F O U N D

In the movie, a young girl covers the song of a faded superstar who is paralyzed by loss. 

By the chorus, the audience is on its feet, singing in unison

"...I still haven't found what I'm looking for..." 

:: The jaded old timer is rallied and joins in song. :: 

"...I believe in the kingdom come
Then all the colors will bleed into one
Bleed into one
But yes I'm still running 


You broke the bonds
And you loosed the chains
Carried the cross
Of my shame
Oh my shame
You know I believe it
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for..." 

I felt my heart break a little- for humanity; for all of us longing to know -and feel- that we are truly loved.

I'm convinced it's what we're all seeking, every last one of us: love that knows us fully and keeps us forever. 

That's the Good News of Christmas. 
We can stop running. 
No more hide-and-seek, we've been found. 

And we are already so very loved. 
For keeps. 

                        Still Haven't Found

Heart of Gold

Before the decree, my marriage ended in a thousand works of literature.

We've been listening to an audio drama of ' A Christmas Carol' by The Merry Beggars as an Advent activity and came to Scrooge's exchange with Belle this week. 

I love 'A Christmas Carol'  for so many reasons, one of which is this scene. It has been a friend and strange comfort to me for many, many years. 

When I first encountered it, while homeschooling my children, it gave me vocabulary for an underlying understanding that my partner and I were using different currencies based on vastly varying values. Without knowing all that was to come, my heart reflected Belle's even then: I release you to pursue your true passion and hope you find the happiness that now eludes you. 

Merry Christmas to all and thank God for the miracle of hearts that say yes to being changed. 

>> Belle's Farewell <<

For again Scrooge saw himself. He was older now; a man in the prime of life. His face had not the harsh and rigid lines of later years; but it had begun to wear the signs of care and avarice. There was an eager, greedy, restless motion in the eye, which showed the passion that had taken root, and where the shadow of the growing tree would fall.

He was not alone, but sat by the side of a fair young girl in a mourning-dress: in whose eyes there were tears, which sparkled in the light that shone out of the Ghost of Christmas Past.

"It matters little," she said, softly. "To you, very little. Another idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort you in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve."

"What Idol has displaced you?" he rejoined.

"A golden one."

"This is the even-handed dealing of the world!" he said. "There is nothing on which it is so hard as poverty; and there is nothing it professes to condemn with such severity as the pursuit of wealth!"

"You fear the world too much," she answered, gently. "All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one by one, until the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?"

"What then?" he retorted. "Even if I have grown so much wiser, what then? I am not changed towards you."

She shook her head.

"Am I?"

"Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were both poor and content to be so, until, in good season, we could improve our worldly fortune by our patient industry. You are changed. When it was made, you were another man."

"I was a boy," he said impatiently.

"Your own feeling tells you that you were not what you are," she returned. "I am. That which promised happiness when we were one in heart, is fraught with misery now that we are two. How often and how keenly I have thought of this, I will not say. It is enough that I have thought of it, and can release you."

"Have I ever sought release?"

"In words? No. Never."

"In what, then?"

"In a changed nature; in an altered spirit; in another atmosphere of life; another Hope as its great end. In everything that made my love of any worth or value in your sight. If this had never been between us," said the girl, looking mildly, but with steadiness, upon him; "tell me, would you seek me out and try to win me now? Ah, no!"

He seemed to yield to the justice of this supposition, in spite of himself. But he said with a struggle," You think not?"

"I would gladly think otherwise if I could," she answered, "Heaven knows. When I have learned a Truth like this, I know how strong and irresistible it must be. But if you were free to-day, to-morrow, yesterday, can even I believe that you would choose a dowerless girl -- you who, in your very confidence with her, weigh everything by Gain: or, choosing her, if for a moment you were false enough to your one guiding principle to do so, do I not know that your repentance and regret would surely follow? I do; and I release you. With a full heart, for the love of him you  once were."

He was about to speak; but with her head turned from him, she resumed.

"You may -- the memory of what is past half makes me hope you will -- have pain in this. A very, very brief time, and you will dismiss the recollection of it, gladly, as an unprofitable dream, from which it happened well that you awoke. May you be happy in the life you have chosen."

She left him, and they parted.

Mean Girls

"Bwahahahaha!"

Her cackle pierced the drone of usual student activity in the combination gym/chapel/lunchroom. 

The victim, unaware she had been selected as today's target, looked to see if everyone was alright. It was such a loud and sudden noise, she thought someone had been hurt. 

What she saw was laughter. Great big gobs of gossipy guffawing hee-haw.

And they were laughing at her. 

Unwilling to explain what was so funny, they only pointed out that her chair was in the wrong place. 

"I won't tell you what I WAS going to say" one of the mean girls jeered in-between guffaws.

Then, lifting her hand to create the shadowy working conditions necessary for vile lips to spew, she  whispered to her loyal and listening friend whatever it was she had not been going to say.  

They laughed the wrong-chair-sitter back to her classroom, embarrassed and dismayed. 

~~~
This story is true. 
The bullies portrayed are not little girls. 
But they are,  most definitely,  mean ones, working in a Christian school.
~~~~

To those seeking light, 
I apologize. 
This is not what Jesus told us to do. 
Draw near.
To him, not them. 
He will not laugh at you. 
~~~

"...wisdom from above is pure, peace-loving, gentle, compliant, full of mercy and good fruits, unwavering, without pretense. It is sown in peace by those who cultivate peace.
James 3:17‭-‬18 (paraphrased) 

New Mercy Mornings


Some days, we just survive. 

And we try to hide which days.

Make them all look alike.

" I'm fine, (Just fine. This is fine.) thank you, and how are you?" 

No one will know.  

And that's noble, right? It's what we're supposed to do: think on things lovely, good and true; count it all joy, my brethren, when life drops the other shoe. 

For me, I have noticed "struggle days" tend to follow highly productive, happy moments. 

Like shadow, stalking light. 

It is true that gratitude lifts our mood, but what do you do when the dark slinks in even in the midst of joy and celebration ? 

HOLD ON. 

Like a sudden thunderstorm, let it pass. 

If you can dance in the rain or jump in puddles, go right on out and do that. 

But if it is dangerous and scary,  with flashes of lightning, stay put. 

It is ok to curl up and wait. It can be comforting to talk with a friend when the power goes out. 

One way I've learned to pray over the last few years is this: 

"You've already paid the price for the joy that is mine today. You've already purchased my peace. Help me take hold of what I need and share your surplus love." 

It helps me see in the dark. It helps me hold on. 

And friend, I'm striking this match to say, you are not alone.  

"This little light of mine... "

The Whole Loaf


In the ancient books of Wisdom that have been forming my understanding of the world since I was very young, there is an adage to not withhold one's hand from sowing seed both in the morning and the evening, for we cannot know which will sprout, even, perhaps both. 

This is located very near an adage about casting one's bread upon the water without fear of loss. It is an admonition to generosity but I have always muddled it with the seed passage to an understanding something like this: 

Cast your bread upon the water - both in the morning and in the evening - whether you catch ducks or fish, there will be plenty to eat for everyone. 

And there you see the difficulty in teaching me anything: the muddling. I'm a muddler. Things get muddy. 

 ~~~

In July. I started massage therapy school.  I soon realized that the school is set up identical to what is referred to as a 'predatory for profit' college. I'm sure it is strictly coincidence, as there are a lot of fine folks at the school who wouldn't be a willing party to predatory behavior. I discovered the structure when it became increasingly clear that I would be unable to complete the amount of for-profit massages required by the school (not the state) to graduate in time and maintain a job for survival. As the limited slots for student massages got locked down by the school's first-come, first-serve, no personal reservation policies, more students were added to the "work pool" routinely every two months, significantly shrinking each student's chance at successfully finishing. 

In September,  almost as if by the school's design, I withdrew. 

The next week, I started a job as Graphic Designer. 

Four days in, I quit. 

The job required a lot more office management than met the eye, and while I have experience in that kind of work, it wasn't what I had applied for. It wasn't what was advertised.  The creative outlet I desire was stuck behind a firewall of emails and bookkeeping.  I asked my boss to call the guy he had interviewed before me, before he got hired somewhere else.  He asked me to stick with him a little longer because things were chaotic in a way they had never been, and once we untangled the knots, there would be more art and less loose ends... 

By October's end, I knew it was a job I could do and - with a little more time, probably quite well. I found myself skipping lunch, working late and becoming totally absorbed in getting the job done. I could see becoming a fixture in the office - my own office- and while that held its own appeal - I realized I didn''t want to find myself still there ten years from now. And I wanted to be a good steward of this season with my children - while they are around, I want to be around. I need to be around.  

So I quit, again.  This time he let me. He called the guy back who interviewed before me, paid me a few days to train him then sent me off with a smile and well-wishes. 

On the day I knew I couldn't be an Office Manager/Graphic Designer any longer, I started a business with a Wix page and a whim. One of my best friends in Florida is a professional nanny and had been encouraging me to "open a branch" of my own. I had dabbled with the idea but always got stuck overthinking the name, the logo.... everything. 

In my desperation to escape the confines of a cubicle,  everything snapped into place or simply didn't matter anymore. Suddenly, it was floating debris that just might save my life. 

And though I've had a lot of positive feedback for the idea,  I haven't had a lot of calls....yet. 

This week, I received an onboarding email for an internet company I will do remote work for. 

Today, there was an email inviting me to interview for a job through Freelancer. 

Over the next few weeks, I may finally finish that online course in Life Coaching. 

~~

I've jokingly said that divorce turned me into a quitter... but I mean it in the best way.  I've simply realized that I can.  When something isn't a good fit, when it is the wrong way to spend my time... I can try, try again. 

I've been thinking a lot lately about this season in my life - what my purpose is now that I'm not defined primarily as a wife, homeschooling mom or teacher. 

It seems I'm tossing the whole loaf onto the water  these days, sowing seed day and night. 

I'm content here on the creek bank, watching for whatever may bite.   

As I wait in the sunshine, or under a blanket of stars, I'm sure there'll be enough to go around. 

And I know everything's gonna be alright. 

Microfiction Challenge: Top 15


I recently entered a microfiction challenge. We were randomly assigned a genre, keyword and action to include in a 100 word story. This week, I found out I made the Top 15 finalist cut for my group. This means I will be given new prompts and 24 hours to write another 100 word story for Round Two... soon. 

Round One: 
Genre: romantic comedy
Word: bask
Action: taking an X-ray

 Catching The Red Eye To San Rio
by Kelly Brewer

“Sir, your shoes?”
I slowly put my loafers on the conveyor to bask in x-rays. I had hoped to keep this morning’s
wardrobe mishap to myself, but now the danger of exploding sneakers demanded I bare my
soles to the cutest TSA agent in the terminal.
My socks stood out like a sixth toe.
I saw her notice and looked away.
I must’ve turned three shades pinker than the socks on my feet.
But when she smirked ‘I love Hello Kitty, too!” I looked right into her eyes.
And the rest, as they say, is history, Kit.
Our family history.

Judges' Feedback:
WHAT THE JUDGES LIKED {2104}  This story really made me smile. It has a sweetness to it–and not one that you would expect with a TSA agent! I also loved that the protagonist is caught out wearing Hello Kitty socks. Very humorous.   
{2067}  The line, "is history, Kit," has a sweet and endearing not for the ending. And the situation of embarrassing socks bringing two people together is an original romantic set-up. The mood is lighthearted while some of the discomfort or annoyance of an airport terminal comes through realistically.  
{2111}  This is a really cute story supported with good descriptive language and details, like the sixth toe analogy and turning pink in embarrassment. The ending is clever, and makes for a fun twist.   
WHAT THE JUDGES FEEL NEEDS WORK 
{2104}  I thought everything about your story was strong with a couple of small exceptions. With a story limited to only 100 words, every word has to have a purpose. There are a couple of spots in which you could drop a couple of words that are not serving your story and in doing so, would tighten up your writing a bit. For example, you wrote: “…three shades pinker than the socks on my feet…” It is understood that the socks are on her feet. Also, while your last two lines are satisfactory, they are not quite as strong as the rest of the story.  
 {2067}  On editing, it could help the story to take a closer look at language. The third sentence, "I had hoped . . ." might be easier to follow if broken up into shorter sentences. Conjunctions like "must've" aren't often used unless for a specific reason. Similarly, an phrase like socks standing out like a sixth toe is risky, pun-territory. It can sometimes work when characterizing the narrator. 
 {2111}  At the end we understand this is a reflection on how he met Kit's mother, but if you found some room sooner in the story, it would help to have a clue that this story is being told to a child. Otherwise, there's not much you could change. It's great as is.

First Day

 "This is the first day of my life..." 

I set my alarm to that old Bright Eyes song and slept somewhat fitfully last night, anticipating today - the day I start something new. 

I am going to school. 

I enrolled in college a few times when I was married, but 'mysteriously', before the first day ever rolled around, we needed to move or I needed to take a part-time job to help make ends meet. 

So, I never made it to school, though I was able to take a few online classes. 

Today marks the first day in a life I am choosing, a new direction that- crash or sail- I am happy to be living. 

I never realized how isolation worked until I was free to build community, how innocuous the actions of a fence-builder can seem.

 "I've just got too much work to do, we can't visit  " and "We're our own little family, let's make new traditions together, just ourselves." is hardly sinister, until it is an enforced way of life. 

That is to say, going to a family funeral should never result in your spouse changing the locks or threatening divorce.  Love does not imprison its intended. 

If isolation is your reality, I'm waving my light from shore; there is freedom and I hope you find it. 

For me, that was then. But, this is today, the day I am going to school. 

And I am happy.


How Marvelous

Softly, from the backseat, as we pulled away from the little wooden chapel in the wildwood,  I heard my ten year old singing: 

"How marvelous, how wonderful ..."

As if she realized I was listening to her, she said "I didn't know all the words to that song" 

So I pulled it up on Spotify and we sang or way home. 

~*~

Now she is planning a concert in the park. As soon as tomorrow, if the weather allows, but someday this week, at the very latest. She doesn't want to miss her chance she says, because her week with the parent who can be talked into such adventures (me)  will soon be past. 

She thinks she will add her new favorite, 'How Marvelous' to her song list.

"Maybe if I sing it a little more rock-and-roll-ish to match my style? "  she wonders aloud

I smirk at the irony she can't see and pull a more contemporary version of " I Stand Amazed (How Marvelous)" up on Spotify. 

'Hey, they stole my idea!' she says, as she sings along with Shane and Shane anyway. 

."... and my song shall ever be... how marvelous, how wonderful, is my Savior's love for me." 

Indeed.

I'll take the singing heart of my child in any style. See? 



Rafter Cats

A few weeks ago, I discovered 7 newborn kittens on my back porch. 

Last week, I discovered mangled fur and that their box had been moved. 

My aunt disposed of the remains- so mangled a count was not possible, but it appeared all were lost.

Today, I discovered 5 kittens, tucked safely in the rafters above where their original box had been. 

One tumbled, uninjured, from it's high tower. 

We extracted the other kittens and now, reunited, they await whatever plan we come up with to get them fed and keep them safe until they're big enough to... fly the nest. 

Waking


The shore is lined with us,  
Our phones lifted toward the rising sun-
Empty cups waiting to be filled, 
And spilled. 

4/9/2021 "Waking" 

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