Before Christmas

One of the traditions or chores I enjoyed during the Christmas season was lighting all the red wreaths we had hanging in every window in the house. This picture in our kitchen is one of them. Quietly I ventured through the house as the early evening sun began to set. I'd take a moment at the window, glance out, think a few minutes and continue with the task.
I wanted to continue this tradition in my home. My husband couldn't understand why I didn't want to make it easy with timers. I couldn't explain the wandering through the house as gentle evening prayer for peace. The twilight is mystical, opening the magic of Christmas.
I had to let this moment go when my daughter as a toddler put the whole light bulb in her mouth. And then as the years past, the cares of this time of year have removed that desire. I love to sit on the couch with a cup of tea, watching the sunset on early winter eves.
It has been said many times, this time of year, simplify, reflect. A wander through your house at evening, whether to light candles or not, can be an evening prayer.

Observing and Wondering

Advent is here, somewhat overlooked by all the uproar of pushing Christmas shopping earlier and earlier. Advent is a time to prepare our hearts for Christ's coming. A shorter season than Lent, but a period of reflection, too.
For which coming are you preparing?
Can revival break out in December? I think Advent or Christmas busyness is gearing up for Christ's first coming. The coming of the sweet little Baby in the manger. The safe Baby, who brings promise, but not action, at least in present day's view. The spirit of giving, but not the sword.
Simeon warned there would be a sword to pierce Mary's heart in Luke 2:35. Jesus is the Word made flesh(John 1). The Word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edge sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.-Hebrews 4:12.
I've been praying for revival for many, many years. I've studied different revivals. I wondered in our modern day world with nursery and children's classes during services(and I loved them when my children were young, one of many reasons I changed churches) how can this happen on any day, in any service, let alone in our program packed events during the Christmas season? How will we submit to the Holy Spirit if we know teachers and kids are waiting for services to be over? I don't even want to mention a Steelers game.
Dave Wilkerson in his blogs before he died, said this last revival will be different than any other. It may not be in our sanctuaries, but in the streets, marketplaces and homes. It will start with the "every day" Christian, maybe not the leadership.
I know this year we have been given a gift of time. It is more than a full month between Thanksgiving and Christmas. We have full weekends to get our "stuff" done. And the best of the time gift- Christmas is on a Sunday. I believe God is planning something special this year- very special.
With Sunday Schools canceled on Christmas Day and services combined to one in many churches, maybe revival can break out in churches this year. That is if we go to church on Christ's birthday and stay awake- from Mark 13: 33-37.
Revival starts in one person's heart. I get excited thinking revival could start like Dave Wilkerson said, but I anticipate it spreading like fire from our sanctuaries. I tremble from waiting for revival.
Can revival break out in December? If we stay awake, be aware of God's voice, be ready for His move of the Holy Spirit, I am praying. Can we be like Simeon and Anna in Luke 2: 25-38? Anna fasted and prayed day and night. They looked forward to the Messiah and they knew when they saw Him. Will I? Will you? Are we looking for the Messiah?
I'm still waiting for revival this year of 2012. Each year, we seem to need it more. I see so much the American Church needs to repent. Idols to be torn down. Can it happen? With God, all things are possible.

More Thanksgiving

I saw one of my mother's dear friends yesterday as I bought my fall shoes at Vince's. Olga's husband, Vince, started the store and Anita continues the business. He was another man who died too young in my opinion. Olga sits in an easy chair in the store, minding it.
I spoke before of all these women friends of my mom, who not only cooked and baked, but they decorated so wonderfully. My mother for Thanksgiving used a wax candle family of pilgrims. I'm seeing gray, but also blue, so I'm thinking there were two sets over the years. They had rounded cheeks, painted blue eyes and the mother and daughter had blond hair peaking out from under their molded hats. The father held a rifle(and my husband could tell you what kind). She never burned them, of course. They stood quietly on the dining room table with the accordion style turkey, much bigger than the family combined. I think I remember wax turkeys too, maybe at one time. The candles, though not scented, smelled sweet. As a kid, I wondered what they would taste like. Maybe there was a tooth mark or two on the little girl.
We lived at 432 Main Street and I'm not sure if this happened on Thanksgiving. I think it did, because football covered the TV and I was bored. Fortunately this year, the TV was in the middle room, only one room away from the kitchen. Mom always yelled from the kitchen, but her voice never carried the words. I looked this day, she stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Her back was on fire.
"Mollie, get your daddy," she screamed.
"Daddy, Mommy's on fire," I shouted to my dad.
Dad jumped off his chair and smothered that fire on her back. We were thankful Mom had a thick robe on that day. Dad moved the gas stove soon to the other side of the kitchen. The passage between the flames and the cupboards proved too close that day.
A pink area on Mom's back was the only battle scar of that mishap.
Another fun memory comes from Emporium when the responsible young men of today- Sarge Scott and Councilman Mike, were tweens. The two tables put together are long. The rolls didn't get passed. Some pitching became our Thanksgiving sport. Pitching of rolls. They also became bored, crawled out the dining room window, as they were too big to crawl under the table. I'm sure that has been done, the crawling under the table.
One year, I must have worked midnights in CT, because we arrived after dark. I saw my mother inside the bigger dining room window in Emporium and thought it was David's Grandma Lyon. Sometime in my absence, my mother became a little white hair old lady.
My mother-in-law always had her Thanksgiving table open to all. Different in-laws gathered at the table, as the spouses died or families move away. My mother and father met us many times in Emporium. Then as mom became a widow,and felt healthy, she was always invited and welcomed by my dear mother-in-law.
My mother-in-law is up in years, I guess I shouldn't publish her age, but she is still preparing the large meal and the whole weekend of eating for many of us. Her husband often asks her, "How many are left in your family?" He means the past, but she looks at the present, her four children, their spouses, the grandchildren, spouses and great grandchildren. I believe 44 in all. He gets frustrated as he has dementia, "No, I don't mean that." She sees the present and future and is thankful.
I wish that this Thanksgiving. I enjoy the past. I'm thankful for the many good memories, great family, few fights or drama(except for fires and the dining room window escape,) the sharing and caring at this time of year. May we all rejoice at what we have and be thankful.

California Thanksgiving

I talked broadly of 50 years of Thanksgiving. Truly, I don't remember the ones on lower Main Street, maybe my sisters could chime in here for that.
I don't want to over look the year I chose to go to California. I wanted to extend fall warm weather and see my niece in the band. Michelle was a junior that year, Katie(still Katie Beth), a precocious four year old.
I finished working full time, ready to travel the per diem route after a stressful year as a full time case manager, my first in home health. David had great health insurance, better than my job, an argument to have more time to raise my daughter.
I believe the PA weather followed me. It even rained in Palm Springs, as well as snowed in the high desert. I loved being with my sister and her family. We relaxed in the swim spa, while the sun shone on the yellow aspens and the wind howled around the house. Windy days in the desert, cold, too.
Thanksgiving Day a gourmet meal prepared by Tony Kaiser, husband of my brother-in-law's sister graced the heavy dining room table. Organic turkey, cornbread stuffing, tarragon green beans are the dishes I remember most. We ate later in the day.
The wind died down that day allowing Diane and I to walk. The legging pants, in style then, too, provided little comfort when a huge dog raced out of a yard. He licked my upper leg, OK, buttock, but fortunately no biting. I held my breath.
I feel close to God in the desert with an incomparable quiet. The mountains rise out of Joshua National Park. These mountains also prevent a lingering sunset. The sun falls below them, darkness is upon us. No twilight.
That Sunday, the first in advent, we went to the Desert Nature Preserve* in Palm Springs. A zoo for desert animals, decorated for Christmas. The lights in the desert night charmed me. I particularly liked the red pepper lights.
We celebrate with so many traditions, but the important thing is to celebrate life and all God's glory. The heavens declare His Majesty.
*Do I have that name right, Diane or Michelle?

Thanksgiving Over the Years

I wrote before about my Thanksgiving in sixth grade at the hospital. Another Thanksgiving at the same hospital was in 2000 with my mother. The transitional care unit at Shenango Valley Medical Center, aka Farrell, on the third floor became the place for our dinner. David and the girls traveled three hours to his parents where the Lyon gang gathers for the long weekend. I felt such a peace at that dinner. I wore a new gray suit with a pink long sleeve shirt, feeling fashionable with my pearls. That year, I felt would be my mother's last on this earth, so the urge overpowered me to be with her. Besides, I couldn't leave her alone on Thanksgiving Day in a hospital. Proved she had seven more Thanksgivings and some made my brother mad, as she went with friends to the Salvation Army, because we were obligated to be with the in-laws.
Thanksgiving as a kid most times was a big affair at our home. We had Grandma Evans and our own family. Diane attending Sterling College in Kansas prevented her from coming home for Thanksgiving, but Christmas break provided more time to travel.
Different years we went to New Jersey. This picture of Debbie was from one of those years. Pennsylvania, or at least rural PA, schools are closed the first day of buck season, so conveniently the Monday after Thanksgiving. The trip made longer for us to get away. City schools did not have the "Buck" holiday. Even in nursing school I lost that day. That was very strange the first year.
I remember learning about the Pilgrims, desiring to have some semblance of their holiday, like the games.
The year Dan came home in this picture, I believe I was in fourth grade, a snow storm delayed his arrival. I have another picture, but it isn't one of the slides of my grandmother and I forlorn that our Danny-boy wasn't there. We anticipated his joining us for the big meal. He did make it later. I believe this was his leave before he shipped off to Guam for over a year.
When we had the home Thanksgivings, Dad usually had a roaring fire in the fireplace. Football on the TV. Relaxing after the glorious meal and deserts my mom made.
One year, my mom came home on a Thanksgiving Day from St. Elizabeth's after her I 131 treatments for thyroid cancer and the fiasco of finding she had a tumor on her spine and surgery to relieve the pressure and an infected wound. My cat was given away and my dog went to New Jersey with Thom and Gerri. Mom had a urinary catheter. We were thankful she was alive, even though she couldn't walk and wouldn't for over a year.
The last Thanksgiving at my home, I had gotten over my morning sickness, which as anyone who has been pregnant knows isn't always relegated to morning. David and I walked into that dining room, as Dad put that turkey on the table. Nothing ever smelled so good in my life. I got my appetite back that day. I wore my Ceil blue scrubs because I worked that afternoon in CCU. I was thankful for a healthy baby and wonderful food.
The next year was my dad's last, but we didn't know that. David, baby Katie Beth and I joined the Lyon family in Emporium. Mom and Dad spent it with Dan, Jody and Megan in their new home. This year, Jody was pregnant.
Many years when David and I lived in Connecticut, my parents fit in with the confusion in Emporium when the parents of the third generation now were babies and small children. An ice storm one year cut off the electricity, the turkey finished on the gas grill. My mother described the trees as a fairy land with the ice on the branches.
Thanksgiving over the years. Definitely good food and too much. Some times at restaurants away from home, and no leftovers. Sometimes sad, sometimes glad. But I hope always with a grateful heart for all our Lord has done for me. If He did nothing else, I'm thankful He died for me to give me everlasting life with Him. Yet, Jesus offers so much more. He gives us life and more abundantly.

So Much to Write

This week of on-call has been challenging and I feel often I do not step up to the challenge and pass the test. I get discouraged easily and bogged down by the charting. I worry too much and don't give it up to the Lord. I miss my family and then am upset because the housework bothers me much more that it is not getting done, than if I were here not doing it. Just think about that.
My youngest daughter is cleaning her room, now. What is up with that? I'm blessed.
My oldest daughter hitched a ride with her father to go to his parents to help her grandmother prepare for Thanksgiving. I am glad I don't have to wrap myself around a holiday dinner with the long work weekend I had. I'm used to driving, so 150 miles several times this week as we try to see family is more what I can do. Darn the Hornets for being such a great team this year. There is a play-off game on Saturday at Edinboro University, but it is in the afternoon, so maybe a quick trip back to Emporium Sat. for Sunday family, church and dinner. Can't get enough of those real mashed potatoes!
My friends have been encouraging me. I know I need to walk, just look under the dining room table, the dog has dragged a million things under it in his boredom.
I feel so tied to that phone for the week. It may never ring, but always seems to ring at the wrong time, like last night at the Light Parade, just when the sirens closed in on us. The risk keeps me prisoner.
But it is almost over. I read a great encouragement for the National Novel Writing Month. I can still write. And even if I don't finish it in nine days, I have a fantastic start on a novel. I have been mulling over many ideas as to where I want to go with it or where it will go.
Tomorrow is another Kinsman day. I wanted to blog about Kinsman on Wednesday, but alas, no time. My spirit soars in Kinsman and the surrounding flat farm land. I've had dreams of Kinsman since I was a little girl. The favorite house we looked at 24 years ago is there, and it graces my dreams sometimes.
One more day to go on call, because I switched with another nurse for Thursday. Mary Ellen performed in County Chorus, at one of the farthest schools in Mercer County from here. I thought of great stories to write about Lakeview, Sandy Lake. So stay tuned. Have so much to write!

Is It the Right Challenge?

I'm kind of feeling burned out at the present. I know it is only November 14. I had high hopes of writing 9000 words over the weekend to get caught up, at least. I wrote about 4000. I go on call for a week today, which can wreck havoc with my life. The dread of this week lays heavy on all of us nurses. What will it bring?
I miss the regular blogging. It took me a half hour with proofreading; I accomplished something. I miss feeling like I'm connecting quickly with people.
Today, I doubted I picked the right novel to write for this crazy writing month. Is it really a novel? Does it have enough meat? Where am I going with the slight twist on the prodigal daughter? Should I have started a period piece? Or just write something without much research, so it would flow better? Does it matter as long as I meet my word count?
The busyness of life, especially this time of year, jumped on me. My daughter is in everything and it seems we are scurrying in the car. The sunset at five PM, and dreariness on a cloudy day, lends an urgency to me that I haven't accomplished anything. I look and it is only five-thirty.
I breathe. Slowly in and out. I am tired. I tell myself God is in control. If I can't finish NaNoWriMo this year, there is next. I challenge myself, but maybe this isn't the right challenge at this time. I will make it as a writer. I will get my platform. Writing magazine articles is my next challenge after this month. I want to trust in God's timing. I am learning.
I think though, I can go to 1918 and learn with Christina patience with a young niece that hasn't even learned yet how to brush her hair. Learn with Christina, love in service to Jesus and her family. Learn to love the prodigal sister and put up with town gossip.
I will continue with the challenge. Thank you for listening.

Welcome Home, Scott

My post from November 11, 2011 honoring the veterans in my family:
Last evening we had the excitement of welcoming home my nephew from his year of Army service in Iraq. His daughter made a gold with black lettering poster for him- they are Steelers fans. A group of twelve stood in the baggage claim area of American Airlines to surprise the veteran. Soon we saw the tall head in the crowd striding down the hall. He noticed us with a faint smile.
A couple of the men who served under him waved good-bye to "Sarge" David commented, "Sarge means like you were born a sarge, not someone you held in your arms as a baby." His way of saying he is proud of his nephew. We are proud of Scott.
Today is Veteran's Day and as always there is the controversy of the "war" verses supporting our troops. I grew up with the Vietnam War and my husband served in the Cold War, speaking of unpopular wars.
I am proud of our country now honoring our Veterans. They clap at parades when the men and women who have served march by the crowd. Bumper stickers, signs and postings on Facebook about the sacrifices made not only by the service people, and their families raise awareness.
They fight and have always fought not only for our freedoms, but the bigger Freedom. It is a desire inbred in Americans to support freedom. We are blessed to experience it here in America. The founding of our country is unique, that no other country in the world up to that time in the 1700's had ever tried it. Yes, some of it is flawed, but we need to catch hold of the vision that ideas, religion, class structure were not to be forced on a people. Individual advancement would be in the people's hands.
Most could not even explain this. I can't really, but our country stands for Freedom of all. It is for that our soldiers and sailors fight.
Some times the enemy is very real. England in our early years, Germany and Japan in wars past. I just talked to a WWII veteran and he was proud to have killed a "Jap." Communism and now terrorism don't have a nation per say behind these strangling ideas. They limit freedom. The devil does not like freedom and we are always in a battle for people to chose.
I want to thank my relatives who believed in Freedom over the years by fighting and serving their country for the greater good:
Gerald T. Lewis-North Africa, Italy
Lyle O. Lyon, New Guinea and the Philippines
Their brothers, David Lewis,France, Clark Lyon,instructor, Leon Lyon, England. All in World War II
My mother's brothers, Bill Evans, 27 years in the Army, three wars, Ed Evans, Korean Conflict.
My brother, Dan Lewis-Vietnam,and willing to go to Iraq when he was in his fifties, but health prevented him- the War on Terrorism.
My husband, David Lyon- leaving his family for months at a time during the Cold War, on a submarine.
My brothers-in-law, Herman Galicia, Paul Lyon. Vietnam and beyond in active duty, reserves or Guard.
My nephew, Scott Lyon- Kosovo, Kuiate, Iraq
Sorry if I got anything wrong.
Thank you to all who love what our country offers enough to fight for others to have it. Thank you.

Crooked Coronaries and Butterfly Ballots

The CCU had moved to another part of the second floor. It also was remodeled. But one of my former coworkers informed me it was still the same. There were no new nurses working there and I trusted these girls. My mother had a right sided heart attack, which is not as major as left sided. She appeared stable as she directed me to her Efferdent in her apartment and other toiletries. The plan was in two days she would be transported to Presby Hospital in Pittsburgh for stent placement.
I opened the apartment door to wintergreen's overpowering odor. In the bathroom, I glimpsed the half full bottle of Tums. Imagining the agony she suffered all night, I sighed, "Oh, Mom."
A quick trip back to the hospital with her belongings. Kissed her good night. Home to my anxious waiting family, wanting news about their grandma. I told them cheerfully how lucky Grandma was and that they would see her soon, maybe Sunday.
Visiting hours for CCU were at ten am to ten thirty and I was there on the dot. I knew the girls would probably allow me more time if the unit was quiet, but didn't want to chance it. As the visit started, one of the nurses told us that it sounded like Mom had congestive heart failure and she was being life flighted to Pittsburgh. Mom thought it was great she would be in a helicopter, wondering if she would see her apartment building. Up to that point, the exciting news of the day, was there was no news on the election. The count for the presidential race was too close.
Dan, soon, at the hospital decided we should leave quickly so we would be there when the helicopter arrived. The nurses rushed around to pack Mom's belongings, make chart copies and other necessary arrangements.
Dan had his own business then, driving a red van with utility ladders on the roof. When we arrived at Cardiac Hill between Children's and Presby, he worried that the ladders should have come off. We weren't expecting the Pittsburgh trip for another two days. They were able to park the van and we entered the hospital, following signs to the cardiac suite. At the desk in a huge waiting room, we informed them we were there for Mary Jean Lewis. She hadn't arrived yet. We made better time than the helicopter, listening to the non election results on talk radio.
Settling into chairs facing the television, our wait began.
Soon Mom arrived, telling everyone that people die near their birthdays. One doctor asked her if she thought she was going to die. "No," she replied, "just people do, I've been reading in the paper. My birthday is next month." We kissed her, letting her know we would be waiting through the procedure.
"Who's watching the girls?" she always worried about me leaving them alone. Like I ever did when they were that young.
"David, of course," I replied. Then she worried about Dan and I missing work. I'm thinking please! you're under going a heart procedure and you think we wouldn't be here?
Dan and I sat and sat, watching the whole story in several different venues about hanging chads, confusing butterfly ballots, and everyone remarking on this history making event. The hour procedure stretched on and on to two, then three. Surreal,the word played around in my mind. At the three hour mark, Dan growled, "This shouldn't be taking so long."
Finally at four hours, the cardiologist came out to tell us Mom's arteries were extremely crooked accounting for the length of the procedure. They put two stents in.
We found out that the reason they thought she was in congested heart failure is she had scar tissue in her lungs making the crackly sound of CHF.
That was the fun two days of crooked coronary arteries and no decision on the 2000 presidential election.

November 7, 2000

Fortunately I was on my last call at Bentley House for work that day. I planned on picking up my mother, voting and going to a local church for pancakes. This was THE election- Bush and Gore, hanging chads, but we didn't know that then. I always vote.
The room reflected the gloomy day. My phone rang and since this lady, didn't have a clue if I answered my phone, I checked. It was the office. I clicked to say, "Hello"
"Mollie, you better call your mother, she sounds sick."
I looked at the lady and immediately pushed speed dial to Mom. A weak voice answered. "Mom, what's wrong. They said you called David twice, but only wanted to talk to me. He called the office to call me."
"Oh, I'm really sick, my left arm hurts, I've been rubbing Ben-Gay on it all night and I really have heartburn, but Tums aren't working," her voice sounded drifty.
"Mom, you got to call 911, you're having a heart attack!"
"Oh, really? You think so? Can't you just come and take me to the hospital?"
"NO! Call 911."
"They don't want us to do that here."
"Call the manager and get an ambulance. I'll meet you at the hospital."
The lady still just sat there in her haze, undaunted by my calm panic, "Good-bye" I told her and she did acknowledge that.
I quickly voted- patriot, first. Made several phone calls in the car- sh, don't tell anyone.
David stayed with home for when the girls came home from school.
Dan met me at Farrell hospital and we waited in the ER waiting room, the election on TV with early noon results- OK, I exaggerate. I think actually Oprah was on.
Just as they were calling us back to see Mom, Pastor Mike from my church had shown up. I only called for prayer, as Mom had her own church. We walked back to the room and I immediately went into CCU mode, checking her IV's, monitor, and anything else that would give me a clue what had happened. Pastor Mike talked for a short time, then asked if he could pray. Again, I am pleasantly pleased. We hold hands around Mom on the gurney. I sense peace.
(To Be Continued)

Good-bye Sun

I'm so glad as we say good-bye to the sun, it shone so gloriously today. Gloom is creeping around and I'm fighting hard to keep it at bay. I read today you should put on more lights around 5 pm- yes, when the sun is going down,now and that counteracts the early darkness. If it weren't a Sunday, I could go to the mall for bright lights. Because, I'm such a mall person.
I sat outside to watch the sunset and thought it really is only one month, then with the winter solstice, the days get longer and colder. Doesn't seem right?
But I am thankful for the sunshine that we had and hope we have some more. Just a quick post and on to writing my NaNoWriMo. I keep letting myself write and after awhile, I noticed it is freeing. I can fix a lot later. So, here's to my readers. I haven't forgotten you and I ask you don't forget me.

Save the Music

I love driving to New Wilmington, PA and today was an exceptional trip. The sun in the bright blue sky with wispy clouds. The hill before you reach PA state 208 to turn left to the town is Amish country to me with corn stalks in their triangular shaped formation and the Amish man tilling his garden with a team of draft horses pulling his tiller. Cool outside, but warm in the car makes for a pleasant drive.
Driving through town with businesses closed, new ones opened and some are name changes. Houses for sale make me think of my mother who always wanted to live in this or any college town. Trees are mostly bare with a few sporting leaves with less than vibrant colors of orange, red and dull yellow/gold. The peak has been over, but oh, that glorious sun.
We reach Westminster College where Jameson nursing students took classes. We were the "nurses with the purses" because at that time it was unusual for students to carry much with them- no lap tops 32 years ago.
The stage where my class graduated almost 30 years ago with our all white uniforms, stockings and spanking white shoes, caps with a solid stripe across the top now, not the side anymore. I wore it three times after graduation. The men wore all white suits with the white shoes, no caps.
Today, the stage is filled with multicolored robes from 22 different schools in western PA. High school students in red, kelly green, purple, gold, powder, dark and royal blue, black robes with red or orange shoals cross the platform. The voices blend harmoniously for just joining together only a few days ago. Honors Chorus is a "disciplined endeavor" states the director from the University of Delaware.
This music moved me today. I think music saves lives for some of these kids, a purpose in singing. Such talent and to think in some districts this is the first to go. Where would this talent have a chance to make beautiful music together?
The last song written by Moses Hogan, "I'm Gonna Sing 'til the Spirit Moves in My Heart" left tears in my eyes, not just because of the words, but the purity of the voices of young people. I could hardly sing the National Anthem with the audience and choir because I'm full of emotion after the performance.
I take a different route home and overlook a valley of the Shenango River. The sun has not given up and I think this has been a wonderful afternoon. Save the music to enrich and save lives.

Just a Blip

I've been thinking of this passage from a story I wrote a few years ago and felt like sharing it in this fall season:
Standing at the kitchen window, Martha noticed the the leaves turning colors, they were almost at their peak. "Hattie,you ever notice, if you stand in a grove of yellow leaves, you feel enveloped in gold? It shines, even if it's rainy or cloudy. Do you remember that from being a kid?" Martha glanced sideways from the window, her eyes not wanting to leave the scene.
"Yes, ma'am, but it is so much better when the sun is shining like today," Hattie replied.
"Well, I want to be in that gold all the time. I want that glowing, something that you feel from the inside."
"Ma'am, I'm not sure how you get that. I just go by every day."
"Oh, Hattie, I know. I feel like that,too. But my mother and now Tillie seem to have that gold. Do you think it's religion? I can't seem to understand the Bible..."
She continues later:
"It is sad, that all this beauty lasts for a short time and we know it signals death. I guess to have that gold, you have to die, eh?"
Writing for NaNoWriMo whet my appetite for fiction writing again. I'm up to 3474 words, a little ahead of schedule. I'm happy since I almost didn't want to write last evening after a full day. I wish I could write and walk at the same time. Yesterday proved to be a beautiful day for a walk. Many ideas grow on those walks.

I Started!

The goal- 1667 words. I wrote 2064. At this rate, I'll finish Thanksgiving Day. I even wrote some it with the BBC program on J.M. Barry called The Lost Boysplaying on the DVD. I have always loved Peter Pan. I really didn't want to grow up, thinking I could fly away at twelve- seemed a good age to do so.
I'm also interested in stories about writers. I must say this program was probably closer to the truth than Finding Neverland Johnny Depp was much more handsome and whimsical than Ian Holme. The Johnny Depp movie also made it more of a love story, with Mary, Mr. Barrie's wife, much less sympathetic. The BBC one also included Mr. Davies more as well. I guess to show up the friendship of the Davies and Jim Barrie.
I gleamed this as I half watched and wrote. So glad, no editing now or I may scream and run from the whole novel writing adventure. I have written a story before, but I think the word count was about 17,000. This is to be 50,000.
Well, I must also sleep. I am excited to experience a write-in. The closest one is in Austintown, OH at a Panera Bread. I like that one, it has a fireplace. The whole NaNoWriMo promises much adventure. Something to shake up an otherwise drab month, but not today. The sun was bright, although mostly ruddy brown leaves and low 60's. Harrison enjoyed his walk, as did I.

Can't Give It Up

One last post before the craziness begins. I didn't get up as early as I had hoped. Soon after one o'clock this morning, I found a cat on my legs, he probed open my bedroom door. We're one of the few people left with a water bed and this cat loves to play with the water after he has poked holes in the mattress. So, as comfortable as we felt, I knew he had to go.
Sleep disturbed, I didn't feel like leaving the bed at 445am. Curled up until 5. Then, lingered over devotions, journaling and the Internet. I am back to work today after an 10 day vacation. Who decided five days and the weekends were enough? Even with the Monday off, a big plus, I believe two weeks is the way to go for total rest.
Katie wrote until 215am. She has afternoon classes today. She met her quota of 1667 words. I'm proud of her. I'll start this evening.
I had to communicate with you, readers, one more time. I am anxious about the staying power of writing, which is one purpose of NaNoWriMo. Still undecided which story to start. Ah, the hardest part.
Reading Cec Murphy's blog today about purple prose- too much description, too many words. Always a method to this writing. But with this month's endeavor, more words the better? To reach the goal every day. I'll find out. And hopefully let you know along the way.