B is for Believe

B is for...

 

Believe.  As just a word on its own, it sounds like magic to me. 

Belief in yourself and your story.  The magic that happens when we, as writers, do both.  When we believe in our written worlds, we invite our readers to do the same.  And once they believe in our star-crossed lovers fates, climb our mountains on long sojourns to elsewhere or believe in our unlikely hero's with impossible odds, they begin to feel our stories.

Suspension of disbelief is easy when the readers heart is fully entrenched in the hero's pocket.  But you'll never get the reader there, if you do not first believe in your story or in yourself.

Now, this goes out to my Insecure Writers Support Group compatriots this first Wednesday of the month.  I know I have the ability above.  And may do okay with this whole writing adventure.  Just need to get my boots back down on the trail and my fingers to the keys...

Good writing folks!  Grab a donut and a coffee on your way out and I'll see ya tomorrow fellow A to Zers!

Sunday Musings from Under the Steps: Time to Make Hero's

A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is brave five minutes longer.

~~~Ralph Waldo Emerson


I do not believe we need larger than life hero's to save us from our hard times. We need everyday people with immense hearts and even larger volumes of courage. I like the quote above for that reason.

Heroes can be the guy who sells insurance down the street or the granny who smiles at you every morning at the Circle K. All of us hold a possible hero within us. All we need to do is hang on just a little while longer...

Sunday Musings Under the Steps: Words You Live By

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Invictus, William Earnest Henley

I had found this poem not long after recovering from an extensive and life changing back surgery, when I was 12 yrs old. In no time I remember it word for word (keep in mind I've often forgotten my own phone number) and to this day I can recite it at the asking.

The poem inspired me-made me feel stronger and made my situation feel more real while making it also more manageable. Back then it had made me feel less alone. The irony in that is it took me 22 years to research the writer and find he'd wrote this from his own hospital bed, recovering from a amputation--the result of a illness he was diagnosed with when he was 12. Maybe a century separated us but his words had been there for me when I truly needed them.

How many of you have words that do for you what this poem has done for me--still does? Or a writer thats reached across cultures or time to lend you inspiration?

Sunday Musings from Under the Steps: Poison Control

Self doubt is failures poison of choice. Don't drink!

Sunday Musings From Under the Steps: The Darker Side of Goose

"For every evil under the sun, there is a remedy, or there is none. If there be one, seek till you find it; If there be none, never mind it.
~~~M. Goose


A lovely fairytale survival lesson that translates so well to the real world.

Sunday Musings From Under the Steps: To Be A Individual

Individuality is what opens the coral, frees you from the rest of the herd and gives you the opportunity to find greener pastures.

Individuality is never apologizing for being different from the flock.

Being a individual is loving yourself enough to not only march to a different drummer, but do so while wearing a cowboy hat and a tutu.

And sometimes, being an individual wasn't a choice. But accepting and making it work for you was.

Homeless local. Kailua Kona, Big Island of Hawaii.

Be brave, my individuals. Be you.

Sunday Musings From Under the Steps: K.I.S.S.

"Genius is the ability to reduce the complicated to the simple."

~~~C.W. Ceran

...at this point I am still a moron.

AND...


~~~Einstein Quote Generator


Here's to stripping life down to idiot proof!

Sunday Musings From Under the Steps: The Highest Reward...

"The highest reward for a person's toil is not what they get for it, but what they become by it."

~~~John Ruskin

Writing anyone?

Sunday Musings From Under the Steps: My Lying Little Writer Heart

"The difference between fiction and reality? Fiction has to make sense."

~~~Tom Clancy


And I have already proclaimed fiction writers to be wonderful liars, haven't I? Well that is how we make fiction make sense. How we make others believe our outrageous tales. 'Suspend Disbelief' they say. We flavor our fiction-our lies, with truth and that makes our lies believable.

The best writers and liars know when to ration out a little truth now and then. The truth is the best bones to support a body of lies. So research my writing friends. Whatever your genre or storyline, dip into the real world for some real facts now and again and you shall spin the best of lies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now my lies and truth I told in participation of The Bold Face Liar Award Friday. I found it interesting what some found believable and not. I guess we really can be anyone we wish here in the blogisphere. ;-D Remember, lies are best told when paired with some truth...

1. I visit China with my husband every 2-3 years.
I visit Hawaii every year with my husband. We visit his parents and their hide-a-bed. I haven't found my way to China yet.


2. I've seen a ghost.
I have seen a ghost. This is the full truth, cats and kittens.

I once worked in a old Tudor style home that had been converted into a mental health facility. It was one of my favorite jobs, but it often had me coming and going at odd hours. During my first month working midnights, I could not help but feel that I was being watched or not alone when I knew for certain that I was at the time.

And then one night I saw a pale human form go through the front door without setting off the alarm and take the steps without a creak to the old hardwood boards. My older co-worker noticed me seeing this but said nothing. Later that night it happened again and she finally sat me down.

She told me of the young man who once was a client and how he meant no harm but liked to play. He had been a simple minded young man and this had followed him into the afterlife. She told me she had not only seen me react earlier in the night but earlier in the month and was just waiting to see if I said something--or I could be trusted. She said she knew he would like me.

The remainder of my midnight shifts, if I felt I wasn't alone on my rounds or the cat wasn't following me per usual, I would tell the ghost I had to work, but to go play without me.

3. I've talked a person out of killing someone.
I have talked a few clients out of killing themselves. One was serious, the others were looking for a reaction. The 'reaction' folks, the whole killing thing was a weekly or monthly conversation.

And does talking someone out of beating the ever loving shit out of someone count?


4. I was published in Writers Digest.
Nope, not yet. Sooner or later I will bite the bullet and enter one of there contests. I swear!


5. I live in a fairly old and very creaky Colonial in the country.
I hope to in the next year. It's a goal for me and hubby. And if not Colonial, something of the sort. But definitely back to country living at some level.


6. I killed my cousin.
I attacked and then choked my older first cousin till he turned blue and briefly passed out. It had been coming for years. That day he was messing with my sister and you do not mess with family--unless the family is doing the messing.

I told you--long long fuse with a big boom.



7. I use to 'dance' in college. It paid good.
I enjoyed dancing with friends in college, but not professionally. ;-) But I was mistaken for a local stripper by the old lady who sold me flowers every Sunday down at the market. She kept calling me 'Star' and then apologize. She would always give me this odd little smile, like I was lying. Maybe I was...

Photo courtesy SXC.

Sunday Musings From Under the Steps: Doing Great by Great People

I believe that the acts, struggles and triumphs of good men and women are not solely owned by the race or nationality in which they came. Although the places from which these individuals hail, should take great pride in and take honest advantage of their native son and daughters greatness, I believe the good works of such good people should be shared with all of humankind.

Humankind.

Do you believe in God? Buddha? The Great Spirit? Allah? Yahweh? The Goddess? Non-denominational? Many Gods or no Gods at all? A city dweller or of country kin? Blue collar or white? Silver spoon or plastic spoon? The list can go on with our differences, but the simplest thing that brings us together is that we are all human and in possession of a soul.

Because in the end, strip it all away and you are left with the fact that we are all human. Try as some may to separate themselves from the rest of humanity, we are all flesh and blood homo sapiens with souls.

I believe that a good person is one who not only understands this but lives by it. This man or woman reaches across race, religion and nationality and inspires ALL of us with their words and actions...

"In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force...

...And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal." ..."

~~~Martin Luther King, Jr. Quotes from "I Have a Dream" delivered 28 August 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial, Washington D.C.

photo unknown

Musings Under the Steps: A Apt Definition

INVITATION

If you are a dreamer, come in.
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer . . .
If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire,
For we have some flax golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!

by Shel Silverstein

A fairly apt definition of a writer, I think. Dream well my writing comrades. Write well and often.

Rainy Day Blogfest meets WIP Wednesday!

Welcome to my entry to The Rainy Day Blogfest, brought to you by Christine at The Writers Hole and some Wednesday WIP. So please follow the link and read the rest of the wonderful entries after your time here with me and my rough bit of WIP.

In this scene, my MC Wyatt, his heroin Mary and half the town have met at the church to go over Mercy Corners Fall Festival plans for the coming weekend. A early fall rain storm is the back drop and a mood setter for this bit.

It’s Wyatt’s first time back in church since his Uncles death and has been talked into singing (once a choir boy). He sings because something in him, something Mary has awakened in him since her return, makes him say yes.

It’s sort of an odd but touching scene. A rough looking, quiet manly man singing with a soft grace in front of his town and the girl. At this point in the story it’s a surprising change in his character. He’s trying to live…

The first section fits in the under 500 wrd count for the Rainy Day Fest, the rest is there if you would like to continue reading some of my WIP. Thank you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

…When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we've first begun.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

Wyatt’s warm vocals trailed out into the stilled room and then faded into the thunder that growled outside the chapels opened window panes.

Mary was feeling that thunder—or was it her heart.

Wyatt’s eyes, which he’d kept strictly focused on the back wall of the church during his performance, were now wide and open and trained on her own. She was struck by what she found there.

He’d sung of redemption and grace in a voice full of honesty and confidence. If anything, it was how most saw him as a man. But in his eyes—those dark fathomless eyes, Mary could see redemption and given grace were things Wyatt felt undeserving.

Right then and there, Mary sent up her own prayer within the little house of God. She was out of practice, but it was a simple one.

‘Please let him forgive himself.’

“Well thank you there, Wyatt.” Reverend Wright stepped back up to his pulpit and waved on the warm swell of applause rising and falling through the room like the rolling clouds coming in. It wasn’t every day the town protector dipped his shield and sung to a packed church.

Wyatt humbly nodded to the Reverend and quickly took his seat in the front pew. Through announcements and the reading of the closing prayers, Mary could not keep her eyes from the back of Wyatt’s ridged form.

“Almighty and most merciful Father, we humbly beseech Thee, of Thy great goodness, to restrain these immoderate rains with which we have had to contend. Grant us fair weather for our jubilations. Graciously hearken to us as followers who call upon Thee that, armed with Thy power and love, we may advance from our yesterday’s storms and to better days, and conquer our fears and bring out your glory in all of us. Amen.”

“Amen” Mary whispered.

In the prayers ending, Wyatt partly turned his head in the direction where she sat. A wind gust blew into the little chapel, heralding in the first rains of the coming storm.

****************************************

“Hon, ya want a ride back to the Inn before I go to Molly’s?” Aunt Sissy had sidled up to Mary’s side after the meeting let out. Mary had left before Wyatt could turn around, she was still angry at him for earlier in the week. But she couldn’t leave.

“That’s okay Sissy.” Mary smiled and placed her hand on the perfumed one that squeezed her shoulder. “I need to talk to the Reverend about scheduling at the Red Cross tent tomorrow.” She hoped Sissy humored her lie and walked on without giving one of her patent pending looks of knowing.

She didn’t.

“Sure, hon.” The intuitive redhead cocked her brow and glanced to the back of the church. “See ya tomorrow then.”

Mary didn’t answer, but it seemed Sissy took that as all the answer she needed. Smiling wistfully, Sissy again glanced towards the back of the church and then to Mary. Sighing deep, Sissy winked then stepped out onto the front steps, popped her umbrella and leisurely sauntered out into the rain.

Mary just shook her head, watching her too-smart-for-her-own-good Aunt smoothly dodge mud puddles to her lemon yellow VW.

“So, did she say it’s Molly’s she’s going to?”

Startled, Mary closed her eyes and smiled away her surprise. She turned and found Wyatt standing at her shoulder looking out into the rain.

“You really should wear a bell.” Mary grumbled.

Wyatt offered a light smirk, but continued to look out into the rain.

“So where is my Aunt going?”

“Marcus Wheeler”

“No. The two of them?”

“Since early Summer. Not long after his wife died of cancer. Sissy thinks she needs to hide it, being that he’s so recent a widow.” Wyatt shook his head and shrugged. “All I know it’s every other Sunday she goes to Huntsville to see him. She wears her heals and her good perfume for church service and then she tells Jack she’s going to Molly Jones house afterward for a visit.”

It made sense. Mary had felt something was different about her Aunt this visit. Different, but good. It explained why Sissy had been trying so hard to push her closer to Wyatt. People in love always had a thing for meddling in others relationships. Happiness was its own spreadable disease.

“But that sort of thing shouldn’t matter. They’re not hurting anyone.” And it didn’t surprise Mary that Wyatt was keeping tabs on her Aunt. Wyatt the constant Sheppard. “And besides, their just giving each other comfort…”

The rain had begun to fall hard, splattering off the concrete steps and onto the pair where they stood under the overhang.

“Everyone deserves that…”

Mary’s words failed her when she turned to find Wyatt’s eyes boring through her. She felt like a butterfly pinned or prey found under his piercing stare. She had never known another man like Wyatt, whose stares spoke louder than most men’s loudest roars.

She never knew another man who could make her feel what she felt right now…

She doesn’t quite remember when she’d accepted his offer of a ride back to the boarding house or even if he gave one. They hadn’t spoken a word after leaving the church steps.

The rain poured now. Both had been soaked to the bone and Mary had begun to shake, but it had nothing to do with the rain or the cold.

She watched him put the car in park in front of the house and swore she saw his shoulders begin their downward dip by a weight from some unfathomable source.

“Wyatt?”

Before she could say another word he had bridged the gap between them and had her ensnared in his arms. Overpowered and overwhelmed by the feel of him—his intensity, she gasped for air in-between their kisses. It felt frightening and familiar and oh so good to be held this way again.

Mary quickly caught up with Wyatt in the moment, crawling up into his lap and held on tight. Her hands reached out and grasped the sopping fabric that covered the lean lines and physical strength Wyatt had become. But what hadn’t changed—the most important thing—he still could make her feel so special and so lov…

“No…”

Before she could respond, Wyatt had roughly slid from under her, depositing her against the car door and pulled himself back to his side of the Jeep.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” Wyatt placed his hands to the wheel and focused on squeezing it to death.

“Goodnight Mary.”

“Wyatt?”

“Don’t…” His order came out as a plea. A smothering silence descended on the two.

At this point Mary wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel…embarrassment, hurt, she defiantly felt confused. So she picked an emotion she had come to grips with earlier in the week----anger.

“Don’t what Wyatt? I’m not the girl you left behind fifteen years ago. You can’t just run and not expect me to ask why this time. You have NO RIGHT to push me away.” Only the thunder outside the car was louder. “If anything at all, we are friends and I care…”

“Mary, please…”

“So don’t what Wyatt…” Her voice had begun to waver. “…care?”

The silence ticked between them once more when he didn’t answer.

“Is this where you run from me again, Wyatt?”

Wyatt’s eyes shot around and met Mary’s in the dim light. She was startled by everything that glistened in his onyx stare--all of it complicated. She realized she couldn’t handle complicated right then. Not tonight.

Mary turned away, opening the car door to step out. She stopped when she heard his voice drift just over the sound of the rain hitting the Jeep roof.

“I ’m not the man you think I am, Mary.”

A small fraction of Mary’s anger slipped away and was replaced by hurt—for both of them.

“No Wyatt, I guess you are not the man I know you to be.” She turned back around to meet his eyes. “The man I know isn’t a coward.”

Mary stepped out into the downpour and slammed the car door, leaving Wyatt behind.

TBC. and edited.

Sunday Sermon: Musings from Under the Steps. The Less Traveled Road.

"...I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."


~~Robert Frost. The Road Not Taken

I remember a Chinese New Year Ceremony I attended with Jim and his parents on the Big Island of Hawaii. We were in for a visit and one evening we all went up to Waikoloa Village to watch the Lions dance in blessing of the local shops and businesses. It was a wonderful evening full of color, athletic show, breathing fire and the heart echoing beat of drums. I took pics of the ceremonies, ate my fill of traditional Chinese fare with the family and sat around and watched…

I watched. It’s something I am very good at. Writers are people watchers, voyeurs of the worlds around them and sometimes beyond. But being only a watcher can leave a person and a creative mind stagnant.

So against the better wishes of Jim and my in-laws, I disappeared into the crowd with my camera and followed the Lions out into the night…

I fed a Lion my prayer envelope a blank wish, one to be filled by myself someday. I mingled with excited children dancing around acrobats in large sparkling costume, waiting for candy to be tossed and lettuce offerings to be fed to the dancing Lions at shop doors (pictured right).

(and then the Lion enters the shop, below)

To me, these moments on my own in the crowd—participating, was better than any choreographed show I could have enjoyed. I felt the energy. I felt the crowd. I took the path less taken and it led me to a gift I at present have no name for.

This small vacation detour is so very small in comparison to the other stranger and longer paths less traveled in my life. Going to college in my family was one. Entering into the Mental Health field was another. Taking the leap into writing again and beginning my own business has been a favorite of mine as of late. And there are more personal paths I will not mention, but they were jumps of faith (or impulse) just the same.

But I share this small moment because it fits this format best. I can give you tangible proof that the road less traveled taken has its rewards. And if you should meet a Lion on this path, give it a wish and someday it may come true.

Sunday Sermon: Patience...

"If you sit by the river long enough, you will see the bodies of your enemy float by."

--A Misinterpretation of Confucius?


And how does this patient and wise proverb have to do with finishing my WIP's?

Yes, my WIP's are not my enemy, although they may seem it some days. And most will say that nothing gets accomplished when you just sit around waiting for something to happen. Especially writing or business! AAAND by nature I usually take a more direct route with my enemy when so unlucky to come across one. So I guess its the patience part I'm taking away from this quote. Not the sitting-on-your-ass-waiting-for-your-enemy-to-either-hang-themselves-with-enough-rope-or-hope-that-another-enemy-kills-them-for-you part. That would be Karma.

I do love this quote and envy those who can relate to it. I envy patience, patience that is worth more than all the treasure in the world. Because with patience comes continuance and with continuance comes completion. And with completion something tangible has been accomplished in this world.

So I will be patient and sit at my computer typing till all the ideas flow and the pages fly by and into a book.



Picture by N. Murray.

A Sunday Sermon from Under the Steps: Life as a Scavenger Hunt

"Searching is half the fun: life is much more manageable when thought of as a scavenger hunt as opposed to a surprise party."
~~~Jimmy Buffett

Life as a scavenger hunt keeps ya busy while you find needed or just plain fun things to use and share along the way. The hunt--journey helps you grow and lets you determine your life's direction when you come to the next new situation in your life. And when you come to that next event in your life, you may find that some of the things you've scavenged will help you get through.

Now, life as surprise party may be fun on occasion, BUT... its a bitch when the lights pop on and 'SURPRISE' is yelled out by all of your friends, family and your families priest when you're already half way out of your pants...

Mental picture? Yep. That's what living life as a surprise party feels like. If you spent your life drifting--unprepared, everything feels like a surprise your not ready for and it overwhelms.

Do not spend your days simply reacting to life. Live your life searching for a better you in it.

Sunday Sermon: Pick up those Pennies

"If you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted with pennies, you have with your poverty bought a lifetime of days. It's that simple. What you see is what you get."

--Annie Dillard

How we use our time and opportunities has a great deal to do with how we perceive them. Make a meal of every crumb of time. Use it. Treasure it. Own this belief when tackling any WIP or life in general. MAKE THE MOST OF YOUR TIME!!!!!!!

Dramatic? I have to be when reminding myself of important lessons I am stubborn learning. Let's see if we can all do better.

Just a quote that needed repeating (for me).

Shakespeare and THE BLOGFEST OF DEATH!

"Alas! poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning?"

In Act V of Shakespeare's Hamlet, the titled character finds the unearthed skull of a old friend and wistfully reminiscences about the lighter, happier times spent with his dead but not forgotten friend. I personally took from the scene, that Hamlet once found good lessons to be learned from this old friend--the jest and light heartedness he attempts throughout the story. Knowing this person had a positive impact on him. And now, holding his friends skull in his hand, even good memories have a haunting effect on him.

I feel that my MC Wyatt (Ghost Mountain) is going through a similar painful remembrance of his not long dead Uncle. In his case he misses him and hasn't dealt with the loss, so much so even good memories--and the positive life lessons this kind and funny man gave him--now hurt Wyatt to even think on. Before the story begins, he has already chosen to block out the things that hurt and that means the good stuff too.

"There's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will."

What tragedies (death) does is change us--alters relationships and life paths. I hope to have my hero believe more in personal choice than in divinity or fate. Unlike our poor Hamlett.

Below is my entry for The Blogfest of Death at Tessa's Blurb. It's a flashback to the night Wyatt's Uncle was killed. This flashback occurs when Wyatt visits the property for the first time in over a year since that night. He stops by the property after leaving a domestic dispute call that's left him shaken and confused. This way too real remembrance of that night will not help my MC's mental state, but I hope it will illustrate how memories are becoming too real to those having them in Mercy Corners.

So read up and please stop by Tessa's Blurb linked above and read all the rest of the wonderful entries being born into the blogisphere this weekend!

Wyatt stepped further into the overgrown clearing on autopilot, wide eyed but seeing nothing but the past.

The sunny fall afternoon faded quickly to night, the grass under his feet sunk away to charcoaled wood and rubble. The heat of flames joined the slick of sweat on his skin. And the buzz and chatter from his portable, along with the building breeze, grew into the paralyzing scream of a man.

“Willis…?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“WILLIS!”

The newly appointed Sheriff of Mercy Corners dodged the town’s two fire trucks and jumped over hose, slamming into the shoulders of Volunteer Fireman and neighbors alike to get to his Uncle Will.

“Damn it…WILLIS!” Wyatt jumped to the first fiery step of the salt box house he and his Uncle shared and was caught in a flying tackle that pulled him backwards and to the ground before he could reach the second. “No…!”

“Wyatt we tried. We tried…” Tim Clark, friend and Fire Chief, still held onto Wyatt’s middle, while two other sets of broad hand came down on his arms and shoulders to pull him further away from the flames. “It’s too late, Wyatt.”

Wyatt slowed his struggle long enough to look into the smudged and desperate face of his childhood friend. He’d never seen a lie in his friend’s eyes. He saw none now.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHG AAAAAAA!”

His Uncle’s dying shrieks set off another fight to hold Wyatt to the ground and away from a heroic but certain death. Mere moments after, the second floor of the old farm house fell into the first, sending out a spray of sparks and flame.

Wyatt sank slowly from his friends grip to the ground. No more sounds but the pop and crack of fire could be heard from Willis Paxton’s childhood home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He had stayed on his knees that night and his friends let him, with no attempt at comfort. There was none to be had and even if they had tried, he wouldn’t have felt it or anything else for that matter.

The young Sheriff was on his knees now, the wisps of stray weeds and wildflowers bent and danced on a sunny fall afternoon breeze around him. The only burn Wyatt felt now was in his eyes and throat and the sun beating down his back while he slumped beside the year old rubble of his family’s life.

Sunday Sermon: The Hope to Be Found in Love

"When the universe was young, and the stars were barely new, when the oceans began to crash upon the shores of worlds unknown, and the suns began to rise on the new ground they watched over, a story began. When the world was light and hope and joy and love and creation, remembering, remembering remembering.

This was their time."

Their Time is © 2006 C.M. Williams

My muse for love stories is fed by many things, but hope is what drives them home to me. Hope that is stronger than the ocean waves and just a tireless. Hope that can be trampled, distorted and buried but still can be seen glimmering silently--waiting for the chance to grow again and conquer.

When we fall in love, hope is what we carry, like a torch (maybe a pocket lighter at first...depends) But we carry hope that this new thing we have found that fills us, distracts us and rearranges our lives will not leave us and drop us back to where we had already been. Love changes us, and I have met few who do not hope for that to some degree.

I don't care if you are a cynic or a saint, we all want to be something more and for some of us that is being someone better. I believe love does that or at least I hope...

Big Island of Hawaii/N.Murray

Sunday Sermon: We hold these truths to be self-evident...

Now it can never be said you didn't read this important document. What better time than this day. Happy Independence Day all.

~Nicole

IN CONGRESS, JULY 4, 1776

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America

hen in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. — Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.

He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their Public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.

He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected, whereby the Legislative Powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.

He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.

He has obstructed the Administration of Justice by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary Powers.

He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people and eat out their substance.

He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.

He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil Power.

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:

For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:

For protecting them, by a mock Trial from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:

For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:

For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:

For depriving us in many cases, of the benefit of Trial by Jury:

For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:

For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies

For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:

For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.

He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.

He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & Perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.

He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these united Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States, that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. — And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.

—John Hancock

New Hampshire: Josiah Bartlett, William Whipple, Matthew Thornton

Massachusetts: John Hancock, Samual Adams, John Adams, Robert Treat Paine, Elbridge Gerry

Rhode Island: Stephen Hopkins, William Ellery

Connecticut: Roger Sherman, Samuel Huntington, William Williams, Oliver Wolcott

New York: William Floyd, Philip Livingston, Francis Lewis, Lewis Morris

New Jersey: Richard Stockton, John Witherspoon, Francis Hopkinson, John Hart, Abraham Clark

Pennsylvania: Robert Morris, Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin, John Morton, George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, James Wilson, George Ross

Delaware: Caesar Rodney, George Read, Thomas McKean

Maryland: Samuel Chase, William Paca, Thomas Stone, Charles Carroll of Carrollton

Virginia: George Wythe, Richard Henry Lee, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Harrison, Thomas Nelson, Jr., Francis Lightfoot Lee, Carter Braxton

North Carolina: William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John Penn

South Carolina: Edward Rutledge, Thomas Heyward, Jr., Thomas Lynch, Jr., Arthur Middleton

Georgia: Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, George Walton

Sunday Sermon

I was rummaging through a few of my old high school lit books a few weeks ago and found some favorite quotes I'd highlighted big and yellow. One was a quote from a fella named Abe...


"I do the very best I know how, the very best I can; and I mean to keep doing so until the end. If the end brings me out all right, what is said against me wont amount to anything. If the end brings me out wrong, ten angels swearing I was right would make no difference." ~~Abraham Lincoln

The other, a poem I had loved so much that I not only highlighted it, but wrote it in my own scrawling hand on a slip of stationary and placed it in the book from which it came. Something I use to do to remember things. Like if I write it I will remember it even after the ink or pencil fades. I guess it worked. To this day I can recite this poem quicker than I can remember my own phone number.

Invictus
by William Earnest Henley.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of fate
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gait,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

I think I was reaching for self empowerment and acceptance then. Every teenagers dream.

Do any of you have a favorite quote or poem that still sits close to your heart and speaks, even after all these years, to your soul? I have had many and always search out more for my collection.

So come, share with the class. It might inspire another.