What I did this summer

 So where have I been since last May? The story is long, but here are the highlights. This whole experience has been one giant left turn, but I am still upright, although I may have a few dented fenders. Enjoy a recount of my privately painful, but encouraging summer.

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I put my hands on the keyboard and let the words churning in my head become tangible things on a sheet of paper. I had no characters, no plot, no dialogue… just words that rolled onto the page. It was easy, fun. The story began, the characters developed, the plot thickened. And then one day I was done. And my creation was buried for a time. Time for it to collect dust and almost become a faded memory. Then one day, when life had shifted into a different shape, I pulled it out and read it. I remember thinking that this wasn’t half bad.

 But what did I know? Like all things we do, a little guidance is helpful. Sometimes a complete education is needed. I needed an education. And I got one. I took a summer class on how to write a novel and it was akin to be thrown off the high dive into the deep end of the pool. They spoke a

 different language, they didn’t pull any punches when it came to critiquing my work, nor were they

short on suggestions. I felt as though my baby was being slowly beaten to death. Ripped apart. Some of it buried, some of it burned. My lovely, flowery descriptions cast aside, my characters shallow, unlikable. Even my setting lacked authenticity. I spent days in shock, unable to sleep, absolutely convinced they were wrong! They had to be, they must be. I fought every idea tooth and nail. What did they know? Well, come to find out, evidently a whole lot more than I did.

 Absorbing a whole new way to do something is like learning a new computer program and installing it in your mind. Restructuring a scene, creating tension, building a high point, creating emotions, it was like mixing together several foreign languages and expecting it to make sense. What do you mean I can’t “tell” you how I feel? “Showing” you is a monumental task. All new skills to be learned. They felt awkward, uncomfortable and definitely not me! It seemed mechanical, methodized, with no room to be creative, no place for my fingerprint. 

But I plunged on. Week after week, I learned a new skill. Week after week I “tried” to apply it. Sometimes I did, other times not so much. Sometimes I got lucky. I wrote, rewrote, edited, read books that were “good” examples, and struggled. I loved Monday nights. And I hated Monday nights. Another class. Another thing to learn. Another gut wrenching week of seeing my baby dismembered. And yet, over the weeks, I saw my characters become deeper, richer. The plot remained much the same, but there were improvements in other areas. Details, subplots, description, tension all began to improve. Perhaps the baby wasn’t dead, just bruised a little and would eventually heal and grow into something more interesting, enticing. Only time would tell.

Once the class was over, I felt as if I had climbed Mt. Everest and was now on the downhill slide. Coming down isn’t easy, it takes care, sagacity, attentiveness…..but it is easier and faster than going up. I now had a few tricks up my sleeve to make the trail easier to transverse. Of course, there are always crevasses and storms to weather, but I am still upright and putting one foot in front of the other. I suppose there is always the chance of being caught up in an avalanche, but with a little vigilance and a lot of wisdom they can be avoided. 

Writing. Creation. Giving birth. It takes work. But protecting my child from the difficulties of life doesn't help him grow into a strong, self-sufficient adult. Each day, I choose to encourage that child to grow, to change, to try something new. There will be scraped knees and bloody noses along the way, each of those experiences lead to changes and new knowledge. Battered and bruised, I plan to corner the market on bandages and fill my battlefield with success.

So the "wanna-be" author is still just that. But maybe someday, someday you will read a "real" book by someone you know. Maybe.

Just Writin' on the River Road

 So, it has been brought to my attention that we need a new vaccine. But then I don’t know that we can vaccinate against stupidity. Those who have already been inoculated with power, authority and wealth seem to have all the answers for the rest of us poor morons who can hardly put one foot in front of the other. We just shuffle through life waiting on baited breath for the next mandate from those who know better concerning just about everything.

I have a solution for our government. Every person who runs for office must spend a year “down on the farm” before taking office. They must wade knee deep in crap, clean barns, deliver calves, cut hay and “man” handle bales, butcher chickens and clean the coop, hoe a garden and all of those very necessary things that we morons do so they can eat! To those who believe we don’t need farms and ranches because we have grocery stores; yup, you need a year on the farm. To those who think the recent pipeline hack would have been no problem if we all had electric cars, try toting your food from the farm to the store in an electric truck! I hope you invest deeply in extension cord stock before this happens. And just where do they think this electricity comes from that powers their clean car?? I am guessing lightening or something equally accessible. Or just maybe it comes from nuclear power plants, or God forbid, coal powered plants. And now, the powers that rule Oregon are trying to make it a “meat free” state. You can only eat something that dies naturally. And we all want steak from a sick or long dead steer. It is no wonder that most of eastern Oregon voted to become a part of Idaho. Or consider Colorado that will not allow artificial insemination of cows or pregnancy checking because it is considered bestiality. Should we neuter our pets? Is that infringing on their rights? Is it better to let them raze the countryside, starving and barely existing as they keep on multiplying? Somewhere there needs to be a line in the sand when it comes to ignorance.

For those of you that are vegetarians, I can make a pretty good argument that plants also “feel”. They sense danger, they fight off insects and disease that can damage them, and it has been proven that they communicate with each other. They are intelligent enough to know they can’t grow through a rock, so they grow around it. Rhodes Scholars, they aren’t… but still. Now, I have no problem with your choice in food, until you insist that I adhere to your diet. And have you ever checked into exactly what ingredients make up your “meatless” burgers? You might want to do that.

Stupid is not a new thing, but it does seem to be rising to the surface now more than ever. At one point in my “careers”, I fed cows in a feed lot. They actually considered feeding plastic chips to the cows for filler. I suspect they intended to recycle it through the next cow at some point. Lots of food value in plastic. Probably a little toxic too. And since it is nearly indestructible, it would have been cheap feed. Fortunately, I don’t think this ever made it to the actual cow. But I could be wrong.

Oh, and one more thing. All elected officials would have to live on minimum wage, learn how to budget or do without, and have no line of credit anywhere. After a year, they may understand what a budget is and how to live with in it. And I suggest they use the “new math” to figure it out. They might gain some practical skills like fixing the plumbing, repairing their clunker car, patching their pants or putting a good day’s work. On a farm or ranch, the day is twenty-four hours long.

I am not picking on any political “party”, but I can not for the life of me understand how we, the people, can elect STUPID over and over. Maybe we truly are little morons that shuffle to work each day and are ever so grateful for all the government does for us. This last little foray into governmental control has proven just how malleable we are. I have heard it said if people hear something over and over for three months, it is pretty much stuck in their brain and no amount of facts or truth can change it. We are living the Stockholm Syndrome on a steroids. Turn off your television and think for yourself rather than being told what to think! I know it is a challenge… but give it a try. Common sense goes a long way.

So what’s for dinner tonight? No beef, chicken or pork, no salads or other veggies, no eggs, no bread, pasta or rice. No cereal or milk. It's a great diet, if it would only sustain us.

Just Writin’ on the River Road

Our Journey in Time

 

“Our journey in time”. That phrase has provided considerable food for thought lately. Think about it. Prior to conception, we experienced no time. After death, there is no time, or at least as we understand it now. That thought can make a person feel either extraordinarily special or totally inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

We tend to think of time as endless. But is it? It isn’t endless for any of us. We have a certain number of revolutions around the sun laid out and no more. Is time infinite? Or perhaps it is the lack of time that is beyond our understanding. We can only measure that which we experience. We have memories and history that we can  recall from the past, but we can’t change those things. And we hope for a future… but it comes with no guarantees.

So what exactly is “our journey in time”? Is it where we go? Or what do we do? Or how long we live? It’s a conundrum for the most part. Fascinated by the idea of time travel, it would be interesting to see the land as it was before man arrived, to experience all of its natural rawness, or perhaps soak in the perils of the pioneers. Interestingly, my desire to go forward in time isn’t as enticing as the past. Probably because I can’t envision the future. While the past is documented, the future is unknown.

My “journey in time” has been seventy-two years up to this point. Had I realized the trip would be so short, I would have striven for more. I would have filled my life with things that matter early on. Things like faith, family, education, travel, adventure, even fun. Life is much too short for nothing but work. And in the end, most accomplishments will disappear and be forgotten.

Years ago, God’s timing was explained to me as a parade. I can only see what is in front of me. There are memories of what has already passed by, but I can not foresee what is coming. God, on the other hand, views the it from a vantage point high above the parade. He sees it in its entirety… beginning, middle, and end, all in one fell swoop. He operates outside of time. I actually find a great deal of comfort in that.

My remaining time is pocked with fragility. Bodies decay, minds wander, life becomes difficult with the onset of disease and infirmity. Perhaps that is why there is a desire with the elderly for the hourglass to run down and time on this earth to cease. To be free of the constraints that hold us and find a freedom we never knew, or could have possibly understood, looks heavenly.

It is often said that life is short. It’s far too short to measure in any human way. Time on this earth is not even a nano-second in the entirety of the universe. And yet, somehow I was created to make a difference. Will that difference change the world, probably not. But things can change in this “moment of time” that I have been blessed with. Will I create artful masterpieces, or build a business empire, or be the first to leave this planet? Maybe… or maybe not. But perhaps my life will have an impact on someone else. Feeling deeply, loving greatly, sharing profusely without considering the cost, lifting others out of the mire, or maybe providing a guiding light for those who are just now entering into their “moment in time” is a calling. It is a big job, one we have all been given from the day of conception.

How have you spent your “moment in time”? What have you accomplished on your journey? Every day is an opportunity to change your world! Do it! You were born for a time such as this! (Esther 4:14) Make your “journey in time” count!

Just Writin’ on the River Road

 

What if we only made right turns in life? I recently read an article about a person who did just that. Left turns were out of the question, so he drove many extra miles going around blocks so that he would never have to make a left turn. In a weird, convoluted way, I can see a modicum of sense to his strategy. Left turns can be scary. Without a light and little arrows, left turns probably cause more accidents than

right turns.

As I age, left turns are becoming more frightening. They are risky. And while I feel free to take risks with some things, other things are too frightening to tackle head on. And so I make a lot of right turns to get where I want to be. And then, after the fact, I discover what I wanted wasn’t that difficult to access after all. While right turns aren’t the shortest way to get to my destination, they do get me there eventually. Unfortunately, I have wasted cherished time living in fear.

Have you ever tackled what appeared to be an insurmountable mountain because the thing you desired was on the other side? A thing that could not be attained without going over the hill. All the right turns in the world would not ensure arrival to the other side. Somewhere, sometime, it will take biting the bullet and making a hard left to make progress.

Such an experience hit me this week. As some of you know, I have been working on a novel for several years, and I “felt” I was close to getting it published. I submitted a sample to an editor only to have it come back covered in revision marks and some subtle, yet astute, remarks about my writing skill, or lack thereof. “Of course, there is hope for everyone” was the biggest hammer to fall. The bottom line – a rewrite is in order. I spent two days in despair. I cried, wallowed in self-pity, prayed, and then I picked myself up and decided that right turns were getting me nowhere. My only chance was to suck it up and make a left into the middle of rush hour traffic with no lights to save me. Look both ways and charge. This means I will have to change everything! I will have to learn new things, accept others judgment and know how, and go back to the beginning – again. The safety of right turns will not work in this case. Only the risk of a left turn will get me where I want to be.

Left hand turns are hard. It means having to step out, take direction, make choices and learn to fly all over again. A lesson landed in my lap yesterday. My cat brought home a little bird. Fortunately, she never hurts them, but the whole adventure of rescuing the bird was a lesson for me. While not hurt, the little bird lost many feathers in his scuffle with the cat, me, the window and the blinds. He was scared to death. Once I caught him, I could feel his thumping little heart about to burst through his chest. So I gently held him, took him outside and let him fly away. I get it, little bird. I was caught in my own trap (arrogance), I lost a lot of feathers (pride), and then ended up in God’s gentle and secure hand. When the time is right, He will allow me to fly and accomplish all that He intends me to do.

So right or left? That’s a decision we all must make in our lives, probably many times over. When residing in Small-Town, Utah, there was an elderly man who was a driving menace. According to him, he had been turning left at that particular corner for his rather lengthy lifetime. Everyone knew that. Hence there was no reason to use his blinker. A turn signal would have been very helpful to those of us who had not known him since year one! Could there be times when a lack of directional blinkers in my life could affect yours in some bizarre way? It’s possible. Life is filled with mountains and valleys, lefts and rights, ups and downs. The biggest left turn in life is recognizing that it is there, and then we get to choose – the easy road or the one filled with potholes.

So the next time you sit in traffic, consider your driving skills. Not on the road, but in life. Will right turns give you fulfillment and satisfaction? Or are they just safety and refuge from the “what ifs” faced on a daily basis. Do you see left turns as frightening? Or will you choose to slide around the corner on two wheels, missing the other cars, avoiding the ditch and then squeal off toward your destination? Don’t take me literally, but bring it to mind when faced with those difficult decisions in life. Right or left?

Just Writin’ on the River Road

Before you read...

 

DISCLAIMER!! Before you even begin to read this… know that some, or all of you, will be upset because of my opinion. We are all entitled to one, whether we agree or not. This is your opportunity to click the little disconnect button before we even begin, because I intend to vent.

A year ago this week normal died. We were told it would only be weeks, which then turned into months and now for over a year we have lived as if in a private prison. I know that sounds harsh to some, but really, think about it. We have been commanded to accept rules and regulations that have not proven to protect us. People have lost jobs, businesses are closed, schools are on-line and failing our children, those who need people (like all of us) are suffering from issues that could be cured with a family gathering or barbecue. Short of locking ourselves up in our homes and throwing away the key, according to the powers-that-be, we are not safe no matter what we do.

While I am not blaming anyone in particular for this madness, I do believe many have gone off the deep end. It seems to have become a power issue not a health issue. And if there were one truth out there, I might follow it, but the truth changes daily depending on who you listen to or what you read. I used to believe truth was absolute, but in this day and age, there are so many versions of it that I can’t decide which guru I want to follow.

There are those who have made science their god. And while I have no problem with science, in fact I love science, like everything on this earth it needs to be taken with a grain of salt. Science “theories” change daily. That which we once considered true, has now been disproven. The earth is not flat, nor is it the center of the universe. Theories come and go on a daily basis. Proposed “theories” are to be tested to be proven true or discarded if not. Today we just accept the theory as truth without the testing. So, perhaps that which be believe now will also fall out of favor in the future.

Will the day come when it will be said that “we over reacted” to a little protein molecule that has invaded our lives? I am pretty sure it will. In five years – or ten, we will wonder what all the hub-bub was about. We will look back and see that it was never a pandemic, it was people and politics that caused the problem. Most people, given half a chance will do the right thing. They will stay home when they are sick, they will wash their hands, they might even wear a mask.

Science will not save us. We are fearfully and wonderfully made by a creator that has made a body that has cells that can build, fix, fight off, repair and grow our bodies. Unfortunately these bodies were not meant to last forever. They wear out, they get sick, they succumb to death. I suspect no one wants to die but there is no other way out of this world. Yes, we have overcome things such as smallpox, polio and childhood diseases with vaccines. But those medications came after many years of testing. The average vaccine is a “work in progress” for ten to twenty years before it is released, and it still comes with side-effects for some. Having lived with someone who survived the science of chemotherapy, the after effects are long lasting and do much more than destroy cancer.

I struggle with this whole thing. Not so much with Covid, but with society’s reaction to it. Rather than becoming united against a front, we have been quite literally torn apart. Rather than uplifting one another, we tear each other down. We put people in boxes, we give them names, races, genders, economic status… all to separate us. Life is short! Why spend it angry, upset, flailing at windmills. I don’t care about your “box”, I do however have expectations. I expect people to respect one another, I expect them to help and support each other, I expect them to work together. I expect them to act and react with common sense. That can’t be that hard, can it?

Just Writin’ on the River Road

Hope Springs Eternal!

 

A quote from The Essay of Man by Alexander Pope written in 1732, claims that “hope springs eternal”. And it is true. If it wasn’t, the lottery business would be a bust. People will continue to hope, despite the odds. There are times though, when we can be reassured that our hope is not misplaced. Sometimes there is that hint that allows us to be absolutely certain of what the future holds. Take my rhododendron bush, for instance. When we moved in a year ago, I marveled how it remained green in the midst of winter with its leathery leaves shining in the cold. What was really interesting was that it had buds on the end of each stem... in January. Unfamiliar with rhododendrons, I was quite sure those buds would succumb to the cold and snow. But, low and behold, come summer, it had the most exquisite blooms. What was astounding is that those new buds are formed in the fall and spend all winter covered in snow. That little bud remains tightly curled and remains unaffected by the ice and frost.

I want to be that little bud. And, in many ways I am. In those times of darkness and cold, I wrap myself tightly in my little cocoon, knowing that in spite of difficult times, spring will come eventually. And when it does, I will have everything I need to bloom! All this sounds so fanciful, so proverbial, so incredible. And yet it is true. Hope does spring eternal in every heart. Without hope, what would we have? A life of brutal honesty, of pessimism or unfulfilled desires. Without hope, there would be no dreams, no belief, no faith. What a sad world we would inhabit. Without hope there would be little happiness or joy, no laughter, little satisfaction or fulfillment, nothing to look forward to.

Our lives are not like that. Even on our darkest day, when we feel we have reached the end and there is nothing to look forward to, there is always a little sliver of hope. It’s that chance moonbeam on a dark and stormy night, a dew drop clinging to a fresh flower or the song of a bird to lift your heart. Hope. It’s always there. We can lose it, misplace it or kick it up the road, but that doesn’t mean it leaves us behind.

Hope takes a lot of trust. Whether it is trust in your maker, yourself or others… we cling to our hope. Out there are dangerous lands, scary places, unknown terrain and tides of hopelessness. And yet, we always hope, no matter how bad life gets. And for some it can seem nearly hopeless. But it isn’t. It just temporarily feels that way. Life can be a lot of things… exciting, stagnant, passionate, painful… but it is never without hope.

I love the definition of faith from the Bible: “Now faith is being sure of what we HOPE for and certain of what we do not see.” (Hebrews 11:1) It’s kind of difficult to wrap a rope around that and tie it to a post. We have to think a little harder than we are often willing to do. It tells me I can survive on hope. It’s just around the corner, always there somewhere. Maybe I can’t see it today… but maybe tomorrow, or next week or in ten years something will happen. I can be certain that it is always there waiting for me.

With so much uncertainty in the world today, hope is having a difficult time surviving in great abundance. It will. I know it will. Just like my rhododendron bud, it is there, tightly wrapped, covered in snow, patiently waiting for spring to bring life racing through its little body. Hope is my ability to hear the melody of the future, but faith is having the courage to dance to its tune today. So let’s dance!

Just Writin’ on the River Road

What did you get for Valentine's Day?

 

Ah, Valentine’s Day! The day we show our loved ones how much we care about them. How do we do that? Candy, flowers, a special dinner, a night out? Those are all wonderful ways to express our appreciation. What about the rest of the year? Just asking. Shouldn’t there be a little Valentine’s Day each and every day of the year?

I received a Valentine this week. For all intents and purposes, it appeared to be a beautifully wrapped empty box. No candy, no sweet nothings, just an empty box. I was more than a little puzzled until I read the attached note.

Did you look in the box and find it empty?

Was nothing for you there?

Look again. You must have missed it.

For within I placed my prayer.

Little birds called at the window,

The sun peeked in there too.

As I told the Lord I loved Him,

I also spoke of you.

Sometimes when I pray for you

A tear will cross my cheek,

So I pray for peace that passes understanding

To be with you this week.

Other times there is a special joy

That with the Lord I share.

He listens to all I have to say

Whether it’s pleasure or despair.

Then I leave my little quiet place

And begin to start the day,

I’m so thankful for his watchful hand

Guarding me at work and play.

And as surely as He’s here with me,

He’s there with you as well,

‘Cause I asked the Lord to bless you

Just at the morning bell.

So when you look inside again,

Please see this box not bare.

And count it as a priceless gift

‘Cause I filled it up with prayer.

                        LuAnn Hudspeth                                                                                                                                     (Used with permission of the author.)

 

As I read this, it touched my heart. What more could I ever want or desire than someone who cares enough to bring my name before the Lord. She took the time to pray for me! And I have been told that is how we spell love . . . T I M E. Flowers will die, candy disappears, dinners will be eaten . . . but the time we spend with someone will create lovely memories to last a lifetime. So this Valentine’s Day treat your loved one to something special, but make sure you have also given them your time.

And if you are ever so lucky as to receive an empty box wrapped with beautiful ribbon, know that you have received a priceless gift . . . one of love and thought and prayer.

Just Writin’ on the River Road