in the past five years than ever before! (Praise God! That is more important than a wealth of celebrations!) We had dinner out and a trip to Dairy Queen. We exchanged cards and he filled my gas tank (fairly standard stuff). Finally, we watched one of our favorite romantic movies, Somewhere in Time, set in the location we had hoped to visit to mark our 25th (Mackinac Island).

At the beginning of this year, I sent John an email bursting with ideas for possible celebrations. I am mindful of the fact that he doesn't care for travelling. Indeed, as I age, even I'm finding long trips less and less appealing. I long for the comfort of my own home and dread hours in a car on highways. I outlined ideas for lengthier trips to Michigan and Ohio. I tried to find areas with special bird sanctuaries since that is something that appeals to my husband. There were smaller trips to Illinois or right within our state of Indiana.

Then, on May 1st, our lives turned upside down and complications at home made all efforts at planning a trip impossible. We still hope to get away at some point, but I fear, like the list of 30 small observances, in the end we will be proof to all of "how not to celebrate milestone anniversaries." I guess the key is SETTLE. Assume big outlandish efforts out of the question. Follow the path of least resistance.

A few days before our anniversary, we had an argument. I had visions of no celebration at all, but John made an effort, nonetheless. Thus, for our 35th, we drove to a small town a half hour away, stayed in an average hotel, and visited an expensive restaurant. Apart from the meatloaf (perhaps I should have selected that), I couldn't find anything appealing to me, so I settled for a burger and sweet potato fries. We did splurge on peanut butter pie for dessert and, even though we didn't need it, it was amazing!

I know I sound whiny. The disappointment is palpable. I had longed to take a trip to Barcelona, Spain, to see the La Sagrada Familia because it was expected to be completed in 2025. Alas, our passports have expired. International travel feels out of the question. (Sadly, even interstate travel feels out of the question.) Moreover, due to the pandemic, the deadline for completion of that landmark was pushed back. When I searched for the new completion date, AI gave me this as an answer:

"The Sagrada Familia in Barcelona is scheduled to be structurally completed in 2026. This completion will mark the end of over 140 years of construction, with the final touches being added to the Tower of Jesus Christ and the Chapel of the Assumption. While the main structure is slated for completion in 2026, some decorative elements and the controversial entranceway are expected to continue until 2034, according to Dezeen." 

For now, I'll have to settle for this 15-minute YouTube tour of this magnificent Basilica. Hey, in watching, I can forego the stressful flights, the expensive lodging and food, and the exhausting hassle of travel. Of course, I'm sure this is nothing like what my son exclaimed when I asked him his favorite destination from their European travels. He said the eye could not help but move upward and it had to be experienced in the flesh. 

Perhaps when our family crisis calms to a trickle we will make more of an effort to mark the momentous milestone many couples these days only dream of - 35 years of hard-fought matrimony. In this day and age of disposable relationships, we have much to thank God for! We cling to him with eyes on further milestones together. We just don't do well at celebrating these achievements. If you have any advice to counter our abysmal example, please feel free to share. Maybe we can make a go of it yet!

July 2025 - Enduring

Photo by Maddi Bazzocco on Unsplash

What a blessing to reach the end of July 2025. This has been a challenging summer, so far. Myriads of difficulties I cannot discuss, but through which we are enduring with the help of the Lord. He continues to watch over us, protecting and providing. When worries assail, we lift praises for His provision to fend off the cumbersome chains of consuming concern.

This morning, I woke to find flooding in the basement. The men we paid to repair the roof took almost two months to come and then did not complete the repairs (saying they are waiting on an appeal to the insurance company for more extensive roof repairs). Thus, we are without gutters and the rain absolutely poured last night. I had moved several bags and boxes full of craft supplies I had purged and hoped to sell. They had been close to the window where it sometimes floods. Alas, given the lack of gutters, the flooding was in the very area where I had moved the items. One box was destroyed, but I had cardboard in the bottom and that kept the contents from damage. Plus, nothing leaked through the plastic bags, so it was merely a matter of drying off the bottoms. Now, I'm wondering if I should merely take all of it to Goodwill and get it out of the house without hopes of recouping any of the money I shelled out over the years on craft supplies I never got around to using.

After Sean's dentist appointment in early July, we learned he'd need all four wisdom teeth extracted. Just prior to the surgery date, his retainer broke, so I had to schedule a fitting for a new one just days after the wisdom teeth were removed. He is healing well, but we weren't without worry. On the first day, when he returned home, I was concerned about his overnight fast. I wanted him to eat something prior to taking the first pain meds. But, then, I worried food might be lodged in the extraction sites, so I handed him the irrigator tool they had sent home along with the gauze. As soon as he shot liquid into the site, he had to sit down for dizziness and pain. He stopped immediately, but after I called the office, I learned he wasn't supposed to use that instrument until the 5th day. Anxiety set in. 

When Bryce had his wisdom teeth removed, he ended up getting dry socket. My sister-in-law, Miriam, (once a dental technician) happened to be visiting and graciously walked us through best steps for dealing with dry socket. I was sure I had just doomed Sean to the pain his brother experienced. Thankfully, with Miriam's current encouragement, we iced regularly (20 minutes on and 20 minutes off) and he managed to escape the problem of dry socket. His girlfriend Claire came to comfort him and brought him a smoothie (very helpful, since we had few foods on hand soft enough that he could eat). He was fitted for a new retainer on Monday and they reported no appearance of dry socket at all. Yay!

I am still struggling with my back after my June fall on the treadmill. Although I can walk fine (and have gotten back on the treadmill successfully on days when it is raining), at night it still twinges when I attempt to sleep on my side (my natural preference). Not sure why that area is not healing, but I'm too much of a wimp to go to a doctor. Plus, it seems like such a minor ache. It is only an inconvenience. Not a tangible threat.

While listening to the Christian radio station in the car, I heard about an iced tea company that placed a vending machine next to a bench. The vending machine offered a free iced tea if you place your phone in the machine temporarily. Once the iced tea was dispensed, a sign flashed on the screen indicating the phone would be held for ten minutes. Patrons were encouraged to take a "tea break." Apparently, some did sit on the bench and relax for the ten minutes, refreshed by the forced leisure. Others were furious to learn they could not get their phone back immediately. The radio announcer suggested we might benefit from taking fasts from our phones.

I set out to do just that on my weekly fast day that week. I only managed 5-1/2 hours before it was necessary to use my phone for a mapping app. Not great success. Plus, I forgot to implement that into my fasting this week. Perhaps I'll try to incorporate it more fully in August. I have been faithfully fasting. Plus, in July, I managed to revamp my purging efforts (more about that in my quarterly purging post due at the end of August).

Lastly, I'm praising God for an increase in traffic on this meager book review blog. There were over 52 thousand hits last month, and I thought it might just be a fluke. This month received less, but not significantly. On this last day in July, Blogger tells me there were over 43 thousand hits on my blog this month. How I pray readers will find encouragement for living and recommendations for reading!

May 2025 Purging Stasis

My grand hopes for spending a year in devoted activity of purging derailed. March hours declined. April hours diminished. May hours tanked entirely. I may never get the purging mojo back.

In March, I purged 12 out of the 31 days (40%) for a total of 10 hours (average of 1/3 hour a day). I worked through more saved correspondence, this time from a missionary couple whose work we followed for years, from old friends, and from my sister. I unearthed a shell-covered trinket jar, a gift from a friend during my missionary stint in the Philippines:

When I sent this photo to Leah, she was overcome that I still had the gift in my possession. I know it is one of the few I kept. I ended up getting rid, years ago, of a wicker purse, a coin purse, and a handmade plaque made out small matchstick-style wood.

I also stumbled upon Bryce's baby book (probably unopened since he was a toddler). Then, I found these two I had for Trevor and Sean... absolutely empty, apart from the wrist bracelet from my youngest son's birth.

What a treasure trove I found in a huge pile of letters from my friends in England, the Mitchells! I took photos and sent a few to Sarah Mitchell, who was equally thrilled. We reflected together on some of the details mentioned and relished the joy our sustained friendship brings.

In April, I purged 10 out of the 30 days (33%) for a total of 8.5 hours (averaging not quite 20 minutes a day). I tackled the drawers of my downstairs desk. Then, for variety, I began purging clothes from my closet. I got rid of half my jeans. 

I purged items from my bedside table and moved on to old GED teaching files. Although I purged 24 games and puzzles, I still have not decided whether I will offer them to the local elementary school or try to get a small bit of money by taking them to Half Price Books.

In working on the puppets box, I found I could not let go of the beloved puppets John used to animate for Bryce when he was little. So, I kept Ronald and Dopey, Elmo and Piglet, a hamster and an iguana. I will offer the rest (14  characters and animals) to the schools or, perhaps, a church.

On the first day of May, our lives upended in a drastic way and I have not been able to bring myself to work on purging. I spend much time in prayer, much time disassociating, much time worrying, and not enough time doing the things I really should. Hopefully, I will not get to the end of this purging year and find this graphic to be true:

At least I can say that during the past few months, I have cut down on spending for things. I'm trying to only purchase necessities. In light of that, I must coupon-flex, in conclusion. I had a birthday coupon and several others to apply to this $10.49 shampoo at CVS, which brought the price down to a little over a buck. Can you see my fist pump?

December 2024 This and That

Somehow I didn't finish a re-cap of events in December in time to post at the end of the year, so bear with me as I look back now.

POEM:

Early in December, my sister (who is an officer in The Salvation Army) requested I write up a poem for her to use for her 3rd Sunday in Advent when she would preach on the wise men and the shepherds seeking. Initially, it was merely a poem. But just before I sent it to her, my devotional mentioned the song, "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing." What good fortune! It fit the meter and rhythm perfectly. So, they sang my poem, "Longing for Christmas," to that tune on the 3rd Advent Sunday.

I posted the lyrics on Facebook. A friend who lives in another country took me to task, saying I only shared part of the story. This person argued the emphasis should not be on the birth, but always upon the death of Christ, because that provides atonement. They said the Bible doesn't emphasize Christ's birth or provide a date. While I agree that atonement only was possible because our Savior died on the cross, I celebrate His birth, because without it, we would still be in darkness (and indeed, it often feels as if we are still in darkness in the current state of this world). I will give this more thought (couldn't during preparations for Bryce and Elizabeth's Christmas visit). Perhaps I will add a fifth verse to emphasize the Light willingly entered darkness and separation from the Father on our behalf to reconcile us to God when we trust Him and accept His gift of salvation from sin (as purchased through His death on the cross).

PURCHASES

Our old navy couch set was becoming unbearable because the pressure of reclining had caused the foundation to sag. In 2023, a friend and her chiropractor husband visited. He couldn't even bear to sit in our loveseat. He jumped up and made an excuse to stand during the visit. Thus, on Black Friday, we snagged a holiday deal. I'm thinking now, the pressure for a snap decision, within the sale window, was detrimental. 

I went in with two options in mind, but neither were available to sit in and try out (no floor models for those less expensive sets, of course). The sales clerk led us to the pricier models and encouraged us to buy a set with power reclining (our previous was a manual recliner). When I sat on the loveseat of the one we settled on, I could not believe the softness of the fabric. It was a lighter color than I'd wanted and more expensive than I wanted. Still, the window was closing, and we needed to decide. Because of the extra expense, my husband vetoed the protection plan. I'm a catastrophizer. The whole drive home, I had images of the dog vomiting on the couch or someone spilling a drink on the loveseat. But what's done is done.

The set was due for delivery on Friday the 13th. Hmm. What a fright we received when only the couch arrived. I again jumped to worry, envisioning our holiday visit with only seating availability for 3 people. Thankfully, my husband called and arranged the loveseat delivery on the Thursday prior to Bryce and Elizabeth's arrival. Once both pieces were in place, we realized the set didn't blend well with our carpet. We ordered an area rug, but it did not arrive until after Bryce and Elizabeth returned to Dallas. I'd love to say I feel no regrets, but I'm not sold on this new arrangement. Since the couch is so tall, my feet cannot touch the ground when I sit on it. The power reclining requires longer to right itself than when you just pull a lever. The color is not what I had hoped for. Again, what's done is done, sadly.

PUZZLES

In December, with extra time out of school, Sean and Claire and I worked on two puzzles. The first was a 1000-piece one with cereal boxes. Claire has wicked puzzling skills! If I couldn't figure out where a piece belonged, I'd hand it to her and within seconds she'd be popping it into place.

Our second puzzle was 3-dimensional and more difficult (I hardly helped at all). Here's the box and the final product of the Harry Potter Knight Bus:

PRESENTS

I received some fun presents this year. My husband gave me 2 purple t-shirts with phrases about reading, a book about C.S. Lewis's brother Warnie, and gift cards to my favorite fast-food restaurants. Bryce and Elizabeth gave me a wedding memento mouse pad, and a beautiful framed family photo (plus some chocolate - yum). Sean gave me a Harry Potter puzzle, so I see more puzzling on the horizon, but maybe not until spring break. Claire gave me a Harry Potter Monopoly game, which we played one day during the break (Sean won, but we all had fun, I think).

PARTIES

After Christmas, I went to a birthday party at a tea shop about a half hour away. They offer a British high tea and other such options. How thrilling to get a scone with clotted cream. We all wore tiaras, which was fun!

PROJECTS

I have gone back and forth about a project for the year. It feels empty, not picking up the prayer project I tackled two years in a row. I decided against printing out the whole Bible. My wrists can barely manage my morning pages (daily free association writing/journaling I do after my devotions each morning). Perhaps I could type a Psalm a day. That idea falls flat for me, too. 

Another goal is to spend time in fasting and prayer for my sons. I am starting slow, with liquid fasting (allowing only liquids). Then, I plan to build into more complete food fasting, until I'm fasting one day a week for the whole day. Again, I'm not sure I have the discipline and fortitude to see it through, but I hold the goal, nonetheless. Nothing is more important than lifting my children to the Lord.

I guess my primary goal is to purge excess junk throughout the year. I started off the first 3 days well and then fell off the wagon, forgetting to find 10 to 20 items to purge. On day 6, I managed my goal, only because I purged items as I put away the Christmas decorations. This is why a plan with structure is so important. I am trying to note how many items each day, so perhaps that will help me maintain the momentum.

How about you? Favorite presents? Puzzle exploits? Writing accomplishments? Goals or projects for 2025? I'd love to hear them. It might jumpstart my discipline and commitment.

Book Review: Catching Foxes - Highly Recommend

Several months back, I mentioned my desire to send my son and future daughter-in-law a pre-marital discussion guide. The one I wanted to send, written by Gary Thomas, was called Nine Essential Conversations Before You Say I Do. At the time, they were not seeking pre-marital counseling, but my husband urged me not to send the book. He argued they were both very busy and would not have the time to read the book. Moreover, I think he didn't want me inserting myself into the process. Fair!

Thanks to certain changes in their lives, they sought pre-marital counseling from a mentor couple in their church, the Eastside Community Church. I asked what book they were using and then went online to see if I could access it through my library. The book they worked through is called Catching Foxes: A Gospel-Guided Journey to Marriage by John Henderson. Now, I'm wondering if God intended the book as much for me as it was for their journey. I listened to this book during my treadmill time and completed it the day prior to our (my and John's) 34th wedding anniversary.

Amid a chaotic and stressful week with our prodigal, I requested prayer from my Facebook friends. Things did not go well. They played out the opposite of how I believed God willed. Mistakes were made, and I was angry that my opinions were ignored. I allowed resentment and bitterness to take hold of my heart and soul. It doesn't surprise me that God used this book, Catching Foxes, to draw me back and reveal the pride, arrogance, and sin within my own heart.

I was right in the sections on marital roles/responsibilities and resolving conflict. How timely! God used this book to open my eyes to my lack of trust in Christ. I went in thinking I knew exactly what should happen. When that didn't happen (and I felt part of this was due to the behavior/decisions of my husband), I justified my anger because if things had gone my way, it would have fallen out in God's will. This was believing somehow that my will was God's will. This was placing my trust (and then disappointment and discouragement) in my husband's ability to do what I felt he should in the situation. I had my trust centered in the wrong place. I asserted my will for my own desires, not in submission to what God allowed to play out.

Of course, I sometimes need a 2x4 upside the head. So, in my devotions, I came upon a passage in Matthew 12:25 - "a household divided against itself will not stand." In my personal Bible reading, I came to Psalm 112: 7 - "He shall not be afraid of evil tidings, his heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord." Then, not even knowing the dynamics of my situation, my good friend, Anne, wrote to me:

"Our devotions lately have become so meaningful as we have been reminded of God's faithfulness, His work in us, and His weaving of our life story for His glory. I am not so good at the trusting part of this, but so often want to do things my way, and then pray for God to affirm the choices/decisions that ultimately I am making instead of relying on Him to meet all of my needs! (Ha! What an eye opener it is when I realize that I'm basically saying, 'I'll take the wheel on this one!')"

The Gary Thomas book I wanted to send is very good and practical. Catching Foxes is very gospel-focused. Indeed, the Nine Conversations book helps a couple think about how to prepare their relationship for marriage. Catching Foxes goes deeper and helps a couple recognize attitudes and positions in Christ necessary for the arduous task of staying married. Getting married is simple! Can be fun! Staying married depends upon a reliance on Christ and a dedication to live for His kingdom. It demands a self-sacrificing focus that fixes its gaze on Christ instead of self or spouse. I highly recommend this pre-marital workbook, not only for young couples starting out, but for us older folk, who just might need a brush-up course on surrendering one's will and one's marriage to the Lord.

Book Review: Hooked

It has been a year since I've worked on a writing project. This activity that informed my identity for so long is now inaccessible. Despite distance and therapy, the trauma of finding my son mid-opioid overdose last June and the ongoing struggles we face with him have sucked my writing dry. I've made a few attempts, but the motivation and spark have vanished. The only image I can use to illustrate where I'm at is a PBS documentary I once watched called Victorian Slum House. In it, modern day families shed their current conveniences and schedules to live in a mock Victorian community. This is the level of hardship I face when I contemplate working on a piece of writing or a new project. It is like asking me to leave behind all the amenities I'm used to for a hard-scrabble lifestyle. Writing is just too arduous!

The other day, I thought, "Well, if I cannot rouse myself to work on something new, maybe I should polish something old." So, I brought up the middle grade novel which holds the most promise. Formatting it into the proper manuscript form for submission might be a worthy project. I hoped to rekindle the dying embers of my writing passion, submerged from trauma and tension. Alas, this depressed me all the more.

My old writer's group helped polish the first paragraph several years ago. I had offered three different opening paragraphs and welcomed their insights and votes. Yet, when I opened the file now, I realized even the best of those three attempts was pure rubbish! Garbage! I set the paragraph aside as if it might explode in my hands if held too long.

Instead, I picked up a book on my personal shelf called Hooked: Write Fiction That Grabs Readers at Page One and Never Lets Them Go, by Les Edgerton. The book made my task feel even more daunting. It focuses on inciting incidents, initial surface problems, and story worthy problems. It encourages you to consider anew where your story should begin. The book provides so many excellent examples. Indeed, when Edgerton dissected the story elements and beginning finesse in a few movies, I sought those movies and watched with a writer's eye. Now, I had more aspects to digest. My opening was truly boring; it needed a complete overhaul. 

Somehow I wrote an opening that is better. I may still work it up more, but it is sound enough to escape the excuse against starting the manuscript re-write. Before I begin, however, I may seek even more instruction. I plan to re-read another one on my shelf, The First Five Pages. If I'm going to get back into writing by the back door of editing old manuscripts, I might as well make the first five pages count. Besides, my mojo for reading hasn't failed me like the writing energy has!

Watching my Youngest Soar

Sean is now considered a senior in high school. How can my youngest be at that point? Where did the time go? The upcoming year will be full and challenging, but he has ended his junior year on a good note, receiving straight A's in both terms, even for the AP level classes (AP exam results don't arrive until July). He's whip smart and has a weighted cumulative GPA of 4.101 out of 4.

Bryce and Elizabeth needed to attend a wedding in Austin, Texas, over Memorial Day weekend. They invited Sean to join them there, so they could show him the University of Texas. My nerves were a mess (he's never flown alone before and my brain always goes to things that could go wrong), but I wanted him to enjoy the opportunity. Thus, we secured non-stop flights on 2 different airlines (Southwest on the way to Austin and American on the way back to Indianapolis). As I dropped him off, I verbally attempted to walk him through the process of getting to his gate and onto the plane. 

Somehow, I neglected to emphasize how important it is to get to the gate ASAP. Twenty minutes before boarding time, I received a text saying he had gotten a bite of lunch and was approaching long lines in the security area. He shaved a full year off my life - ha! Thankfully, despite this laid-back approach, he arrived at his gate with ten minutes to spare. He said several things made the first flight horrible. A woman with a husband and 2 kids approached and demanded that he move from his aisle seat to the middle, so her 10-year-old son could sit in the aisle seat in front of the row she selected for herself, her husband, and the other child. Not wanting to create a scene, he complied and wedged himself (the biggest of the 3 passengers in that row) into the middle seat and rode uncomfortably the whole 2-hour trip. With his phone on airplane mode, he was bored and also said the pilot's flying was erratic. Once he landed in Austin, he had to wait 3-1/2 hours in the airport until Bryce and Elizabeth could pick him up (they couldn't leave Dallas until after work).

They were having a wonderful weekend (lots of delicious meals out, a lengthy walk around the University of Texas campus, and a break from the oppressive heat in an outing to Barton Springs). Then, the weather forecast sent me into a tizzy. With severe storms expected in Indy on Sunday (Indy 500 race day), I worried they might cancel his flight, stranding him alone in Austin (with Bryce and Elizabeth already returning to Dallas). The next available non-stop flight didn't depart until 6 p.m. on Monday. At 17, would he be able to check into an airport hotel on his own? Would the airline pay for the overnight accommodation? Would he be able to get himself to the lodging and back to the airport? 

All those concerns were for naught. The flight remained in "on-time" status. He arrived well in advance and boarded at the appointed time. This flight was more comfortable. He made a friend in the young 30-something man seated next to him, who helped him get a movie on his phone through the free in-flight Wi-Fi. 

I was a bit chuffed because they no longer allow you to sit and wait for your arriving passenger on the arrivals deck. Instead, they force you to continue circling the airport until you see your passenger standing there. I could understand that, if there was a bottleneck of traffic, but it was ridiculous because the entire arrivals deck was empty, with maybe 5 cars picking someone up. Not only a hassle, but unsettling for an unaccompanied minor, unsure if he's even waiting in the right place. Of course, Sean said it was fine. I shouldn't worry, yet I do.

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In looking up the meaning of "chuffed" to see if I was using it correctly, I discovered that the British use of this word and the American use are diametrically opposed. I use it in the American sense of greatly displeased or irritated.

Pressing Prayers Follow-up

The need for prayer continues, but here's a brief follow-up to my recent pressing prayers:

My parents - My dad's quadruple bypass heart surgery on February 22nd went well. He had three 99% blockages and one 70% blockage. His continued vitality is a gift to our whole family. My sister went to stay with my mother during the week of his hospitalization. Thankfully, some gracious church members came over for a few hours each day, allowing Dawn to visit my dad in the hospital. He assumed he would be in the hospital for a week and then return fully capable of providing my mother's care.

As Dawn's departure date approached, we realized he could not manage this on his own while recovering from open heart surgery. Thus, I scrambled to schedule a last-minute flight (the most expensive kind, sadly) and I went to provide their care for the second week after his surgery. As Dawn was preparing to leave, she was greatly distressed to learn that their assisted living facility requires a post-surgery stint in a rehabilitation facility. I was extremely grateful for this development. 

He was transported to a rehab facility that is aligned with their community and is only 1/10th of a mile away. Thus, two days after I arrived, I walked my mother over (in her power wheelchair) to his facility, picked him up and walked them back to their apartment, pushing him in a wheelchair (forming a hilarious wheelchair parade) while carefully avoiding ruts in the sidewalk. He had hoped to pay his March rent while home, but the bill had not yet arrived. So, he ended up coming to visit 2 more times before finally returning home for good on the day of my departure.

Given the stress and strain of caring for my Alzheimer's-afflicted mother, I was grateful that he was receiving excellent care separate from the apartment. Believe me, I had my hands full. Plus, I now have an increased awareness and appreciation for all my father does to meet my mother's care needs. Her schedule of meds, meals, bathroom trips, and eye drops was exhausting. We survived several messy challenges and a few Alzheimer-induced episodes of agitation. Humor helped get us through. I had packed slogan t-shirts exclusively. Every few minutes, she asked to read my shirt again. 😂

While I was grateful for the time spent with my mother in their apartment, I was thrilled to return to my quiet, unharried life at home in Indiana with my boy gang. She was cooperative and thankful for my care, for the most part. She did not remember who I was (apart from a few instances when she answered that question correctly), but seemed to sense that I was someone special to her and someone she could rely on to meet her needs. A few times, she said, "You take such good care of me." Twice during the night, when coughing spells would overtake her, I was able to rub her arm and pray with her. The cough went away after both prayers. Praise God! I was also blessed by her reaction to my book. I brought one along with me and read to her the words of dedication, thanking her for her spiritual, emotional, and literary encouragement. She seemed lucid and genuinely touched. When I read her a few of the poems, she responded with appreciation. How much really got in, I don't know. But I tried to communicate that piece.

I believe my mother is at the point of needing the professional, round-the-clock care of an Alzheimer's ward. My father still seems hesitant to make that change. He doesn't want her over-medicated (although, her current meds are already at a level that I struggled with). He wants to give her the comfort of his continued presence. Yet, I think he would still be able to visit with her for a majority of the day, while knowing her more intense needs are met by nursing professionals. I also gained respect for the nurses who provide tireless care. Those who came in to bathe my mother were patient and loving, even as she fought them. 

For me, the most difficult episode came toward the end of my visit. It was already stressful enough because my ride to the airport was scheduled to arrive at 3 p.m. This hinged on my father's anticipated release at 11 (always in question, because those facilities don't often sign you out when expected) and my brother's arrival (driving from KY) at 1 p.m. Thankfully, as hoped, my dad returned around 11 and my brother arrived shortly after noon. Because of prostate issues, my dad was still using a catheter and the line had ruined his few pairs of pants. Thus, at 1:45, he suddenly remembered he wanted Mark to take him to purchase new pants and pick up one of my mother's prescriptions. Within moments, he went from sitting snuggled right next to my mother on the couch, to shuffling out the door and off to the store and pharmacy.

If you've ever encountered an Alzheimer's patient, you know that abrupt changes can trigger agitation. This was agitation on steroids. She did NOT want me there and let me know it with a barrage of vehement words. She resented my not allowing her to go with her "friend." Even though I understood that her verbal attack was simply her Alzheimer's raging, it is hard not to feel emotional in such situations. Then, she grabbed up her walker and threatened to go find her mother. I followed her at a distance and tried to text my dad to request his return. No response. She was about to enter someone else's apartment. I talked her out of that and eventually she tired enough to sit on the hallway bench. Eager to get her back into her apartment, I suggested we look for her mother in her apartment. She went in, closed the door quickly behind her, and locked me out. 

Thankfully, a nurse at the nurse's station unlocked the door and encouraged my mom to sit on the couch. I scrambled to put on her favorite musical, Meet Me in St. Louis (something that always occupies her thoroughly), and avoided any eye contact until Mark and my dad returned (at 2:50 p.m.). When I gave hasty good-byes, my mother looked up with sad eyes and said, "Oh, you have to go???" She had no memory of her intense railing against me. Such is the disease.

Although my dad sailed through the first two weeks of recovery, he is experiencing more fatigue now. His body is working full-time to repair from the invasive surgery. Thankfully, my brother was able to provide assistance for two weeks. We continue to pray for his recovery and the best possible arrangements for care for both of my parents.

Meanwhile, on the home front:

John - At my husband's doctor appointment, the hernia surgeon said it was NOT a hernia, but rather just a weak area in the abdominal wall. Of course, the bulging didn't occur while in the doctor's office. After a few weeks of further bulging and discomfort, John called again and requested further testing. With his prior hernia, 6 years ago, he didn't experience the pain he is having this time around. It continues to bulge and to cause radiating pain in his lower abdomen. He underwent an ultrasound, but that was not helpful in identifying the source of the pain either. For now, he has been told twice now, "Monitor the pain and take a photo when the bulge appears." It is frustrating to have no answers and face continued pain. He now wears a hernia belt, and that helps somewhat. We will persist in praying for God to give the doctors wisdom to ferret out the source of this issue. Our spring visit to Texas is tentatively scheduled in May. Praying we will not have to alter those flight arrangements.

Trevor - In addition to January's loss of Trevor's car, he was experiencing dissatisfaction with his fast food job. Then, in February, he lost his job. This (in addition to his insistence on repairing his beloved car) added further turmoil. We are praising God that he was able to find another job after a few weeks of looking. Now, if we could get the damaged car off our lawn (next to the driveway), it would be marvelous. He has a friend with some mechanical skills and they attempted to replace the part where the wheel bent away from the axle. If they can get that repaired and replace the tire that took the impact of the hit to the bridge, he's hoping (since the car still starts) they will be able to move it into the garage. These challenges have wrought a change in him and we suspect there may be something going on, of which we are unaware. We continue to pray for his job and car situations, and for the sense of responsibility these issues require. We also pray for parenting wisdom as he remains living in our home.

Sean - While I was gone in Florida (assisting my parents), Sean suffered a knee injury after playing basketball with friends. He has joined male volleyball at school, so instead of resting it, he was jumping on it and causing more stress and strain. We finally scheduled a doctor appointment and he was instructed to take an NSAID, stay off the leg for two weeks, and ice it twice a day for a half hour. We continue to pray for the knee to heal properly so he can participate in the rest of the games in the volleyball season. Thankfully, he has not had another episode of accidental almond ingestion.

We praise God that He remains constant and available in every crisis and challenge. May His love guide us through each trial, and may we give Him all the glory!

Learning to Hold Things Loosely

With three sons passing through the teenage driving stage, I'm not new to car accidents. We've been down this road more than our fair share, I believe. I've had three myself. I hit a tree when backing out of my professor's driveway (while driving my then best friend's car - hmm, no longer best friend 😉). Another time, I glanced at an accident while turning at an intersection and didn't expect a fire truck parked inside the intersection. Yes, I hit a fire truck (not the big kind, mind you, but still...). Finally, a large construction vehicle backed into the road. I was the fifth car back. By the time the car in front of me slammed on the brakes, it left insufficient time for me to stop and I plowed into his vehicle. He was very nice about it - my husband (we were separated at the time), not so much!

My oldest son had three car accidents. The first time, there was condensation on his windshield. He tried to scrape it off, but it remained. Sadly, he drove even though he couldn't properly see. He hit another student's car as she made her way out of the school parking lot. The second time, he misjudged his timing, assuming he had time to turn in front of an oncoming vehicle. He told me with exasperation, "Mom, she saw me and she sped up!" His third accident left us reeling. He was fine, yes, but his beloved Mustang was not.

Now, it is my middle son's turn. When he first began driving, a fox ran out into the road and hit the front of his vehicle. Next, he hit a patch of ice and slid into a stop sign (oh, wait - I've had 4!!! - I hit a patch of ice and slid into a telephone pole, yikes!), requiring a door replacement. Now, he has had his third accident. On the way home from work, on the back country roads, he skimmed the side of a concrete bridge. When we arrived, he was partway in the grass and the tire that was hit was almost perpendicular from the other. They had to change this tire's position to transport it on the tow truck.

This was his beloved convertible. I'm grateful he's alive. No limbs were broken, and the car didn't flip. Still, he is beside himself with grief and determination to fix the thing (please, Lord, don't let him pour more money into a dying vehicle!). He sees only cosmetic damage and thinks it is not a big deal to purchase a new door, etc. Yet, the body shop's initial estimate (which, we all know how those things go up) was $8K. Even if he wanted to fix it himself, he doesn't have that skill set. Plus, we don't know what damage was done to the axle and engine. Needless to say, this has been a stressful start to a new year, following an extremely stressful year.

On the bright side, God answered both prayers offered in the way we hoped. The Lord kept these precious sons safe. Thank you, Lord! Please continue to hold them tightly in Your hand.

Book Review: The Sacrificial Lamb

In September, my library ran a Fall into Reading reading challenge. I have complained before about requirements specifying WHAT to read. Pardon me, but I want to read what I want to read, not some dictated category. However, this time around, they toned it down. Many of the bingo squares allowed you to clock 60 minutes of reading (something regular for me). Some were generic, like: "Read a book with a brown or orange cover." I went back and forth on whether The Fountains of Silence had a cover that was brown/tan or more yellow-hued. I didn't count it in the end and it didn't matter because I didn't win any prizes.

The only thing holding me back from one bingo angle was a cozy mystery. I searched for a Christian cozy mystery and settled on this novella, The Sacrificial Lamb, by S. E. Biglow. Reading about supposed murders of adult characters is far easier to swallow than young characters. This book felt more morbid than "cozy" because it dealt with the murders of several young boys.

I laugh at its billing as "Christian." Taking the theme of "the sacrificial lamb" and the biblical story of Abraham and Isaac, it spun a tale of a murderer who believes God told him to sacrifice a young boy. The main character, and sleuth, is a minister. She comments that her God is only a God of love. Hmm. This reminds me of my last read, The Unsaved Christian. Isn't that what the world wants now, a God of only love and not holiness? A God of only grace and not truth. Many embrace the idea of God, as long as not complicated by Christ, the true sacrificial lamb who takes away the sin of the world. While the book provided a clean read, I still wish I could get my two hours back!

Anticlimactic Anniversary Celebration

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash

In 2020, we struggled to come up with suitable ways to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary. In the midst of a pandemic and tied to home by a prodigal, we created a list of 30 anniversary activities. That was a wash! We still haven't snagged time around the fire pit or held hands on the porch. How easy are those? In 2021, we made a brief daytrip to Indiana's largest waterfall - ha! Last year, we did the best we've done in a while. We took an overnight to a beautifully decorated and cozy cabin nearby. This year, August came and went with no festivities. When I happened upon news that Celtic Thunder would perform in Nashville, Indiana, it sounded like the perfect solution. I love Nashville, Indiana, with its quaint charm and delightful shops. Alas, the concert was anticlimactic, at best.

Last year, I discovered Celtic Thunder's You Tube videos from their PBS performance. Immediately, I fell in love with their songs, their sound, and their theatrics. The Nashville concert left me deflated and unimpressed. Thank goodness Damien McGinty performed, or it might have been a total loss. He exhibited his characteristic enthusiasm and charm. Why was the staging so bland? Not a lick of appeal, but just a plain black stage with no embellishment. Where were all the beloved songs? I had hoped for "Toora Loora Lay":

"Home from the Sea":

or "A Place in the Choir":

Instead, the only two classic hits were "Galway Girl" and "Seven Drunken Nights." Moreover, I find it offensive when secular groups sing songs glorifying drunkenness shortly after crooning "Amazing Grace." (No belief, why sing it?) Why the predominance of political Celtic content? Most Americans love Celtic music for its flavor and lilt, not its political elements. While there were a few upbeat songs, many were somber airs of death. 

They are a fantastic group and I wish them well. I merely hope they continue singing together in the caliber of former performances. For now, I'll stick with watching my You Tube favorites. Although, I may ask for a CD for Christmas so I can listen when I'm in the car. (My CD player near the treadmill has bit the dust, so I suppose I should ask for that, as well.)

Book Review: Klara and the Sun

I longed for another chance to visit the welcoming library book club I took part in last November. The December meeting was a Christmas party gathering, and I didn't feel comfortable enough in the group yet for a more intimate setting. Then, the books they selected for January through April were unappealing to me. Finally, on the May docket, I saw a Kazuo Ishiguro novel, Klara and the Sun. It looked promising because I had enjoyed Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go. I arrived to find a tiny group this time and an unfamiliar group leader. Based on this solitary return, I'm guessing the previous group dynamics have shifted.

In Klara and the Sun, we meet a highly perceptive AF (Artificial Friend). Josie picks Klara, but must convince her mother to make the purchase. The mother, to seal the deal, asks Klara to imitate Josie's walk. Since Klara gives a satisfactory imitation, Klara comes to their home to befriend and watch over Josie. Over time, we come to understand why the mother is interested in Klara's ability to mimic Josie. Lots of agendas co-exist: Klara has an agenda (secure the sun's favor to heal Josie's illness); Josie has an agenda (finagle a way to spend her life with the ordinary boy next door); the mother has an agenda (safeguard herself from future loss), the boy next door has an agenda (free himself from everyone else's expectations). Even the author has an agenda.

The title stems from Klara's belief in the sun's ability to heal Josie from illness. Klara is solar-powered. After observing a drunk, seemingly dead, rise with the morning's light, she considers the Sun a deity. She infers that by offering the Sun a favor (sabotaging a polluting machine) then the Sun will work its healing powers to save Josie's life. One book club member pointed out, it was clearly implying the Sun as God and the AF as short-sighted Christians who ridiculously believe in God's power to heal. It blatantly mocked this belief.

Of course, this rankles. Belief in God is not a foolish inference. I didn't appreciate the implication that my prayers are like the AF's ill-founded superstition that the Sun/God will intervene. Plenty of instances exist where prayer has significantly improved the lives and health of individuals. But, this is just one topic of discussion among the many this book prompted.

While it was a worthwhile reading investment, it wasn't my "favorite book of all time," as that one book club member declared from her perspective. (Methinks she, too, came at this with an agenda, as evidenced by her vehemence against Christians). Still, it was a veritable minefield of discussion topics. Our world is careening toward incorporating Artificial Intelligence. Is this good or bad? Are we headed for improvements because of their use, or will it create unanticipated problems? While Klara is a devoted robot, who is to say all robots will function in that complimentary and loyal way? What if they go rogue?

What makes a person a person? Is it something inherent in them you can never replace? Is it the love other people hold for that individual? Could we love an artificial embodiment of a lost child? Is that a healthy thing? Or is it healthier to grieve the loss as best we can and remember the happy times spent together? To what extent might I go to replace a beloved and deceased child?

Are we trying to play God? Is there ever a time when our playing God works out well? We even had a tense discussion about assisted suicide. Unhappy with God's determination of the number of our days, do we simply take matters into our own hands and cut short His intentions?

Isn't that the sin problem in a nutshell? We want to be the god of our own lives. As a believer, I cannot endorse any attempt to usurp God's role or authority. Indeed, there were many ideas conjured in this book that gave me pause. Kazuo Ishiguro is a winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature. He has earned his billing as an outstanding writer. His stories cause the reader to ruminate. If only more authors had such skill. But the hostility expressed against believers seems indicative of the coming persecution.

As I left the book club meeting, I thought my silence hid my umbrage at this woman's articulation against "religious" people. Then, I looked down and realized I was wearing a t-shirt with "United in the Gospel" emblazoned across the front. No, I'm pretty sure she knew her comments offended me. She didn't care.