Betty Bee and the Long Tongue

It's Friday! So I thought I'd do something I haven't done in ages. I'm participating in Fiction Friday--a meme I started back in early summer of 2008 so we'd have an excuse reason to pull some of our fiction out and post it. =) I handed the reigns over to Karlene quite awhile ago and I'm excited to see it's still going. Today Lynn is hosting it her site, Faith, Fiction, Fun and Fanciful. Be sure to go there for more links to Fiction Friday. And better yet, join us by posting some of your fiction and linking up with us!



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Betty Bee and the Long Tongue

Betty Bumble Bee settled onto a clover blossom and dropped her head onto her front legs. As she watched the honey bees scurry from flower to flower she became sadder and sadder. Oh, how she wanted to be like them: so slim and trim and so useful. Everyone loved the honey bees because they made honey. They could zip through tight spaces and always had such fun. Betty Bee wanted very much to be a honey bee instead of the bumble bee she was.

Josie Butterfly swooped in for a fast landing. “Hiya, Betty Bee. Why are you just laying here and not gathering pollen?”

“Because I’m sad.” Betty Bee turned her head away so she wouldn’t have to see a honey bee working on a nearby dandelion. “Besides, why should I worry about it when the honey bees are on the job? They can do a much better job of it than I can. I wish I were a honey bee instead of a big, bumbling, bumble bee!”

Josie slowly fanned her wings as she thought. “Betty Bee, don’t you know that honey bees are picky? They need nectar to make honey.”

Betty Bee stroked her antenna. “So?”

“So they won’t go to a flower that only has pollen and no nectar, which means that some flowers would never get pollinated if it weren’t for you bumble bees because bumble bees need both pollen and nectar to feed their babies.”

“They still make honey and look at them, they’re so cute.”

Josie shook her head. “There’s more to life than being cute.”

Betty Bee flicked a leg and sent an aphid flying off the clover blossom.

“Betty Bee, stick out your tongue,” Josie said, her middle legs propped on her abdomen.

“What? Are you crazy?” Betty Bee asked.

“Just stick out your tongue, Betty Bee.” Josie insisted.

Betty Bee rolled her eyes, but stuck it out. It was long!

“God gave you a special tongue so you could reach into flowers that honey bees can’t.” Josie thought that was so neat she did a loop-de-loop right over Betty Bee’s head.

Betty Bee stuck out her tongue again and studied it with her many eyes. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty special.” She said, sounding a little happier.

“It sure is!” Josie said as she settled back onto a nearby flower. “But there’s something else that’s special about you.

“Really?” Betty Bee asked.

“Really.” Josie replied. “When it’s too cold for honey bees, guess who’s out here pollinating flowers?”

Betty Bee hesitated and thought back to the last cold day they’d had. The only other bees she’d seen that day were fellow bumble bees. “Um, bumble bees?” she asked uncertainly.

Josie clapped her hands. “Right! You bumble bees don’t mind the cold but honey bees can’t stand it. If it weren’t for you bumble bees some flowers wouldn’t get pollinated and that would be really sad.”

Betty Bee stood up and bumbled about a little, buzzing in her happiness.

“Oh, and that reminds me of something really, really special about you, Betty Bee!” Josie danced around on her clover top. “You know how so many people like tomatoes?”

Betty Bee stood real still, listening closely. The family that lived nearby loved tomatoes, so this was really important to her. “Yeah?”

“Guess who needs to pollinate tomato blossoms so they grow the tomatoes?” Josie asked, so excited she fluttered above her flower.

As Betty Bee thought hard she buzzed… and buzzed some more. Soon her clover blossom was vibrating. “I don’t know, Josie. Who?”

Josie giggled. “Bumble bees do! God made them so they can buzz enough to get the tomato pollen to drop down to where it can be reached. Isn’t that wonderful?”

That made Betty Bee so excited she flew off her flower and did a double loop around Josie. “God made me special so I could do a special job!” she shouted to all the other bees, who stopped their gathering and cheered for her.

“I’m Betty Bumble Bee and I love being me!” she sang as she zoomed into a tomato blossom and began her happy buzzing. “Just don’t forget the ‘Bumble’ part,” she giggled, “that’s the most important part.”


“And He gave some as apostles, and some as prophets, and some as evangelists, and some as pastors and teachers, for the equipping of the saints for the work of service, to the building up of the body of Christ;” Ephessians 4:11-12 (NAS)



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This is definitely something I needed today.
And God made you special to do the job He has for you to do, too!

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Beyond the Rapids

I am soooo excited! Today I'm participating in Fiction Friday for the first time in ages! Welcome! =] I'm also hosting, so Linky is down at the bottom, whether you're posting fiction, too, or would like to read some other fun fiction. =]

This story has been on my mind a lot recently. Not only am I polishing the manuscript this story turned into (yet again), but it also ties in with an experience I had last week. But I'll tell you about that next week. ;-)

Beyond the Rapids

Torie stood on the river bank and looked at the rapids. Her stomach churned at the thought of junior high kids canoeing down them to their next campsite. She turned to the big blond man standing beside her, “Surfer Boy, I thought we paddled an extra two hours to avoid this.”

“These aren’t real rapids; close, but not quite, and, yes, we bypassed the real ones.” Seth turned to glare at his canoe partner, “And I told you not to call me ‘Surfer Boy.’” That’s when he saw her worry. “The kids will do fine; they’re so light they’ll skim across the top without much problem.”

“What about us?” Torie asked.

“This isn’t bad, even loaded as heavily as we are with the extra gear. Maneuvering will be slower and more difficult, but I’ve shot worse without a problem.”

Later, after sending off the team leaders and kids, Seth and Torie settled into their canoe. They were bringing up the rear to help any stragglers. Seth looked at the independent, single mom he’d been teamed with at the last minute and said, “Follow my lead. If you fight me we could end up in deep trouble.”

Torie’s gaze didn’t waver from his. “I’m not a fool.”

“No, you’re not, but this isn’t something you can handle on your own.”

“Lead on, Surfer Boy,” Torie said.

Seth dug his paddle in and Torie felt the current grab them.

“Rock on the right!” She hollered as they gained speed. Seth switched sides and steered clear of it, only to push them into the path of another rock. Torie dug hard and got their nose away at the last second.

“Good save!” Seth called out just as a hidden current pulled them across another rock. Torie winced as the canoe scraped, her paddle pausing mid-air.

“Dig!” Seth hollered as he dug deep and added a twist in an effort to get clear of the rock.

Torie felt like her arms were being pulled out as the current pulled them first one way and then the other. Always into rocks. She lost count of the times they scraped: sometimes on the sides, sometimes on the bottom.

They rounded the bend and the breath caught in Torie’s throat. Ahead was a maze of rocks and white water with no apparent way through.

“Oh, no!” she said.

“Don’t let fear paralyze you and don’t watch the rocks slide past. Once our nose is past it, forget it. Just keep paddling and don’t look back.”

Torie felt like a pin-ball as they bounced from one rock to another. They were pushed toward a rock and she watched it slide past.

“Dig!” Seth’s voice cut like a whip. “Don’t look back!”

Torie’s head whipped around. Frantically she dug in, but it was too little, too late. They slammed into a boulder. The canoe shuddered and groaned. Torie held her breath, sure they would capsize, or worse, crack-up.

“Lean right!” Seth hollered as he reached out and pushed. He groaned with effort but managed to get them away just enough that they stayed in one piece and upright.

Just as suddenly as the rapids had started they ended and they were shooting along calm water.

********
Later that evening Torie slipped into the deep shadows near the river. Her mind swirled and raced just as the river had. Another shadow materialized nearby.

“You did good today.” Seth said quietly.

“I choked and we almost bought it. That’s not good.”

“Life’s a lot like shooting rapids. You can’t go through life without hitting rocks; you just can’t keep looking back once you’re past them. You have let go and get ready for the next run. If you look back you’ll crack up on the next boulder without even knowing it was coming.”

Torie sat and listened to the river for a long while, thinking. Eventually she blew out the breath she’d been holding. “Thank you for keeping us in one piece and dry today. And thank you for sharing what you just did.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “You’re right. I’ve gone through life always looking back at my mistakes and I’ve run into countless boulders as a result. It’s time to turn around and get paddling again.” She turned her head toward him, “Thank you, Seth.”

“You called me ‘Seth.’” Amazement laced his voice.

Torie laughed. “Don’t get used to it, Surfer Boy, and don’t get a fat head because I said you’re right.”
********

If you're posting some of your own fiction today, add your name to Linky, but if you'd just like to read some of my friends' fiction, we'd love to have you click through to their blogs and enjoy! Happy Friday!

ps Things should be more back to normal on here next week. ;-)

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From These Ashes

This is a story that is near and dear to my heart because the setting is where I consider home--Ecuador. This is fiction, but things like this happen.
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From These Ashes
They're too weak to bear this, Lord. Jared slumped against the mud courtyard wall and looked at the church. Pieces of jagged glass clung to charred window frames, bearing testimony of the destruction within the cinder block walls. Tendrils of smoke curled out from the smoldering heap that was once a pulpit and simple wooden pews.

Jared raised his eyes to the roof of the building. Even the cross Marco made, Lord, it's gone. And the new Bibles and hymnbooks. Oh, Lord, I wish I hadn't brought them over last night. His eyes slid closed as his chin dropped onto his chest.

At the squeal of the gate Jared looked up. Marco stepped in and stood surveying the damage the vandals had done. Looking up at the roof, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set, but he said nothing. He turned and looked around the courtyard at the garbage that had been dumped and strewn around. Shaking his head, he walked back out the gate without looking back.

Jared's head fell back against the wall and his eyes burned from more than just smoke. Lord, Marco is leaving--the man I thought could someday be the pastor here.

Jared heard the gate clanking, but didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to see any one else turn away. After a moment, a scraping noise grated on his ears and he raised his head.

“Marco. What are you doing?” he asked.

Marco leaned on the handle of his shovel. “We have a service here in 30 minutes and I thought it'd be more pleasant if we didn't have to stand amidst the garbage.”

“I don't know that it will make a difference.”

Marco looked down, scraping the sole of his worn shoe on the shovel. Scratching his trimmed, black beard he looked at Jared. “That's just a building, Pastor,” he said. “The people, the true church, will still be here in 30 minutes.”

Will they come, though?

The gate squealed again and a group of women entered, each carrying a broom. Their hushed talk ceased as they stood in the courtyard.

Tears rolled down Carmen's face as she looked at the destruction. “Those men who did this are fighting against God. They think that burning the church will put an end to God pursuing them, but they're wrong. We need to pray even harder for them now.”

Jared rose to his feet, emotion filling his throat as he reached for the extra shovel Marco had brought. Here I was, thinking they weren't strong enough to handle this, Lord, and they're praying for the ones who did it. Forgive me, Father, and help me learn from them. Give me the wisdom to handle this correctly. Please, use this for Your glory.

Garbage quickly gave way to people as they trickled in, each whispering about the men who they suspected of destroying the church. Each week two or three men had been across the street, scoffing as people came and went from church. They were the star players of the towns' soccer team and were influential with the men of the town. Many church people had been praying specifically for their salvation. This morning they were nowhere to be found.

Jared wiped his hands on a rag as he looked around at the group gathered in the courtyard. Father, they're all here. Not one is missing.

Marco stood beside him, grinning. “This is the church, Pastor.”

Jared smiled, struggling to find his voice. “How did you become so wise, my friend?”

“You taught me that, just as you taught me that good can come from these ashes.”

Lord, bring beauty from these ashes...

Jared raised his hands, and in a clear, strong voice he led his flock. “Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow...”

When the last notes faded away Jared raised his voice again. “Jesus asked Peter an important question one time. He asked, 'Who do you say that I am?' and Peter answered, 'Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.' Jesus' response was, 'and upon this rock I will build My church; and the gates of Hades shall not overpower it.'*” Jared turned and reached for his Bible.

Pray for the men who did this, Jared.

Now, Lord?

Now.

Jared turned back to the group without his Bible. “Pray with me. Dear Heavenly Father, I pray for those that did this. Let them see that burning a church will not put an end to You pursuing them. Don't let go of them until they stop fighting against You and completely surrender to You. Open their hearts to Your love and forgiveness. Please, Lord, do not let go of them; draw them to Yourself and make them one of Your beloved children. In the name of Jesus, Your resurrected Son, I pray, amen.”

Hiding in the shadows of the alley, a man who reeked of whiskey, wood smoke and garbage wrapped his arms around himself as his head dropped and his shoulders shook.


* Matthew 16:15-18 (NASB)
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I'm so excited! This is the first time I've been able to participate in Fiction Friday for months. And the first time I've participated since passing on the baton. I meant to announce to everyone that Fiction Friday is now hosted by Karlene, a wonderful Faithwriters friend I got to meet in August at the conference. Karlene is a doll. Sweet, fun to be with and a servant's heart. I was thrilled when she said she would take over Fiction Friday for us. Thank you, Karlene! I'm so thankful for you!!

For links to more fun fiction stop by this week's host, Stina at With Pen in Hand.

Missions and missionaries are much on my mind these days, especially with Heidi's Candle in the Corner missions spotlights going on. Be sure to stop by and check it out and participate!

You'll also find this story at Journey Ezine, a wonderful mission outreach ezine. Check them out!

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A Fragile Balance

Fiction Friday hosted
at Rick's Pod Tales

For Fiction Friday...

Shattering glass in the kitchen jerked Lauren's head up.

“What just broke?” she called, doing a mental inventory of what had been on the counters. The sudden silence guaranteed heartache. “Do I want to know?”

“Um, I don't think so, Mom,” came the quavery reply.

Lauren's eyes clenched shut. The reigning silence easily carried her voice, “My china mug?”

“Ah, yeah.”

Looking up at the ceiling Lauren groaned. Lord, that was my favorite gift from Mom...

Taking a deep breath she stepped into the kitchen and encountered two pairs of wide eyes.

“We weren't horsing around, Mom, honest.”

“I'm so sorry, Mom. I tossed the pot holders to Brad to put away, but I threw too hard and they knocked your cup.” Tears edged his voice.

Holding up her hand for silence Lauren hunkered down and observed the damage. Scattered across the linoleum were the remains of the china mug her mother had given her after returning from England. It was the prettiest thing she owned and she treasured it.

Promise me you'll use it and not just leave it sitting on a shelf, her mother demanded when the tissue paper had revealed the roses nestled in baby's breath painted on the delicate china. It's made for service, Lauren, just like we're made for service to our Lord.

But it'll get broken if I use it, Mom. Growing kids are killers on glass and fragile things; have you forgotten how many glasses I broke when I was a kid?

Being broken is part of being used. Don't fear it...

A few short years later her mom was completely dependant on others for her basic needs: she was physically broken, yet she was still being greatly used by God.

“Don't move. Let me get these pieces first, then we can take care of the splinters.” She gathered them all onto a plate and carefully set it aside. Looking at the boys she saw trembling chins.

“I'm sorry, Mom.”

Lauren pulled them into a hug. “I know you weren't horsing around, you were working together and getting your jobs done quickly. It's ok.”

“But it was your favorite, Mom.”

“Yes,” she sighed, blinking fast. “It was my favorite, but what's done is done; there's no going back. Besides, there's more to life than a pretty china mug. C'mon, let's finish taking care of this mess.”

Later she picked up the plate of shards and went to her desk, finally allowing a few tears to fall. Lord, my mother is in a broken body yet she's still beautiful and You're using her, just not as You used to. This cup has been special to me for so many years and I 'm not ready to let go of it yet. Can I have it for a little while longer?

Wiping her eyes, Lauren pulled out the super glue and painstakingly pieced it back together, her mom's words echoing in her heart. Being broken is part of being used. Don't fear it...

When she was done, the mug was laced with glue lines and had several chips on the rim and the footed base. There was no way it would ever be used as a drinking cup again, but to Lauren it was beautiful.

“Mom?”

“Come see, guys,” she said, turning to them with an exhausted smile.

Disappointment filled their eyes when they saw it.

“It's ok, boys.”

“How? It's still all busted up, even though you glued it.”

Lauren smiled. “True, but its life isn't over, it just has a new purpose.”

The boys looked dubiously from the china mug to their mother.

“It's going to sit on my dresser and remind me to always get on with life and let God use me and work through me, even when there are pieces missing.”

“Kinda like Granma?”

“Yes, son, like Granma.”
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This is one of my favorites. As I wrote it, the message reached out and gripped my heart, sinking deep inside me. The china mug in the story (and picture) is real, and I'm happy to say it's still in one piece. It was simply the jumping off point for the story.

There was supposed to be an author spotlight today, but something must have come up--If I hear back from her in time, I'll put it up just as soon as I get it.

Don't forget to check in at Rick's for links to more Friday Fiction!

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The Ride of Your Life

Fiction Friday hosted at
Stina's Scroll Bag

For Fiction Friday...
The cage jerked and began moving. Cindy's heart pounded. “Lord, what have I gotten myself into?”

Across from her, Heather laughed nervously and Gram patted her hand. “Did I ever tell you that your grandfather wanted to propose on a ferris wheel but was afraid he'd drop the ring? Even after 45 years, he's a romantic at heart.”

The cage rocked gently as it rose higher and higher, and Cindy's knuckles grew whiter and whiter. When they were at the highest point her fingernails were chalk white and she was quietly gasping for breath. Below her she could see people walking around with their cotton candy, but that was all she had time to see before her stomach started rolling and twisting. Panic was beginning to set in.

A squeak from her daughter drew her attention. Heather was white as a ghost. The mother in Cindy kicked in. She focused on what her mother said. “I never knew that, Mom.”

“Gramp and I have always loved ferris wheels, but when he saw his idea wouldn't work he took me to the lookout point. It was the highest point we could get to.” Gram smiled nostalgically but Cindy hardly noticed, as she was too relieved to be on the way down. The lower they went the more color seeped back into her knuckles and once they were near the bottom she pulled each finger from its stranglehold on the seat. She shook them out and rested them in her lap, but that only lasted until they began going up again. When they were half way to the top her hands were clamped back on the seat.

“It's crazy to be this scared,” Cindy said. “I know I'm safe, so why am I so afraid?”

Her mother laughed. “Did you forget you're afraid of heights? Oh, not little heights, only the big ones, like this.” She waved her fingers around her head. “Looking far in the distance helps. Heather, do you think we can see Kincaid's barn from up here?” Heather frantically looked for it and as she did she seemed to relax a little, even though they were just past the highest point.

Cindy, who sat facing them, had her eyes fixed on the parking lot she could see in the distance. She noted the kind of trees that surrounded it and the trolley winding through the rows of cars. The farther out she looked, the less her heart raced.

“You know, riding a ferris wheel is a lot like trusting God.” Gram said as they slowly went down. “Oh look, there's Millie Hunter, from church. Wave, girls, maybe she'll see us.” They managed small waves and Gram beamed when Millie waved back.

“How is riding a ferris wheel like trusting God, Mom?” Cindy's heart was speeding up again and she was thankful for the distraction.

“Well, like you said, you're safe on here, even though you don't feel safe. It kind of feels like you're hanging out in the middle of nowhere, doesn't it?” Their faces turned whiter. “But you really aren't,” Gram hastened to add. “There's plenty of safety features on these things and they inspect them every day. Oh, look, Heather!” Gram pointed. “There's Kincaid's barn! Can you see it?”

“Yeah, I see it! It's even big from up here, Mom. Next to that big barn, their house sure is small!” In her excitement Heather had forgotten to be scared as they rounded the top.

“There. You see? When you get your eyes off where you are, and look around, you can see so much. Fear blinds you to the really wonderful things in life.” Gram reached over and gave Heather a squeeze.

Cindy sighed in relief as they went lower. “But, Mom, how is this like trusting God?”

“Oh dear, did I forget that part?” Gram laughed. “If you're safe on a ferris wheel, don't you think you're even safer tucked in God's hand? You might as well just relax, trust God and look around, knowing He's got it all under control. Don't let fear blind you and you'll see the most spectacular things. You'll see God working and then you'll see where you can jump in and work with Him. You may end up in places you never thought you'd go to, and do things you thought you couldn't, but with God holding you you'll be safe with Him. Trusting God really is the ride of your life.”

“...He shielded him and cared for him; he guarded him as the apple of his eye, like an eagle that stirs up its nest and hovers over its young, that spreads its wings to catch them and carries them on its pinions.”
~Deuteronomy 32:10-11 (NIV)

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I wrote this one shortly after visiting California Adventureland with my family and parents. We had a great time--but I hafta admit, the ferris wheel was...um...scary. There's a lot of truth to this story mixed in with the fiction. LoL

Next Tuesday, August 8th, we kick off our Back 2 School Book Bonanza and there will be 3 author spotlights and book giveaways each week. Thursdays are nonfiction day, so that will be a treat for us. Be sure to join us then!

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The Wages of Kindness

Fiction Friday hosted at Laury's
In My Daddy's Arms

For Fiction Friday...
With his baby daughter, Rosie, sleeping in his arms, Micah watched as the big body was lowered into the shallow grave. Lord, is this the answer to my prayer? Big Jake hadn't been a good man. He was mean with his mouth and mean with his hands, and no one mourned his death. His children seemed uncertain, but his widow, Jessica, stood silently, holding them close. She was a woman with a strong spirit and a stronger faith.

Rosie stirred, her mouth puckering to cry. Micah gently bounced her, hoping she would hold out a little longer. When he looked up, Jessica was walking to her wagon. Micah followed her, watching as she reassured her children.

“Jess?” Micah called as he neared her fire.

With a smile she took the baby, “There's beans in the pot, if you'd like some, Micah.” She adjusted her light shawl, murmuring quietly to Rosie.

It's too soon to talk to her, Father.

Jessica held out a leather pouch to Micah. “This belongs to you.”

Micah eyed it, mentally weighing how much was there. “No, it's yours. Your wages for wet nursing Rosie these weeks.”

With a gentle toss, it landed beside him.

“I would never charge anyone to nurse their motherless baby.” Jessica caressed Rosie's head through the shawl. “This little one eased the pain of losing my own. She's brought comfort and joy to me. Jake had no business charging you. I know why the amount was so high, too.”

A steely glint entered Micah's eyes. He lowered his voice, so it wouldn't carry to the children playing nearby. “Did he tell you I was paying to ensure he didn't lift his hand against you or the children? Did he tell you that?”

Jessica's eyes searched his. “No,” she whispered. “He didn't tell me that.” She looked down at Rosie and gently stroked her cheek before looking back up. “Thank you. I wondered why he had stopped.”

“Did you love him?” Lord, I can't believe I asked her that! She just came from burying her husband.

Jessica looked into the dying fire. “No. I never did.”

“Why did you marry him?”

A shudder went through her. “Pa didn't believe that Jake had forced me so he made me marry him. Pa's heart gave out shortly after overhearing Jake brag about it to his friends.”

Micah's hands and jaw clenched convulsively.

Jessica turned to Micah and smiled. “It's been a long six years, but God kept us safe and got us through. I accepted Christ after a Christian lady nursed me when Jake was on a binge, so there has been some good come from it.”

Did any good come from my marriage, Lord?

“Did you love Rhonda?” Jessica asked.

“I loved who she pretended to be but she was spoiled and self-centered. I'd hoped having a baby would help her outgrow all that, but...”

“Don't blame yourself, Micah. You have Rosie, now.”

Good did come from those years; I have Rosie.

Jessica's children stopped playing and leaned against her, silently studying Micah. With a smile he reached into his vest pocket and withdrew candy he had brought for them. He offered it as he would to a skittish animal. With round eyes they looked to Jessica for permission. She nodded then watched as they plucked the candy from his hand and whispered their thanks.

Micah's heart ached. “You don't need to be afraid anymore.” Their shy smiles gave him hope. Lord, I want to take care of them, and Jessica.

A neighbor's voice carried from nearby. “I'm tellin' ya', Micah should jest marry Jess. They're a matched pair.” Harriet being shushed made Micah laugh and Jessica's face glow.

“She's right, you know,” Micah said.

Jessica's startled eyes flew to him.

“Do you think you could trust me not to hurt you or the children?”

“Oh, Micah, even that time you were furious with Rhonda you never raised your hand against her, and you're a kind man; I've seen that. I completely trust you.”

Micah smiled, his hope soaring. “And through all these weeks I've seen your unselfishness and love for others. Would you marry me? I know Jake just died, but...”

Harriet marched up, grinning. “Thet goat's been dead plenty long enough!”

From nearby someone called out, “Harriet, let the girl answer the question!” Micah laughed and looked at Jessica.

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, I'll marry you.”

Harriet let loose a whoop. “Call the preacher; she said yes!”
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This is one of my favorites. I love historical fiction--especially the pioneer days. At one point I wished I had been born in those days...but now I'm glad I wasn't. I enjoy all my modern conveniences, like running water and electricity, and I looooove the technology I use. LoL--love it.

Be sure to scroll down to Wednesday's post and check out Colleen Coble's interview and leave a comment to be entered into the giveaway. The winner will be picked late Saturday night and posted on Sunday.

Stop by Laury's blog, In My Daddy's Arms for links to more fun fiction.

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Lava Mama's Stomp Fest

Fiction Friday hosted at Dee's
My Heart's DeeLight.

For Fiction Friday...


Kelli gritted her teeth and started counting. She made it to six before she exploded. “You call this room clean? Only if you’re a pig, and even then, not in my house. Look at this! Dirty underwear stuffed in the corner, your dresser top is in desperate need of attention and this book shelf is a mess, not to mention your closet…Ooooo, that closet had better be taken care of or you won’t like how I take care of it! Get moving!” After a morning of refereeing kids and house cleaning she was on a short fuse.

“Oooh! I hate it!” Ryan stomped his foot as he spun away and threw a book onto his bed, but not before Kelli saw the attitude written there.

She didn’t even try counting, and her jaw still ached from clamping it so tightly just moments before, so she let it fly. “Buddy boy, you just blew it.” Kelli bent down, thrusting her face within inches of Ryan’s. She was sure her hair had turned to molten lava. Ryan’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly covered it with more bad attitude.

“Do it again!” Kelli demanded.

“Do what again?” Belligerence laced the question.

“Stomp your feet again, just like you did.” His face said he thought she’d really lost her marbles this time. “Do it!” Kelli’s voice rose in volume.

Ryan stomped his foot.

“Both feet,” she bellowed, not thinking, just following that mom instinct. Ryan jumped and slammed his feet his on the floor, howling his frustration and anger at his mother, but she didn’t let up.

By the fifth stomp Ryan was beginning to cringe when he landed on his sock feet and Kelli was thankful their floors were stout.

“Harder!” Still hollering she didn’t give him a moment’s rest.

He still howled in anger so she kept him stomping. Her throat stung from hollering above Ryan's noise, but she refused to give up before he did. She was at her wit’s end with this child. She’d tried everything she could think of and nothing had worked so far. In fact, he just kept getting worse. Something had to give, and it wasn’t going to be her.

Ryan jumped and once again slammed his feet down, this time crying out in pain.

“Again.”

“But, Mom…”

“Now! Stomp ‘em!” Ryan jumped and stomped them down again, wincing and crying, his bad attitude quickly fading. Two more stomps and Kelli could tell he’d given in.

“Get this room picked up—FAST.” Kelli quietly ordered, her own anger and frustration cooling.

She sighed in relief when Ryan gathered the dirty underwear from the corner and put them in the laundry basket. Only then did she dare a glance in the dresser mirror. She hid a smile beneath a glower and sailed out of the room. Her hair was no longer felt like molten lava so it was safe to venture into the living room where her other children scurried around doing their assigned chores.

That evening Kelli called from the kitchen, “Time to get that stuff picked up and put away.”

She moved so she'd be able to see their reaction and got there just in time to see Ryan wind up for his protest. She knew the exact moment when he saw her standing in the kitchen doorway, watching him. His foot was on the way down and there was no way he could stop it. When his foot touched down his eyes were round and his anger mysteriously gone.

Kelli shook her head and quietly said, “Stomp 'em.”

“Aww, Mom...” Ryan whined. Kelli merely raised an eyebrow and waited. Ryan jumped and stomped his feet down on the carpet, cringing, but without any anger or bad attitude. She was satisfied.

“Supper's ready. Get that mess picked up so we can eat.” Smiling, she returned to the kitchen and fluffed up her hair. She didn't like being a lava queen but she'd kept her head, reigned in her tongue and God had sent her a solution that was already reaping rewards.
~~~~~~~~~~

This is one of those fiction pieces that has an ounce or two of truth to it. It was a fun write. :-)

Be sure to join us at Dee's My Heart's DeeLight for links to more fiction.

Also, don't forget this week's author spotlight--Lena Nelson Dooley and her new release, Cranberry Hearts. Leave a comment for her (on one of these posts) to be entered in the book giveaway!

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Always Room for One More

Emma stormed into the house, charged up the stairs to her room, and slammed her door. She never wanted to go back to church after what happened that morning. She grabbed her stuffed bear and rolled into a tight ball on her bed.

A few minutes later Gran knocked gently on the door and stuck her head.

“Emma, what is it, honey?”

“I'm never going back, Gran!” Tears were running over the bridge of her nose, making a big wet spot on her pillow.

Gran sat on the bed and smoothed Emma's hair away from her face. “What happened?”

Emma rolled over, still hugging her bear. “Stacey found a note she said was from me to Derek and she read it to everyone. I didn't write it; I would never write something so sappy. I've never been so embarrassed in my whole life, Gran. Derek was there and heard it.”

“Did you tell them you didn't write it?”

“Yeah, but Stacey waved the note and said it had my name on it. Gran, I can never face them again.” Tears trickled into her ears.

“You can and you will. If you fight this it will just make it worse, but if you go back with a smile and simply remind them that you didn't write it and move on, it will eventually be forgotten.”

Emma blinked fast, clearing her eyes. “You think so?” she asked hopefully.

“Do you think people will believe you or Stacey?

“Well, after her stunt last week, I don't think they trust her too much.” Emma sat up, her bear resting on her lap. “Why would she do that, Gran?”

Gran looked out the window before answering. “Think about her home life, Em. Since her dad left, her mom's had to work two jobs and she's not been around for Stacey. I think Stacey is trying to find attention and love, but she's going about it the wrong way. She doesn't realize she's driving away the people she wants and needs. What she did was wrong, but I think she just trying to get noticed.”

“I keep forgetting about her dad.” Emma hugged her bear tight. “She's not a mean person,” Emma said slowly and quietly, wrestling with her thoughts. “I think you're right. I think she needs friends and lots of love right now.” Taking a deep breath Emma looked at Gran. “She and I used to be friends, maybe we could be again. Do you think it would help her?”

“Can you forgive her for embarrassing you like she did?”

“If I'm gonna try to be her friend, I guess I better try, huh?”

That evening at church her friends were laughing and teasing her as they made her sit in the middle.

“Don't worry, Emma, we know you didn't write the note, you're not that sappy. After you ran out one of the girls grabbed the note and said it was Emma Landon's handwriting, not yours.”

Just then Derek sat down beside her and draped his arm around her. “I never knew you felt that way.” He winked and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I wish you did, actually.”

Emma's eyes widened as she looked at him, then she quickly looked away as her face turned red.

Derek leaned close again, “Do you? Is that why you're blushing?”

Emma's face turned even redder and she turned away, hoping he wouldn't see it. She was saved by church starting. Later, as soon as the service ended, she jumped up to leave, but found her path blocked.

“Hey, Emma, a bunch of us are going for ice cream, wanna come with me?” Derek invited her.

Behind Derek, Emma saw Stacey duck her head and turn away, but not before Emma saw a sheen of tears in her eyes. Looking back at Derek she took a deep breath, “Sure, but can Stacey come with us?”

When Derek looked at her questioningly Emma smiled and quietly said, “She needs friends and love, Derek. Since her dad left she's been pretty much on her own and really needs us.”

A smile spread across Derek's face. “You're right. She was probably just trying to get attention this morning. C'mon, let's go get her and go out for ice cream. There's always room for one more, besides, without that note I wouldn't know you like me.”

Emma opened her mouth to protest but Derek laughed. “Don't worry, I've liked you for a long time, but never knew you liked me, too”
~*~*~*~*~*~

Today Sara is hosting Fiction Friday for us at Fiction Fusion. Be sure to join us there for links to more fiction!

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Berries for Stars

Welcome to Fiction Friday! Today Cat is hosting for us on her blog A Work in Progress. Join us there for links to more fun fiction!

Berries for Stars
Callie snatched off the towel that was wrapped around her waist like an apron and tossed it onto the plank that served as a table. As far as she was concerned, the cabin could burn to the ground and it would be no great loss. Lem had been so full of dreams of land and a mansion that she’d been caught up in his dreaming when she’d agreed to move West. So far, the only part of his dream to come true was the land; his mansion was barely a tiny cabin.

“Hey, Callie, where ya’ headin'?” Lem called from the lean-to where he dreamed a barn would someday be.

“East!” she hollered as she marched toward the creek.

“Darlin’, I hate to tell ya’ this, but that direction is west.” She could hear the smile in his voice and it made her grind her teeth. She’d had it with his ‘Ain’t this grand’ attitude. All she wanted was to go home. Home was where there were neighbors and friends, towns and stores.

Reaching the creek, she crossed it and quickly continued on, paying little attention to where she was going or how long she’d been walking. As her feet followed the creek she silently ranted at her husband, slapping branches and brush out of her way.

“Lan’ sakes, girl, ya’ better be careful. Ya’ jest ‘bout ripped yer hand on these here brambles.” The voice came from the depths of a berry patch.

“Goodness, you scared me!” Callie peered into the brambles and saw an older lady in a stained dress, berry bucket in hand. “Where did you come from?”

The other lady laughed. “Originally from Maryland, but thet was so long ago I cain’t hardly ‘member it. You must be Lem’s wife. He said you was mighty purdy, with red hair an’ all.”

“Yes, I’m Callie Stanhope, Lem’s wife.”

“Waal, Callie, it’s a pleasure to meet ya’. I’m Ida Mae Hiller an’ I was gatherin’ these here berries fer a pie. Elmer an’ me was gonna stop by fer a visit tomorra’.” Ida Mae carefully picked her way out of the berry patch and sat down on a log. “Why don’t ya’ sit down an’ tell me what’s botherin’ ya.”

Callie didn’t even stop to think, she just opened her mouth and let all the bottled up frustration pour out. She told Ida Mae about Lem’s dreams and the tiny cabin, about having to haul water from the creek and not having a proper privy.

Callie stopped pacing and propped her fists on her hips. “But you know what’s getting me the most?”

Ida Mae, being a wise woman, merely raised an eyebrow.

“Lem thinks everything out here is just grand. ‘Heaven on earth.’ That’s what he calls it. Can you believe it?”

Ida Mae smiled. “Yep, I surely can. My Elmer’s jest like yer Lem.”

“How can you stand it? Doesn’t it drive you crazy?” Callie sat down, her energy spent.

“Waal, it used ta, but it don’t no more.” Ida Mae watched carefully, gauging Callie’s response.

“Once we lived near an old lady named Myra. I remember tellin’ her how bad things were an’ she tol’ me I had mud in my eyes while Elmer had stars in his.” Ida Mae laughed.

Callie surprised herself by snorting. “Lem’s got stars in his eyes, all right.”

“Mmm hmm. Sounds like he does. Myra tol’ me a lil’ story, explainin’ how I got muddy eyes.” Ida Mae looked closely at Callie. “Ya’ wanna hear it?”

Callie smiled weakly, too polite to say ‘no’ since Ida Mae had so patiently listened to her.

“Two men looked out from prison bars, one saw mud, the other saw stars.”

Callie just sat and stared at her, dumbfounded. “That’s it? That’s all there is to the story?”

“Yep. Thet’s it. Two men looked out from prison bars, one saw mud, the other saw stars.”

Callie looked at the creek and her shoulders slumped. Ida Mae could see the battle raging inside her, but turned and sat quietly watching the creek, letting Callie work it out on her own.

“Ok. I get it. If I want to see more than mud I’ve got to look at the stars, too.” Callie pushed to her feet once again. “Those sure are beautiful berries. Back home was so crowded there were no berries. Some berry preserves would be wonderful on biscuits.”

Ida Mae chuckled. “Berries for stars; thet’s good. Keep thet up and you’ll have stars in yer eyes, too.”

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This is the first historical piece I wrote for Faithwriters and I found I loved writing it as much as I love reading it.

Also, this week's author spotlight is on Margaret Daley. Be sure to leave a comment to be entered in the book drawing!

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Betty Bee and the Long Tongue

Happy Friday! Yesterday I spent mangling my brains at Facebook and Twitter and I think I won. There's a Twitter button in my sidebar now and I created both a page AND a group for Adding Zest. Why both? Because I'm still figuring things out as I go and I didn't know which one I was supposed to do. *eye roll* I'm determined to learn these things. LoL.

SO, I needed some light fiction for today! Shirley is hosting Fiction Friday for us at Sunny Glade --be sure to join us there for links to more fiction! We'd love to have you! =)

Today's light fiction is my first attempt at a children's story...


Betty Bee and the Long Tongue

Betty Bumble Bee settled onto a clover blossom and dropped her head onto her front legs. As she watched the honey bees scurry from flower to flower she became sadder and sadder. Oh, how she wanted to be like them: so slim and trim and so useful. Everyone loved the honey bees because they made honey. They could zip through tight spaces and always had such fun. Betty Bee wanted very much to be a honey bee instead of the bumble bee she was.

Josie Butterfly swooped in for a fast landing. “Hiya, Betty Bee. Why are you just laying here and not gathering pollen?”

“Because I’m sad.” Betty Bee turned her head away so she wouldn’t have to see a honey bee working on a nearby dandelion. “Besides, why should I worry about it when the honey bees are on the job? They can do a much better job of it than I can. I wish I were a honey bee instead of a big, bumbling, bumble bee!”

Josie slowly fanned her wings as she thought. “Betty Bee, don’t you know that honey bees are picky? They need nectar to make honey.”

Betty Bee stroked her antenna. “So?”

“So they won’t go to a flower that only has pollen and no nectar, which means that some flowers would never get pollinated if it weren’t for you bumble bees because bumble bees need both pollen and nectar to feed their babies.”

“They still make honey and look at them, they’re so cute.”

Josie shook her head. “There’s more to life than being cute.”

Betty Bee flicked a leg and sent an aphid flying off the clover blossom.

“Betty Bee, stick out your tongue,” Josie said, her middle legs propped on her abdomen.

“What? Are you crazy?” Betty Bee asked.

“Just stick out your tongue, Betty Bee.” Josie insisted.

Betty Bee rolled her eyes, but stuck it out. It was long!

“God gave you a special tongue so you could reach into flowers that honey bees can’t.” Josie thought that was so neat she did a loop-de-loop right over Betty Bee’s head.

Betty Bee stuck out her tongue again and studied it with her many eyes. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty special.” She said, sounding a little happier.

“It sure is!” Josie said as she settled back onto a nearby flower. “But there’s something else that’s special about you.

“Really?” Betty Bee asked.

“Really.” Josie replied. “When it’s too cold for honey bees, guess who’s out here pollinating flowers?”

Betty Bee hesitated and thought back to the last cold day they’d had. The only other bees she’d seen that day were fellow bumble bees. “Um, bumble bees?” she asked uncertainly.

Josie clapped her hands. “Right! You bumble bees don’t mind the cold but honey bees can’t stand it. If it weren’t for you bumble bees some flowers wouldn’t get pollinated and that would be really sad.”

Betty Bee stood up and bumbled about a little, buzzing in her happiness.

“Oh, and that reminds me of something really, really special about you, Betty Bee!” Josie danced around on her clover top. “You know how so many people like tomatoes?”

Betty Bee stood real still, listening closely. The family that lived nearby loved tomatoes, so this was really important to her. “Yeah?”

“Guess who needs to pollinate tomato blossoms so they grow the tomatoes?” Josie asked, so excited she fluttered above her flower.

As Betty Bee thought hard she buzzed… and buzzed some more. Soon her clover blossom was vibrating. “I don’t know, Josie. Who?”

Josie giggled. “Bumble bees do! God made them so they can buzz enough to get the tomato pollen to drop down to where it can be reached. Isn’t that wonderful?”

That made Betty Bee so excited she flew off her flower and did a double loop around Josie. “God made me special so I could do a special job!” she shouted to all the other bees, who stopped their gathering and cheered for her.

“I’m Betty Bumble Bee and I love being me!” she sang as she zoomed into a tomato blossom and began her happy buzzing. “Just don’t forget the ‘Bumble’ part,” she giggled, “that’s the most important part.”

“And He gave some as apostles, and some as prophets, and some as evangelists, and some as pastors and teachers, for the equipping of the saints for the work of service, to the building up of the body of Christ;” Ephessians 4:11-12 (NAS)

I hope you enjoyed Betty Bee!
Don't forget to check out this week's author, Liz Johnson and be sure to leave a comment to be entered in the book giveaway!

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Plagued By a Piece of Cake

This week Sherri is hosting Fiction Friday for us over at A Candid Thought. Join us there for links to more fun fiction! Also, Cara Putnam is in the author spotlight here this week she's giving away a copy of her new release, A Promise Kept. Be sure to leave a comment on Tuesday's or Wednesday's post to be entered in the drawing.

Now that our Vacation Bible School is over for our church, our eyes are fixed on the upcoming World Changers trip. This year 3 of my kids will going with 60+ others from our church youth department for a week of work. This is a highlight of their year and they're excited!

Throughout the summer many others are going on missions trips, and as you know, missions and missionaries are near-and-dear to my heart. So, for today's Fiction Friday, I'm posting a piece to remind us to pray for those going on missions trips.

Plagued By a Piece of Cake
***Thursday***
I'm so excited I can't sleep. Tomorrow we leave on our missions trip and I can't wait. Cindy, my team leader, keeps asking me if I'm sure I want to do this. I keep telling her I love people and new experiences. This is going to be a fabulous two weeks, I just know it.


***Friday***
This place is beautiful! Palm trees line the streets and snow capped mountains are in the distance—just gorgeous! We're spending the night in a dorm that missionary kids live in during the school year and it's not much different than my college dorm. There's even a t.v. in the living room area, and we had meatloaf for supper. I don't see what the big deal was about and why we had to sit through all that orientation. Tomorrow we travel to Chillanes where we'll work on their church. This is going to be a piece of cake.


***Saturday***
I thought we were going to die on the bus ride here! The driver was a madman! He flew around hairpin curves and wove in and out of traffic. He used his horn more than his brakes and he couldn't even stop someplace decent for us to use the restrooms. I have never seen, or smelled, such a disgusting place! The toilets were overflowing, there were no toilet seats, and you had to bring your own tissues in with you. When I started gagging Cindy led me around a hill so I could squat. If I hadn't been so desperate I would've waited for someplace with clean toilets.

It turns out Chillanes is a dirty little town. We're staying in rooms at the school where there's no glass in the windows and no running water: only a smelly outhouse.


***Sunday***
When I mentioned the accommodations to Cindy today, she said, “I kept telling you this is how it would be and you kept telling me you could handle it.” She makes me so mad! There's been dirty kids hanging on her, and she acts like she loves the food. At lunch we got potato soup and bread, and supper was a huge plate of rice and beans with some cooked bananas thrown across the top. Of course, Cindy smiled and cleaned her plate. Everyone loves her—I just don't get it. Tomorrow we start work.


***Friday***
I am so tired I don't know how much I'll be able to write.
The work is harder than I thought it would be and people are always nagging me about being too stand-offish. I work hard, but I can't stand the food, and I'm starving. The dirtiness of the everything is just gross, too. I'm glad the kids don't pester me anymore--their sticky, grimy hands give me chills just thinking about them! The adults are better, but they don't try to talk to me anymore, either. I smile at them and say, 'hola', but they just smile and go talk to someone else. I don't get it.


***Sunday***
We went to another church today, even higher in the mountains and dirtier than this place. I forgot my candy bars and didn't get to eat anything all day. One of the old ladies there gave me some of those baby bananas. I smiled and said thank you, but I couldn't eat them after seeing her dirty fingernails. I threw them out as soon as I could. Later on she wouldn't even look at me but went and sat near Cindy. Of course Cindy put her arm around the lady and gave her a hug. How can she do that?


***Wednesday***
I shared a candy bar with one of the cleaner girls today. She laughed and ran off to share it with her friends. I was so weak I stayed in bed almost all day. Two more days here and then we go back to the city to fly home. The other girls are talking about how much they'll miss the people here, but I don't know why. I tried making friends with them, but even tonight they didn't want anything to do with me. And they say I'm standoffish!


***Friday***
Finally! We're back in civilization! I almost ate myself sick at supper. They served hamburgers and nothing ever tasted so good!

The people here are so much cleaner and friendlier. Why couldn't that village be like this? They don't treat me like I have the plague here-- I don't understand why the village people did.
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This was great fun to write because I wove bits of real events in with the fiction. Chillanes is a town in Ecuador, although my description here is NOT accurate of the town, but I wanted to use that town name because two of my favorite missionaries live there--they had a profound influence on my life, whether they know it or not, and I love them greatly.

This sort of thing happens quite often on missions trips--unfortunately--but it doesn't have to! Loving people speaks through our actions and crosses all language barriers. I've seen missionaries kill the language but still have a great ministry because of their love for the people. It all comes down to love--God's love in and through us.

Remember to pray for the missionaries you know, as well as those going on missions trips this summer!

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Jake's Ladder

This is one week when I'm exceedingly thankful it's Friday! It's been a long, busy week and my family still isn't feeling well--and they've shared their yucks with me. Yippee. or not. LoL

Be sure to check out this week's author spotlight--it's Debby Mayne and she's doing a book giveaway--just leave a comment on *Tuesday's or Wednesday's* post to be entered in the book drawing. Also, don't miss Debby's book trailer posted on Tuesday--it's wonderful!

And now for Fiction Friday!

Our host this week is Joanne of An Open Book. Join us there for links to more fun fiction. Thanks, JoDear.
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Jakes's Ladder
“Sh. Your father's sleeping, so you're going to have to be quiet until he wakes up,” Misti said as she put some cookies on the table for her youngest son who had recently entered first grade.

Jake stuffed half of an oatmeal cookie in his mouth. “I hate it when Daddy has to work nights.”

“We all do, Jake, even Daddy. But it's life so we just have to deal with it make the most of it. Thankfully he doesn't have to work nights all the time.” Misti poured his milk and joined him at the table. “What'd you do in school today?”

“Kyle's dad came and told us what to do if our house burns down and how to stop, drop and roll if our clothes catch on fire. It was fun.” Kyle swung his foot back and forth, scuffing the chair rung on each pass.

“I take it Kyle's dad is a fireman?”

“Yeah, he's so cool! He's huge, Mom, you should see his muscles. He said he's saved lots of people, and that people have even cheered when he's come down a ladder.” Jake took a big drink of milk, leaving a milk mustache. “I wanna be a fireman when I grow up.”

Misti handed Jake a napkin. “Being a fireman wouldn't be bad, except when there's a fire or a big accident.”

“Kyle's dad said it's a dang'rous job,” Jake said as he swiped at his mustache.

“Yes, it is and I bet that Kyle's mom is often concerned he'll get hurt sometime.”

Jake stopped chewing and looked at Misti. “You mean like Lindsay's dad?”

“Yes. Has she said how he's doing?”

“She said he couldn't fix roads anymore because he can hardly walk, so he's gonna try fixin' computers instead.” Jake leaned back in his chair, a frown creasing his face. Even his foot was still. “Mommy?”

A smile tugged Misti's mouth. “What is it, Jakey?”

“Why do dads have to have dang'rous jobs? Why don't they just work in stores or somethin' like Carey's dad?”

“Well, not all jobs pay the same, and the jobs in stores around here just don't pay enough to take care of our family.”

Jake took another bite of his cookie. “So Daddy has a dang'rous job to take care of us?”

“Yes, but remember, he's real careful.”

“Yeah, he showed me all his safety 'quipment when he brought it home last weekend to clean. It was cool.” Jake's foot scuffed against the chair rung once again as he finished his milk. “Does Daddy like being a coal miner?”

Misti chuckled. “Well, not especially.”

“So why doesn't he do somethin' else, like Lindsay's dad is gonna do?”

“Daddy has a good job, and even though he doesn't really like it, he doesn't hate it either. Besides, there's not many other jobs around here.”

Confusion clouded Jake's face and he tugged on his ear.

“Daddy keeps going to work to take care of us,” she explained as she ruffled his hair.

A smile blossomed on Jake's face and he jumped up and went to the cabinet where his paper and crayons were. “He takes care of us because he loves us.”

“That's right, Jakey, he loves us a whole bunch.”

The kitchen door opened and a taller version of Jake came in, backpack in hand. “Hey, Mom. Dad sleeping?”

“Yes, Jared, he is. He said he'd be up in time to make it to the game tonight. There's cookies on the table and your uniform is on the dryer.”

“Cool. Thanks, Mom.” He snagged a cookie and popped it into his mouth, whole. “What'cha makin', Jakey?” he asked as he poured a glass of milk.

“I'm makin' a picture for Daddy.” Jake stopped his coloring and looked up at his older brother, his eyes blinking owlishly. “Did you know Daddy loves us so much he's a coal miner? That's what he does to take care of us. I'm drawin' him a picture for a su'prise in his lunch box tonight.” Jake held up his picture and showed his brother. “That's Daddy on a ladder.”

“Why's he on a ladder?” Jared asked around the cookie in his mouth.

Jake rolled his eyes. “'Cause heroes climb ladders and Daddy's a hero.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Happy Father's Day! Fathers are heroes in my book!
Don't forget to enter this week's book drawing!

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Quiet, Please!

Welcome to Fiction Friday! We have a technical change for Fiction Friday linking up procedures. Due to technical difficulties others have experienced, we will not be using "Mr. Linky" any longer. When participating in Fiction Friday leave your url in a comment on the host's Fiction Friday post (which is right here today).

This is one of my early stories that I wrote for Faithwriters Weekly Writing Challenge--one that I really enjoyed. Since so many of us are involved with Vacation Bible School during this time of year, I thought it'd be a good time for this particular story, especially since I'll be in VBS all next week. :-)
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Quiet, Please!
Melissa’s head was pounding as she made the circuit around the church building gathering children. In addition to her own 2, she was playing taxi driver for 5 others, giving her a total of 7 between the ages of 5 and 12. The hallways were noisy with the sound of the ‘musical instruments’ the kids had made in crafts that morning. There were oatmeal canister drums, soda bottle maracas, paper plate tambourines, and rubber band harps all being played exuberantly, emphatically reminding her why she worked in the kitchen during Vacation Bible School and not with the kids themselves. Children were not her cup of tea. In fact, she didn’t even really like children.

Finally having all seven children they headed for the van, at least until they left the church building, at which point the kids scattered in seven different directions.

“Stop!” Melissa shouted. “Walk this way.” She made a wide sweeping arc that pointed toward her van and watched in amazement as the kids laughed and fell in line behind her with their arms out, pointing. Shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head, she started off for the van. Behind her the kids shrugged their shoulders and shook their heads, but followed.

Melissa suspiciously looked over her shoulder and almost tripped when she saw the kids look over their shoulders and giggle at each other. Stopping, she turned, propped a fist on her hip and asked, “What on earth are you doing?”

More giggles as the kids propped their hands on hips and innocently batted their eyes at her. Finally Meggie, the five-year-old couldn’t contain herself, “Mommy, you said to walk this way, so we were walking just like you said!” The older kids dissolved in laughter.

“Oh, I see!” Melissa said. “So, if I walk like this,” she turned around and walked like Frankenstein, “you’ll walk that way, too?” Looking over here shoulder she saw they were following her, so she flapped her arms like she was flying and, sure enough, they flapped too, amid much giggling and jiggling from their instruments. Well, Melissa thought, I DID say it!

At the van she counted the kids and checked their faces, making sure she had the correct ones; it would be awful to get home and find she had the wrong ones. By the time they pulled out of the parking lot there was a cacophony of musical instruments as they all tried to out-do the other. This is why I only have two, Lord, Melissa prayed. Kids really do drive me crazy. Even working in the kitchen is too much, so please show me where I can serve You, without having to deal with children.

Britney twisted around in the front passenger seat and called out, “Ok, guys, I’m Miss Sherry. Let’s sing ‘If You’re Happy and You Know It!’” Melissa hadn’t thought the noise could be any louder than it had been, but she was wrong. The volume increased when they began singing.

“Sing it out, Gang!” Melissa smiled at Britney’s imitation of Miss Sherry, the song leader. “I can’t hear you!” Britney called out just as Miss Sherry did during the morning singing. The kids all belted out the song while getting more noise from their instruments than Melissa had thought possible, her head beating in time with the canister drums.

Maybe they’ll quit after this song, she thought desperately, wishing she’d taken the time to take some aspirin before getting the kids.

Rather than quitting Britney called out, “Again!” at the end of the song and they kept rolling.

In desperation Melissa held up her hand, trying to signal for quiet. “That’s not music! That’s noise!”

“That’s part of our verse today, Miss Melissa.” Jason, the seven-year-old called out. “Make a joyful noise unto the Lord.” The kids all happily went into a jam session leaving Melissa to her thoughts.

Ok, Lord. It may be a joyful noise, but it’s driving me crazy! Melissa gripped the steering wheel and prayed for patience. Lord, I need help here. You know I’m not one who loves children…

“Quiet! I can’t handle any more!” Melissa commanded. All the children fell silent and looked at her in amazement, all but the five-year-old who was lost in her own little world.

“Jesus wuvs da wittle chill-dwen, all da chill-dwen of da wohrld.”

“Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands.”
~Psalm 100:1 (KJV)

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This is fiction! Truly. But I've been whammied like this many times by things from a child's mouth. I think it hurts more when the message comes through a child. sigh.

This week's spotlighted author is Trish Perry and she's giving away a copy of her new release. Be sure to leave a comment to be entered in the book drawing, which will be open until Saturday evening. This book Trish is giving away sounds wonderful!

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Dunkin' Cookies

I'm so glad you could join us for Fiction Friday, whether you're posting fiction or reading--or both. Be sure to join us at Karlene's blog, Heart and Soul for links to more fun fiction.

And don't forget that this week Lisa Lickel is in the author spotlight (Tuesday) and there's an interview with her, too (Wednesday). She's also giving away TWO books, and boy do they sound good! Leave a comment on one of her posts to be entered in the book drawings.

Oh! Heidi posted on Adding Zest today, too! ;-)
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Dunkin' Cookies
Willa looked out her kitchen window and saw the new neighbor boy still slouched in a lawn chair. That's it, Lord. He's been there for half an hour. I'm going over. She pulled down a plate and piled fresh cookies on it. After setting it on a tray with a carton of milk and two glasses, she went outside.

“Jason, come give me a hand, honey. Grab this little table and stick it between the chairs so we can enjoy these cookies.”

Jason's bare feet scuffed the grass, but he moved the table then stood back.

Willa held the plate out to him. “I love baking, but with just me and Howard it's just not as fun. Think you could help me out?”

He smiled at her and reached for a cookie, waiting politely while she poured them some milk. She dunked her cookie in her milk and took a big bite. “Mmmmmm. I don't know about you, but I love cookies an' milk.”

A big grin lit Jason's face as he followed her example.

“Not too shabby, huh?” Willa said with her mouth full.

This time Jason giggled.

Willa made her eyes wide. “What? Do I have crumbs on my chin?”

He giggled again. “I thought my Nana was the only old lady who dunked her cookies in milk and talked with her mouth full.” Jason reached for another cookie, but his hand stopped midair.

Willa smiled and nodded to the plate. “Help yourself, because if you don't, I'll eat more than you do.” She took another big bite of cookie. “So, your nana likes cookies an' milk, too?”

Jason sighed. “Yeah. But she can't come this summer.”

“That's too bad. I bet she really misses you.” Willa looked around their adjoining yards and sighed. “I miss my grandkids since they moved.” She looked at him. “We're quite a pair aren't we? I'm a granma, missing my grandkids, and you're a grandkid missing your nana. We ought'a just adopt each other.”

Jason grinned. “Yeah, we ought'a.” He took a drink of milk and eyed the cookie plate. “Does that mean I could have another cookie? These are the best chocolate chip cookies I've ever had.”

Willa laughed. “Why thank you! You can have as many as you like.” Lord, please don't let me come on too strong and scare him away. “Have you ever been to Vacation Bible School, Jason?”

Jason's eyes sparkled. “Yeah! Nana use'ta bring me every summer. It was great.” The sparkles quickly faded. “Mom's too busy, though.”

“Would you like to come with me next week?” Willa asked. “I asked your mom this morning and she said it's ok.” Please Lord, let him come with me.

“Really? You're going?”

“Yup. I go every year and I'd love for you to go with me.” Willa passed the cookie plate. “You want the last one?”

Jason took the cookie, his eyes never leaving Willa's. “Next week?”

“Yup. All week.” Willa smiled.

“Will they teach me about Jesus?” Jason asked, hope filling his eyes.

Willa's heart squeezed. “Yes, they will. Do you know Jesus?”

“I wanted ta ask Him inta my heart last year, but I didn't get to 'cuz the the teacher didn't ask if anyone wanted to on the last day.” Jason buried his toes in the grass.

“Honey, asking Jesus into your heart is something you can do anywhere.” Lord, please save him.

“Really? Do you know Jesus, Willa?”

“Yes, sweetie, I do, and I know He loves you. Did you know He died on the cross for your sins?”

“That's what the teacher said. An' she said that we'd go to hell because we're sinners. Willa, I don' wanna go ta hell. I wanna be with Jesus.” Jason's fingers clenched, squishing his forgotten cookie.

“Jesus will forgive your sins if you ask Him to, Jason. He'll live in your life and make you His special child. You just need to ask Him.” Please, Lord...

“How do I ask Him?”

“By praying.”

“Can I pray now?”

“Yes, you can,” Willa said, her eyes filling with tears.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut. “Jesus would You forgive my sins and live in my life, please? I wanna go ta heaven an' be with You. Amen.”

Jason looked at Willa, his eyes sparkling. “I'm His special child now, aren't I?”

Willa hugged him. “Yup. You're oh-so special, honey! To Jesus and to me.”
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Vacation Bible School is a summer highlight for many children--and with good reason! It's fun and it can be life changing for them. I was saved as a result of VBS, back when we lived on the coast of Maine. I'm so thankful! I'm praying that VBS will make a difference to some children this year.

Don't forget the book giveaways!
Next week Trish Perry will be here at Patterings, be sure to join us!

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Two for One Special

Today the darling Joanne is hosting Fiction Friday for us at An Open Book. Be sure to join us there for links to more fiction!

My family used to take a karate class, and I loved it. It's something I highly recommend--especially for women and teen girls. When a woman knows a few tricks to defend herself should she need to, it makes a huge difference in her confidence level--not to mention her peace of mind.
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Two for One Special

Ashley was lying on the ground gasping for breath when a taunting face came into focus right above her. She blinked her eyes, desperately hoping that he would leave her alone, but knowing she was in for it.

“And that’s what you call a ‘Two for One Special.’” Joe glared down at her before hauling her to her feet. “How many times have I told you to do it like you mean it?”

“How can I do it like I mean it when I don’t even know how to do it the right way?” Ashley demanded. “Sir,” she added as an afterthought, so as not to appear disrespectful.

“Ashley, you know how to do this throw. I taught you myself and I’ve seen you do it, so just toss that thought right outta your head,” Joe said. “If that’s how you’re going to defend yourself against some punk boy then that’s where you’re gonna end up. On your back.”

Ashley’s eyes opened wide; he’d never talked to her like that. Joe opened his mouth to say more but snapped it closed as he looked around at the younger children in the karate class who were watching and listening.

Pulling Ashley over to the side he snagged Daniel, another black belt. “Watch closely,” Joe told them.

Joe moved off several paces, bowed and executed a black belt kata.* When he finished he planted himself in front of her.

“Well, what did you think of it?” he asked her.

“It looked great to me,” Ashley hedged.

“Why?”

“Sharp, crisp movements.”

“Huh.” Joe grunted. “Daniel, what did you think of it?”

Daniel laughed. “What in the world was that?”

“That was Nai Hanchi.** Didn’t you recognize it?”

“You mean parts of it were Nai Hanchi,** the rest was Pinan Go Dan.” **

“So, I screwed it up?”

“Majorly,” Daniel replied.

“Why couldn’t Ashley tell?”

“You bluffed so convincingly that she believed you.”

“That’s right. I acted confident and I was able to convince her.” Joe looked meaningfully at Ashley. “That’s what you need to do.”

Ashley looked confused so Joe softened his voice. “Sweetheart, when you act confidently others believe you, even if you don’t feel confident.”

Daniel looked at her seriously. “If you’re on a date and the guy starts to do stuff you don’t want to do and you hesitantly tell him to stop, he won’t listen to you. He might stop for a minute or two, but it won’t be long before he’s back at it. He’ll hear your hesitancy and go off that. But if you confidently tell him to stop he’s more likely to listen to you. If he doesn’t, you have the knowledge and the skill to put a stop to it and to get away from him. You have to act confidently. That’s what Joe’s trying to get through to you.”

“You saw how fast you went down when you were supposed to be throwing me. You weren’t confident in your actions. Even if you didn’t know what you were doing, but had been acting confidently, I wouldn’t have been able to throw you as easily,” Joe explained.

“People are far less likely to attack a person who looks, and acts, confident,” Daniel added.

“Act confident, even when you’re not, and eventually you’ll feel confident, too.” Joe smiled at Ashley’s look of surprise. “And others will see you as a confident person, and treat you as one, too.”

“It’s that way in most areas of life.” Daniel chuckled. “You ought to try it. It works.”

***
A week later Ashley strutted into karate and Daniel nudged Joe. “She’s strutting this week.”

“How’d the date go, Ashley?” Joe asked.

Ashley’s mouth dropped open. “How’d you know about my date?”

“I knew about it last week, before you went on it. How’d it go?” Joe crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, let’s just say that acting confident sure did help.” She grinned ruefully.

“Are you going out with him again?”

“No way.” She was emphatic.

Daniel chuckled. “So, why are you strutting?” he asked as Joe relaxed and smiled.

Ashley took a playful swipe at him. “Because there’s a huge difference between confidence and arrogance. I can be confident without being arrogant so I’m practicing my confidence by walking confidently.”

“Is it working?”

“Of course it is. That was quite a ‘Two for One Special,’” she smiled. “Thanks.”
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*kata—routines martial artists use as practice
**Names of black belt katas
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For more links to Fiction Friday, join us us at An Open Book

Janet Dean is still here this week, giving away a copy of her new release Courting the Doctor's Daughter. To be entered, scroll down and leave a comment on one of her posts (there's two! An introduction to Janet on Tuesday and an interview on Wednesday!)

I'd also like to extend an invitation to you to join our discussion about our sexuality as Christian women. Check out yesterday's post for more information.

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An Andes High

It's Fiction Friday! Really, it is, even though I'm once again running late. I had a couple of big things come up last night, and I'm still scrambling as a result. But that's okay! They were blessings and I'm so thankful for them! God is showing me again just how good He is. WoW!

Today Rick, at Pod Tales and Ponderings, is hosting Fiction Friday for us. Be sure to join us there for more links to fun fiction. :-)

This week's story is a special one to me--it's about Ecuador and based on a story told me by my classmate, Pete. Similar stories are told by many of my missionary friends from many different countries, and they never cease to amaze me.
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An Andes High

My nose was dripping again from the cold, so I pulled out my bandanna and blew it, then wished I hadn't. I suddenly had an unobstructed whiff of the Quichuas that were packed into the tent to see the Jesus film. Bathing in the icy streams of the Andes Mountains was not something these people did very often, and I didn't blame them—this high in the mountains it was cold, even on sunny days. That whiff was enough to wake me up from the stupor I had fallen into and it was good a thing since the movie was almost over. I wanted to get the reels rewound so I could crawl into my sleeping bag as soon as possible after the meeting ended.

Rubbing my gritty eyes, I saw all the people crowded together, sitting on the ground, watching the movie. The Quichua women, with their heavy wool skirts insulating them against the cold, had children tucked in around them, forming a family cluster, with their father nearby, stoic in his sweater or jacket and traditional wool hat. No one was dozing, no one was even yawning or squirming. All eyes were focused on the canvas wall that served as the projector screen, intently watching.

This was the third night of showing a film at the end of busy days of getting a fresh water supply to the village--if you could call this a village. There was a school building, a thatch outhouse, and one sod home, no more. Other homes were tucked within the folds of the mountains, visible only if you knew what to look for and where to look, yet every night the tent was packed with people wanting to see the Jesus movie. While they sang a few songs in their nasal Quechua language I rewound the reels then settled back to pray while Angelo, a young national pastor, preached in Quechua.

Later, as I was putting away the ancient reel-to-reel projector, a man ran in. “Senor Pedro. Please, will you show the film again tonight?” His face was flushed and I wondered if he'd been out back drinking, but he didn't smell of the local brew.

I was exhausted. The Jesus film was a great tool for reaching these mountain people, many of whom had never seen a movie in their lives, but if I showed the movie again, it'd be hours before I could go to bed. There was a rustling at the doorway that drew my attention. A group of people stood there, all with flushed faces.

Looking back at him I finally recognized the man standing before me--he had been saved the first night we showed the movie.

“Please, my family needs Jesus, too.”

Even though I was exhausted I couldn't miss this opportunity. I called them into the tent then turned and threaded the film strip into the projector while they collapsed on the ground, chattering excitedly. When the movie began they quieted, all except for one or two who translated as much as they could into Quechua. Other people drifted back in to watch and soon the tent was full again.

I stepped outside for a few minutes and took a deep breath of the frigid air. It was cold enough to sting my nose, but wonderfully fresh. I looked up and was once again amazed. Lord, it's beautiful up here. The stars are so close I think I could reach out and touch them, and they're so bright. I slowly turned in a circle, looking at the towering mountain peeks that surrounded me, awed by their velvetty black silhouettes against their starry background. Thank You for getting them here in time and for getting my attention. Please touch their hearts, Lord.

When the movie ended Angelo preached again.

Afterwards the man came to me. “Gracias, Senor Pedro. Mi familia,” he had to swallow and try again. “I knew they needed Jesus, so I ran home and brought them back. Now my family knows Jesus, too.”

Angelo joined us then, smiling. “This man lives a full day's journey from here, on the other side of the mountain. To make it there and back so quickly he must have run the whole way, gathered his family and then come running back, carrying the little ones. He was afraid they'd be too late, but praise God, they weren't.”

And to think I was almost too tired to be bothered...
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Don't forget to join us at Rick's at Pod Tales and Ponderings for more links to Fiction Friday!

Julie Lessman is giving away a copy of one of her books! To be entered in the drawing, leave a comment on one of her posts below. You can either scroll down to Tuesday and Wednesday's posts or click here.

Next week we have Janet Dean and a copy of Courting the Doctor's Daughter. Be sure to join us!

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