Happy New Year

Happy New Year!!!

As I stand on the cusp of 2017 I look forward to the coming year with eagerness. I see, or if you wish to be more realistic, I hope for an exciting year. I can’t help feeling like I have just finished the first nine holes of golf. It doesn’t matter if the first half of the game was good or bad; I look forward to a great score on the coming nine holes. One might say in order to enjoy golf; one must have an optimistic nature. Lady Luck can be very fickle, one minute treating you to a par and the next sticking you with a lost ball. However, having a positive view of life can lead one to approach each day with eagerness and energy.

Looking ahead to this spring, or if I’m really lucky by February, my novel, Baggage burdens. will be published. After at least six years of writing, revising, polishing and polishing again and again, I have come to know and enjoy the many characters of my novel––Jill, Joseph, their family and their friends. However, now it’s time to let them out of my study-nest and fly into the world, even soar like an eagle. (Didn’t I say I have an optimistic spirit?)

This coming year I will have two chances to be very excited––first with my novel, Baggage burdens. and second with Helping Hands, its companion novel. The latter I expect to be released early in the summer.

For most part, both novels deal with Jill’s life. Why? Mainly because she refuses to face her anger and fears related to her alcoholic father and her perception of an unforgiveable misdeed. While the first novel deals with Jill’s psychological scars, the second deals with Jill confronting the causes of her haunting ghosts.

Readers of Baggage burdens. will see my hopeful nature invested in Joseph. The setting is Jill’s bedroom in the early minutes of the new year. To drastically limit her husband’s sexual advances, Jill has not permitted Joseph to sleep with her. Because company is sleeping over at their place, Jill has permitted Joseph, for that night, to return to her bedroom. She thinks she knows what she can expect.

Jill turns the light off and steps out of the bathroom. A small bedside table lamp shines. Joseph sits on the edge of the bed, a glowing adolescent waiting for her to show off her birthday present. With arms spread out, she makes one slow turn to let Joseph see what he imagined when looking in the lingerie shop window.

Within minutes Joseph hovers over her in an extended push-up. Then like a sheet slowly floating down, he initiates a controlled descent. His lips find her neck, her cheek, her lips. His hands slip beneath her back. He pulls her close as if he hopes she’ll absorb him. Rolling on his back, he brings her along like a light pillow. They move as one body.

Looking down at his beaming eyes, she says, “This wasn’t our arrangement.”

Her long, thick black hair curtains her cheeks. Her eyes, her nose, her lips peek out from her hair. Slowly Jill draws closer. Their lips lock. Hands search and find their treasures.

A moment of reluctance distracts Jill. She raises her head and in a confused state says, “Joseph, our deal.” Joseph’s arms gently wrap around her, explore her. Jill slides her hands from Joseph’s shoulders to his biceps. She knows if she wanted to get up, he’d let her.

Joseph’s whisper brings her back to the bedroom. “The deal was last year’s. This is a new year. Time for a new year’s resolution, a new deal.”

A gentle, firm pressure brings her lips to his. Joseph’s body nurtures passion he’d hoped for from his wife.

The roots of Joseph’s happiness grip the early hours of the new year, but his earlier sensual pleasures disappear with the sound of their children’s running feet. His morning appetizer leaves to serve breakfast. He resolves to see if his anticipated pleasures have completely evaporated. After briefly greeting his children as they eat their oatmeal, he follows Jill to the cupboard. From behind her, he rests his hands on her housecoat, then slides to her hips.

“Great party last night,” says Joseph.

Jill agrees.

“Even better morning.” Joseph peeks around to see her face.

She flashes a smile.

“Should make that a yearly tradition.”

Silence greets his suggestion.

“Maybe even a monthly event.” Joseph brushes the hair from the side of her face and plants a quick kiss on her cheek. Before she can comment, he takes their bowls of porridge to the table.

            haiku capsule:

Special New Year’s treat

Celibacy rests tonight

New resolution?

                   

      Next blog:   Winter àFun Times

Gift of Love

Gift of Love

It is relatively easy to see how one can love a person who is easy-going, friendly, and caring, but what of a person who has some glaring faults. One might say a negative person doesn’t deserve a compassionate eye. If you are aware of your own shortcomings you too may say, “I don’t deserve your love.”

So why does one––offer an encouraging smile for a person feeling down, stand with a person who is being bullied, take a homeless person out for dinner? A possible motivation is to make another’s life a little bit brighter even if it is only for a short time. No payment in the form of behavior or an exchange of favors is a prerequisite.

At Christmas or birthdays parents give presents to their children. They expect nothing in return. True when the children are young their laughter and excitement is sufficient. The true gift is not the present but the thought behind the gift––you are so important to me that I want to do what I can to make your life a little happier.

In this Christmas season one can look to our heavenly father as acting to make our life better. He gave us a most precious and valuable gift, His only son. God didn’t want us to have to pay for our many self-centered actions. What a wonderful gift! What an act of love! Can we reflect that same giving example at Christmas time but also during the rest of the year?

In my novel, Baggage burdens. while Jill, many times is the recipient of acts of love, she struggles with anything being given freely, with love.

Three steps into the kitchen, Jill freezes. In place of their card-sized kitchen table stands a new eight-place wooden table. Two chairs flank the table ends and three more on each side. A card greets Jill. In black letters below, she reads: To Jill, from Joseph. Merry Christmas.

“I appreciate it. I really do.” Jill bows her head. “But I, but I don’t deserve it. I’ve done nothing to earn your trust.” Jill pauses before she adds, “Or your love.”

“Love is not earned. It’s a gift.”

haiku capsule:

Serve undeserving

please disadvantaged people

Christmas spirit lives

                   

Next blog:

New Year, New Hopes

Best Kind of Help

The Best Kind of Help

The best kind of help is assistance that is offered when a person feels that they need it. That might sound like common sense, but it isn’t. Support is welcomed to reach a want, but the more valuable aid comes when the help deals with a need, particularly a burning need. Even then such assistance may not be accepted never mind be seen as valuable. If the troubled-person isn’t ready to deal with their predicament, even a patient, persistent, friend isn’t appreciated.

An addict may be aware of a smoking or drinking problem, but until they can personally commit to facing that problem any help offered will just fall by the wayside.

Also a trusted patient, committed friend may not really know what the upsetting problem is. Their assistance, while kind, misses the mark, isn’t accepted. How frustrating. The best support is help that is there when a trouble person says they need it.

Loving family and friends frequently offer support for Jill, the protagonist, in my novel, Baggage burdens. Many times it’s warmly accepted. However, the real issues that drive Jill to actions that aren’t in her best interests are matters she does not want to face. Instead she would rather run away and forget the horrors of her past. Until she decides to deal with the strained relationships with her eldest son, her former boyfriend, her father, she continues to be a concern to her husband, grandmother, niece and friends. Unfortunately it takes years before she's ready for someone to be her lifesaver.

Guessing that Bill wants to help her, Jill chooses her words carefully. “I think he blames me for the divorce.” She looks down.

“So this is a short term problem, a recent development?”

Bill’s question makes Jill think Bill knows more about her strained relationship with her son. She looks up and finds him studying her closely. She reminds herself if she isn’t completely truthful, he will see it in her eyes. He always does.

“No. We’ve never been really close.”

“And you’re comfortable with this?”

“No. Of course not. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“And if there is, would you be willing to try?”

“Yes.”

Jill’s quick, firm response convinces Bill she is sincere.

“I might have an idea.” He pauses; afraid to touch what he understands is a festering sore.

“Well?”

Bill looks at Jill’s serious face. “You know in the Bible we’re instructed to confess our sins.” He paraphrases the first and third verses in Psalm 32. “The person who confesses their sins is blessed. The weight of the past mistakes doesn’t become an unbearable burden.”

 “I should ask Daniel for forgiveness?

“To start the healing process, yes. Mend your relationship with Daniel. Then you’ll feel more comfortable phoning and visiting your grandchildren. All I ask is that you think about what I said. When I come back, we’ll talk about it.”

“Come back?

a week later

“As for you not being comfortable talking to Daniel, then don’t do it. If you have a better solution, go with that. Or if you think you can comfortably continue with the way things are now, then do so.”

haiku capsule:

The best helper waits

“I can’t do it by myself.”

Now, time for action

                   

      Next blog:   Love is a Gift

A Closet S k e p t i c

A Closet     S k e p t i c

At one time it wasn’t cool to question whether Santa or the Easter Bunny were real. They were fun loveable figments of the imagination that did no harm. However, in the modern world full of threats, there’s a perceived need to be real. While today the skeptic can easily dismiss that the fat jolly old man in red, his elves and red nosed-reindeer as traditional fairy tails of the distant past that is not true for everything.

A closet skeptics aren’t as comfortable voicing their denial spirit about the virgin birth of Jesus Christ. Unwelcome responses may quickly follow. Virgin birth? Choirs of angels singing in the sky? No. Don’t say that. This is the darkest time of the year. A festive spirit is needed to brighten the day. When you give someone a gift that they are hesitant to buy for themselves, a smile lights up their face, not to mention a merchant’s face. How can one throw a damper on such cheering activities? Reading the Christmas and the Easter stories is as enjoyable as reading the Grimm tales. So a nonbeliever lets a tradition ride on.

Such is the compromising spirit of Jill, the protagonist, in my novel, Baggage burdens. For her all goes well until she finds herself in a religious community that takes their faith seriously. Inconsistencies appear in her actions. Her perceived belief does’t match what she does. The true nature of her character is questioned. Jill being a skeptic is not exposed, but a sense of not belonging grows in Jill. While moving from a conservative church setting to a more liberal church helps, Jill can’t help notice that she isn’t on the same page as her close friends and niece. Still, because of her parents' upbringing, her moral beliefs make her feel more comfortable in some kind of church setting. Until a major crisis upsets Jill’s life, she is able to pass as a believing Christian.

What has caused Jill’s denial spirit? It is a question Jill doesn’t want to address. She fears the answer may expose her as a fraud. She would have to admit that she only sees the Christian story as just that, a story, a good story, but only a story. To whom can she expose this awful secret?

If Jill has her own way, no one will know her real self. However overwhelming challenges forces Jill to choose a confident. While she expects that she can trust no one, she turns to an accepting, faithful man who slowly encourages her to open her closet door and shine a light on the frightening circumstances of her youth.

“Maybe that is something you need to pray about.” Bill glances at Jill for her reaction.

“And that’s another thing I can’t appreciate.” Irritation raises Jill’s voice. She shifts around in her seat, facing Bill, ready to see his reaction as well as hear his words. Now is the time to challenge him.

“Praying?”

“Yes.” Jill’s response is swift, as if she’s blocking a blow and preparing a counterattack. “Every time I hear you pray, do you know how you start? You begin with Dear Father. Do you have any idea what that does to me?” Jill’s challenge shoots out like a machine gun spitting bullets. “It immediately turns me off.”

Bill looks at Jill to determine if he has heard correctly.

haiku capsule:

Fake it. Who will know?

But what if the truth leaks out?

Feeling out of place.

                   

       Next blog:    The Best Kind of Help

Be A Really Helpful Friend

To Be a Really Helpful Friend

What does it take to be a really helpful friend? I don’t mean that you are willing to visit a neighbor, a colleague if they are ill or lend him your lawnmower, your skill saw or your car. Most people can pass those short-term tests with little difficulty.  What about being there for one who has deep emotional problems.  They require more than a listening ear. One might think that’s a job for a committed professional. Can a caring friend meet such professional standards?

Consider a person who has been traumatized during late high school years by a frequently drunk father, frequently violent father. Verbal and physical abuse eats away even at a strong self-image. When the emotional pain is fresh and easily visible, a comforting ear helps to create a bit of a balance for the distraught individual. If emotional assaults have time to nest, more than time is needed.

Alcohol fueled blame and guilt attacks can weaken one’s trust in others. They can poison one’s positive attitude about self and the future. Admitting to living in a survival-mode-lifestyle is embarrassing, especially in the presence of successful friends. Maybe slivers of festering wounds will be shared with an accepting person, but no more is often revealed. For a crippled ego how much lack of competence in handling your own affairs can be uncovered? To whom is it best to expose your perceived closet skeletons––a gentle caring person who you won’t see again, or a long time friend whose has proved to be accepting and also willing to be burdened with your sorrows? 

What does it take to support a person who is afraid to show one’s past burning sores? Being accepting is insufficient. One must be perceived to be accepting. Any misdeed or misunderstanding can wash away the image of being a true friend. Time and patience for a person when they are in need is critical. A person carrying baggage from the past cannot unpack until they themselves feel comfortable to do so, or they feel an internal pressure to open up. Needed time may take years. That is a lot of patience to ask for, but it still is not enough. Being there for someone also means having a thick skin. A hurting person can strike out to relieve pressure or reject you as a comforter.

Such a troubled person is revealed in my novel, Baggage burdens. Jill, the protagonist, experienced her father’s alcoholic rages and violence. To preserve her sanity she ran away from home, but she could not run away from the memories that haunted and shaped her. Even though Jill had many caring people helping her––grandmother, girlfriends, male friends, husband, niece, employer––it took her more than twenty-five years before she was willing to crack open the closet door and shine the light on her hidden tormenting ghosts. Internal personal pressure and a faulty friend motivated her to start to embark on healing actions.

Meet Jill’s Faulty Accepting Friend.

Pointing her finger at her mom, Amber says, “Then you should explain that to Mr. Wynchuk. Call him up. Apologize. Even invite him over for supper, like we used to.”

“I don’t know, Amber.”

*   *   *

Amber’s accusation, How could you be so mean to such a nice man? weighs heavily on Jill. To escape the crawling guilt, she turns her attention to a cramped feeling.

*   *   *

Knowing that Bill serves at the Wellness Center in the evenings, Jill calls at lunchtime. She expects a cutting remark when Bill hears her on the line. It’s not his nature, but she feels she deserves it. She’s been home from the hospital for more than a week, and she hasn’t called him to explain her quick departure. To her surprise, she receives a casual greeting. He politely inquiries about how she is adjusting to home life.

Jill admits that she was wrong to leave the hospital instead of waiting for his promised ride home. No sooner does she begin with “I wasn’t thinking clearly…” than Bill stops her.

“No need to explain. I thought you might want some time to adjust to being home, to talk with your children.” His accepting attitude to her apology surprises her.

Jill is speechless. He voiced one of her prepared excuses. Relief sweeps over her. Remembering the other reason for her phone call, Jill tells him that she and the children would like him to join them for supper next Sunday. She includes the children in the invitation because she thinks that Bill might not want to come if it is only her desire. She can’t believe that Bill has no sore feelings about her deserting him. Still thinking that Bill will reject her offer; she has prepared herself to tell Amber that she tried.

Bill accepts her invitation.

haiku capsule:

a teen age victim

emotionally shaken

feelings hidden deep

                   

      Next blog:   Closet     S k e p t i c