A View to Die For by Richard Houston. A crime thriller, but I just couldn't get into it. Not bad, nothing overly sensual or bloody, just . . . uninteresting.
So now I've started Julia Lessman's A Passion Most Pure. Already her words remind me why her first book's warm reception.
Writing? A little here and everywhere. I have written four devotions for Women of the Bible and several ahead for My Daily Nibbles blog coming up. I've also managed a few thousand on Runaway Love.
Oh, and my BIG news. Drum roll please: This week my book Homefront Dreams is one of the choices at Clash of the Titles. Please stop by and vote, if so inclined! http://www.clashofthetitles.com/
I am hoping for a Christmas release this year. . .so please pray along with me for the right opportunity.
Thanks!
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Respect and Compassion
FEBRUARY 12: TWO
AMERICAN LIBERATORS
Today Americans revere
A man who broke a nation’s chains
His vision imperfect, unclear,
For us, the living, task remains
Today, proud daughter weeps with ink
Her mother broke a single link
Abuse long master bid adieu
For me, my son, and babies two.
Form: Rispetto. February 12th was also my Mom's birthday.
Does God cry as He
counts the hairs lost
strand by strand
victims of cancer's cure
haiku inspired by Connie Peters' poem about God's love for sparrows
Sunday, February 16, 2014
PASS IT AROUND
I'm not feeling so great tonight. We've had a stomach bug circulating the building and it finally made it's way to me. So far I have it "light." Aside from throwing up for about twelve hours, I only feel flu-achy and extra tired. Considering my roommate's non-stop cough, that's nothing.
Anyhow, I passed the anniversary of Mom's birthday without much sadness. But it's "that" time of year, with two birthdays and two anniversaries, so your prayers are appreciated.
It was also Valentine's Day, of course. I won a beautiful red teddy bear for winning the Bingo black out game. She's adorable. Definitely a girl, with curly black lashes.
Today my son came with the babies today. I had accumulated Bingo prizes--plastic horses and plyboard puzzles--for the kiddos. Jaran said Isaiah clamored to see me today. That made me feel good. We actually talked in sentences today. . .
Funny for Jaran calling, like I've heard Shelley do often, "Jordan Elizabeth! Isaiah Jaran! Get over here now!"
Not a memorable week with my tablemates, but neither have we had arguments.
All in all, a good week.
Anyhow, I passed the anniversary of Mom's birthday without much sadness. But it's "that" time of year, with two birthdays and two anniversaries, so your prayers are appreciated.
It was also Valentine's Day, of course. I won a beautiful red teddy bear for winning the Bingo black out game. She's adorable. Definitely a girl, with curly black lashes.
Today my son came with the babies today. I had accumulated Bingo prizes--plastic horses and plyboard puzzles--for the kiddos. Jaran said Isaiah clamored to see me today. That made me feel good. We actually talked in sentences today. . .
Funny for Jaran calling, like I've heard Shelley do often, "Jordan Elizabeth! Isaiah Jaran! Get over here now!"
Not a memorable week with my tablemates, but neither have we had arguments.
All in all, a good week.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
READING AND WRITE February 7-13
Having the Nook has allowed me to indulge myself as of old! Even better, a lot of Christian books, series, and authors which I have desired to try are available for free. I have loaded more than 40 books on my Nook, most of them for free.
Here are two I read this week:
Of Stardust by February Grace. A fantasy based on the concept of where fairygodmothers (and fathers) come from and how they train. Add the twist that no two can fraternize with each other without giving up their powers, and find a pleasant, fun twist to fantasy and romance.
Love in the Great Southland by Mary Hawkins. Mary is an Australian author whom I met at a ACFW conference. She brings her international voice to bear in this well-told story of an arranged marriage where husband and wife come to love each other near Adelaide, New South Wales, Australia.
Writing, on the other hand--not much down. I have focused on writing devotions, and doing some initial research for my women of the Bible assignment. I finally wrote one today. I checked if aything I've already written could be used as the basis for a new one. Unfortunately no. :(
Here are two I read this week:
Of Stardust by February Grace. A fantasy based on the concept of where fairygodmothers (and fathers) come from and how they train. Add the twist that no two can fraternize with each other without giving up their powers, and find a pleasant, fun twist to fantasy and romance.
Love in the Great Southland by Mary Hawkins. Mary is an Australian author whom I met at a ACFW conference. She brings her international voice to bear in this well-told story of an arranged marriage where husband and wife come to love each other near Adelaide, New South Wales, Australia.
Writing, on the other hand--not much down. I have focused on writing devotions, and doing some initial research for my women of the Bible assignment. I finally wrote one today. I checked if aything I've already written could be used as the basis for a new one. Unfortunately no. :(
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
SEASONS OF THE BRIDGE OF CHRIST
This week's form is a "renga", a 17-syllable-haiku by one poet answered by a 14-syllable-couplet by the second. My good friend and poetic inspiration, Connie Peters, wrote this one with me.
THE SEASONS OF THE BRIDE OF CHRIST
By Connie L. Peters
And Darlene Franklin
The world wears white lace
Underneath a steel gray sky
Speaking the Lord’s grace
Underneath a steel gray sky
Speaking the Lord’s grace
Icicles weave silver thread
Winter’s gown for snow-cleansed bride
Bright colors abound
Life bursts forth in trees and
fields
Air quickens with sound
God’s love spears bridal prism
Rainbow shards contagion spread
Earth,
water and sun
New
growth and activity
Labor,
joy and fun
White
no longer, earthen arms
Toil
‘til ev’ry tongue sings praise
Mature red orange leaves
Gently adrift on light
wind
Patiently the ground
receives
Creation
slumbers, the bride
Keeps watch. See! The King is come!
Sunday, February 9, 2014
A NEW FAMILY
Our new owners decided we should be assigned seating for our meal times. The tables were meant to contain people a variety, from who can't or don't speak, to the clearly demented, to the fairly with it. The point was to have a more family-like atmosphere.
I was distressed to be forced to spend day after day with people who can't carry on a decent conversation.
Over the months, my attitude has changed. I feel like the "mother" of our little group.
Miss W. fools a lot of us into thinking she can't talk. Many meals she avoids eating until one of the aides forced the puree down her throat.
I felt like I had scored a touchdown the first time I asked, "Do you like polish sausage?"
She said, "No!" Her expression suggested extreme dislike.
We've had one or two days where we've carried on a conversation. A few days when she cleans her plate with glee, more when she eats her dessert, more when they have to spoon feed her. These days, when her eyes hover shut, I suspect she's keeping watch of everything that's going on around her.
Miss P. loves to talk. The problem is that she has trouble understanding. In Bingo, she has to hear each number at least twice. I will repeat a word two or three times, speaking as clearly as I can, and she can't understand. Once she finally gets the words (fried chicken breast), she shakes her head. "Well, I've never done anything like that." But she hates to be left out of any conversation.
Miss V.--well, I've never met anyone quite like her. She repeats the same stories over and over and over again, in the same singsong voice. She tries to help. She wants to be friendly. But no one wants to be around her for long (including me).
But over time . . .I help to steer her away from her stories. I acknowledge her pain, and tell her some thing I do to help myself. I have seen her do incredibly touching, tender things. Of the three ladies at my table, she is the one with the sharpest wit and biggest heart.
I am discovering the Miss V. very few of us ever meet. One that takes patience and understanding, but one worth the effort.
A nursing-home-assigned family--but a family none-the-less.
I was distressed to be forced to spend day after day with people who can't carry on a decent conversation.
Over the months, my attitude has changed. I feel like the "mother" of our little group.
Miss W. fools a lot of us into thinking she can't talk. Many meals she avoids eating until one of the aides forced the puree down her throat.
I felt like I had scored a touchdown the first time I asked, "Do you like polish sausage?"
She said, "No!" Her expression suggested extreme dislike.
We've had one or two days where we've carried on a conversation. A few days when she cleans her plate with glee, more when she eats her dessert, more when they have to spoon feed her. These days, when her eyes hover shut, I suspect she's keeping watch of everything that's going on around her.
Miss P. loves to talk. The problem is that she has trouble understanding. In Bingo, she has to hear each number at least twice. I will repeat a word two or three times, speaking as clearly as I can, and she can't understand. Once she finally gets the words (fried chicken breast), she shakes her head. "Well, I've never done anything like that." But she hates to be left out of any conversation.
Miss V.--well, I've never met anyone quite like her. She repeats the same stories over and over and over again, in the same singsong voice. She tries to help. She wants to be friendly. But no one wants to be around her for long (including me).
But over time . . .I help to steer her away from her stories. I acknowledge her pain, and tell her some thing I do to help myself. I have seen her do incredibly touching, tender things. Of the three ladies at my table, she is the one with the sharpest wit and biggest heart.
I am discovering the Miss V. very few of us ever meet. One that takes patience and understanding, but one worth the effort.
A nursing-home-assigned family--but a family none-the-less.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
BOOKS, POEMS, AND THE FUTURE
Today is a definite mixed bag.
I am considering creating a new blog, with a slight change in focus. I would like to post five days a week, Monday - Friday, along the lines of:
A new book cover: Here is the cover for Colorado Melodies, which includes my first ever book, Romanian Rhapsodies, as well as the sequels, Plainsong and Knight Music.
A new book: I am 25% through the rough draft of my next contracted book, Runaway Love.
A new poem: Inspiration: the first line from another poem. The form was meant to be a Lento but I didn't quite understand it.
I am considering creating a new blog, with a slight change in focus. I would like to post five days a week, Monday - Friday, along the lines of:
- Monday - my usual slice of life/family/nursing home happenings and the like
- Tuesday - moving my daily nibble to this website, Tuesday and Friday
- Wednesday - a poem
- Thursday - update on writing and reading
- Friday - second daily nibble
And if I think I can handle it, I would love to have guest authors on the weekends. . .
So what do I share, here, today, on my familiar Sunday schedule? (Understand I do get the irony of expanding my blog when I've had a problem keeping up with Sundays only.)
Odds and ends. :)
A new contract: I get to write 30 devotionals about women of the Bible for a book coming from Barbour. I am writing about women from Rachel through the Shulammite.
A new book cover: Here is the cover for Colorado Melodies, which includes my first ever book, Romanian Rhapsodies, as well as the sequels, Plainsong and Knight Music. A new book: I am 25% through the rough draft of my next contracted book, Runaway Love.
A new poem: Inspiration: the first line from another poem. The form was meant to be a Lento but I didn't quite understand it.
The borrowed line comes from "She Walks in Beauty" by Lord Byron.
She walks in beauty, like the
night
Broken dreams restored whole
Or crushed beyond repair, a
Token of her tattered life
Phoenix-like, beauty rises
From pain’s conflagration.
Night’s wrongs burn under day’s
sun
Numb no more, her soul flies
free
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