Scary Halloween

Re-posting. Originally written in 2012.
 Twenty four years ago, we had a very wet, gloomy October. I had just found out I was pregnant with Katie. We were moving into our house, but still living at my parents while they traveled south to Florida. David and I would go to our new house, and I ended up laying on the couch sleeping. I couldn't believe how tired a little life could make me. I worked full time afternoons in ICU, also.
Halloween Day, the sun shone brightly. I got a burst of energy, dusting every thing that had been moved from one and a half years storage. I even wanted to walk to Taco Bell, but we decided we didn't have time.
Mom and Dad were back from their trip. Dad, already set up to treat the trick-ers, stood at their front door. I love to watch the children trotting up the street. I felt great as I entered the living room to be with Dad. Then I felt something funny, wet between my legs, and I discreetly went to our room. Blood between my legs. I panicked.
I called my doctor immediately as my pregnancy was only a month along. The nurse, an older, wizened nurse, calmly told me to lay down, right now. I was only get up to the bathroom for forty eight hours. Oh, boy, I was scared.
We hadn't told my parents, or David's, either. His parents had planned to come that weekend to help us move and settle into our new house. We planned to announce our wonderful news at dinner on Saturday. I told David, "You have to tell my dad. I never stayed in bed this long, even when I was sick."
David looked at me quizzically.
"You have to," I reinforced my demand.
I also knew my dad would pray. I wasn't a fervent prayer at that time. I was in one of those dips of doing things my way with just a nod to God.
David's brother and wife, Ray and Kathy with their two young boys still made the trip to the Valley to see her parents, her relatives  and us. I instructed David to tell them as well. I knew they would pray.
Jody and Megan came upstairs to see me. Megan's eyes round as saucers, in her costume, either a witch or Indian. Jody sat on the bed and talked. She had directed me to this obstetrician, so we chatted about him and his nurse.
The next day, my dad popped his head in the door, "So, you got yourself pregnant?"
"Dad, I wanted to."
"I know. What can I get you to eat?"
A few days later, I got a card from Ray's mens prayer group at his church in Indiana, Pennsylvania. Sixty men signed a card that they had prayed for me the next day after the Ray Lyon's had been here. That tan card that sixty men signed signified a great power  to me.
After the initial complete bed rest, I was allowed to go downstairs once a day and back upstairs once a day. Mrs. Voisey, the doctor's nurse advised me, "Just look at the dust and say isn't that a pretty pattern."
I was more tired after that week of inactivity than if I worked hard. Going back to the unit was hard at first. The greatest moment was a week later, hearing the baby's heartbeat for the first time with the Doppler. The scare was over. I counted the prayers, but still had not become a praying woman.

Not in Doldrums Anymore

I didn't think I would do National Novel Writing Month again this year. I still haven't finished the one I started last year. I asked myself, "Did I want to put that on myself, again? The word counts. The running out of steam halfway through, not knowing where to take the story and floundering. Finding something else I want to write, while the plot simmers behind the other pots?" The answer waited.
Then those tricky e-mails come from NaNoWriMo. Oh, and the Municipal Liaison invites my region to a write-in. I can't make it, but at least she is having one this year. The excitement builds as I read the other regions' news and meet authors on line.
And best of all, the idea, a juicy plot and the title rush on the horizon. I can't ignore it. I need more motivation. I'm almost finished with Last Free Exit. But then a new character slips into the book. Oh, Andi, what am I going to do with you and Derek? I'm over eighty one thousand words and I haven't even gotten to the trial. LFE feels like a hot mess at times.
I could finish it before October ends, I thought. Then the funk fogs my thinking. I troll on Facebook when I should write. Late into the night I feel the pictures roll over my eyes when I should turn it off and go to sleep. I average four to five hours, so if I fall asleep early for afternoon turn, I wake too early for afternoon turn. Then I allow myself to sleep some more.
Saturday, I met with other local authors at the Local Author Book signing. Although, I had already made up my mind to attempt NaNoWriMo this year, the desire confirms. One author has been doing it for ten years. She can't stop now. She writes her shorter novels during November.
So Outside of Time announces her conception. I see a Summer Series. These November novels form in the cool nights of summer with the crickets and train whistles. Mysterious magical muses nudge me to write. And I'll remember summer in the beginning of dismal days.
Actually, I love November in many ways. It is the thankful month. The sun can shine warmly, surprising us. Or the snow can fall heavily which brings the child out in me. And the writing community urges me on.
I also took on a writing job yesterday. I will submit historical articles for the local The Way It Was, a  free paper. My first one will be in January. This came about as I talked to Eric Bombeck about being on his radio show, as I described my novels. I will talk about Main Street and Summer Triangle on WPIC, 790 AM, www.790wpic.com November 12 at 5:30PM.
I have a voice for stories about my Aunt June to share with her daughter. I had written them years ago. My computer crashed, losing those ones. They felt stiff to me, then. Carol contacted me about remembrances of her mom a week ago. Monday morning, the voice for the stories, of how to write them, revealed itself.

Firefly Heaven- Matt Pollock

Another interesting thing that happened this week, seventy two French people read my post on The Newel Post. http://missmolliesmusings.blogspot.com/2014/07/the-newel-post.html I have no idea why that popped up in France. This though bumped my page views up quite a bit.
Now, I ponder should I ride the wave of over one hundred page views and keep posting on the blog, even though I have these other projects. What is the formula? If I have learned anything in this journey so far, there is no formula. I follow my inner voice, that independent stubbornness hidden deep inside me. I'll read and learn, but I find I have to do what works in my life. I can't do it any other way. I follow the leading I discern from God after much prayer.
I thank you for coming on the ride with me. I thank you for the prayers and support. I still think I'm on that raft, waiting for the wave right behind me. I'm not in the doldrums any more.

Wordless Wednesday

Entrance to Haywood Cemetery, West Middlesex, Pennsylvania

                                                                        Happy Halloween                    

Teddy's Law Tuesday

http://teddyslaw.org/our-mission/http://missmolliesmusings.blogspot.com/2013/02/for-teddys.html   http://missmolliesmusings.blogspot.com/2013/02/more-on-teddy.html
I had wanted to write a fun piece on my memories of Patriots Day in New England, when I lived in cold New Hampshire thirty years ago. That drawn out spring as they celebrated the 18th of April for the "shot heard around the world." In Spring that drags, those hearty New Englanders have the Boston Marathon, creating a holiday.
You know what happened yesterday at the Boston Marathon. It is all over the place. A tragedy marring a wonderful celebration of freedom. Children killed. A coward bombing a public event.
Amidst all the posts for Boston, I noticed one about the mother of Teddy Foltz and her boyfriend. The attorneys are petitioning for separate trials. I'm sad for Boston, but every time I see Teddy's name or face, tears well up in my eyes. As I wrote before, the system failed this little boy. Two school districts and several times he went to the hospital for various maladies, like frostbite on his feet, no one further investigated these incidences.
The terror and abuse have no more revelations when I read about the pending trial. It shocks and sickens me. I cry. We lose children every day to abuse and killing. If they are not physically killed like Teddy, they are murdered in their souls. If they grow up, they are likely to be monsters to children in their lives. No statistics here, so site me on that.
The children lost at Sandy Hook and in Boston, yesterday, are tragic losses, indeed. I am in no way downplaying their deaths. I think, though, they had happy lives with parents who loved them. If you saw them, you would no more feel sorry for them or fear for their lives the day before the tragedy than any other child from stable homes.
We have to look beyond and see the Teddy's and his twin brothers. We have to look beyond the smiles that children seem to have naturally, even when the life they have behind close doors is horrible. Children are forgiving. They love their abusers or the enablers to the abusers, because they have no other compass. Children love their families.
Just as now, we have to be on the alert of suspicious characters in public events, we need to have radar up for the every day abusers. Pray for teachers, public health workers, other adults and yourself, to have diligence in getting to the bottom of  the evidence of abuse, neglect and stories of cover up. We need to pray for noses for the facts, to not let go, like a dog with a bone.

A re-post.

Laugh at Death

 

 

Marquee advertising the Book Signing this Saturday

If you have followed me for any length of time, you may guess I get into funks. My body gets tired and I push through days without any sense of accomplishments. I have come to peace with this. I get done what I get done. I watched this cycle with my mother. I do keep a check on my thyroid as well, but I accept that my body possesses limited strength. I'm OK with this.
The last few days, well almost a week, the funk settled in. The dull skies and leaves reminded me of a seventies' kitchen, listless avocado and gold. Did I miss the peak of the colors because of the rain and gloom? October signals death for me because of decreasing sunlight and the cold creeps in too often with snippets of stories of snow, usually only flurries in the north or mountains. Of course all the depictions of death with some gruesome Halloween decorations also depress me.
Then I wake early to promise of blue skies. The gray of predawn light replaced by a true gold. I am reminded Halloween evolved into a holiday to mock death, to laugh in its face. We, as Christians, should laugh the most, as I think of I Corinthians chapter 15 and 16. "O, Death where is your victory? O, Death where is your sting?"
Right now, I do live in a vessel of clay, but oh, glorious day, I will have a new body. A body that can run like the energizer bunny, but even better than that. I believe I'll focus on stories better than I can write here and still enjoy the work immensely. Our joy will be increased.
So now, I embrace laughing at death. His reign is only temporary. As we see on earth with our trees, the leaves fall in glory, but will bud again in spring. The earth awakens to different colors come April and May.
The funk is gone, as I knew it would be. I'm excited about my book signing this Saturday for many reasons. I will meet local authors. I will meet readers. I will meet friends. I look to this as a start of something great, whether with marketing or connections or growing as an author. But the day fills with promise, as the  predawn light shines differently without clouds.

Wordless Wednesday

Too marvelous not to post

Teddy's Law Tuesday

Remember Teddy and watch for child abuse. Report if you see it. Child helpline- 1-800-422-4453