Saturday, November 28, 2020

 


For Everything There Is A Season



When seasons change, it's a reminder for us to reflect the previous months. Did you grow as a person?  Did you accomplish any of your goals?  If so, what is the next step?  If not, what prevented you from doing so?  

During this time of year, I am reminded of Ecclesiastes 3:1-7:    

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. 


I hope everyone had a good and Happy Thanksgiving!  As I'm sure for a lot of others in the US, this Thanksgiving was stressful for myself and my family.  My sister and her family are in isolation and my son, Andrew, who has been working out of town with his job, called to say one of his co-workers tested positive for COVID.  Instead of  everyone gathering around my parent's kitchen table for my dad to bless the food, my mom and I prepared take out plates for him.  "We don't know what we will have to endure in the upcoming year." My mom's words jolted me.  She's right.  We don't know what lies ahead in the future.  All we can do is pray and be prepared to the best of our ability.  
 I had to hold my tears back as I donned a mask and went outside to greet Andrew.  I hadn't seen in him in over a week.  I wanted to hug him, hold him tight and tell him everything was going to be okay.  Not being able to touch him was the hardest for me.  My dad, husband and older son were outside (social distanced) and doing their best to comfort him.  My parents and I went back inside, dad, blessed the food and we ate.  By the time my husband and older son came inside the food was getting cold. 

Through it all, I am still thankful.  We have food on our tables, clothes on our backs, shoes on our feet, a roof over our heads and technology to call, text, skype and facetime my family.  Thank heavens cell phone carriers offer unlimited talk and text.  This past week alone I have talked ten hours with my sister.  

Most often, it's difficult to shake bad experiences during the holidays.  The hardest part for me is continuing to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving.  To make myself keep moving, I keep reminding myself  I have a manuscript to finish, even more so now that I have a beta reader.  I have Christmas decorating to finish, gift to guy, wrap and the list goes on and on.    

To everything there is a season; and this too shall pass.  




















 





Monday, October 12, 2020






Hello, Friend

I hope you and your loved ones are doing well during this pandemic.  It’s been a long time, since I’ve written, a lot has happened as I’m sure with you also. I have a new website with a new blog at http://rebeccaaowens.com/.  Don’t worry, I’m keeping this one too. I’ve decided to keep this on as my creative writing blog; a place for me to share my stories growing up in a Native American community, the people and the events, I give credit to my desire to write stories.  

I love, love October! The weather is cooler, the tree leaves are changing colors and October signals the arrival for the upcoming holidays.

As much as I love autumn, I detest October 31st.  Some people love the scary, gory stuff.  I do not.  I avoid it at all cost.  For those of you that love the frightening stuff, I wonder if you have ever seen a ghost?  Anyone?  I'll reveal my answer later on. 

One of the many reasons I detest October 31st, is because for some odd reason, I have yet to find an answer, every year October has three full moons.  Actually, two full moons, which is a bright moon, and one new moon which is the dark moon.  This year the full moons are on Oct 1st and Oct 31st.  The new moon is Oct 16th. 

A lot happens on the earth when the moon is full.  People and animals are cantankerous, three days before and three days after.  In my day job, I keep up with the moon phases.  During the full and the new moon, the clients are yelling, cursing and calling the associates everything except a child of God.  When the moon is in the first quarter clients are moody and quick to shed crocodile tears.  

My husband is an avid deer hunter and every year he schedules his vacation for deer season based on when the full moons are.  He has albums of pictures from his deer camera from the past fifteen years showing the deer move more leading up to a full moon compared to a new moon. 

 Facts about the Moon: 

There are over 150 songs written and recorded about the moon.  The top eight are: 

  • “Bad Moon Rising” - Creedence Clearwater Revival
  • “Talking to the Moon” - Bruno Mars
  • “Fly Me To The Moon (In Other Words)” - Frank Sinatra, Count Basie
  • “Moonlight” - Ariana Grande
  • “Man On The Moon” - R.E.M.
  • “Walking On The Moon” - The Police
  • “Runnin' Outta Moonlight” - Randy Houser
  • “Moondance” - Van Morrison


It takes 27.3 days for the moon for the Moon to travel all the way around the Earth and complete its orbit.

Although the Moon shines bright in the night sky, it doesn’t produce its own light. We see the Moon because it reflects light from the Sun.

The Moon is moving approximately 3.8 cm away from our planet every year.

According to the Farmers Almanac, farmers use the moon phase to determine when to plant, harvest, kill weeds, cut timber, prune and mow.

Many cultures around the world have superstitions/folklore about the full moon.  The one I remember most is my Grandmother told that money is dug up on a new moon.  She always called the new moon, the haunts moon.  I didn't understand then what she was talking about.  When I became an adult I soon found out. 
Grandma Annie was a great storyteller.  When she talked, she would describe every, single detail, transporting you right in the middle of the action as she told it.  

This is Grandma's story the way I remember it when she told it so long ago: 

"One day I heard my brothers and another fella talking about going to dig for some money up the road at an old Indian burial ground.  It was a new moon that night.  That night I decided to follow them.  I crept slowing behind them in the dark as they walked with lanterns.  Before we got to the place, I heard my oldest brother say, 'Now boys, when we start to digging, no one talks or that money will move and be lost forever'.  When they got to the spot, I hid behind a fallen tree.  They dug for what seemed hours, when finally I heard when their shovel hit something metal.  One of them reached down to pulled the pot of money up when all a sudden, they started screaming.  I peeked from behind the tree and it was the biggest snake I'd ever seen in my life coming out of that hole.  We all ran and it chased us for almost a mile before it disappeared.  The next day we went back and the money pot was empty.  So, I told you this to say, don't go looking to dig up no money; chances are you won't get it." 

Grandma went on to tell me that back in the old days; when money was buried, the owner of the money would kill the meanest rooster on the yard, a mean dog or a snake and bury it along with money.  Only the owner would be able to dig up the money.  

Another folklore, I grew up hearing is that if you have money buried underneath your home, that the baseboards will move.  On a new moon, my mom and dad's fireplace hearth moves.  I have actually put my hand between the brick chimney and ceiling.  The baseboard trim on the right side of my home also moves during a new moon.  I can stick my hand between the wall and the trim.  

Another folklore is if lighten strikes in the same place more than once, gold is buried there.  On the right side of home, we cannot plant any trees, of any kind.  Lightening will strike every time and till the trees.  In the past twenty-two years, I've planted dog woods, apples, and plum trees.  It wasn't until a few years ago, my dad pointed out to me the possibility of gold being buried there.  Am I going to try to dig it up? 
Never.   

To answer your question if I've ever seen a ghost?  Yes, more than once, and too many to count.  

Next time, I will share my stories about my ghost encounters.  I would love to hear from you if you have. 


Until next time, take care and stay safe. 

Rebecca Owens 


Monday, June 22, 2020




Hello my fellow readers,

I hope everyone is staying safe and I hope all the dad's had a wonderful Father's Day!  I'm still working from home and I'm loving it!  A few days ago, while I was working on my work computer at home, it started pouring rain.  When a clap of lightening struck, the electricity went out.  I found the flashlight and waited to see if the power would flicker back on.  Waiting in the dark, my memory took a trip back to the summer of 1984 to a family vacation I will not ever forget!

In the spring of 1978 or '79, my ambitious dad, ordered camping gear from the Sears and Roebuck catalog: a tent, a king-size air mattress, an air pump and a camp stove.  When it arrived, my dad assembled the tent and put it up in the back yard.  I still remember it today.  It was blue with a large zip door in the front with two different closing options; one solid and one with a screen.  It had three windows; one on each side and one larger window in the back.  The windows could only be opened from the inside and to open it, you had to roll up the flap and tie it in place.  

When my mom got home from work, that day she huffed, 'Andrew, what have you went and bought?"
"Camping gear! We're going camping!"
"I'm not going camping."  Mom went inside and closed the door.
Dad did his best to convince her it would be fun, to no avail.   
Summer came and year after year around Memorial Day, my dad would pull the tent out of the attic and put it up.  Coming home from school and finding the tent set up, I knew two things were certain: school was almost over and I could play 'pretend camping' for a little while.    

With no prospect of any family camping trips, my dad began to loan the tent and the camping gear out to his coworkers and family friends.  When they would bring the gear back, they would rave what a great time they had and their wife's would be showing pictures of their trips.  Our tent traveled to the: Blue Ridge Mountains, Virginia, Florida, Georgia and West Virginia.  

So, the spring of 1984, when my dad brought the tent down from the attic, my mom propped her hand on her ample hip and shook her finger at him.  "Andrew, don't bother setting up that tent and don't you dare loan it out.  We're using it this summer.  You've loaned it out for free way too long.  We're going camping!"

I was ecstatic.  I remember doing a little dance jig with my baby sister who was five years old at the time.  After five years of watching strangers come and go with out camping gear, we were finally going to use it too!  
Reservations were made for a campground somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains the week of Forth of July from a brochure Mom got from a co-worker.  I remember dancing with twirling with excitement as my Mom shopped for new clothes for my sister and I and groceries for our trip.  


The night before our trip, I couldn't sleep for the exhilaration!  While my sister slept in her twin bed beside mine, I hid underneath the covers with a small flashlight and re-read the discarded brochures, I already knew by heart, of Maggie Valley, the many hiking trails and waterfalls.   

We departed early the next morning before the break of day. The air was chilly and fragrant from an early morning rain. My mom gave us a quilt to cover up as I stretched out on end of the back seat and my sister on the other. The rocking of the car going down the road lured me to sleep as I dreamt of the endless possibilities of the adventure awaiting me in the campground in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

The first sign we were in for a trip of our life was when I woke up to Mom yelling, 'Andrew your in the wrong lane.  Get over, get over!', somewhere east of Charlotte, NC.  Mom held an outdated map and handwritten directions in her left hand.  She threw her right arm out the window and proceeded to flap her arm up and down to alert the car behind us that dad needed to move into the right lane.  Dad punched the gas, sped through a yellow light to get in the right lane to exit onto the road ahead.  I pulled the covers over my head and pretending to be asleep until we got out of the city limits.      

We arrived in Maggie Valley and toured Ghost Town in the Sky with no other incidents.  We rode the chair lifts up the mountain, saw a mock gun fight in the streets and a dance show by the salon girls.  It was then and there I fell in love with mountains.  Something about being on top of that mountain has stayed with me ever since.   
When it was time to check into a camping ground, Dad drove around for three hours in search of the Campground.  Back and forth, over and over on the same highway.  Once again I laid down in the backseat for I was getting car sick.   

"Where's it at, Rachel?  You talk to the people.  Here, I can't read your writing." Dad passed the directions back to mom.  
"Andrew, the man told me it was right out of town." 
Back and forth they argued.  Finally, dad gave up and pulled into a motel.  To my joy, the motel sat on a side road and the door of the motel rooms faced a mountain.  The next morning, after breakfast, dad tells mom he would rather stay our last night in the motel.   
"No.  We came here to go camping and that's what we're going to do." 

We packed our bags and dad drove west, out of town into the next county.  We rode for what seemed an hour.  When the roads became narrow and the curves sharpened, dad pulled into the first campground site he came to.  I can still see it in my mind.  The highway curved with the mountain with jagged huge rocks poking out.  Just beyond a grove of small trees was the road entrance.  On the right were swimming pools and on the left a pond stocked with rainbow trout.  

Dad paid for a camping site and the owner directed him to follow the red, clay dirt road, straight up side of the mountain for about a mile and a half.  My dad wasn't driving a four-wheel drive, he was driving a white, two-door, 1980 Buick Cutlass Supreme with wire spoke rims and a navy, blue vinyl top.

At the bottom of the mountain, dad shifted the car into Drive Low.  He held his left-foot on the break and his right foot on the gas pedal. He revved the engine for a several seconds and snatched his foot off the break.  The car lurched forward and started fishtail up the mountain road.  Mom started yelling, "Andrew, what in heavens name are you doing?" 

"You want to go camping, don't you?"  The palm of his right hand swiftly maneuvered the steering wheel to the left as rounded a group of grown trees. "I'm taking you camping."  The rear drive of the car slung mud every-which-a-way.  It had rained heavenly, the night before.  

Dad backed the car into our camping spot.  It was a tight spot, trees were jotted here and there.  Dad see-sawed, pulling up, cutting his wheels, then backing up turning his wheels the opposite direction until he got the car in the position he wanted.  The whole while, branches of bushes and tress scraping up against the car.  As I think about it now, I do believe this is why I am cluster phobic when other cars and/or objects are close to me when I'm driving.
Dad set up the tent while my sister and I took turns pumping up the air mattress.  We grinned and whispered to each other, "we're camping!"  

Dad took my sister and I down the mountain to the fishing pond and we caught some trout.  We didn't have a fishing pool, so dad made us one.  He cut branches from small trees in our campsite and bought fishing line and hooks in the bait shop.  I remember we put canned corn on the end of the hooks. Fish in hand, we went back up the mountain, dad cleaned the fish, mom cooked them on our camping stove and as we ate our dinner at the picnic table.  I thought to myself, 'boy, oh, boy.  I'm loving this!" 

Around 8 pm that night as we sat around the campfire singing gospel songs, a pop of lightening lite up the sky overhead.  We rushed to the bathroom, over the next hill, to my recollection, a half of a mile and made it inside back to our tent just as the first drop of rain spattered to the ground.    

My dad was on the left, my sister was next to my him, then me and my mom next to me.  It was a terrible storm that night that seemed to go on forever.  The harder it rained, the lower the temperature seemed to drop.  We only had the one blanket, my sister and I shared in the backseat the day before.  The wind blew, the small bushes and trees nearby, danced and swayed in a evil fit of rage.  Every time lightening would strike, the ground underneath us would vibrate.  Somewhere around midnight, I felt a drop of water hit my forehead.  My mom must have felt it too because she started grumbling.  A few hours later, the air mattress started to go down.  Mom and I found ourselves lying on a large, rock with sharp edges.  An hour later the drop of water became a non-stop flow of trickling water.  By this time, we were all wet, freezing and my sister began to wheeze due to asthma.  I remember wrapping my arms around her in an attempt to keep her warm.  After the rain stopped, Mom pleaded with dad to get up and for us to leave.  Dad wasn't hearing none of it.  It was too early and he didn't want to move.  Around 4 am, Mom stood up in the tent and yelled, 'An-drew!  Get up and let's go, now!  I've had enough of this.  I've been laying on big ol' rock and my bloomers are soak and wet!'  I covered my ears.  Mom roared like a lion.  Her voice ricochet I know into the next valley.  
Every light within a mile began to flicker on.  You could hear movement of people nearby as they grumbled and stumbled around in the dark.  Mom got some try clothes from the truck of the car and took my sister to the bathroom to change clothes and to take a breathing treatment.  She left me in charge to help dad pack up our camp.  
"Get in the car!"  He yelled at me. 
I dutifully crawled in the backseat and began to pray.  I peered out the back window when I heard the clinking of the metal tent poles collapse to the ground.  Dad rolled the tent, poles and all in one big ball and stuffed it in the trunk on top of everything else. I heard Mom over the next hill and saw a light zig-zagging and darting off the trees and in the dark like the cartoon, Inspector Gadget.  Mom couldn't find the trail that led back to our camp.  Instead, she was walking through other's campsite with my sister in-tow, stumbling over their things while telling them, they needed to call a clean-up-day and clean up their mess, someone could break their necks in the dark trying to find the toilet.  I can laugh now, back then I scrunched down in the backseat and asked God to just take us home.

My sister crawled in the backseat with me and I remember wrapping my arms around her.  The poor thing was frightened.  Here we were, awake at 4 am, soaked to the bone, cold as frog hair with our parents arguing, loudly at the back of the car.  Dad slammed the truck lid and it wouldn't close.  One thing I learned that morning.  Although my dad is a small man, when he's determined, there is no stopping him.  He continued to slam the lid over, over and over.

"Andrew, what are you doing?"
"You're the one who woke me and the whole Appalachian mountain up yelling your bloomers are soaking wet." 
"Your tearing up our stuff."  
"You think I care?  Hush and get in the car!"  Dad jumped in the front seat, cranked the car and backed the car closer to the picnic table.  He ran to the back of the car, stood on the seat of the table and stomped his foot on the trunk lid over and over.  The bouncing of the car up and down, rocking side to side and jerking motion made me nausea.  By this time, Mom had slid in the front seat of the car still grumbling.  Someone standing nearby struck a match and lit a cigarette.  I got a glimpse of his bearded face as he leaned against a large tree watching my parents, no doubt, in amusement.  

The trunk lid finally closed, dad jumped in the drivers seat and slammed the door.  He shifted the gear into Dive Low and hit the gas pedal.  I had a birds-eye-view, sitting in the middle of the backseat, my arms wrapped around my sister.  The dirt road was puddled with water, slick, and muddy.  Straight down the mountain we went, like a sick roller-coaster ride.  The second thing I learned latter on about that day, was he used to drag race when he was younger.  Dad held the palm of his hand flat against the steering wheel and he would whip it several turns to the right and then back to the left, all the while missing huge trees as the back end of the car fishtailed.  The motor whined as Dad made sharp turns, alternating back and forth between the gas and the break.  My sister whined too, and I covered her eyes with my hand.  Mind you now, this was way before seatbelt laws were in place.  Every time dad made a sharp turn, my sister and I would slide in the opposite direction in the backseat.  

When we reached the bottom of the mountain where the campground office was located, our car was covered in red mud.  Dad drove straight out the gate, barely slowing down when he reached the highway.  The car fishtailed to one side, when the rubber tires went from dirt to pavement.  He sped east and no one spoke until we passed through Charlotte.

Until this day, I refuse to go camping, not even in a camper.  When my husband and I married, he teased me that going camping would be fun, 'roughing it'.  I explained to him the only time I'm going to 'rough it' is when the electricity goes out during a thunderstorm.  My sister, bless her heart, has gone camping with her son who is in Boy Scouts several times.  My guess is she was too young to remember our horrifying drive down the side of a mountain on a a winding road.  


 










Sunday, May 10, 2020



Hello friends, 

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY to you All! 

I hope everyone is well and coping during this #COVID-19 pandemic.  I can only imagine some might not coping well with staying at home and kids being home schooled.  North Carolina has been under a stay-at-home order since April 6.  On April 7, I began working from home and I absolutely love it.  

Below I've attached four short video's of my sister's All County Chorus concert on March 6, with the junior high and high school students in Robeson County, North Carolina.  I apologize for the video not being of good quality; I was too far in the back of the church to get a good recording.  The recordings are from parents of the students.  However, the sound quality is good.  After the concert, the parents and family members who attended were so proud of their kids.  I was very proud of them all; the dedicated music teachers and the students.  The teachers and students spent three whole days practicing an average of eight hours each day to prepare for this concert.  The instruments were played by the music teachers.  My sister is playing the flute in the first video and the music director is actually retired.  She volunteered her time because of her love of working with the students and music.  This was the first time I had the opportunity to attend my sister's concerts.  Sadly, that evening would be the last gathering for the public schools in my county.  The public schools closed the following week and it would the last time I would see my sister for over two months.  
It never occurred to me until I started writing this blog; teachers are a lot like mothers.  Female teachers that is; the men would be like fathers.  Teachers are dedicated, they nurture their students, teach them, guide them and open their minds to a world of possibilities.  Mothers are special and so are teachers.    

During this pandemic, I've come to appreciate what I do have.  A loving and healthy family, caring and protective parents, and a  supportive husband, just to name a few.  Most importantly, I got to visit with my sister and spend another Mother's Day with my mother.  I have promised my mom as soon as it is safe to travel; I'm taking her on a shopping trip of her choice.  I'm crossing my fingers she chooses Myrtle Beach, SC.  I'm ready for a day trip.  

So Happy Mother's Day to you all; I hope you enjoy the videos! 


Junior High Students 



Junior & High School Students 


Junior High Students 

Junior High Students 

Tuesday, December 31, 2019





HAPPY NEW YEAR! 

I hope you had a wonderful and blessed holiday.  As I work on this post, I am taking down my Christmas decorations and starting on my cleaning chores before New Year's Day.  Does anyone follow that tradition anymore, a clean home and all the laundry done and put away before New Year's?  

I grew up following that tradition and I still do.  As I began to clean, purge and organize my home, I reflected on the events in my life this past year. Disappointments, worry and extreme stress for over nine months of uncertainty if I would still have a job with my employer by the of the year.  

Through it all, I focused on one goal at a time beginning with:  remaining positive. Every couple of days I added another goal.  Remaining positive and to count my blessings: a supportive family, all my needs were being met and coffee! The next day or so, I would add another goal: remain positive, count my blessings and continue writing. 

Sometimes it's not easy to stay positive.  Life seems to pick the right moment when we least expect it to throw lemons at us and they hurt!  

End of July my youngest son wrecked driving to work in a thunderstorm and he flip his car three times. It's a miracle his only injuries were a concussion.  September 30th, my husband (and avid deer hunter fell 15-foot face forward out of a tree stand and literally busted his nose open.  It was a blessing in disguise my son was with him and drove him to the hospital.  He was out of work for ten days, without pay.  The grace of God carried us through; we didn't go lacking for anything.  October 3rd, our water well starting producing sandy water resulting in us using bottled water to drink and cook.  Hubby goes back to work and his job is on seven days.  By the time he gets a day off the end of October, it's freezing here in southern North Carolina.  I was a little girl the last time I remember frost on the ground before Halloween!  So hubby tries to work on our water pump, it's freezing and it will not prime, resulting in no water and us having to go to my mom and dad's to shower.  We were looking at having to replace the entire water pump, $600.00.  Still each day I'm continuing adding a goal.  By this time it was; stay positive, no matter what stay positive, count my blessings, enjoy my coffee and God is going to bring us through!  The next day, my dad came to help hubby and they discovered a pipe in the ground broke; a $20.00 fix.  Thank God!  
The point of me writing about all this is not to seek pity; the exact opposite.  We all go through trials and disappointments, some more and worse compared to others.  During these hard times, we have to continue to look up.  If you're looking down, you can't see where you are going, can you? If you're looking down, chances are you will miss opportunities when you least expect it.

Let's start the New Year by counting our blessings, staying positive through the storms in our life and looking up! 

Happy New Year! 

~ Rebecca








Monday, November 11, 2019


Today is a special day for all those who are serving and have served in the U.S. Military.  Today is Veteran's Day.

Today, I want to say, 'Thank You' from the bottom of my heart for your courage to want to serve our country and to continue to keep us free.  
Thank you for having the strength to leave your family and loved ones behind to venture into the unknown for an indefinite length of time.   
Thank you for having the determination to stand strong when things got rough while you were on foreign soil.  
Thank you for sucking it up when you were away from your family and home during the holidays, time and time again.  
Thank you for the countless hours you still marched on without any sleep.  
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart and know that each night all the men and women serving in the U.S. Military, no matter where you are, are in my prayers for God to guide you and to keep you safe.  

Today is Veteran's Day and I salute you!  

Saturday, September 7, 2019

Matthew 17:20 New International Version (NIV)

20 He replied, “Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”

Hi everyone, I started this blog the Forth of July.  I didn't finish it because I got called outside for some reason or another and it was forgotten about.  Between working a full-time job, home, finding time to write and finding time to go to the gym I often get discouraged.  It would be so easy for me to quit, to give up, and then I'm reminded of the verse.  

Faith...
On the Fourth of July, I pondered on the founding fathers; the authors of the United States of America Constitution. To believe in something greater than their own self and to create something that still exists today is magnificent.
There is no doubt in my mind, they had the faith of a mustard seed. 

Faith...

Anytime one steps out on new territory is a frightening concept.  Yet, many have stepped out on faith to start a new business, changed careers, go back to college after the kids start school or when their kids are out of the nest.  And some decide to follow their dream.  Sometimes, I believe having a grain of faith the size of a mustard seed, keeps the drive alive inside us.  Waking in the wee hours of the morning to jot down a scene idea on a current work-in-progress manuscript, getting a jump start on our day, when we have so much to do we feel dizzy and to enjoy a cup of coffee while we meditate on God's word is all fueled on faith.  Faith that one day, all the pieces of the puzzle will fall into place for our dream to become a reality. 

Faith...

Anything worth pursuing is never easy, in fact, it is a never-ending, frustrating, non-stop, get-in-your face turn of events.  There will be roadblocks, you will discover your adversaries, and not to mention financial dilemmas.  With faith also comes trust.  Trusting in the Lord and yourself.  Yes, yourself.  No matter what, 'Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.  In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct they paths. Proverbs 3: 5-6

When things go wrong, not according to plan, the key, I've discovered is to stay calm.  You can't think clearly if you're fuming and angry.  For example, mid-July I attended a writer's conference in Crystal City, VA.  On the drive home, somewhere around Fredericksburg, VA, traffic came to a halt.  For forty-five minutes I crept along I-95 S at a crawl.  Instead of getting upset, (I wanted to get home before dusk), I pulled out my notepad and made notes for the current manuscript I'm working on.  Will I use them?  Probably, probably not.  However, what's important is I stayed calm and focused on thoughts and ideas for my characters instead of the six lanes of bogged traffic at a standstill.  And yes, I did arrive home right before dusk.   

Here are some photo's I hope you enjoy!


Field of Flags - U.S. Army Airborne & Special Operations Museum, Fayetteville, NC




The Angel Oak Tree - This summer I finally got to visit the Angel Oak Tree.  It's even more spectacular in person!



Arlington National Cemetary ~ John F. Kennedy & Jacqueline Kennedy's Grave.  As I ascended the steps to their grave I had chill across my shoulders.






 Changing of the guard at the Unknown Solider's Tomb.  Words can't describe the emotion as I watched the changing of the guards.  The smooth, and precise movements was an honor to witness.



Arlington National Cemetary ~ Riding the tour bus, my thoughts were with the families of the loved one's buried here.  The sacrifice, these men women gave to keep us free in the US brought tears to my eyes. 


  For Everything There Is A Season When seasons change, it's a reminder for us to reflect the previous months. Did you grow as a person...