Randomly Thinking: My flowers are blooming, weird family stories, and my invisible son

On June 9, 2022 By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings, Randomly Thinking10 Comments

First of all, our flowers are starting to bloom or are blooming. It’s so exciting to see our yard come alive each year. Prepare yourselves for way too many photos of wild roses and peonies over the next couple of weeks. Here are a few until then! (Also, my life is very sad. Watching my wild roses bloom is one of the highlights of my year. It’s close to watching grass grow.)

***

Just before we hung up one night last week my mom told me she’d been reading a book where a man didn’t like crowds because he had PTSD from something. His wife wanted him to go with her to a store so he did and while he waited he went to a bar and started drinking so he didn’t have to think about the crowds.

“Then he had more to drink and then he got home he shot his wife.”

I was like, “Mom! Why are you telling me this! What books are you reading?!”

She continues without answering, “So anyhow, I was thinking about my uncle. You remember me talking about him, right?”

At this point I am trying to figure out what this has to do with the awful book.

“Well, anyhow, I think he had PTSD. They always said he was dishonorably discharged from the Army, but I don’t know the story there. Anyhow, he used to go on these drinking binges and then he wouldn’t drink for a while and then he’d go on another binge. I wonder if that was what happened to him. Maybe he drank to forget what he had seen overseas. Maybe he had PTSD like that man in the book. Well, anyhow, everyone always said he married his niece but he didn’t really marry his niece because she actually was Uncle William’s daughter from another marriage so she wasn’t related by blood and —”

“Mom…seriously, how did we get here? How did this conversation even get here?”

“What? I was just saying that that book reminded me of my uncle and —”

“I appreciate the happy story Mom, but I should go now.”

There is only so much information about my extended family I can take in during one conversation.

***

A woman on Instagram commented a few weeks ago that she kills plants very easily. I left this comment for her: “You’re not alone. A flower threw itself off a shelf when I walked by it in a store one time because it figured it better just kill itself before I got a hold of it and slowly murdered it.”

***

My son says that people forget he is there all the time. He said someone will tell him a story and he’ll say, “I know. I was there. Don’t you remember?”

Or one of us will tell him something we heard and he’ll say, “I know, I’m the one who told you!”

Or a friend of his will say, “I was talking to some friends the other night on the phone and —”

“I know! I was there!!!”

He said his grandfather and dad are always telling him stories that he experienced with them, like he wasn’t there.

I’ve tried to assure him that it isn’t that he is forgettable, it’s just that we are all getting old and we forget a lot, like who was with us when we went somewhere, who we told what, and sometimes even where we are at the moment.

***

Another day The Boy said to me, “Wait. Wait. This will be funny,” and then proceeded to do something dangerous and stupid.

I told him that are a couple of sentences people say right before the ambulance is called.

One is “watch this.”

The other is, “Wait. Wait. This will be funny.”

***

Here is a corny dad joke from my dad:

I told my dad I’m allergic to Tide laundry detergent a few years ago. If I remember right, he is too.

“My dad always washed in Tide, though,” he told me.

“Oh, did he?”

“Yeah, I mean, doesn’t everyone wash intide? It would be embarrassing to wash outtide.”

***

We were watching Shakespeare and Hathaway and the one actor said he was doing an American accent. “Yeah, it’s American. It’s from Nebraska.”

I said to The Husband, “Oh my gosh. Nebraska. Until he said that I completely forgot we had a state called Nebraska. Whatever happens there anyhow?”

My husband says they grow corn. I’ll have to take his word for it.

***

I was reading with Little Miss the other day and came across the word umbrage. I told her it was a very British word because I couldn’t seem to say it without a very British accent.

Try it. It’s true. You have to say it with a British accent.

***

I finally watched a couple episodes of The Office with my family recently and wow — as a resident of Pennsylvania, that show is creepily accurate about the people of Pennsylvania.

When they go out on sales, I swear I do a double-take and think the people they are talking to might be one of my neighbors or the boss at one of our local companies. I’m not very far from Scranton and have lived here my entire life, so trust me, people in PA really are that down to earth. Sometimes we are a little weird too. *wink*

***

So how about you? What random events have been going on in your life? Let me know in the comments.

Our pets and their many adventures and personalities

On June 8, 2022June 15, 2022 By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings2 Comments

Our family’s pets certainly are characters and keep our lives interesting.

We somehow ended up with three black and white animals.

Zooma The Wonder Dog’s most well-known features in our family are her spotted paws, even though she has white on other areas of her fur as well. When we first met Zooma and decided we wanted to adopt her, 3-year-old Little Miss told everyone we met that we were going to buy the puppy with the spotted paws. We had planned not to tell my parents right away because we thought they might not think we should get a new dog since we’d recently had a negative experience with another puppy adoption. That plan fell apart when Little Miss ran into their house first thing and announced, “We’re getting the puppy with the spotted paws!”

The breeder had actually asked us if we would like to switch puppies because someone else was interested in Zooma, but I told her we couldn’t do it.

“My daughter has already announced to everyone we meet that we are getting the puppy with the spotted paws.”

So now we have our Zooma with her spotted paws. She has taken over this blog a few times and you can find those posts if you search “Zooma” in the search bar in the right sidebar.

Scout, our almost-two-year-old cat, has huge, white paws, as well as other areas of white over the bottom part of her. She is a polydactyl, so she has extra toes.

*You can see a bit of her big paws here.*

Pixel, our veteran cat, appears to be all black but if you are unfortunate to be stuck under her underside you will see a small streak of white fur between her legs.

All three of our animals are allowed outside now. In the past, I tried to keep Scout inside because I didn’t want her to be an outside cat. Sadly, after she saw Pixel and Zooma going out each day, her curiosity was almost overwhelming. She became so desperate to go out she would continuously slip out past us, finding any way she could to escape. Stopping her became an exhausting undertaking and she was also severely hyper when she couldn’t go out — raring all over the house and being a general nuisance all of the time. Once she was able to go outside and explore, she would come back in a lot happier and a lot cuddlier.

As a kitten, Scout loved to curl up on my chest to sleep. In a few months, though, she was too big to do that anymore, so she found other places to curl up. Every once in a while she does still try to curl up on my chest and I have to sit slumped down, my arms folded across my chest in a circle for her to lay in. We don’t last very long in that position so now she wakes me up early in the morning by trying to curl up against my neck or chest while I’m still in bed. When she cuddles she bumps her nose against mine while purring and then “kisses” (licks) my chin or cheek a couple of times. When she curls up on me on the bed she eventually decides I move too much and gets up and moves to her favorite place to sleep in the house — Little Miss’s pillow, just above Little Miss’s head. Sometimes she even curls around Little Miss’s head.

Pixel has never been a huge cuddler, but she does occasionally climb up on my chest and kneed and try to curl up there. She’s much too large to cuddle on my chest so her body drapes down my stomach or her large rear crashes into my laptop. She often picks a time for cuddling when I am trying to write instead of when I am trying to read. I would have a lot more room for her while I am reading than when I am typing, but, well, she’s a cat and cats want attention at the most inopportune times, as cat owners know.

Zooma loves to cuddle but wants to be petted most of the time during the cuddle (pawing at your hand to let you know you must keep rubbing her head or belly) and like Scout, she seems to decide somewhere during a snuggle session that she needs more room to spread out and leaves to sprawl onto the floor or couch. The Boy is the champion Zooma cuddler and hugs her like a baby, especially when he is procrastinating on doing school work or any other work.

“I can’t do that. I’m cuddling the puppy,” he’ll say and then he and Zoom will look at me with pathetic “puppy eyes.”

It seems to be an unwritten rule that you can’t move a cat once they’ve curled up in a spot on the couch or bed and you can’t break up a boy and dog cuddle session.

Zooma also likes to cuddle with Little Miss first thing in the morning while Little Miss either plays her online games or chats with her friends before schoolwork.

When we go outside, the animals go with us and often follow us as we walk down the street. Zooma is, of course, on a leash when we go for a walk because even though this is a small town, and very close to the woods, it’s still a town.

Zooma is on a lead or leash when she is outside so she doesn’t take off on us, because she will. She will chase whatever critter she sees in the yard or on the street. When we first moved here, and if we took her off the lead, she would take off over the hill behind the house after deer and rabbits. She would also chase the neighborhood cats and more than once she yanked the lead out of the ground and wrapped herself around our one neighbor’s large tree trying to get to one of them. If she sees a cat while we are walking on the leash she tries to yank the leash out of our hands and get to them. The main cat we see on our walks is our neighbor’s cat Simba.

He was here before our pets so this is his territory, but our animals don’t seem to understand that.

Simba wanders freely like Pixel and Scout do. None of them seem to go very far from their houses and don’t seem to go to other streets. Scout and Pixel do go over the bank toward the old railcar on the street below ours but I have yet to have seen them actually on that street, which is a lot busier than ours, so I hope they never do.

Simba and Scout had a run in the other day after Simba chased Scout out from under the neighbor’s cars where they all like to hang out. Simba wasn’t done with her and even hissed at her while she was laying on the sidewalk in front of our house.

The next day I caught him stalking her in our yard. I guess he’s really not a fan of Scout. I don’t know if he has been doing this for the last several months we’ve been letting her out or if he just realized she is around or what. He and Pixel aren’t really fans of each other either so I’m sure they have some battles too. I know they did when we first moved here.

Another odd thing is that when we walk down the street, the cats follow us like we are taking them on the walk with us. They usually only make it halfway down the street, though, and decide they don’t want to follow us any further. Also, when we visit our neighbors, the cats will follow us onto their porches, like they are visiting too.

Our biggest issue with letting Scout out is that she doesn’t like to come back in so there are some nights we have to chase her down to get her back inside. Pixel wanders in and out all day, jumping up for a snack of food and a drink, and then meowing to be let back out. Scout occasionally comes back in, but usually, once she is out we don’t see her for the rest of the day or if we do see her she comes up for attention and then darts away when we try to pick her up to go inside.

Many an evening the family has watched me pace anxiously when she hasn’t returned from one of her excursions, sure that this time I shouldn’t have let her out and she’s finally got herself killed. Every time she’s come sauntering back in like there was nothing to worry about and clearly clueless, or not really caring, that I was worried sick over her.

We don’t want the animals outside at night because we do live close to the woods and a rural area and that means there could be any number of animals in our backyard at night, including raccoon, skunks, opossum, foxes, and bear.

Speaking of animals, our animals have had quite a few run-ins with animals, I’m sure even more than we are aware of. The main run-ins the cats have had have ended up in the deaths of the other animals since we often open our door to find dead mice or moles on our back porch. The mice were showing up before we let Scout out a lot and then they were showing up even more. Apparently, she had learned how to hunt, or maybe Pixel had shown her. My husband sent me a photo of her with a mouse in her mouth in our backyard one day and we finally knew Pixel wasn’t the only one leaving us presents.

Pixel is quite brutal with her prey. One day The Husband and The Boy were down by the bank across the road cleaning up from a failed yard sale we had and they heard what sounded like screaming. It was, in fact, screaming. It was one of Pixel’s victims trying to get away. My son testified that Pixel came out of the brush with it, tossed it on the ground and let it run a few feet away to give it the illusion that she was going to let it live, then pounced on it again, flung it in the air and repeated the process a few more times before finally killing it. The poor little mouse screamed the entire time and The Boy said it was completely unnerving. They both seemed traumatized when they came back in the house with The Husband only saying, “She’s brutal.”

Neither of them looked at her quite the same for a couple of weeks, trying to figure out how to balance the cat who seems so sweet when she bumps up against their legs for attention and the cat who is a homicidal predator.

Scout also shocked us one day when she came around the other side of the house with a small snake in her mouth. “What did you bring us this time?” I asked. “Is that another — oh my gosh! Snake! She’s got a snake!”

My dad was here so we all walked over to investigate the wounded reptile she dropped on the sidewalk and then rolled next to, clearly very proud of herself.

We all decided the snake wasn’t poisonous (probably a garter) so it hadn’t hurt her but we were still unnerved by the entire incident. We scooped the snake up in a shovel and pitched it over the bank in front of the house. I’m not sure if it made it or not but I did see a similar snake in our backyard last week and it was slithering along quite fast.

Zooma’s last animal run in, beside the rabbits she chases out of the backyard, and the deer she barks at, was the skunk who sprayed her at the end of last summer. That happened a couple of months before we caught Covid and lost our sense of smell and we joked that it would have been nice to have been able to smell when she got sprayed. It took a couple of weeks to get the smell off her even with two or three baths.

I rarely get a photo of all three animals together, even though they are all together at times. For example, the morning I am working on this post, I woke up to find all three of them on the bed with me, which is a rarity. Pixel is still not super fond of Scout and hisses and smacks at her when she gets up to snuggle with me before Pixel does.

We call Pixel our resident witch (we try to be nice and not use the b before the itch) because sometimes she just randomly smacks anyone who walks by her, including Zooma who is simply trying to get outside and use the bathroom. Sometimes even one of us gets smacked by her for no reason at all, but sometimes she wants us to stop and pay attention to her. Usually, the smacks are claw-free. Another funny thing about Pixel is that she snores when she sleeps. It’s this small little wheeze/whistle. I am curious if this is a trait with black cats since the black cat my husband had and I adopted when I married him also had sinus issues and sort of snored. She (Squeak) also sneezed horrible large boogers out of her nose and mainly when she was laying on my chest for snuggles.

Pixel was actually adopted because she reminded me so much of Squeak. The only difference is that Squeak was always skinny where we often call Pixel The Beast or Fat Cat. Sometimes when I call her Fat Cat she glares at me through tiny slits as if to say, “You don’t have room to talk, lady.” Other times she seems to appreciate the nickname and rubs up against me despite me insulting her weight.

Pixel is fairly laid back and doesn’t get herself into trouble, unlike Scout and Zooma.

As I’ve mentioned in past blog posts, Scout’s little tree climbing adventures have kept us hopping, including the one night she got herself so stuck the fire company had to bring its ladder the next day to get her down.

The first time she climbed a tree was also one of the first times she escaped. That climb almost killed her because she didn’t land on her feet like Dad told me she would. She landed on her side and then laid there panting and I thought she was going to die. I even prepared for the kids to say goodbye to her. She jumped up and darted away a few seconds later, though, and it was clear she wasn’t going to die after all. Since then she’s had our hearts in our throats more than once with her antics, but I guess we are adapting to them more and don’t worry as much as we once did.

So, there you go. You’ve not learned a little bit more about our crazy pets and their antics. Do you have pets? If so, what kind, how many and what are their names? Let me know in the comments.

I’ll leave you with some random photos of the pets. I’m surprised, yet not surprised, of how many photographs I have of them, actually.

Another social media break and looking to the rest of June

On June 7, 2022June 15, 2022 By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings11 Comments

Yep. Here I go again. I’ve started another social media break, hopefully a month or so long. Every time I do one of these, I make it sound like I am addicted to social media and never off of it other than these breaks. That isn’t true, but I do sometimes find myself mindlessly scrolling way more often than I should on sites like Facebook and Instagram (I don’t do Twitter so I don’t appear to be a bigger twit than normal.). I also find myself mindlessly looking at news sites and becoming more and more anxious and sick to my stomach.

The bottom line of social media is that it gives most of our brains too much information, even if some of that information is good. We get overloaded and overwhelmed because our brains were never intended to process so much information at one time.

As Pastor Steven Furtick once said, “We were not meant to carry the entire world on our butt bone.” He was talking about our phones being in our back pockets and being constantly connected to the world through news sites and social media and other people.

God didn’t make us to process everything all at once. We were built to slow down, to contemplate, and to have times of rest and relaxation. Were meant for times of peace, not for constant chaos and voices in our minds, and not for being bombarded with ideas and opinions.

So, for the last week, I have been spending my days focusing on things other than social media and I hope I can start my days with a devotional this next week instead of picking up my phone to try to wake up. Since I have removed all apps that will tempt me to stumble down depression-inducing paths, I end up just checking my email, but it would still be better if I started with a verse, so I am trying to remember to open the YouVersion Bible app instead. I usually like to be a little more awake when I do a full devotional but I can at least read a verse or two.

Little Miss’s little friend visiting last week helped keep me away from social media because I mainly only had time to keep an eye on them and walk with them while they played on their scooters. This week we have a few homeschool lessons to finish and I also have to put together their portfolios to present to the homeschool evaluator so that will give me something to occupy my time.

June will be a month where I don’t have any school events planned, but I do hope to do some in July. What I will be doing in June is researching homeschool curriculum, as I do every year.

During June, I also hope to work more on Mercy’s Shore, finish Anne of Avonlea, decide if I am going to do a small garden or not, take photos of the peonies I expect to bloom this week (since it is my brother’s birthday and they usually bloom around or on his birthday), and maybe I’ll actually do some housework since I completely stink at that.

At the end of the month, The Husband is off work for a week and we are looking at the possibility of visiting a beach in New Jersey or taking a train ride on one of the trains near us. We will see how much the rising gas prices affect our plans. If worse comes to worse we will simply splash around in the little pool our neighbors gave us (and we still have to put up), read on the back porch and have a couple of cookouts at my parents to fill up his vacation week.

How about you? What are your plans for June? Is a social media break in there somewhere? If not, think about it, rest your mind, which in turn will help rest your soul.

Fiction Friday: Mercy’s Shore Chapter 5

On June 3, 2022June 6, 2022 By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings, fiction, Fiction Friday6 Comments

To catch up on the other chapters, click HERE.

To read the other books in the series, click HERE.

Chapter 5

“How’d the meeting go?”

Maxwell eased his black sedan onto Main Street, heading toward his house two miles outside of town. He turned the music down on the radio, a song from the local Christian radio station fading into the background.

Ben winced as he tried to move his foot. “It went okay.

He hated the idea of his dad driving him to and from an AA meeting, or even knowing about his past. Having to tell his dad he’d lost his job at a high profile law firm three years ago had been beyond difficult, but telling him it was because he’d lost a case for the firm because he’d come into many times with a hangover had been like a kick to the gut.

“Okay, I guess, but it was weird. Judi was there, for one, and then Jerry Spencer verbally attacked her because she’s working at a bar and grill, which he seems to think is too much of a temptation for someone who is trying to kick alcohol.”

Maxwell shrugged a shoulder. “Well, it probably is, but what business is it of his?”

“Yeah, I don’t know.” Ben stretched back in the seat and rubbed his forehead, wishing the ache would go away. “I got the impression he’s got something against Judi, but I don’t know what. Or maybe it has nothing to do with her at all. Maybe she was just an innocent bystander to his explosion. He seemed pretty ticked off that he had to be there at all.”

Max grimaced. “He probably is. Remember you weren’t too happy about those meetings either. He’s probably sick of being in court for DUIs too but it’s his own fault. How did Judi take it?”

“She snapped back at him. They exchanged words and then the woman leading the group told Jerry to leave.”

Maxwell blew out a breath. “Whoo boy. Think he’d hurt Judi in any way?”

Ben’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I tried to stop her after the meeting and ask her if she was okay, but she jumped into her car and took off.” He shrugged then spoke through a yawn. “Anyhow, I’ve got other things to think about right now. Cindy called me right before I left for the meeting. She’s going to need some time off work, and she isn’t sure how long. Rick’s been diagnosed with cancer. The prognosis is good but he’s going to need some radiation treatments and she wants to be home to take care of him.”

“Can’t blame her. What are you going to do?”

“Not sure yet. Thankfully she said his first treatment isn’t for another couple of weeks. I may just have to push through until she can come back. That’s not enough time to train someone and it would be hard to find a temp around here.”

“What about Judi?”

Ben made a face. “What about Judi?”

“Maybe she could fill in,” Maxwell responded. “You said that job at Lonny’s might not be right for her.”

“Dad, first of all I didn’t say that. Jerry did. Second of all no. Just no. Judi’s — well, she’s not qualified. She’s Judi and Judi’s always been, to put it bluntly, a mess. I mean, yeah, I feel kind of bad for Judi, but there is no way I want her filling in as my secretary.”

Maxwell glanced at his son. “Even people who are considered a mess deserve a chance, Ben.”

Ben wasn’t sure if his dad was taking a jab at him or not, but he chose to believe he wasn’t aware of how his comment had come off.

“I know that Dad, and I believe that too, you know that. That’s why I was there with Floyd tonight, but Judi doesn’t know how to be a secretary at a law office.”

“How do you know?”

“Dad —”

“All she has to do is answer phones, file some paperwork, and take some notes. Anyone could handle at least that much. She couldn’t replace Cindy and all her law background, no, but she could do the basics.

Ben shook his head. “No. Just — No. I’ll ask around. I’m sure some other lawyers will have suggestions.”

Maxwell shrugged and nodded. “I understand, but it’s an option at least. Maybe the last option, but also maybe one worth considering.”

Ben focused his attention on the scene outside his window — the town of Spencer fading into trees and fields which he could have seen better if it hadn’t been so dark. His dad had purchased property about a mile outside of town when Ben was five or six. The two story home, set back off the road in the midst of grove of birch trees was considered a mansion by some in the area but for Maxwell and Emily it has simply been a home that was able to fit their family of six. Maxwell’s job as a small town attorney representing anyone and everyone who needed his help had proven to be more lucrative than the couple had imagined, but it was the inheritance from Maxwell’s father that had helped them build the home.

After Maxwell was elected district attorney the first time, when Ben was 16, a wall with a gate was erected around the property to provide privacy and protection. It was the same style gate Maxwell’s father, Maxwell Sr. had had installed at his home after serving as county judge for 40-years.

“No telling when some loony I sentenced might come to make me pay for the lengthy sentence they received due to their own incompetence,” Maxwell Sr. had said about the installation of a fence and gate around his house in town.

He’d died while Ben was away at law school and there wasn’t a day that went by that Ben didn’t miss him. At the same time, he was glad his grandfather hadn’t witnessed his spectacular personal and professional face plant right before and even after passing the bar.

Sure, Ben had his own law firm, something he’d always wanted, and his grandfather had wanted for him, but it wasn’t in a large city like Ben had hoped it would be. Still, it was something instead of the nothing he’d thought he’d be left with when he lost that job as a paralegal three years ago. He’d planned for that job to be temporary anyhow.

As soon as he passed the bar, he was going to be out of there and working on his own in the center of Philadelphia or New York City. Somewhere with big, rich clients. It was a shame an addiction he’d acquired to try to silence all the doubting voices in his head had ended his career at the firm before he’d had a chance to quit.

He wanted to say losing that paralegal job wasn’t a big loss, but really, on a career level, it had been. He’d been the assistant to one of the most sought-after defense lawyers in Philadelphia. The fact he’d blown it within the first nine months after so much promise only solidified for him the fact he would never be as successful as his dad, in career or in life overall.

“Your mom says you got a card from the Phillipis. Anything important?”

His dad’s question broke into his thoughts and once again he found himself wishing his father didn’t sometimes use his courtroom tone in every conversation. Being direct and to the point was something Maxwell Oliver was a master at in the courtroom and, sadly, that direct manner often spilled over into interactions with his family.

No sugar coating or easing into a conversation for him.

“Nope.”

“Anything unimportant then?”

Ben sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids, pain shooting from the front to the back of his head. He’d wanted to argue when the doctor had said over the phone it could be another three weeks before the concussion was better, but now he was beginning to believe the man.

“It was a card.” Ben remained silent for a few moments but knew his dad wouldn’t stop asking questions. “An invitation to a party that Angie already told me she doesn’t want me to attend.”

His dad turned the car into the driveway and reached up to the visor, pushing a button there to open the front gate. “Angie called you?”

“She left me a voicemail. I got it the day of the accident.”

The gate clanked closed behind them after Maxwell drove through the opening. Pulling toward the four car garage, Maxwell pushed another button on the visor and the garage door rose slowly.

“She’s what, four this year?”

Ben’s chest tightened. This conversation needed to end. “Yeah.”

Maxwell turned the car off, but kept his hands on the steering wheel as the garage door closed behind them. “You know I haven’t wanted to get into your and Angie’s business, but it would be nice to meet my granddaughter someday.”

Ben reached for the car door, desperate to get inside and lay down. The pain in the ankle and head had given up battling for first place and had settled on a tie. “Not my decision, Dad. Angie doesn’t want me to be a part of her life.”

“Can you blame her?”

Ben climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind him. Metal against metal reverberated throughout the garage.

I’m not a hostile witness, Dad, back off. It was what he wanted to say, but he was too tired, too dizzy, and in way too much pain to push this conversation into a full-blown argument.

“My head is killing me,” he said instead as Maxwell stepped out of the passenger side. “Can we talk about this more tomorrow? I don’t mean to be rude, but I didn’t take the painkiller before I left for the meeting and I’m regretting it now.”

Maxwell closed the door and walked around to Ben’s side. “Of course, we can. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this up while you’re still recovering.” He placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “I hope you can forgive me.”

Good grief, his dad even apologized better than he ever could.

“If you help me up to Luke’s room and put a glass of water on the bedside table for me, I definitely can.”

Maxwell’s laugh was deep and sincere. “I can absolutely do that. Come on, kid, let’s get you some rest. You’ve had a rough week.”

Once he was in bed with the lights off twenty minutes later, Ben squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, waiting for the pills to kick in. Once they did, images of a blond-haired little girl swam in and out of images of a beautiful blond woman who’d once looked at him with love but now looked at him with disgust and disappointment. By the time darkness overtook him he’d broken out in a sweat and thrashed enough to wrap the sheets around him like a straight jacket. In the morning he woke up trying to untangle himself from the covers while his mind tried to untangle the nightmares that had plagued him all night.

Always in crisis mode

On June 2, 2022June 2, 2022 By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings9 Comments

Are you ready for the next crisis? You better be because as soon as you deal with one the media wants to be sure you hear about another one. And if it isn’t the media telling you about one it’s someone on social media, or your neighbor, or your mom who calls to remind you that you can die from Lyme Disease and what the stats are on the cases this year in your area.

Can we just stop for five minutes?

Can we just put a hold on declaring a crisis every waking moment?

Can I have a cup of tea before I’m alerted to my impending doom and death?

I’d like all the statistics to be recognized for what they are and that is usually a bunch of crap that was poorly researched and then presented to the public as a reason for them to freak out, have a break down, and curl up in a little ball while crying and buying whatever everyone is selling to help them out of said crisis.

I decided to take a break from social media and news for the month of June. I thought this might slow down my thoughts, for one, but also slow down the barrage of panic porn from news and social media sights, which is ultimately what causes my thoughts to speed up in the first place.

I didn’t do great the first two days, no. I looked at a couple of news items. I read some Tweets (and I’m not even on Twitter). My panic started to rise. I turned off the news and tried to take a deep breath. That’s when the phone rang with the only person who ever calls me — my mom, who felt it was very important at that moment to read to me the latest article in her electric company magazine that informs all of us in this part of our state that we may die very soon from a tick-borne illness. (No, that’s not how the article is actually worded.)

Thank you, Mom. I love you, but was it really an emergency for you to call me and read the entire article to me, shattering what I had hoped would be a nice, calm, news free day? Welp — I guess so.

Sigh. Of course, she didn’t see it as shattering anything about my day and it wasn’t her intent. It was how I felt in my anxiety jumbled mind. She felt like she was making me aware, not so I’d panic but so we could do our best to protect ourselves and leave the rest in God’s hands.

Sometimes it feels like everyone in the world these days is thriving on panic porn, on doom scrolling even when they don’t know how to scroll or simply don’t scroll.

We are moving beyond Covid, even though cases are still around, but the media tried to tell us there is another virus coming and we have to be ready. Roll up your sleeve, it’s another vaccine that you have to have, or you will get sick (even though everyone who rolled up their sleeve to keep from getting sick from Covid is still getting sick). We are moving beyond Covid but Russia and North Korea have bombs and they aren’t afraid to use them. And China? Oh, man, don’t even get us started. They want you dead too.

The message all day long, even when you try to shut it off, is “Panic! Panic! Panic!” but when you do actually panic people mock you and suggest things like “your oxygen dropped when you had Covid because, you’re such an anxious person.” Hmmm…I’ve been anxious my entire life but my oxygen levels never dropped. Weird, huh? I guess Covid really is a hoax and didn’t cause some people to have health issues they never expected. *sarcasm alert*

At the same time I know Covid isn’t a hoax, I don’t think it is the widespread murderer so many of a certain political persuasion thinks it is and I say this even though I am someone who ended up on oxygen while having it (for two days…but you know…that’s because I just thought about it too much, not because an actual illness caused it to drop.). Here’s something – if you look for Covid with a stick in your nose every single day, you are bound to find it, symptoms or not.

I don’t know who needs to hear/read this but we are allowed to be in the middle of an opinion and choose a little from column A and a little from column B. We don’t always have to believe things are all one way or all another way when it comes to certain issues – like Covid. We can – gasp! – think for ourselves and not be a betrayer to our “party.” *eye roll*

To be quite frank, I am tired of looking for the bad and for the next thing to kill me. I am tired of the doom and gloom and the panic mode.

I am beat down. Not just emotionally and physically, but also spiritually.

I have tried faking it by watching comedies. I have tried faking it by pretending I am an author. I have tried faking it by reading fluffy, sometimes ridiculous books.

I have tried faking it by faking it but it’s hard to keep faking it when ever time you climb back out of the hole someone kicks you back into it. Those kicks are hardest when they come from the sources screaming at you to “calm down!”

Like Santa with the bottom of his black, polished boot in the middle of Ralphie’s forehead, pushing him back down the slide, I am being pushed over and over again back down the slide of doom and gloom, only instead of crying out what BB gun I want, I am crying out what level of peace I desire while I clinging with white-knuckled fingers to the top of the slide.

Sadly, unlike Ralphie, who got his BB gun for Christmas, I will only get the level of peace I desire when the Lord chooses to take me from this world.

Looking back at May in photos

On June 2, 2022June 1, 2022 By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings, just photos, Just the Photos Ma'm8 Comments

I don’t have a ton of photos from May but I thought I would share what I do have. I can’t even believe May is gone and we are already in June! We did get outside a little bit more in May than in other months, since it finally warmed up, but I didn’t always remember to take my camera with me or to take photos. That’s unusual for me, but, well, sometimes it does happen that I don’t have a camera with me.

A Memorial Day journey with my parents

On June 1, 2022May 8, 2025 By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings7 Comments

I didn’t really think about the emotional impact of traveling with my parents to place flowers on the graves of our passed-on loved ones when they asked if my daughter and I would like to ride along Sunday.

I also forgot that every time we pile into the car with my parents, something weird happens or the adventure becomes much longer than originally planned.

This trip was no different and there were a couple of times I thought we were going to be waiting for a mechanic.

When we started out on the journey, I heard my parents speaking in hushed tones.

“Should we even be driving this?” Mom asked.

What did that mean? Was something wrong with the car? Great. Just great. Now we were on a 20-mile journey in a car that might explode or something.

“What do you mean should we be driving it? Is this a problem that could leave us breaking down on the road, or leave us flying over an embankment into a tree?”

My questions were met with a silence that spoke volumes (harkening back to the days when I was a child and my parents decided there were things I didn’t need to know) so I started to pray.

Luckily the car problem never became an issue and Dad was able to get it fixed two days later (well, today as I am writing this).

My parents decided we would make the trip after lunch on Sunday, but lunch was late so our trip was late. By the time we arrived at the cemetery about 30 minutes from my parents’ house, it was almost golden hour, the time when the sunlight is the prettiest. I always feel guilty admiring the hundreds of flags dripped in golden sun spread out across a cemetery. It’s a solemn place, not an overlook. Still, the staff of the cemetery did a nice job again this year.

My dad and Little Miss planted flowers by my grandparents’ grave and then we stood there a few minutes, not sure what to do next.

“Sometimes when I come alone, I say a little prayer,” Dad said. “Or talk to them. Should we introduce Little Miss to them?”

Oh. Right. My grandparents were there. Under the ground. I should be focused on remembering them, but I’d stowed that emotion in the back of my head to simply make it through the day without getting weepy. Here it was, though, in my face.

So, I introduced my grandparents to Little Miss, and then, as I told Grandma how much she would have loved Grace, I started to cry. I wasn’t only remembering the time I had spent with her when she was alive, but the times I used to come and sit by her grave with a bag of black jelly beans, eating them and chatting along to her like she was still around (though feeling a bit dumb about it). Grandma loved black jelly beans but wasn’t supposed to eat them because the licorice was bad for her high blood pressure, I guess.

(Unnecessary explanation number five in this post: I talk to my grandmother because I knew her the longest. I was two when my grandfather died. I was in my mid-20s when my grandmother died and I lived with her part of that time.)

Stuffing our emotions back in, we headed back to the car and then drove around the other side of the cemetery to my aunt and uncle’s grave. This is my dad’s sister and her husband. Next to their grave, is the burial spot of a friend/neighbor of my dad’s and a cousin of my uncle’s — a decorated Vietnam War veteran who reminds my dad of the darker side of being a member of the United States Army. This man (first name Guy) was a sniper, was injured, earned a Purple Heart, and then was placed on duty to escort dead soldiers home from Vietnam. Guy killed himself in 1998 in the woods behind his house, a short drive from my parents’ house, we believe to stop the memories of all he’d seen.

After my dad planted flowers at his grave, and Little Miss and I had gone back to the car, Dad, a veteran of the United States Air Force, turned and faced Guy’s grave, saluting him in the respect he probably wasn’t given when he came home from war. The sight hit me hard in the chest and as I turned to tell my mom, who’d missed Dad’s salute, I broke down and she did as well. We were a bit of a blubbering mess for a few minutes.

With the tears behind us, Dad suggested a stop at a local ice cream place and that’s where things went off the rails. First, there was a huge line at the place, second, Dad accidentally left the lights and air conditioner on, so while he was waiting in line for the ice cream, the battery in his car died. This is where living in a smaller area comes in handy, because my dad looked to our left and the man in the next car was someone he knew.

Our family has also known the man’s wife for years. The two of them managed to get the car jumped but then another man walked by who knew Dad and Little Miss, Mom, and I sat there wondering if we would get home before 10 p.m. at that point. It turned out he was the brother of the woman we knew and he’d only recently moved back to the area after being away for probably 30 years.

We might not have known when or if we were going to get out of there, but we did know we weren’t going to make it to my Uncle Billy’s grave, at a different cemetery, that night, because the sun was setting fast. My parents ended up visiting his grave the following day.

While we were waiting for our ice cream, I told Little Miss, who wanted to go play around some tables, that we couldn’t go far because we would need to help Grandpa carry the ice cream.

“Hey!” a little boy with a buzzcut and a neon green shirt declared. “My Grandpa’s name is Grandpa too!”

All in all, the trip was a success, and we did make it home before 10, but not before dark. We let anyone who gets in the car with my parents know that they might want to plan for a longer trip than expected.

There is a good chance something weird will happen or Dad will want to take them on a tour of an area he is familiar with or once visited. Either way, the trip is going to be longer, and often more interesting, than anyone expected.

Fiction Friday: Mercy’s Shore Chapter 4

On May 27, 2022May 26, 2022 By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings, Fiction Friday4 Comments

Welcome to Chapter 4 of Mercy’s Shore, which will probably be called Shores of Mercy by the time it is published due to possible copyright issues. To catch up on the store read HERE.

Chapter 4

Judi turned and looked over her shoulder at her reflection in the mirror of the church bathroom.

Black, calf-high, leather boots, a faded denim skirt that fell to her knees, and a red v neck, loose-fitting shirt.

Not too revealing, not too matronly. Hopefully, the people in the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting thought so too, not that she was there to impress them. She was there to try to get her life back, even if she wasn’t sure what her life really was right now or what it was meant to be.

She always felt in between these days. In every way.

She’d known who she was in the city. In the city, she was the girl who wore designer clothes, usually slightly revealing to attract attention and make her feel important. From high school until a year ago, she’d been the laid back, everything goes, fly by-the-seat of her pants type girl.

Now she was the girl who wasn’t sure how to act, dress, or think most of the time. Being footloose and fancy free hadn’t yielded the results she’d once hoped it would, but she didn’t want to be strait-laced and uptight like her older sister either.

She pushed a hand back through her hair, shaking it loose from the ponytail she’d had it in, smoothed her lipstick with an index finger, and took a deep breath.

So far, she’d been able to avoid sharing much of her story with the rest of the group. She hoped to do the same tonight. Especially if Brad actually showed up.

When she stepped into the hallway she gasped as she slammed into someone and stumbled backward into the bathroom again.

“Oh, excuse me, I —”

She looked up and met the amused grin of Ben Oliver. “Look at you. Can’t even handle looking both ways when you come out of the bathroom.”

Judi rolled her eyes. Could this week get any worse? Too bad Ben hadn’t hit the tree a little harder, then maybe he’d still be in the hospital and not here to harass her on a night she was already nervous.

“Ha. You’re so funny.”

Ben folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the hallway wall. “Here to ask Pastor John for forgiveness for lying to Officer McGee?”

Judi couldn’t read Ben’s expression now, but he raised an eyebrow, apparently waiting for an answer.

“I didn’t lie,” she responded sharply. “I looked both ways and didn’t see you.” She looked at his foot with the cast and the bandage on his forehead. “Shouldn’t you still be recovering?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I should be, yes, but I’m here to support a friend who’s attending the AA meeting here tonight. What are you here for?”

Judi took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. No use trying to pretend. “I’m here for the AA meeting too.”

He raised both eyebrows. “Supporting a friend as well?”

“No.” She raised her chin, surprised he hadn’t heard any of the gossip about her yet. “I’m here for myself.”

He pushed himself off the wall and slid his hands into the front pockets of his khakis. “Oh.” He tipped back on his heels and nodded. The smile had faded. “Well, that’s good. Really good.” Judi imagined he must be thinking how pathetic she was and maybe even wondering if she’d been drinking the day of the accident. He gestured toward the open doorway down the hall. “Shall we head in?”

Inside the white-walled large room that was usually used for Sunday School classes, there was a circle of chairs set up. Along the walls, posters featured views of sunrises overlayed with well-known Bible verses. Blue hardcover Bibles were stacked in a bookcase on the other side of the room and next to it was a small table with a sign-in sheet, a coffee pot, cups, and a box of donuts.

Judi headed for the coffee, leaving Ben to find his friend. As she poured the coffee, she thought about darting out again. She’d promised Ellie and herself she’d stick with this AA stuff, though. Waking up with a hangover and not remembering what she’d done the night before wasn’t how she wanted to spend her whole life, even if cutting out drinking had made her life incredibly dull. It had also left her with the ability to feel emotions again, something she wasn’t enjoying in the least when it came to emotions like guilt, embarrassment, and sadness.

She hadn’t promised her parents she’d go to the AA meetings because she hadn’t even told them how addicted she’d become to alcohol. Ellie had been nice enough not to tell them either. She knew her parents would still love her, but she’d always been somewhat of a black sheep in the family. No reason to let her parents know she was even further out there than they thought.

One of the many awkward aspects of attending an AA meeting in your hometown was that you ended up knowing some of the other attendees. Turning with a coffee cup in hand, she scanned the room and counted two people she’d gone to high school with, other than Ben — Jessie Landry and Steve Jakes. The 60-something-year-old owner of the local supermarket had already taken a seat and was looking as uncomfortable and out of place as he had in the previous two meetings she’d attended with him.

Her gaze moved back to Jessie who was clearly hitting on Steve. Wearing a black leather mini-skirt and a hot pink tank top under a blue denim jacket, Jessie obviously hadn’t been concerned about looking too trashy.

Judi had partied with Jessie more than once on her visits back home over the years. She’d also had run into her once or twice at a bar before making the decision to drop alcohol altogether. Jessie might be serious about cutting out alcohol, but Judi was certain it would take a lot more to break Jessie of her addiction to dating a new man every few months.

Glancing around the room again, Judi’s gaze fell on Ben standing next to an unshaven elderly man in a pair of faded stained jeans and a flannel shirt. She hadn’t really paid much attention to how he looked when he’d been harassing her in the hallway.

Now she noticed his light brown hair was swept back off his forehead and he was wearing a blue, button-up dress shirt, the collar firmly buttoned at the top, and a pair of tan khakis. She wondered if he ever dressed in anything more casual. She’d be shocked if he ever kicked back in a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

The hand of the man standing next to him shook as he lifted a cup to his mouth. Ben laid a hand on his shoulder and said something to him Judi couldn’t hear. Whatever it was the man seemed to appreciate it and nodded slowly as he swallowed the liquid from the cup.

The group facilitator and Judi’s sponsor, Rachel Martin, clapped her hands twice to get everyone’s attention.

“Okay, everyone. Let’s get seated.”

Judi noticed as she sat in a metal chair with a blue cushion that Brad wasn’t in the room. She hadn’t actually expected to see him to show up, so his absence wasn’t a surprise. It was, however, a relief.

Rachel sat and smiled as she looked around the circle. “Good evening, everyone, my name is Rachel and I’ve been sober ten years now and I’m your group leader tonight.” She stopped her gaze briefly at each person and smiled. “I see a couple of new faces with us tonight. How was everyone’s week? Anyone do anything exciting?”

The adjusting and readjusting of bottoms on metal seats filled the silence but no one offered any tales of their past week.

Judi didn’t have anything exciting to share unless a near collision with a lawyer’s fancy car was exciting. Had Ben not been there, she might have shared the story to make sure her side was heard. She scanned the circle and counted twelve recovering alcoholics and Ben.

It was sad to think such a small town had so many people struggling with alcohol and addiction.

Rachel sat back in the chair, the smile still in place, dark curls falling away from her face as she pushed her hair back. “Okay, well, that’s fine. We all must have had a pretty routine week.”

A smattering of stiff laughter trickled around the circle. Judi knew that most of the group members’ routine week had most likely involved fighting back the overwhelming desire to open a bottle and pour alcohol down their throat to chase away the demons.

Demons whispered in Judi’s ear every day.

“You’re such a screwup.”

“Go ahead. Take just one drink to take the edge off. It won’t hurt.”

“You’ll never be as good as Ellie is.”

“You will never have a life like Ellie with a husband and a real job.”

“Your parents will always look at you with shame.”

“You deserved what Jeff did that night. You were dressed like a whore anyhow.”

Despite their whispers, she had, so far, been able to resist the temptation to silence them with booze.

The scrape of a chair pulled Judi from her thoughts, and she looked up to see Brad pulling a chair out and sitting in it. For the first time since she’d known him — which was since elementary school — he looked terrified.

Rachel waited for Brad to sit down completely and then suggested the usual moment of silence, which she said could be used for prayer or an introspective moment. After that minute, the group recited the serenity prayer with more than one member looking less than thrilled at having to say a prayer.

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,” they recited. “Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference.”

Rachel then asked the new members to introduce themselves.

A man with broad shoulders and a long beard, wearing a biker jacket with dark blue jeans and heavy, black biker boots stood and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. Judi looked up at him and inwardly shivered. The man was easily 6 foot 5 inches and maybe 250 pounds. She’d hate to see him drunk, especially if he was an angry drunk.

“My name’s Jake and I’m here because I’m tired of waking up next to my smashed-up bike and not remembering what happened.”

“Welcome, Jake,” Rachel said as the rest of the group chuckled at Jake’s blunt introduction.

“Am I supposed to announce I’m an alcoholic like on TV?” Jake asked in his deep voice, his beard trembling with each word.

Rachel laughed softly. “Well, yes, the first step to helping yourself is admitting you have a problem.”

Jake straightened his shoulders and pushed out his broad chest. “My name is Jake and I’m an alcoholic.”

He nodded his head definitively as if his statement explained everything and sat back down with an equally definitive thud.

“Thank you, Jake,” Rachel said. “Would the other new members please introduce themselves?”

Brad stood reluctantly, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and looking at his mud and manure-stained work boots. Judi took in the dirt on the jeans and shirt and guessed he must have come right from the barn. She’d wondered if he would keep working with the Tanners after the accident, but it looked like he either still was or was working on another farm instead.

Last Judi had known Jason Tanner, who had become her brother-in-law six months ago, had sworn he’d never work with his cousin again. Jason was a lot like Ellie, though – a good Christian who offered forgiveness to those who didn’t deserve it. That willingness to forgive was the main reason he and Ellie still talked to Judi, a fact she knew and appreciated even if she struggled to be the same way.

“I’m Brad Tanner and I’ve been drinking too much for a few years and need to get back on my feet so,” he shrugged a shoulder. “I’m here.”

He sat back down, his hands still in his pockets.

“He didn’t say he was an alcoholic,” Judi mumbled, picking at a string on the hem of her skirt.

She didn’t have to look up to know Brad was scowling when he said, “Shut up, Judi.”

Judi opened her mouth to respond but Rachel cleared her throat. “Let’s try to be polite, everyone, okay? Brad, we’re glad you’re here. Anyone else?”

The man sitting next to Ben stood slowly, trembling slightly.

“Hey, uh, my name’s Floyd Miller and I’m an alcoholic.” He tipped his head toward Rachel as if for approval. She nodded back in encouragement. “I’m grateful for my lawyer offering to come here with me tonight.” He glanced at Ben who was still sitting. “I was pulled over for my second DUI recently and Ben here got me a lighter sentence if I agreed to come to these meetings. I didn’t want to come at first but Ben told me he’d been to a few himself and it was the first step to getting my life back on track so …” Floyd held hands out to his side and shrugged his shoulders. “Here I am. I’m not sure I can do this but I’ve got to try if I want to make my kids proud of me instead of ashamed.”

Rachel thanked Floyd for coming and then started to lay out the goals of the group to the new members. Judi’s mind, though, was focused on what Floyd had said about Ben being to one of these meetings himself. Had he meant he’d supported other people at the meetings or had he actually been to an AA meeting for himself? Judi was beginning to wonder if she’d read him all wrong all these years. He’d come here to support this man who had been his client, and he was familiar with AA meetings. There was a lot more to Ben than she’d thought.

She studied Ben for a few minutes across the circle. His focus was on Rachel, and he winced when he tried to cross his leg with the cumbersome cast. As he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, Judi could tell his head was bothering him. She wondered why he’d even tried to come out tonight, only a few days after the accident. He didn’t seem the type to put his own comfort at risk to support someone, but that might actually be the case this time.

“Anyone else want to share this week?” Rachel asked, clasping her hands together in front of her.

She’d already gone over the steps of the program and the idea behind sponsors, as well as providing a contact source for anyone who felt like they might fall back to drinking during a stressful time.

Judi studied her fingernails as she pondered the real reason for Ben’s appearance at the meeting, and noticed a chip in the red polish she applied yesterday. She decided she should really get a stronger fingernail polish.

“I want to know how Judi’s doing working at a bar and grill.”

Judi’s head jerked up at the comment and her gaze met the eyes of Jerry Spencer who owned a computer repair shop a few miles outside of town. She immediately recognized his tone as mocking.

Bristling, she folded her arms across her chest, leveling her gaze at Jerry, who seemed to have had it in for her from the first meeting she’d attended five months ago. “It’s going fine, Jerry.” Her jaw tightened. “Thanks for asking.”

Jerry scoffed. “Yeah right. You can’t tell me there aren’t nights you don’t want to kick back one of those drinks you’re delivering. I know I would.”

“Well, that’s you. I can separate myself from that world any time I want.”

“Famous last words,” Jerry bit back.

Rachel held her hands up, “Jerry, let’s be a little more encouraging, okay?

Jerry tossed his hands out to his side. “This whole thing is stupid. What are we even doing here? We all know we’d rather be out at the bar.”

Rachel leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees and propping her hands under her chin. “Why are you here, Jerry? There has to be a reason you walk in those doors every week.”

Jerry shrugged her shoulder as he leaned back and relaxed one arm over the back of the chair. “Yeah. My wife said I had to come, or it was over.”

Rachel raised a questioning eyebrow. “And you don’t want it to be over right?”

Jerry rolled his eyes and tipped his head back against the back of the chair, legs stretched out, one ankle propped over the other. “No. I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I want to be sitting here flapping my jaw about all my problems with a bunch of strangers either.”

“What do you have against me anyhow?”

Hearing what she had been thinking said out loud, startled Judi and she couldn’t believe she’d actually asked it.

“You’re naïve, Judi,” Jerry snapped. “That’s my problem with you. You’re a little girl who needs to grow up. You think you can be around alcohol and alcoholics and still stay clean. One day it’s going to get to you, get it? One day it’s all going to come crashing down and you’re going to have a weak moment and boom! It’s over. All that hard work you put in and all that progress you made will be gone.” He snapped his fingers, his gaze focused on hers. “In a blink of an eye.”

He stood, hands clenched into fists at his side. “And you’ll have no one to blame but your stupid, airhead, blond ditz self.”

“Jerry, that’s enough!” Rachel stood and pointed toward the door. “You need to leave. Now!”

Ben and Brad stood as well, eyes on Jerry who didn’t need to be told again to leave. He’d already shoved his chair aside roughly and was on his way through the doorway.

Judi gritted her teeth and reached down for the coffee cup she’d placed next to her chair. She sipped from it and kept her eyes down, too angry and shocked to look up and see the expressions of others in the room.

Ellie had told her she shouldn’t be working at a bar and grill too, but Lonny had been the only one who had called her back when she sent out resumes. Waiting on tables was all she knew how to do other than retail and there wasn’t exactly a lot of retail places in Spencer Valley looking for employees. Maybe in some ways, Jerry was right, but he didn’t need to be so mean. And the air headed comments? Seriously rude.

Rachel sat back down and reached over to squeeze Judi’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Judi nodded but didn’t look at her. “Yep.”

“We’ll talk after the meeting,” Rachel whispered.

Judi didn’t want to talk after the meeting or any time. At least not about Jerry. Warmth spread across her cheeks and down her chest as she kept her eyes on the coffee in her cup. Jerry had some nerve attacking her when he was obviously an even worse mess. She’d hurt herself and sometimes her family with her actions, but he had a wife and small children. He definitely had a lot more on the line than Judi did. What a loser.

Two more group members shared some struggles they had been having in the past week and then Rachel drew the meeting to a close with a brief prayer.

Judi snatched up her purse and the cup and briskly walked toward the doorway, dropping the cup into the trashcan. There was no way she was staying to talk to Rachel about Jerry, her week, or anything else. She wasn’t in the mood.

“Hey!” She ignored the shout of a male voice behind her as she opened the driver’s side door and slid inside.

The only thing she was in the mood for was a drink, but since that couldn’t happen, she was heading to her apartment, where she knew a pint of Rocky Road ice cream was waiting for her in her freezer.

Book review and giveaway: The Traveling Prayer Shawl by Jennifer Lynn Cary.

On May 27, 2022May 24, 2022 By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings3 Comments

About the Book

Book: The Traveling Prayer Shawl

Author: Jennifer Lynn Cary

Genre: Christian Women’s Fiction/Split-time

Release date: March 17, 2021

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00059]

Her dream account just landed in her lap…

…So did the future of her family

And she’s got two months to save them both.

Cami Madison’s grandmother died, leaving her with a task she must complete or all the inheritance goes to charity. Plus her boss handed her the ad campaign that will win her the coveted vice presidency opening.

Both have the same time table.

When she realizes the projects are intertwined, things really start to unravel.

Kate Hanson raised her granddaughter after the child became an orphan in a car accident. But not all scars are on the outside.

Can Kate’s last request help Cami to heal?

Will Cami be able to step up to the job?

You will love this split-time women’s romance because when family is on the line, everyone knows the only way to survive is wrapped in prayer.

Click here to get your copy!

My Review

Jennifer Lynn Cary is known for writing touching, sweet stories with plenty of tame drama mixed in and she’s done it again in The Traveling Prayer Shawl.

I enjoyed this sweet, well-told story about a woman named Cami and her cousin, Morgan, and watching them work through grief after the loss of their grandmother, but also through their own hurt feelings toward each other.

Cami is working at an advertising agency when her grandmother passes away, while Morgan is raising her two children after her husband left her to take a job out of state.

Each character had their own dramas going on beside the loss of their grandmother, which made their efforts to find peace with each other a challenge.

I enjoyed how Cary wove in the past point of view of their grandmother, Kate, to give us an insight into when the girls were younger and what caused them to become estranged.

Cary even manages to weave in some romance in the midst of a story that involves a health concern for Morgan and work challenges for Cami.

The book is a touching reminder of the importance of family, the connections we take for granted, and the forgiveness we can extend because God first extended it to us.

About the Author

Historical Christian Romance author, Jennifer Lynn Cary, likes to say you can take the girl out of Indiana, but you can’t take the Hoosier out of the girl. Now transplanted to the Arizona desert, this direct descendant of Davy Crockett and her husband of forty years enjoy time with family where she shares tales of her small-town heritage and family legacies with their grandchildren. She is the author of The Crockett Chronicles series, The Relentless series, and The Weather Girls trilogy as well as the stand-alone novella Tales of the Hob Nob Annex Café and her split-time novel The Traveling Prayer Shawl.

More from Jennifer Lynn

The Traveling Prayer Shawl is actually a tribute to the wonderful women I’ve had the pleasure of making shawls with for the last ten plus years. We have a group that has remained faithful though some have had to leave, and new faces have joined. I thought this would be a book where there would be several points of view, sort of like how it is when we meet one Saturday per month. I even asked the girls when this idea began to churn if they could give me some character ideas.

Then one morning this scene came to me and wouldn’t leave. I wrote it out and sent it to my critique group. They thought I might be on to something.

Follow that with one of my prayer shawl girls asking if I was still interested in a character idea. Of course I said yes, and she handed me a fully fleshed out supporting character—Dericka.

I hadn’t planned on anything romantic but apparently my characters had other ideas. This story couldn’t get itself written fast enough.

The cherry on top was when another of my prayer shawl girls shared about a pattern her grandmother had designed that was published back in the 1960’s. With her permission, I include that pattern at the end of the book—an actual prayer shawl to crochet.

You will also see a prayer that is included with the shawl in the book. That is the same prayer that is given with each shawl from our Needles of Hope group. It was written by my dear friend, Pastor Lori Brown and used with her permission.

Crocheting is a relaxing craft for me and one I came to only a few years ago. My sweet grandmother tried to teach me to crochet, then gently suggested I stick with knitting. Ha! But my husband’s cousin came to visit and accepted the challenge, finally helping me to see what had been so elusive. Now I prefer it to knitting.

Though The Traveling Prayer Shawl is a stand-alone and not like my other books, I am currently working on another stand-alone split-time and have included the first chapter at the end of the book. Hope you will enjoy it and that you will try out my friend CeCe’s grandmother’s prayer shawl pattern.

Abundant blessings!