Tuesday, January 31, 2012

January 31st

So, it's January thirty-first.  2012 is already flying by! I now how a job as a full time babysitter, and while it may not seem to be a very impressive position, I am thankful for it. I love the girls that I take care of, and I couldn't ask for better employers. It's been an answer to prayer. I prayed that I would have a job before I turned twenty, and I've been wanting to be able to help out with family finances (it's so frustrating to be helpless in that area). I have half-way left child hood, and half-way entered adulthood.
It feels like spring outside right now. I like winter, but I'm eager to get my hands in the dirt, to see green shooting out of the ground in our garden. I'm looking forward to the thunderstorms that we get, and to be able to go outside without freezing to look at the stars. I can hardly wait for crocuses to bloom all over our yard. There's just something about spring that's miraculous. It's the season that God brings everything to life again. I guess you get a taste of how much He loves beauty. Just look at everything around. Every sunrise, every sunset is painted by Him. Every thunderstorm, every flower, every blade of grass. Listen to the birds singing. And then, look and listen to a thunderstorm. It's beautiful in a somewhat frightening way. My God is so mighty!
 And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow ; they toil not, neither do they spin :  And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.  Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is , and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?  ~Matthew 6:28-30

Sunday, October 23, 2011

When things start to change.

Okay, so I know that it's been a really long time since I posted anything on here.  I've never been good at keeping anything like a blog or a journal up to date. A journal/diary entry will start with something like "I'm going to try and write everyday...
 or something like that, and at first, I'll be doing pretty well. A block of about three or four days (that may be over exaggerating), and then a few days letter starting out with a reason I didn't get to write. And then the next entry is normally a few months later. What can I say? Anyways, when I start having difficulty in my writing, sometimes  I go back and reread stuff that I've already written. I just did that, and I felt like sharing this snippet out of a story I'm writing. So what do you think?
     Nathan stared down at the hospital bed, and its occupant. Never had he imagined that he would be watching his little girl struggle for her life. He sat down next to her bed, his forehead pressed against his folded hands. He felt Mable's hand on his shoulder, and he looked up.
     "You need to go take a break. Go get something to eat," she said, sliding her arm around his shoulders.
     Reluctantly, he stood up, kissed his wife, and walked out of the room, and made his way down to the cafeteria.
     Mable sank down into the chair that her husband had just been sitting in, and gazed at her daughter. Her first child had never made it to a hospital bed, and now she was watching the only child she had left laying in a hospital. She looked down at her wedding ring, and her engagement ring, and it made her wonder her father had felt when he lost first one daughter, and then his second. She had chosen to leave, Morgan had chosen to leave, they hadn't been taken by death.
     She looked up with a start, and stood up. Tony was blinking, and starting to sit up, looking around the room. Mable moved quickly to her daughter's side, and gently pushed her back down.
     "Where's Dad?"
     "He just went down to the cafeteria. He's been sitting up all night waiting for you to wake up."
     Mable pressed her hand up against Tony's cheek, and just held it there.
     "I love you, Mom."
     "I love you more than you can know."
     "Can you get Dad for me?" Tony asked with a yawn.
     "Sure, sweetheart."
     Mable turned to the door and paged Nathan. She turned back to Tony, and found that she had gone back to sleep, and she walked over to her, and pulled the covers up.
     A few minutes later, Nathan stopped in the doorway, a disappointed look on his face. "I thought that she was awake."
     "She was. She asked me to get you. I paged you and by the time that I turned around, she was sleeping again."
     He sighed. "I'm going to stay here."
     Mable shook her head. "You need to get some rest, Nathan. You can't just stay up."
     "Mable, I want to be here when she wakes up again. I'm not leaving."

     Nathan pulled his chair up close to Tony's bed, and sat down in it, leaning forward onto the bed. His eyes refused to stay open for any longer, and he promised himself that he would just take five minutes to rest them. Almost immediately, he was asleep, his head resting next to his daughter, his hand on top of her much smaller, bruised, I hand.


     Nathan walked in the front door of the little cafe, and was embraced by the scent of coffee, and cinnamon rolls. He glanced around, taken in by the warmth of the brown walls, and the rich, dark woodwork. The whole room immediately made him relax, and he could see why Tony loved this place so much. A small baby grand piano stood in one corner of the room, a long counter with numerous bar stools ran along one side.
     "Can I help you?"
     He looked over at the girl behind the counter as she interrupted his observation.
     "Beg your pardon?" he asked.
     "Can I help you?" she repeated.
     "Uh, yeah. I'm looking for John Mark. Is he around? I need to talk to him for a few minutes."
     "I'll see if he's available. Anything else I can get you?"
     "No thanks. I'll be waiting over here," he said, pointing to a table near the store front window. He sat down and stared outside, trying to figure out why Tony found it so important to let this guy know what was happening.


     "Hey, John Mark, there's some guy who wants to talk to you," Tara said, poking her head through the office doorway.
     "Any idea who it is?" asked John Mark with raised eyebrows, slightly annoyed at her interruption.
     She shook her head, and shrugged. "He's waiting for you in the dining area."
     With a weary sigh, John Mark got up out of his chair and made his way to the front, where Tara pointed out a man sitting at the window.
     "He looks awfully familiar."
     Tara shrugged again. "I've never seen him before."
     John Mark rubbed his chin, and studied the man with narrowed eyes for a few minutes. "Oh!" he breathed. He walked over and sat down in front of him. "You're Tony's dad!"
     Nathan looked up with tired eyes, and nodded. "You must be John Mark."
     The two men stared at each other for a minute.
     "You look exhausted," John Mark said. "Can I get you something?"
     Nathan rubbed his hand over his face, and sighed. "I guess a cup of coffee would be nice."
     John Mark called over his shoulder for Tara to bring a couple cups of coffee, and they sat in silence as she brought it over.
     John Mark cradled his mug between his hands, and stared down at the dark liquid for a moment before speaking. "So what brings you here, Mr. Scott?"
     Nathan sighed, and took a sip of coffee. "How well do you know Tony?"
     "She worked here for most of the summer, and I really liked having her around. She's a troubled kid, but after you get through that tough shell, you come to love her."
     "She asked me to come over here. She likes you. A lot. Actually, she seems to really love, and look up to you."
     "I haven't heard from her in a while. What's she been up to these days?" John Mark asked with a smile.
     Nathan sat back, a grim look on his face. "That's why I came here. Tony was in a really bad car accident two days ago."
     He watched as the blood drained from John Mark's face. "Is she going to be okay?"
     Nathan hesitated, and then shook his head. "She's in the ICU." He played with his cup. "They haven't been able to stop the internal bleeding." He sniffed. "We don't expect her to make it." He looked down at his coffee. "She wanted me to come and tell you that, and she wants me to stay for a while."
     John Mark stood up so abruptly that he knocked his chair back. Without explanation, he walked into the back, moving faster than Nathan would have imagined possible for a man of his size.


     "Jeremiah, I need you to call all of your friends, and tell them to get down to the cafe... Yes, right now... Look, I'll explain it when you get here... Bye." John Mark hung up the phone, sat down, pulled out list of numbers, and started making calls.
     He had just gotten to the middle of the list when Jeremiah walked into the office.
     "What's going on, John Mark?"
     John Mark waved at him to sit down as he finished dialing another number. He finished the call, and put the phone down, then motioned for Jeremiah to come with him to the front. Jeremiah looked around, surprise, and concern written all over his face.
     "John Mark, what is going on?" he asked, gesturing to all the people in the room.
     "Take a seat, Jeremiah," he said. His tone of voice was firm enough that Jeremiah went and sat down instead of asking him again.
     "Alright, listen up folks! I know that a lot of you are acquainted with Tony Scott. Well, whether or not you liked her, she's in some serious trouble. Two days ago, she was in a car accident. The doctors haven't been able to stop the internal bleeding, and we are not sure if she will make it. As many of you know, she just became a part of our family a few months ago, and as far as we know, her parents still have not accepted Christ, and right now, they all need our prayer. That's why I called you all tonight, and asked you to come here. Please pray for them, right here, right now. Her parents have already lost one child, and Tony is one precious soul. I'd really like to have her around for a long time. Let's pray."


     Nathan had watched as people came into the cafe two, three, four at a time, and the place was starting to fill up. And then John Mark appeared out of the back, with a teen aged kid. He watched them, and then listened as John Mark addressed the whole group. It was like he had completely forgotten that Nathan was even there. He watched as people broke off into groups, or stayed in their seats, their head bowed, some with lips moving, others completely still. It was strange, watching all these strangers praying for his daughter, and his wife... and him. He sat back and watched them for while, expecting them to stay for just five, maybe ten minutes, and then float off, but they stayed, and kept on praying, moving to different groups. He shook his head in wonder. Eventually, he stood up, and walked outside to his truck. He sat there in the driver's seat, and all of the sudden, tears spilled down over his cheeks, grief overwhelming him. His phone buzzed, and he looked down at its screen, wiping the tears out of his eyes to see what it was.
     "Where are you?"
     He the back that he was on his way back to the hospital, turned the key, and pulled away from the curb, headed toward the hospital.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Our Lives, Our Fortunes, and Our Sacred Honor

This one came about from a school assignment for my home school support group. For government class, we were supposed to write a speech on whether or not we would sign the Declaration of Independence, and why. I wrote it, but never gave it. It was late at night, and I had been struggling with making it something other than an explanation of what the Declaration was, so I was talking to my mother about it. She told me to find a few things in the document that really struck me as crucial, and would cause me to risk everything by signing a treasonous document. What follows hereafter is the product.
       When the question of signing the Declaration of Independence arises, I believe that the answer must be approached with the utmost caution and understanding. To sign this document was to commit treason. Our Founding Fathers risked everything, their fortunes, their families, and ultimately, their lives. Many of them lost their children and wives, but still refused to recant. It would be a humbling thing to be allowed to sign my name with those men, and it would be an opportunity I wouldn't pass up.
        What would compel me to sign something that could cause the death of my family? I would sign it because I would not have my children and grandchildren to live in fear.
         I could not be at peace with strangers coming to live in my home, and eat the food that my family needed to survive. If I had children, I would be in constant worry, not knowing how honorable those men were, if at all. To have a soldier, or any other person above the law, to commit murder and other atrocities without being justly rewarded is an unspeakable wrong.
       For American sailors and soldiers to be taken captive at sea by their mother country, to be forced to serve and fight against their own people, family, and friends or face death is not able to be stood!
       But when these things are brought before the government that is supposed to protect us, the issues are flippantly ignored, or made worse. For these reasons, I would dissolve any bands that constrain me to bear these things. For these reasons, I would give my life.
     "And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor."

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Remember My Name

This is a short piece that is the result of a writing prompt.

 Remember My Name

 Remember my name. When the darkness descends and your solitude becomes
 bitter,  look back, remember. The first time you saw me, how nervous you made
 me when you  said hello. Those sweet summer days we spent together, the winter 
evenings when you would come over to have dinner with my family. Do you 
remember that first Christmas? You helped decorate the tree and then tried to 
sneak some sweets out of the kitchen, while my mother and sisters were baking. 
The evening we spent under my father's watchful eye.
 Remember, and let the memories warm and comfort you. Remember how long it
 took for you to actually call me by my name, and don't forget, don't let it be
 snatched away from you. No matter where you go, remember my name.