By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. Genesis 2:2
Wait! If you don’t believe in God, don’t run off. This is about resting, not about faith. If God rested (which we all know He didn’t really need to do, except as an example), surely we mere humans can use a rest as well. But do we get one? (more…)
Every Thursday, an online group of which I’m a part, has Thankful Thursday, something instituted by yours truly in an attempt to bring some balance to the litany of shared woes. Don’t get me wrong. Sharing these woes and asking for prayer is part of what this group does and we are privileged to do so, but it’s far too easy to get into a woe-is-me frame of mind and never think of the many blessings in our lives. (more…)
I mentioned to Bill one day that our three lilac bushes needed pruning, then forgot about it. One memorable day not long after, I drove home and saw that he had pruned them (was, in fact, just finishing)–to about a third of the original size. I was appalled. But fortunately, the lilacs came back strong and every spring we see dark purple, lilac, and white blooms, one large bush of each. (more…)
“Tell me a story.” I wager those words have been said in many languages for thousands of years. You probably said them to your parents when you were young. But as you grew older, the stories you heard became very different, many not as pleasant.
Well, rejoice! Story time is here once again. Each week you can join the writing group called Friday Fictioneers to read stories that span the gamut of genres and plots. What follows is my story for the week. After that, you may click on the cute link critter and be whisked away to The Land of Story Time. But be careful. Once you enter that land, you’ll never want to return. And if you have a story of your own to tell, you’re welcome to become a citizen of The Land of Story Time. (Beautiful picture, Rich, and Rochelle, love the new background.)
Congo Mourning
Genre: Drama
“Hi, hon.”
“Exhausted, but fine. We’re in line for security. Can’t wait to get home.”
Quietly…”Conditions at the orphanage were horrible. Not enough food, the place was filthy, the woman in charge was a witch. It broke my heart to see their faces and know we could only take one.”
“Hang on. Something’s happening. Some soldiers…”
“Hey! What are you doing? Get your hands off my son.”
“Our papers are in order. Look. Stop it! Let..me…go!”
“Somebody help us. Please. They’re taking my son! Dominique! Dominique!! Let go of him, you…!!”
“Grant, call the embassy right now. They’ve taken Dominique!”
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This story is inspired by a friend and her husband who decided to add to their family by adopting a child from Congo. Yes, his name was Dominique and no, thankfully the ending of the story didn’t happen to them. The orphanage conditions and head woman are true to their experience and it was often problematic as to whether Dominique would ever make it to New Jersey. Thankfully he did and is blessing them and being a blessing to them every day.
Claire–lovely picture, excellent work. Rochelle–the usual. Friday Fictioneers–a joy and a privilege. Read more–click on the cutie at the end. Your mission, should you choose to accept it– enjoy! It’s not impossible.
Just FYI, Thursday is a traveling day for me, so if you stop by and read and I don’t return the favor right away, don’t worry. I will. I read every story (unless it’s posted on Sunday or Monday and I’ve stopped checking), so I will look forward to reading yours with great anticipation. And thanks for taking the time to read and comment on mine. It’s always greatly appreciated.
Enough
It was the book’s fault really—accidentally dropped by her, fortuitously retrieved by him—sparking talk, the discovery of shared tastes. Days later, a chance encounter at the coffee shop spawned laughter, the joy of shared thoughts, a frisson of attraction, the ease of friendship.
The coffee shop became their haven, a much-anticipated break from the everyday, always as if two halves were joined, the missing puzzle piece slotted into place.
Each time, replete, they went their separate ways, home to loved and loving families, anticipating the next completion. It could never be more, but it would never be less.
After the drive from Naperville to Champaign/Urbana, Illinois, relaxing tea and friend time and some errands, we were ready for lunch. Lunch happened in a small Vietnamese restaurant–Xinh Xinh Cafe. (If you want to look at the menu, I’ve included the rather long link at the end of the post so as not to clog up the post for those who aren’t interested.) (more…)
First things first. For all of you who aren’t my friends on Facebook, here’s a picture of a Friday Fictioneers meeting in New Jersey on Wednesday. The culprits are: Rich standing, your truly sitting on the left, Sharon on the right. A great deal of fun was had by all. Hopefully there will be more meetings. We’re planning a history tour of Philadelphia next.
On to the writing. A group of scribblers gathers weekly from around the globe for a virtual fun fest of writing based on a picture chosen after enormous deliberation by our intrepid leader, Rochelle Wisof f (no “h”)-Fields. Once we’ve written and posted the innermost thoughts of our fevered brains, we read what everyone else has written by clicking on the little blue link critter found after our stories.
No reason you can’t join in the fun. Possible categories of participation are (singly or in any combination): reading, pressing “like”, commenting, writing your own story and linking it by following Rochelle’s directions, or going mad from trying to do all of these for all the stories. No matter what you choose, it’s so much fun that you’ll find yourself happy that Friday comes on Wednesday each week. (Does that make it like Daylight Savings time, giving we get an extra few days and hours of daylight each week?)
Music: The Speech of the Soul
In the thirty years since her initial audition with the orchestra where he was principal cello, their marriage had weathered the drama of the music business, the travel, long hours, and friendly competition.
When arthritis gnarled his hands too much to play, he rejoiced in her first chair appointment, never missing a performance. Now, after the stroke, he lay locked inside himself, unable to communicate.
By his hospital bed, the cello a hard-won concession, she closed her eyes tightly against tears, whispered his joshing words from that first day, “We could make beautiful music together”, and began to play softly.
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“Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination
and life to everything.”
― Plato
“Music . . . can name the unnameable and communicate the unknowable.”
― Leonard Bernstein
“Who hears music, feels his solitude
Peopled at once.”
― Robert Browning, The complete poetical works for Browning
“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent”
―Victor Hugo
Le Chocolat du Bouchard, Naperville, Illinois (http://lechocolatdubouchard.com/), a bit of Paris in the Midwest and the perfect place for a chocolate fix on a cold winter afternoon. Come sit with us, relax, enjoy a chocolate drink and a treat. (Theadora Brack, this is for you. If any of you are interested in Paris or are planning a trip, drop by her blog at http://peopleplacesandbling.com/. You love it.) (more…)
This true story is for my best (female) friend. You know who you are. Merry Christmas!
Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.
― Victor Hugo
They were introduced after church…our new music directors, a young couple with impressive credentials: one with an excellent voice, one with impeccable piano/organ skills, both with different but complimentary people skills and a desire to build a wonderful music program. They announced, as is always announced, that anyone who liked to sing or ring bells was welcomed to come to practice for choir, bell choir or praise team. I thought I might try praise team. (more…)
