Teddy's Law Tuesday

Repost:
  Speak words of life into every situation...Remind others to do so, as well. When you are out, shopping, eating at restaurants, at school or church presentations, be bold and speak an encouraging word, even if the adults belittling the child are annoyed with you. Do it anyways. We must be aware and help where we can.
Later today after I first posted, I went to our prayer meeting. Three requests for families that are using verbal abuse toward children, young and grown formed a topic that I felt today is always on God's heart. "Suffer the little children unto Me," Jesus said. Call it what you want, I am always amazed when a cause pops up all over the place.
Be careful little tongue what you say. Speak life.

Blessing

Mary Johnston, Martha Hoffman, Jane Thompson, helping in the kitchen on Main Street.

One of the traditions or chores I enjoyed during the Christmas season was lighting all the red wreaths Dad hung 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 mystical twilight opens 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 passed, 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.

Lamp post at Buhl Farm

Lights at Tara, A Country Inn, Clarksville, PA

Winter sunset at Lake Julia, Buhl Farm Park

Wordless Wednesday

WPIC, since 1938. Sharon, actually Hermitage, PA

Teddy's Law Tuesday

Last week on Tuesday we celebrated Veteran's Day and I re-posted my tribute to men in my family who served or are serving in the military.
If you know military families, send up more prayers for the parent who stays home. The stress of caring for home and family could lead to child abuse. The majority of the families are fine, I'm sure. Still, they all need our prayers. That is my focus this week.
I'm not an expert on this, but I did witness some when I was a Navy wife, thirty years ago. In my building, the neighboring apartment's bedroom met ours. I worked midnights, so I was sleeping. The baby next door kept crying and I heard the mother scream at her child. A pit opened up in my gut, swallowing my heart, but I didn't know what to do at twenty four. I laid on my king sized water bed, processing it. She didn't hit the baby that I could hear and eventually I fell back to sleep.
The mother, a somewhat mousey young woman, didn't say much in the halls. New England lent to a stand-off atmosphere, so, I left her alone. Looking at it now, I wish I had offered to help sometime. I imagined she knew I had heard her lose her temper and was embarrassed by it. She didn't live there very long.
Reach out as you can. Offer some free time. And pray for all families, but especially the military ones who are far from their own families and support.

Wonder of Childhood

From the files 12/2/11:
Baltimore Emma and I started this conversation on Sunday in the upstairs front bedroom of my in-laws' home. Children can see things few adults can. The world of magic, the "other" world. I have been thinking of many examples of this. Jesus said, "You must be like a little child..."
It is very easy to believe when one's a child. And I do think they are closer to the Truth than the adults hurrying and weighed down with cares of this world. The first snow fills a child with wonder, but as an adult, we think of the dangers and discomfort.
Christmas excitement overflows in a child's mind and body. How do they ever fall asleep on Christmas Eve? I can still hear the reindeer hooves on the house top from when I was six. If my brother and his friend Billy wanted me to go to bed, that was the wrong thing to say for me to sleep on Christmas Eve. I think I did go upstairs, but sleep eluded me.
J.M. Barrie had the idea that twelve was when childhood ended, but he lived his childhood other world called Neverland, sharing it with us. Children even then, grew up much too fast.
I know there is world close by that is not what we see. It is often in the Bible. In 2 Kings 6:16 and 17, Elisha prayed that his servant's eyes would be opened to see the heavenly hosts. We may entertain angels unawares.
I pray that we keep that childhood wonder and that like Elisha's servant, our eyes may be opened to the glory of God.

November

Repost from last year:
I see a figure in black, jacket with hood up and pants walking a black larger dog from the top of my hill. The brown and dull gold with black pine of the park looms ahead of the figure. The gray sky with threat of rain envelopes the day. The scene is solitary, yet it is not. He has his dog and a walk to clear the mind.
I think I despise November, despite what I wrote the other day. The anemic sunlight disappears too soon in the evening. Black at six, causing a hunkering down feeling for a too soon night. Yet, it is a creative time of year, as death with black bare branches and dull lifeless leaves against a gray gloomy sky cause a digging down to the words of the soul.
I know why the first snow in November causes a delight. White covers the dull.  A heavy snow refreshes a dying landscape, covering the signs of death. White brightens the day. The snow can stay too long, but the first one, I don't think of that, only a change.
The days will get longer again. November only brings a haunting of good bye. I am grateful, though, for the rest, the creativity of this time of year.

Veteran's Day

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, but 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, and 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:

Dan Lewis, graduation at Parris Island, SC

Gerald T. Lewis, homecoming- which is what we all want for our soldiers

Gerald T. Lewis-North Africa, Italy

Sorry this is sideways, borrowing it from another page and can't get it to rotate. My father-in-law

Lyle O. Lyon, New Guinea and the Philippines
Their brothers, David Lewis,France, Clark Lyon,instructor, Leon Lyon, England. All in World War II

Bill Evans

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 later years, in active duty, reserves or Guard.

Paul and Scott Lyon

My nephew, Scott Lyon- Kosovo, Kuiate, Iraq
My nephews-in-law, still active duty, with several tours.
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.

One Foot in Front of the Other with Joy

Last Free Exit stumbles around the plot and people show up, like in life, I suppose. I seem to be taking so much time getting into the story; at over eighty three thousand words, I'm still writing. Doubt hung around the doorstep. Frustration at my physical and time limitations caused me to grumble. Oh, if I had more time. Make time I screamed at myself. I need to do chores. I need to run errands. I need to market Summer Triangle and Main Street. No, Mollie, you need to write. Well, I wrote for the blog.
I kept pretty steady with LFE, but still felt it should have been done long before this. I had a wonderful feeling of the super moon summer. I have ideas from vivid dreams. I'd get hung up over minor details, because I want it to sound real.
Then I struggled with "Are there any Christian kids, any more?" I want to show their fight with living a life for Jesus. In the new work environment for me, this is my battle, lately, too. I'm not in the isolation I created years ago as I spent most of my work time in a car with great teaching or Christian music. My world changed, too.
I'm still writing. I plow ahead and try not to worry. I'm reading Bruce by Peter Ames Carlin and the other night, a chapter on Bruce's creative struggle with an album shone through my fog. Bruce Springsteen always wrote the words and music. He didn't have that fall back plan as a teenager, that I did in nursing

. In other words, he does this full time, and always did. He has that luxury of time, I crave.
One album, Human Touch, required "the yearslong pitched battle." And another album on its heels took a month to complete. Bruce explains it this way, "All that work on Human Touch was me trying to get to the place where I could make Lucky Town in three weeks."
Bingo! the creative process. I can see the next novel getting done quickly- the three weeks left of NaNoWriMo, maybe? Main Street and Summer Triangle, clearly had a story from start to finish. LFE is a feel, my return to wandering I felt as a new high school graduate. I had to explore a lot of feelings in the year since I commenced LFE. And I do have a plot, but like life, it is murky.
The next novel, Outside of Time, is like Summer Triangle. I pretty much know the road map for this one. I'm not using the GPS, like for LFE. By the way, at times, the GPS stuttered in directions. I'm sure recalculations await in the journey.
I'm encouraged because the journey continues. I sojourn in the writing process. My bags packed for help along the way. I dare not say I'm near any destination, but I put one foot in front of the other with joy.

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Bruce

by Peter Ames Carlin

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"... a stunning biography of Bruce Springsteen describing his life and work in vivid intimate detail"--

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A sweeping portrait of the Grammy Award-winning music artist encompasses the breadth of his career and offers insight into his creative process.

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Peter Ames Carlin’s New York Times bestselling biography of one America’s greatest musicians is the first in twenty-five years to be written with the cooperation of Bruce Springsteen himself; “Carlin gets across why Mr. Springsteen has meant so much, for so long, to so many people” (The New York Times).

In Bruce, acclaimed music writer Peter Ames Carlin presents a startlingly intimate and vivid portrait of a rock icon. For more than four decades, Bruce Springsteen has reflected the heart and soul of America with a career that includes twenty Grammy Awards, more than 120 million albums sold, two Golden Globes, and an Academy Award. Peter Ames Carlin masterfully encompasses the breadth of Springsteen’s astonishing career and explores the inner workings of a man who managed to redefine generations of music.

A must read for fans, Bruce is a meticulously researched, compulsively readable biography of a man laden with family tragedy, a tremendous dedication to his artistry, and an all-consuming passion for fame and influence.

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Author:	Peter Ames Carlin
Publisher:	Touchstone Books / Simon & Schuster
Date Published:	September 17, 2013
Copyright Year:	2013
Format:	Paperback
Edition:	Reprint
Length:	494 pages
Language:	English
ISBN:	1439191832 / 9781439191835
Categories:	Biographies & Memoirs / Composers & Musicians
	Music & Performing Arts / Music / Genres & Styles / Rock
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Wordless Wednesday

Teddy's Law Tuesday

Scars endure a long time. Last night, I held a ninety six year old's hand as she had a break down. Strength holds most of the time. Memories attack some days. Her mother was a widow with seven children, when she had an affair. She allowed herself to become pregnant thinking the man would marry her. Instead, he flew away.
The scars of never being kissed by a mother, until the last moments before her death rub raw some days. Never feeling the love of a mother haunt her. Only in the last moments of life, did the mother acknowledge her youngest daughter's stamp on her life, "I don't know what I would have done without you." As the single caregiver in her mother's final illness, she received the only kiss on her cheek.
I've known this story for a year, yet tears still form in my eyes. Most days, she doesn't mention her hard childhood. She resembled her father and her mother resented her. The half brothers and sisters ignored her. She found love in her husband and three daughters, but the deep well of love never full because of a mother's lack of love, along with never knowing her father's name.
We think the problems we have today are unique to this generation, but they are not. I only think that maybe they are much more common than the generations before now. My mother suffered abuse,her older brother more. As I work with the elderly, I find more and more, they didn't have the wonderful Norman Rockwell environment that we love to believe. Alcohol ruins many families throughout the centuries. Unwanted children embitter mothers.
I only urge us to watch our words with children. I know a smiling face, like Teddy's covers tears. But sometimes late at night, a comforting hand years later uncovers the tears. Teddy never will live to ninety six. Some will survive. Be kind. Stories creep behind those faces you see every day.

NaNo Update

Slow start out the gate, but hope to make up. The weekend I had to work. We needed to do a lot of errands on Saturday. But Saturday was a perfect day for writing; I didn't, though. Sunday, church, lunch and work gave way to no time to write. I was tired at night.
This morning, though, I woke early, thanks to time change. Sun glimpsing through my blinds at seven thirty. Poems playing around in my head, but I was groggy and didn't feel like concentrating. How many poems do I lose?
I wrote a few paragraphs before breakfast. The speed increases as I tap at the keyboard.
Keep it in perspective. I can do what I can do. Smile and give thanks.