Saved

Bigger than this moment,

Beyond all yesterdays,

Take me to Your promise,

Rest in precious grace.

Relieve this day with mercy,

Tomorrow's out of reach,

Above alone and broken,

Into eternity.

Please

I don't need you to fix me,
Or even understand.
I just ask that you love me,
And maybe hold my hand.

See me when I'm hiding,
Let me know you're there.
Need me just a little,
Or more because I care.

Share your smiles here and there,
And tears about to fall,
Say, "Hey, you're not alone."
Or anything at all.

Above all, follow His call.

Sometimes it is so hard.

Blessings. Most of my prayers include thanks for the many blessings God has given me. Honestly though, when I say those words, I am often thinking about the blessings I like. It's easy to be thankful for a loving family, a warm home, a friend.

But everything is a blessing, really. Even the hard stuff. Sometimes we realize later. Sometimes not. But God is cool enough to keep blessing us anyway.

When He leads me I want to follow. More than I want to do anything on this earth, I want to follow Him. Right now, I am giving thanks for every blessing. Every blessing.

Later I may cry or whine a little. I could be wrong, but I think it's okay to allow real emotions to have their moments. But snot is messy and nobody wants to hear me whine so I keep on following.

Because I know in my heart that the very greatest blessing of all is not the gifts themselves but The One who loves me enough to give them. So whatever He wants I want. No gift should be put above The One who gives it.


Right now I'm indulging in a moment of peace. God is reminding me He knows what He is doing. There's great comfort in knowing whatever I do today He'll know what to do with it.

My hope is to make His job as easy as possible.




Amen

SOME EVERYDAY TESTIMONIES OF AN ORDINARY HOUSEWIFE

Chapter One

The Burning Station Wagon

"There must be something wrong with that light." At least, that seemed like the easiest answer. I filled the gas tank before we left, I even had the oil checked. The possibility of another car repair bill made me squirm. The red warning light mocked me from the dashboard.

 I continued the trip down Interstate 81 with an uneasy eye keeping watch on gadgets I usually ignored. The light went out. It came back on. Home was still an hour away. In the seat beside me, my daughter, Jordan, sang with the radio and played with her cell phone. She wanted to get home to watch her favorite show. A quick stop might be tolerated- as long as she could get an iced mocha latte.

 I looked in my rearview mirror to the back seat and saw Thomas stick his thumb in his mouth. He didn’t seem worried at all. His four year old mind had yet to learn such concepts as “doubt” and “danger”. Heck, he was probably watching the skyline for golden arches so he could chow some fries.

 A fight with my husband, Ed, weighted my mind. He’d be pretty ticked off if I had to call him for a roadside rig to get us home now. I shouldn’t have hung up on him when he called me at my mother’s house. He shouldn’t have yelled at me though.

 Maybe if I could get the car home he could change a belt or something. I pulled into the passing lane. Surely our family’s station wagon could go a little faster than the dump truck up ahead. As we tried to pass the truck, the temperature gauge bounced toward “H”. The car kicked into slow motion. Those sharing the road saw fit to pass on the right and I couldn’t get back over to the driving lane, much less the right shoulder of the road.

Steam seeped from underneath the hood. We couldn’t keep moving. Traffic to the right of us flowed without mercy and we were forced to rest on the narrow left shoulder of the highway. I popped my hood open and a rush of smoke poured out. I am no mechanic, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t a good sign.

I called Ed. Jordan unbuckled Thomas and got him out. The shoulder of the road was about one roadkill skeleton wider than the car. I'd rather not further detail how I happened to gauge that fact.

 The legal speed limit on that stretch of highway is 65mph. Whoosh, this speed seems much faster when you are on a narrow patch of gravel between a busy highway and a ditch. Ed was at least an hour south. My parents were an hour north.

The smoke grew. We ran when we saw the fire. I'm not sure where we thought we were going, but we had to get away from a potential explosion. Thick black smoke. Flames. Nowhere to run. I never had a moment tell me more powerfully that there was only one thing to do. So we did it.

I stood on the side of Interstate 81 with my four year old son in my arms and my teenaged daughter at my side and we bowed our heads and prayed, "God, please save us."

We had barely lifted our heads when a pickup truck pulled off the road in front of us. He helped us in and took us to a safer spot on the other side of the highway. We watched from a distance as fire trucks came. Soon our car was another skeletal roadkill.

Thomas was shaking so much a State Trooper wrapped him in his jacket. A tow truck took what was left of our car. We got a ride to the nearest rest stop to wait for Ed.

At the rest stop the vending machine was kind to us. I think Skittles can taste like a miracle sometimes.

Then a mouse ran right past my feet and I screamed. Seriously? I have the nerve to be afraid of a mouse after this day? Yes. I'm sorry to say, I did. Thomas had the nerve to laugh at me for screaming. Jordan still wanted her latte. Ed and I would eventually get back to that fight. Our normal lives made a quick rebound. 

But when we got home that night Thomas burst through the door with an announcement he was excited to share, "We prayed and God saved us!"

And we keep praying. And He keeps saving us.

Amen!

As I later learned through the Book of Exodus, God got the attention of Moses through a burning bush. God gave Moses a mission, told him it would be hard, and He promised to be with him. Honestly, I sort of heard about that over the years but it never really sunk in. I couldn't tell you much about it. I can, however, tell you that as I sat in the back of a stranger's pickup truck- with my children safely beside me- watching the station wagon go up in flames, God certainly had gotten my attention.

Sane Enough to Know She's Crazy

CHAPTER ONE

They’ll Never Even Feel a Bump

Her mind had never been so clouded, or so clear. “You can’t do this,” she told herself. Yet, as she approached the train station, Carrie really wasn’t sure whether or not she would finally give in to him. He had been trying to convince her for so long. She came close more times than she would like to admit. The man offered no options and accepted no excuses. He wasn’t asking. More frequent and more demanding, his attacks diminished reason. He justified his plan with the harsh claim, “They don’t need you anymore.” As much as she didn’t want to believe it, tonight this was Carrie’s truth.

She pulled her car to the side of the road. With the push of a button, hazard lights flashed in the dark. Another husband-taught habit guided her foot to the emergency brake as she parked. The safety belt clicked open, imposing the freedom to step out. She closed her eyes. The train should be leaving the station soon. It wouldn’t take long to reach this spot. She sat in the soft grass beside the track, trying to absorb the quiet night around her. His promise threatened relief. The din of her battling emotions played background to the fantasy of his plan:

She stood on the tracks facing the train. Without fear, she boldly stared into the light. Her darkness was illuminated by the great locomotive racing toward her. Soon her body would be struck with a moment of exquisite pain. Her mind would be released.

When she questioned him about the danger to the people on board the train, he assured her they would never even feel a bump. Now she wondered if the same would be true of the people on board her life.

Carrie thought of the empty rocking chair near her bed. She could almost hear the creak of the floorboards. “Shh. Rest, baby Daniel. Sleep, my love. You’re safe now.” “Beth, sweet little Beth, please don’t cry. Mommy’s here. He can’t hurt you. He can’t hurt you.”

She longed to hold her children again. “Daniel, make me laugh.” She could see his chubby cheeks and bright red hair, his arms stretched out with pride announcing his nap is over. Half a dozen neckties dangle to the tip of his snow boots as he waddles across the living room begging to come to work with Daddy. He is singing to his grilled cheese sandwich at lunch, doing a happy dance the first time he ties his shoe. Panic crosses his face as he reports the traffic jam his matchbox cars caused in the toilet.

And Beth. “Sing for me, Beth.” Her daughter’s voice could soothe her inner chaos better than any cookie ever had. She was Carrie’s closest link to peace. “Oh, honey. Let me hear you now. Help me be normal.”

She imagined two year old Beth sitting in the bathroom singing “I’m a Potty Girl.” At five, she frequently scolded her brother to the tune, “Hey, Dude, You Made Me Mad.” Carrie hummed with the memories of Beth’s favorite lullaby, “It’s Been a Hard Day’s Night.”

Her baby girl’s angelic face, surrounded by oodles of strawberry curls, and Daniel with his contagious giggles, again gave her strength, purpose, pleasure. She thought about going home. Maybe they did need her.

She could bake Daniel’s favorite chocolate cake with peanut butter icing. He used to love to lick the bowl. She better buy some milk. Did she make dinner? They have to clear their plates. Story time. Two babies snuggle safely on Mommy’s lap. “It’s okay. He can’t hurt you. Mommy’s here.”

Carrie opened her eyes and looked into her empty lap. Her babies hadn’t been there in years. Now that they’re grown…

“You’re just in their way.” His voice jumped her like a hungry lion. “You weak coward. Stop being so selfish. They don’t need you anymore.”

She fought his attack as she heard the train coming. He was locked in her head, unwilling to leave. Over and over, he repeated his cry, "They don't need you! They don't need you!" She could not dispute his cold, sharp words. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving her family. As usual, her pain was his pleasure.

Her head pounded. He had tormented her for so many years. Would he stop with her? She couldn’t let him hurt anyone else. It had to end. It would not end with her children. She struggled to ignore his voice raging in her mind. The approaching rumble couldn’t stifle him. She climbed to her knees. Her eyes fixed on the train bearing down on her, just seconds away.

"NOW," he commanded, "NOW!"

She rose to her feet, summoning every bit of faith within her. Two steps could place her on the tracks. Her legs waited for a decision to move. The blinding light grew nearer. Her life with the man had to end. She held her breath and jumped…away.

"God, I am Yours, not his." She felt it as she whispered the words that kept her just beyond the reach of the invisible stranger. She screamed into the thunder of the passing train.

"You can't have me! You can't have me!"

The voice that had been haunting her went silent. The sound of the train whistling in the distance sang finale to the moment. She was alone at last. She longed to be held in Adam’s arms. She wanted to be close to him. She needed him to know her.

An unknown puppet master was pulling her strings and she needed her husband to help her break free. If only she could tell him.

“Oh, Adam. Can’t you hear him? Can’t you save me?” she thought.

Shame interrupted. She couldn’t expose the people she loved to the cruelty of the man. Adam wouldn’t understand. Would he? Would anyone? It didn’t matter. There’s nothing anyone can do anyway. The idea of saying it out loud came with a notion it would somehow make it true.

She teetered on the brink of reason. She wished she could be a normal wife, just out visiting a friend like she had claimed. Nobody even questioned her when she left. They just nodded. She waved to the back of Adam’s head. She came back for her keys, then for her purse. Nobody tried to stop her. Of course they didn’t. Nobody knew.

She needed to tell Adam. She got back into her car and locked the doors. Her hands trembled as she reached for her purse. She fumbled through useless prescription bottles and candy wrappers until she found her phone. She sat up straight and called him, bracing herself with each ring.

“Yeah?” he answered.
“Adam, it’s Carrie.”
“I know that, dear.”
“Um. I, um…it’s me.”
“Yeah. We’ve been married for twenty years. I think I know your voice.”
“I’m on my way home,” was all she heard herself say. Carrie could only hope he would hear something in her voice crying out to him, “Come to me. Hold me. Fix me.”
“Bring me some pretzels,” was his response.

Epic Follower Blogfest Contest

Yikes! I have been working all week to write one sentence. I am so silly. After all this time though, I still believe dreams can come true.

So, when I came across a contest hosted by Shelley Watters http://shelleywatters.blogspot.com/ , I got excited! Shelley has a cool blog called, "Is It Hot In Here Or Is It This Book?" and she is holding the Epic Follower Blogfest Contest.

This is where that one sentence comes in. All of us hopefuls have the opportunity to pitch a manuscript in 140 characters. The twitter sized proposal has the potential to land its manuscript in the hands of one Suzie Townsend of Fine Print Literary Management! (If I had a choice to win this prize or backstage passes to a Bon Jovi concert, I wouldn't even have to think about it. Jon and the boys could go home to their wives. Yeah, it's that good.)

Anyway, please check out Shelley's blog. There are a lot of great entries! Good luck to all!

And feel free to let me know what you think of mine! I yearn to learn!

Thanks!

Here goes:

SANE ENOUGH TO KNOW SHE'S CRAZY
Women's Fiction

A train rumbles as Carrie battles the hallucinations that drew her to the tracks. There's just one truth left to trust: This war must end.