Category: Inspirational

Here’s #29

“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.” Winston Churchill

I shall let this picture fill in all the blanks, reflecting my thoughts regarding the Quote that I’ve used for todays Note To Self #29. Sometimes I simply talk too much, leaving no room for anyone else to share their feelings, so here you go… start typing.

It’s such a glorious day today, that all the babes have been begging me to take the boat down to the river for a floating picnic. Oddly, the most excited out of the whole bunch is Lilly. Our tiny new member has a deep love for floating, which is apparently how she ended up in our barn. She’d been playing among the dandelions, climbing up and inside the white fluffiness at the top of a stem, when a stiff breeze blew through the meadow, picking her up and carrying her and her fluff off on the wind.

Even though Lilly is bigger than any ant I’ve ever encountered, she is mostly fur, which is rather odd if you consider her to be from the Ant family. Anyway, this seems to be why she was so easily carried off on the breeze. When I asked her if she wished for us to return her to her family, Lilly exclaimed that she’d no home to return to, as the spring rains had flooded her families home and washed the entire colony away.

When she managed to find her way back to the anthill of her birth, there was nothing left… they’d all simply vanished! So my tiny friend once again climbed aboard her floating flower fluff, and took flight on the winds. When the winds calmed, the fluff she was holding onto landed upon the window sill of our barn.

Our tiny new friend seemed not to be in a hurry to go searching, as she explained how the ant network handled things like the lost and found. Apparently, her family knows exactly where she is, due to the colony that live near the barn. When I asked her how they would know such information, since she’d not left the barn since her fluff landed on the window sill, Lilly gave us our first lesson about ants. We learned that the local colony visit the barn every day to collect all the crumbs left over from the constant snacking that goes on around here.

I suppose that ants are rather useful, in regards to cleaning up food messes, but I still hold that they make terrible neighbors! They never ring before they come to visit, in fact, they don’t even bother with the doorbell. Not only do they show up at really inconvenient times, but they stay until the wee hours, helping themselves to whatever is available. Nothing is sacred if they think it’s edible, and they always invite their friends and family to join them, never once asking if we mind the added guest list.

As they’ve not yet attempted to overthrow us, nor devour us, I’ve called a sort of truce between the ants and myself, out of respect for my new friend. Maybe all my bad memories of ants was nothing more than cultural misunderstandings between neighbors. Though I’ve no idea where Lilly got her enormous ears and fur, she still belongs to the ant kingdom, so I want to be sensitive and respectful towards her family and her colony!

Though I would love to tell you more about Lilly and her family, I can hear all the babes outside my office, banging on the door and carrying on like sailors. I can hear them all shouting out things they think one might say on a ship, like “lower the Boomer” and silly things like that, as they know very little about boats. I can’t help but giggle, and part of me wants to sit here longer to listen for more ridiculous nautical words they attempt to create. Alas, the day is getting away from us, as it is, so I’m off to the river with my motley crew!

If we all make it back alive, I shall regale you with the tales of conquered kingdoms and whatever bootie we gathered. Keep a weathered eye out on the horizon for our return…

It’s confession time! Maybe you noticed the lack of writing I’ve been doing of late… maybe not, but it has been for a very good reason. Over the past month I’ve been working on writing a book, but not the one you expect. Out of the blue last month, God asked me to set my planned novel aside, so as to finish something I’d been putting off for a while… my story.

Thanks to the repeated daily prompt questions about autobiographies, I realized that I’d been holding onto my unfinished story for far too long. The literary line was drawn, so I crossed over it, re-entering a God driven written story, that has been a long time coming.

As of yesterday afternoon, I’ve been staring at my first full work of writing! It has been exciting, terrifying, nauseating, stressful, blissful, exhausting and so very fulfilling! It is far from being seen on a shelf, I’m sure, but all the content is in there… all 40 some odd thousand words of it!

Now the work begins for this punctuation fairy, as I begin to do a full Audio Recording Editing session. I want to catch any unforeseen errors within the many pages, so listening to myself try to read it out loud, often reveals the problems rather easily. Once that’s done, all that’s left is to print my first copy for my own Poor Mans’ Copyright that I’ll mail to myself. My sweet husband went and found the cash to purchase a printer and some paper, so we keep rolling forward.

The rest is in God’s hands and though I am a ball of emotional energy over putting myself out there, I DID say a whole lot about what God has done, does, and will do… so I better walk the walk!

Never fear, for my main novel is not forgotten! In fact, it’s nearly two thirds of the way done, and beings that my mind is like a steel trap, there’s no chance that I will lose track of the finish line for that story. The thing I’ve told you from the beginning, was God ‘s instruction to me through all the struggle… just write! So I wrote! Now I have to finish what He encouraged me to start… all 5 books that I’ve been sitting on need to be completed, as they’re no good to anyone by simply sitting in files.

There is no telling, as to whether God will provide the funds for self-publishing or bring forth an Agent to assist in navigating the publishing world, but my husband is helping me researching both, as it is a bit daunting either way. Did you know that one book needs up to 5 separate USBN numbers for all the differing forms of releasing it? Ouch! But I serve a pretty big God, so I know things will go as He plans. This book is either hitting the shelves with God’s fingerprints all over it… or it can sit in the closet on a shelf, as far as I’m concerned.

While I realize that many people enjoy the electronic version for their reader apps, I feel rather strongly in the old school hardbound copy in ones hand, so we’ll do all 5 versions. My plan for the Audio version is to use my own voice, as it is my story, so I’m praying that whomever the publisher ends up being, they will at least listen to some recordings of my own voice for quality… I think I have a pretty good reading voice.

If I’m being completely honest with you, I do not fear people reading my goods, bads, and uglies… I struggle with the fear of not being capable of writing like the big dogs… silly, right? I also sometimes feel a bit like a drama queen, either oversharing or offending someone… I have insecurities just like everyone else does!

Oh well… there’s nothing to do but walk forward in faith towards that which I cannot see, but I believe is the path leading home…

If love is not love until you give it away,

and church isn’t church if the people don’t pray,

Why do folks hide their hearts from the hurting each day,

and the houses of worship are all made of clay?

Giving something for free is no longer worth sharing,

when those it is meant for don’t seem to be caring…

We wander around only thinking of ourselves,

That cup of living water simply sits on our shelves…

Hearts and minds run for shelter, cowering in fear

Ignorant of learning from the wisdom they hear…

Traveling the earth in a self-centered bubble

Trying to make sense of a world deep in trouble…

It seems pointless, at times, to share the gift of love

when no one responds until push comes to shove…

If love is not love until we give it away,

Try offering it to another at least once a day!

If the church begins acting

the way that it’s supposed to,

perhaps God’s redeeming love

would finally show through!

Episode 1

Life here can be very tough, for any soul not already hardened by life’s cruel realities! The taverns and store fronts along the wharf are owned by varying disreputable men and women, both of which would sell you to the sea for the right amount of coin. If one wants to eat, they must live and work in the midst of pirates, slave traders, treasure seekers, and drunkards. There was no room for anyone with weakness, nor naivety, of any kind. Letting your guard slip, even for a moment, might very well bring about your doom…

Within the Wharf lay a tavern, filled with all manner of vile men, most living and working on the filthy trade ships, arriving here daily. Few of the locals in the nearby farming communities ever come to the Wharf, let alone frequent such a dangerous establishment. If you were a woman, either you came into the tavern to work, or you were dangerous enough to hold your own in a fight. The Wharf was no place for kind folk, nor was the tavern safe for anyone carrying a coin purse without a gun or a dagger for company.

Inside the tavern you see a young barmaid, busily sweeping the floor near the kitchen in the back of the room. She belongs to the owner of the tavern, purchased off of one of the slave ships some years prior, when she was rather young. She is quite, very obedient to the one who feeds her, and always busy working in and around the tavern. No one bothers her, nor do they pay her any mind at all! Everyone here knows that she is not to be touched, as the owner of the tavern would kill you for even considering it!

Don’t let her meekness fool you, as she is not what she seems. If you did look into her eyes, you would see danger floating within those dark pools of blue, staring right back at you! In her short life, she has seen too much, felt too much and lost too much! This has molded her into a very hardened and wise soul, for one so young. She is also very smart, both in book knowledge and being street savvy. Her three rules for survival are,

Don’t make the tavern owner mad…

Stay out of folk’s business…

Do not bring attention to yourself…

These three rules were born of painful lessons learned over the years of service to the owner of the tavern… most assuredly, the only reason she was still breathing air, even if it did smell of stale rum and dirty pirates!

This night, like any other night here on the wharf, the young barmaid has been busily serving customers and helping in and around the kitchen. The cook asked that she bring in another fish from the barrel out on the dock in front of the tavern, so she retrieves a container and heads outside for the barrel.

As the young barmaid is pulling a sizeable fish out of the barrel, she spies movement from behind the container. Briefly glancing down, toward the disturbance, she spies what looks like a tiny shoe sticking out from behind the barrel. Rule number three kicks in, warning her not to bring attention to herself, so she continues on about her business, carrying the fish inside to the cook.

As she cleans and serves food to the customers, several pieces of dried meat and fruit cake left on guests’ plates, happens to fall into her apron pocket. Her sleight of hand skills rewarded her a small water flask, from the pocket of an old tinker, snoring blissfully in the corner. Since her shift is coming to an end, the young barmaid carries her cleaning supplies out to the shed, next to the barrel on the dock. Inside the shed she takes a strip of cloth hanging on the wall, folds the food and water inside, and casually walks back toward the tavern, discreetly dropping the small package behind the barrel as she walks past.

Once inside the tavern, the young barmaid retreats to her room above the bar. Her room is small, but offers a window that looks out over the wharf, to the sea beyond. From here, she can see directly down upon the front of the tavern, where the shed and barrel both sit, along the water’s edge. She dresses in her nightgown and settles in at the window ledge to watch…

There is just enough light cast, from the tavern’s doorway lantern, for the young barmaid to have a clear view of the barrel. She spies movement from behind the container, but only enough to confirm that there is indeed someone there, but whomever it is, hides themselves very well. She falls asleep with her head resting upon the window sill of her tiny room above the bar.

Who do you think might be hiding behind the barrel?

With the clues given and remembering the three survival rules, what do you think the young barmaid will do?