August 18, 2010 @ 6:47 am | Filed under: Family,Pure Sunshine
Carter: “Nana, if you could be any animal in the world what would you be, and why?”
Me: “Like…a zoo animal, or an animal in the wild?” Because – really – wouldn’t that make a difference?
Carter: (shrugging) “Whichever. If you had the power to change into any animal, what would it be, and why?” He was persistent, I’ll give him that…
Me: “A monkey.”
Carter: ” Seriously. Seriously? A monkey. And why?”
Me: (suddenly doubting my choice just a tad but not able to think of a single animal on the planet I’d like to be…) “Um…because they are the most like humans, they are entertaining, and they are basically non-threatening. What about you? What would you be?”
Carter: “A bald eagle.” His answer slipped quickly and easily off his tongue. “Because it is able to soar high above everything else, it is the national bird, and no one can touch it.”
Suddenly I felt this eight-year old was the wiser one in this conversation.
Who wouldn’t want to soar above it all, secure in the knowledge that they cannot be touched?
Family, grandkids, life lessons
August 17, 2010 @ 6:44 am | Filed under: Food and Drink
Ingredients:
- Corn, 2 cobs
- 1 medium sweet red bell pepper
- 1 medium sweet yellow pepper
- 1/2 red onion
- 1 cup mushrooms
- Salt and pepper to taste
- 1 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
- Shrimp, deveined, cooked
- Lowry’s herb & lime seasoning, 2 tbsp
Directions:
Mix Lowry’s seasoning and olive oil in a ziploc bag. Add shrimp and massage well to coat. Place in refrigerator for one to two hours to marinate.
Cut corn from the cob. Chop peppers and onion. Dust with salt and pepper.
Saute corn and vegetables in olive oil on medium heat until tender, about ten minutes. Remove shrimp from refrigerator.
Slice mushrooms. Add to vegetables once they are tender. Remove succotash to serving dish.
In the same skillet, saute the marinated shrimp until opaque. Serve alongside succotash.
Delicious and healthy!!
healthy recipes, Tasty Tuesdays
August 16, 2010 @ 8:46 am | Filed under: Family,It's funny!,Pure Sunshine
Carter and Kendall arrived yesterday.
So much can be read into that first sentence! We’ve been anticipating this week for over a month now, counting down the days until the grands come for their week-long stay. They radiate such energy and sparkle and unconditional love that me and my trusty camera have a full-on love fest anytime they are around.
There were a few welcome goodies waiting for them on their beds when they arrived yesterday. After all, what’s a trip to Nana & Pops’ without a little bit of good ‘ol fashioned spoiling, right? Some NFL trading cards and a novel for our boy, and a bucketful of craft beads and a couple of readers for our girl.
There is no lack of conversation with the four of us. They are lively and fun and – quite often – informative. For Pops and I, that is! Carter, fresh off of a week of sleep-away camp, was full of stories and funny antecodotes. The kind of things that fill up rich, full little boy memory banks in the most wonderful ways possible.
Stories of the unlikely Bible superhero, Gideon, and how – through him - we learn all about faith and trust in God. Carter’s eyes sparkled as he excitedly said, “Hey Nana, did you know…” about four hundred jillion times. But I never once grew tired of shaking my head in wonder. “No, buddy. Tell me.”
Kendall is six going on sixteen. Like, quite literally…talking about “when I turn sixteen I am going to…” Pops and I cut our eyes at one another and mentally sent notes to one another to be sure to send up lots and lots of prayers for her parents over the next decade! She is a fireball of animated conversation that always keeps me laughing and always has her Pops muttering beneath his breath, “She is just so beautiful.”
Kendall: “When I am sixteen I am going to have a Jeet.”
Nana: “You’re going to have a what?”
Kendall: “A Jeet. You know. The cute cars. It’s going to be really, really cute.”
Carter: “You know you’re going to have whatever I have. You do know that, right?”
Kendall: silence
Carter: “And I’m going to have whatever Mom has. That’s how it’s going to be.”
And there you have it, in a quaint, precious nutshell. Our two grands.
A cute combination of dreams and realism. I told them last night they are absolutely perfect, and what an amazing brother-sister duo they make…
With a head in the clouds and feet firmly planted on the ground, these two will no doubt do amazing things!
They are grand, after all!
Family, grandkids, laughter, summertime memories
August 13, 2010 @ 8:55 am | Filed under: Books,The Writing Life
MELROSE MIRACLE
Chapter Nine
The next morning, Ella made sure she left in plenty of time to snag one of the front desks in Sound Stage C. She felt surprisingly refreshed after a decent night’s sleep and looked forward to the day, wondering what challenge was next on the docket.
Kim Yung Lee, the only Asian contestant, walked in right behind Ella. “Good morning.” He bobbed his head toward her, his dark hair waving with the movement. Quiet up to this point, Kim had impressed them all yesterday with his egg fu yung demo.
After a few minutes of conversation, she learned the forty-five year old Kim owned and operated his own Chinese restaurant in Lubbock, Texas. But the family business was failing and this was Kim’s way of trying to save it.
Torrie, Ben, and Dirk walked in about that time and Dirk—hearing Kim mention Lubbock—turned the topic of conversation to Texas Tech, his alma mater. “Hey, you missed a great time last night.” Torrie settled into the desk next to Ella’s. She dropped her backpack to the floor and leaned forward, planting her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “A lot of the crew came out with us. That cute camera man—you know, Luke—he came too.”
Ella hoped her face showed no emotion. It wasn’t like she cared what Luke Abney did, or who he saw. Or did she? She couldn’t deny the effect he had on her when he was close by: rapid pulse, heart flutters, flushed cheeks…
No doubt about it. Luke made her heart do weird—yet somehow delicious—flip-flops. Remnants of their conversation still danced in the corners of her mind, making it difficult to hide the smile that was aching to crawl across her face right now. She resisted it, though, grabbing a pencil instead and doodling on her tablet.
It wasn’t like she cared what Torrie thought. This was Ella’s first experience with this kind of attraction, or chemistry—or whatever this myriad of feelings might be labeled. She wasn’t even sure herself yet how she felt about them. For sure she wasn’t ready to confide them to others.
It had seemed like there had been a mutual connection back in Milltown, and again on that amazing all-night phone conversation. But the past few days in LA seemed to suggest otherwise. Almost like she was just one of the gang—someone he spoke nicely to because it was a part of his job.
“I wanna get to know him better,” Torrie continued, tossing one long platinum braid over her shoulder. “Away from the crowd, you know?” She grinned and Ella felt her stomach plummet. “Some good ‘ol one-on-one time.”
“Sounds…like a plan.” Ella pulled another notebook from her duffel and pretended to read through some notes. When Torrie took the bait and did the same, Ella blew out a soft breath.
She needed to get her head in this contest and off of Luke Abney. She sneaked a peek at Torrie. Why in the world would Luke give Ella a second glance when the likes of Torrie Tyler was around?
The morning session started up at 10 o’clock sharp, and not a moment too soon for Ella. Now that she was ready to put Luke on the back burner of her mind where he belonged, she was ready to throw herself headfirst into the day’s challenge. A fresh zeal burned inside her, an urgency to make the most of this incredible opportunity. If she worked hard and showed the network what she was capable of, maybe…just maybe…this contest would change the course of hers and Chloe’s life.
“Welcome to Cooking TV 101.” Nathan Charleton began, “Today you’ll learn the basics of live cooking. When you watch Kendall on Meals in Minutes or Toula on Toula’s Home Cooking, what the audience may not realize is that it is a live television performance. Done…in real time.”
Ella shifted in her chair as Dirk, on her right, whistled softly. That was something she hadn’t realized. The idea was slightly terrifying. Filming for a taped segment sounded daunting enough, but to film for a live feed? Yikes…
Nathan Charleton nodded at their responses. “Because of this, there is a cardinal rule in our network. A rule that can never be broken, no matter what.”
Ella grabbed her pen, waiting.
“A chef can never stop the show. Remember that.”
Ella heard Dirk mumbling the words as he, too, scribbled furiously on a notepad.
“Okay, let’s get started.” Nathan clapped his hands and a line of men and women filed into the studio, coming to stand at the front. “Today you’ll meet a few of the folks who make a cooking show possible.”
Luke Abney was the last to enter. He ended up directly in front of her desk and Ella felt the now familiar tug at her tummy. For the briefest of seconds their eyes locked and—though it was fleeting—time seemed to halt. Ella felt as though this man were looking inside her soul. She straightened in her chair and lowered her eyes, trying to concentrate on the introductions as Nathan Charleton announced each name.
“…Marnie Wilson!” The host paused as Marnie—just as energetic as she’d been at the meet-and-greet—took a deep bow. “Marnie is our stage manager and she will become your very best friend.” He gave a knowing nod. “Believe me, Marnie is absolutely crucial to your success in this competition.”
For the next fifteen minutes Marnie explained the use of the dreaded teleprompter and time cards. Ella was amazed at how much useful information she was able to soak up in the short amount of time. The teleprompter would not—contrary to what she’d thought—keep going if the host quits talking. Instead it is regulated to the speed of the host’s voice; if he speaks fast, the teleprompter speeds up, if the host slows it down, the teleprompter matches it.
“Time for the first challenge of the day.”
Ella looked up from her notes at Nathan Charleton’ words. Besides the host, the front of the room had been cleared. She didn’t know if she felt more relief or more disappointment that Luke Abney no longer stood in front of her.
Each contestant was given a task card. These were aqua blue note cards with a given assignment printed on them. Ella heard Torrie groan as she read hers. She turned hers over slowly, her earlier confidence in the day taking a dip.
Stretch the time, it read. Obviously she’d have to ad-lib, waiting for Marnie to give the signal that there was extra time to fill. It wouldn’t be difficult.
Ella sighed. It was just out of her comfort zone, was all.
*****
From behind his camera, Luke zoomed in on Ella’s face. He could see a tiny vein in her neck throbbing wildly and his heart wrenched. She was nervous.
Come on, Ella, you can do it. He tried to send her telepathic encouragement and he thought that, just for a second, she looked right at him. Not just at his camera, but at him. His breath caught in his throat until she looked down, at some notes in front of her, and the spell was broken.
He waited for Marnie’s countdown and kept an eye on the stage manager’s arm as it went high into the air.
“In five…four…three…two…” At one, Marnie’s hand came down and Luke pushed the red button, instantly sending Ella Paglia to the live feed. His throat felt tight and dry as he put his eye to the lens.
“You want your filling to be rich and creamy,” Ella looked up from the batter she was mixing and smiled into the camera. “Make sure it is mixed well, then pour it into your prepared muffin tins.”
Luke grinned. Thatta girl! If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Ella was an old pro at this. He glimpsed Marnie out of the corner of his eye and watched as she gave the signal to stretch the time. There was the briefest gleam of panic in Ella’s dark eyes as they widened at the camera. She paused and Luke held his breath. Keep talking, Ella, don’t stop. Even he knew the cardinal rule of the network. There was flexibility with a lot of things, but not the cardinal rule.
“I remember as a kid I’d love to help my mother make pies and cakes,” Ella’s smile was back and she was shooting from the hip, filling the time with an anecdote. “My very favorite recipe was a cherry cheesecake—very similar to the one we’re making today.”
Marnie gave the sign for a commercial break.
“So when we come back, we’re going to taste these beautiful mini-cheesecakes. Don’t go away.” Ella finished the sentence in a rush of air and then sighed, loudly. Her lapel mic crackled and the contestants and crew laughed. It was clear to everyone that Ella was glad to have this challenge behind her.
Luke shut the camera off and backed away from the tripod. As Ella passed in front of him on her way back to her seat, he held up both thumbs. “Good job,” he whispered.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
Luke reached out without thinking and squeezed her fingertips. He glimpsed the flitter of surprise in her eyes and let go quickly. It wasn’t like him to act on spontaneous impulses—particularly when it came to grabbing a pretty gal’s hand. But there was something about Ella that tugged at his heart. Made him want to reassure her. Care for her. Let her know he was around if she needed him.
He ignored the pang of disappointment that swam around in his gut when Ella continued on to her seat. Last night’s encounter in the shopping district on Melrose had been much too short. That brief conversation with Ella had done nothing except make him want more time with her.
Of course, seeing the modeling agency where Tessa was a client had been jarring, to say the least. He’d not known the agency had changed locations and seeing the sign last night had temporarily brought all the craziness from the “Tessa years” sharply back into focus. It hadn’t been until later, when he was lying wide-awake in bed, still thinking about his chance meeting on the street with Ella that something very clear began to seep into his thoughts.
Everything he’d thought he’d wanted in Tessa, everything he thought he’d found—had ultimately been nothing more than a mirage of the heart. Yet, in Ella, those very things were alive and well. So close to him, close enough for him to reach out and grasp, if he wanted.
If only he knew Ella felt the same way…
*****
Ella all but melted into her seat. Her heart still raced from the rush of adrenaline that had pumped like fuel through her veins while on camera. She knew her cheeks were hot and flushed. Normally that would embarrass her, but right now she didn’t even care. She was floating—riding the relief of having another scary challenge behind her. Luke Abney’s unexpected touch had been like the cherry on a sundae for her. As she’d walked by, she’d glimpsed the victory she felt gleaming in his own eyes. As though he shared the moment with her.
Relaxing, she watched the final two contestants take their turns. She and the others bit back laughs as Dirk’s comical expressions grew even more outrageous as he tried—rather unsuccessfully—to make seamless switches from one camera to the next.
Torrie’s task was called the “swap-out”—placing one pan in the oven and pulling out another of the finished result. The real trick was to do this while never breaking your train of speech, something Ella knew Torrie could do with ease.
What no one anticipated, though, was that in her haste to finish her segment in time, Torrie pulled the unbaked pan of brownies from the oven instead of the finished one. Ella saw it before Torrie, and her heart ached for the girl. She shouldn’t have worried though. Torrie’s giggles at her own mistake proved infectious and soon even Marnie and Nathan Charleton chuckled with her.
If Ella had any reservations about how Torrie Tyler would fare in this competition, they flew out the window at that moment. Torrie had the entire studio eating out of her hand. With southern charm and a voice of honey, Torrie knew how to do something Ella feared she’d never learn herself: Torrie was comfortable in her own skin. It worked for her and—this time anyway—earned her a standing ovation.
Ella rose with the others, reaching out to hug Torrie as she came back to her seat. As she did, she caught sight of Luke Abney standing beside his camera. A big grin crawled across his face and he raised one thumb in the air again. Releasing Torrie, she returned the signal to Luke, knowing her own smile mirrored the one on his face.
Torrie might have received the standing ovation. But Ella had received something far more. She’d conquered another fear today and, in her celebration, she’d found another soul who—in his own quiet way—clearly celebrated with her.
Free Fiction Fridays, Staci Wilder books, summer reads, writing
August 12, 2010 @ 6:27 am | Filed under: Family,Soul Food,Uniquely Me
“Our most treasured family heirlooms are our sweet family memories. “
My heart is overflowing with gratitude.
I type away at this blog sitting in the exact same spot…each and every time. I guess you could say I am a creature of habit, and you’d be right. Tucked into one corner of our sofa, I sit with my laptop propped open and a cup of hot tea by my side. And then…
the thoughts begin to flow.
My heart is overflowing with gratitude.
By the soft glow of the light in the living room I can make out the shelves in front of me. A few short weeks ago they held many books, lots of framed family photos, and greenery. In short, each shelf was carefully and ornately decorated. And then something most wonderful happened to those shelves…
They became the home of over fifty pair of salt and pepper shakers.
My grandmother collected them – salt and pepper shakers. In all, she must have had two hundred or more sets. One of my most prized – and certainly most cherished – possessions is now a part of this collection. They’ve replaced many of the books, the pictures have been rearranged, and the greenery has just gone away. We’ve rearranged the beautiful to make room for the meaningful.
Now every time I glimpse these salt and pepper shakers out of the corner of my eye it’s a myriad of emotions that well up inside of me. But none of them are sad; and there is no sense of loss. Instead, there is the very real knowledge that love lives within this family of mine. These shakers represent a whole lifetime of summers when six grandkids would take our turn dusting the shakers and – one by one – hearing my grandmother tell the stories of where they’d come from and who had given them to her.
So this place of gratefulness where I find myself right now is a gift within itself. And it’s exactly that – a place – not just a state of mind or an emotion. Almost like it is its own little latitude where I have settled lately and claimed residence and walked its paths and met its people. It is a good place. A real place with a few dark corners and maybe even a couple of fixer-upper rooms. But, overall there is just so much beauty here…and the longer I stay, the more I see to know and to love.
This place of gratitude, of knowing where we’ve been and where we’re going and – in between all that – recognizing that where we are is equally as important. This is just one of those moments when the world slows to all but a crawl and I have a few moments to look around and drink it all in, savoring it.
My heart is overflowing with gratitude.
Our family…our memories…our heirlooms…our treasures…our everything.
August 11, 2010 @ 6:15 am | Filed under: Family,Pure Sunshine
“
A smile is the light in the window of your face that tells people you’re at home.”
There is something about the smile on the face of someone you adore – with a cRaZy kind of love – that makes every single thing just a little bit better.
That smile can make cloudy days appear sunnier, heavy loads a little less cumbersome, and the darkest of nights a bit brighter. It can melt shyness, dissolve anger, and restore feelings of pure goodness.
Saturday was a day saturated with these smiles. Just thinking about them now makes me start smiling all over again. My camera wasn’t fast enough or good enough to capture all the smiles on display. Of course, one of the problems may have been that I was just too busy holding babies, chatting with Carter about his first-ever tag football practice, hearing about Amy and Paul’s vacation, and laughing with my brother and sister-in-law.
One big, long table during the middle of the day – filled with some of my favorite people. Sounds of laughter, kids playing, shared stories…
It’s in these moments – when I am sitting sandwiched in between my brother and Amy, with the sound of the grands playing with Andi, and the sight of my husband loving on the nephew across the table from me – that I feel so completely surrounded by all that is good and sound and right in this world.
It arrived again on Saturday, that feeling of perfect contentment. Of fully appreciating living this life of simplicity. Of daily making the choice to see the beauty in the everyday, in the people we love and in the life and home we’ve created.
Because no matter what stress we may face from time to time, no matter the challenges that almost certainly lie ahead, and no matter what changes sometimes detour us, the reality remains the same.
It’s these individual moments that make up a lifetime.
I don’t want to miss a moment. Not one single…
smile.
Family, grandkids, living simply, memories
August 10, 2010 @ 8:28 am | Filed under: Food and Drink,The Fit Life
Poppy Seed Salad
with Fruit
Prep Time: 25 minutes
Makes: 4 servings
| 6 | cups of romaine (chopped), baby bok choi or cabbage (thinly sliced) | |
| 1 | apple, cored and chopped | |
| 1 | cup red grapes, sliced in half | |
| ½ | cup slivered almonds | |
| Dressing: | ||
| ½ | cup sunflower oil | |
| ¼ | cup apple cider vinegar | |
| ¼ | cup honey | |
| 2 | oz. soft silken tofu (about 3 T) | |
| ¾ | t dry mustard | |
| ½ | t salt | |
| 1 | T poppy seeds | |
- Toast almonds in a dry skillet over medium high heat until barely brown. Cool.
- Combine greens, fruit, and nuts.
- Combine dressing ingredients in a blender or food processor and blend until smooth.
- Drizzle dressing over salad and enjoy!
healthy recipes, recipes, Tasty Tuesdays
August 9, 2010 @ 6:49 am | Filed under: The Solid Rock,Uniquely Me
There were two occasions yesterday – two people, really – who made me think of grace and what it has meant to my life. The first was my blogging friend Amy who was pondering grace herself. The second was through the message during the evening service last night.
I was up late. My mind was wrapped in reflection. My heart was swathed in grace.
I was twenty-four years old – broken in spirit, weary in flesh, and heavy in heart- the night I discovered grace for the first time.
Grace wasn’t a foreign word to me. I had grown up on church pews. I had listened for years to Sunday school lessons that expounded on the magnificent grace of God. I had heard what could quite possibly be called the greatest sermons ever on the attributes of grace. Of how, though undeserved , grace flowed to God’s children, bathing their lives in unmerited favor.
I believed this. I trusted this.
But I’d never felt it.
In actuality I didn’t really even know there was anything to feel. As far as I knew, my walk with God was as good as it was going to get. Wasn’t I doing everything I knew, everything I’d been taught to do?
If, at the end of each day, I still felt empty and alone, then it must be a flaw within me, right? I looked around and saw other friends, family, and fellow church members with smiling faces and happy lives and I knew I must somehow not measure up.
Not that anyone ever knew I felt that way.
You see, I desperately wanted to be that happy, sold-out to God, smiling, “life is good and so am I” type of wife and mother that I felt others expected of me. I had grown up in a household where serving God was first and foremost. You attended Sunday services, mid-week Bible study, and any other special services that came along. In short, we were there any time the doors were open.
I’d been a memeber of the same church congregation all of my life, and my church family was an extension of me. I used them as a mirror, a way to guage my walk with God, a method of seeing how I was doing in this faith walk of mine.
There were certain things expected of people like me. I’d been taught to love God with all my heart, trust Him for everything, withhold nothing. So I prayed, I read my Bible, I even taught a room full of eight and nine-year-old children every Sunday morning.
On the outside I had it all going on. I looked the part. I played the part. I was in a marriage that appeared healthy, the stay-at-home mother of two adorable toddler boys, extremely close to my family, and I had many friends.
I talked with these friends and family. Laughed with them. Played with them.
I did everything except share myself with them.
My real self. The part that hid inside of me like some frightened child who was more comfortable in the safety of a darkened closet than out in the light where the sun can shine on her face. I hid my fears. I hid my insecurities. I hid my problems.
I hid the truth.
The truth was that I lived most days waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the next bit of bad news that would send our family’s existence spiraling even further. I learned to stretch a dollar, stretch my sanity, and stretch the truth – each one a futile attempt to hang by my fingernails to the version of reality I thought I was supposed to be living.
I was a child of God who’d never strayed, shouldn’t life be easier? I’d been tithing since I was a twelve-year-old babysitting for the neighborhood children, so why was a mere trip to the grocery store for the bare necessities such a challenge? I’d been taught that God was the great healer and yet sickness lived in my home, slowly, bit-by-little-bit, robbing me of the dream I’d once thought was mine to claim.
I was twenty-four years old, but I felt like an old woman. Me, the girl who’d been nominated the Most Likely to Succeed by her senior class, now watched as her dreams began to disintegrate like a dandelion that is clutched too tightly. My passionate spirit and zest for life began to slowly fade to black-and-white as my techni-colored dreams now seemed secondary to the basic efforts of mere survival.
I continued to paste the smile on each morning, though, because to do less than that would be to show the world my imperfections. It would be admitting that I, who on the outside seemed to have it all going on, was in reality a scared and hurting woman who was watching every security in her life slip away one-by-one.
And then one day I couldn’t do it anymore.
I woke up that Monday morning and couldn’t find the smile to plaster into place. I cared for my kids with mechanical motions. I moved through my day with wooden emotions. As dry and hollow as I was, I knew my survival depended solely on me. I had to find a way to crawl to a place of healing and restoration.
I knew I could no longer do it on my own. My mumbled and routine morning prayers just weren’t doing it for me anymore. The scriptures I read each day were now just words. It was like when a sick person takes in food, but the body no longer knows what to do with it. The nutrition is wasted, rejected by the very body that needs it for survival.
I made myself go to that Monday night prayer meeting. I pulled into the church parking lot with a nervous flutter in my stomach, got out of my car with legs that threatened to drop me, and walked into the side sanctuary entrance of the old church.
I didn’t talk to anyone on my way in. I didn’t look around to see who was there. For the first time in my life I didn’t try to keep up any pretenses. I no longer cared if those around me got a glimpse of my imperfect life and my imperfect reactions to that life. I was hurting, I was alone, and I knew that if there was anything in this life for me I had to find it that night.
I knelt between two pews instead of at the altar. Hot tears began to sting my eyes and face as I got honest with God. The pain, the betrayal, and the lonliness that I’d held bottled up inside of me for so long exploded into the air around me as I surrendered life as I knew it.
All the broken pieces of me that I’d so carefully hidden finally broke free for good, drying up and crumbling into fine bits as I lay face down on the floor in between the pews. I have no idea how long I was there, or who came and went around me. But when I could cry no more, when no more words would come, when the screams of my spirit were now just whispers, I felt it.
Grace.
With a quiet reverence it moved through me – body, soul, and spirit. All my preconceived notions of grace and what it was or wasn’t were immediatly displaced. Never had I known such peace or tranquility. The fact that it descended into that pit of darkness, found me, and then relentlessly rescued me was – and is – the greatest single moment of my life.
I’ve never been the same since that Monday night.
I have lived life differently from that moment on. I’d like to say that my troubles disappeared, I no longer hurt, and all sickness ran away, with tails tucked between their legs. But that’s not grace, is it?
Grace is feeling the peace of God in the midst of those troubles. In the depths of that hurt. In spite of all sickness. It’s the realization that no matter the baggage, no matter the time you’ve walked with God – whether it’s two days or two decades – life has a way of dealing you cards you’re not prepared to play. It’s then that grace intervenes…if we’ll let it.
Grace dwells in imperfections. In brokenness. In the pieces of our souls that we discount the most, grace can do the most good.
August 6, 2010 @ 6:31 am | Filed under: Books,The Writing Life
MELROSE MIRACLE
by Staci Wilder
Chapter Eight
Ella had been soaking in the tub for only ten minutes when she heard the knock on the door. Tempted at first to ignore it, she sank lower in the water, loving the way the lavender scented bubbles tickled the sides of her neck. She closed her eyes and allowed the hot water to soothe tired muscles. If she wasn’t careful, she might just fall asleep—
The knock came again, this time louder. Ella blew out a sigh and stood. She reached for a thick white towel, and then draped it around her dripping body. Easing out of the bathroom, she tiptoed across the carpet, trailing a line of water behind her. One glance in the peephole told her the visitor was Torrie.
“Hey,” she opened the door just enough to see most of the girl’s face. “What’s up?”
“Were you in the shower?” Torrie’s tone was immediately apologetic. “I’m sorry, honey. Listen, a bunch of us are going out for a bite to eat. Want to come?”
“I don’t think so, thanks.” Ella wished she had the energy, but all she wanted was to finish her bath, talk to her baby, and slide between the sheets.
Torrie peeked around her, looking inside the room. “You mean you’re staying in tonight?”
“Afraid so.” Ella grinned, thinking of her bath water growing colder by the minute. It didn’t seem as though Torrie were in any particular hurry. Ella stepped back, making sure the door hid her from anyone that might be passing down the hallway. “Come on in.”
Torrie walked in and dropped her purse on the end table. She spotted the chocolate-chip cookie left by the hotel staff the night before and reached for it. “You mean you haven’t devoured this yet?” The girl’s eyes danced with glee. “They are so yummy!”
“Go for it.” Ella pulled the towel tighter, trying not to compare her own curvy body with the model-straight form of Torrie. “You eat it.” She shrugged. “Too many Weight Watcher points, anyway.”
“Hm?” Torrie took the cookie and sank onto the sofa. “Weight Watcher has points now? I’ve never been to a meeting. Are they fun?”
Ella laughed. Was this girl for real? “Fun? Uh…no. Don’t think ‘fun’ is the word. Necessary, maybe. At least for some of us.”
Torrie broke off a large chunk of cookie and held it up. “You sure?”
Ella waved a hand. “Be my guest.” It was disappointing to watch the delectable goodie disappear, but that was at least fifteen WW flex points she wouldn’t be tempted to spend, after all. Thank goodness for small favors, even when they did come in the form of Torrie—with an ‘ie’.
“I’ll be back in a second, okay?” Ella grabbed a bottle of water and set it on the coffee table in front of Torrie. “Make yourself comfy. I’m going to put something on besides this towel.”
In the bathroom, Ella let the water drain from the tub, frowning as the lukewarm liquid spun from sight. So much for her relaxing bubble bath. Grabbing her robe from the hook behind the door, she slipped it on and then ran a comb through her damp hair.
“You sure you don’t want to go out tonight?” Torrie asked as Ella flipped the bathroom light off. “It’ll be fun. There’s sure to be some cute single men there…”
Torrie hung the term out there like it was a much sought-after, long-cherished prize. Just there for the plucking.
Ella sank onto the opposite end of the sofa and shook her head. “I’m sure.” She gestured toward the bed. “I’m calling it an early night.”
“You have a little daughter, right?” Torrie pointed to the silver-framed photo on the nightstand.
Ella reached for it and handed it to the girl. “Yes, this is Chloe.” She smiled with pride. “She’s my little bundle of sunshine.”
“And Chloe’s daddy?”
Ella stared at Torrie, not quite believing the girl had the audacity to ask the question in such a blunt way.
Torrie’s blue eyes rounded with dismay. “I’m sorry! That was rude, wasn’t it?” She tapped the photo and then handed it back to Ella. “Cute little girl. She looks like you. So you’re divorced then?”
Ella stared down into the picture of the smiling toddler. Chloe did look like her. “She has her father’s personality.” Stephen had been full of life—loving people, adventure, and their life together. “And no,” she said quietly, “I’m not divorced. My husband, Chloe’s father, passed away a couple of years ago.”
“No way!” Torrie’s mouth hung open in shock. “But you’re so…young.”
Ella remembered a time not that long ago when she’d felt as invincible as Torrie now sounded. Too vital to succumb to life’s hardships, and certainly too young to lose a husband.
“Well,” she hedged, “young or not, here I am.” Ella didn’t feel the need to share the intimate details of her life, or her loss, with Torrie.
“So what was it like?” Apparently Torrie wasn’t picking up on her vibe. “I mean, to lose your husband. And to have a baby on top of all that. Whoosh…” The girl tossed a long lock of her platinum hair over one shoulder and made a face. “How did you survive it?”
There were some days Ella still wasn’t sure she had survived. Days when single parenthood loomed dark and endless. Nights when loneliness knocked on her bedroom door, offering nothing more than tormented memories and a cold spot in the bed next to her.
“Ella?” Torrie’s voice, still inquisitive, softened. “I’m asking too many questions, aren’t I?” She at least had the decency to look properly chagrined.
“No, that’s okay.” Ella pulled the sash of her robe tighter. “I lost the love of my life. My best friend.” She shrugged. It was as simple and as complicated as that.
“Oh, wow.” Torrie stared at her. “I’m sorry, Ella. I can’t even imagine.”
No, Ella didn’t suppose the girl could imagine. Until they were faced with it, how could anyone really relate to this kind of loss?
“I guess I’d better scoot. The others will be waiting for me.” Torrie stood. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind and come with us?”
“Not this time.” Ella forced a smile. “You have fun, okay?”
Torrie hesitated. “If you change your mind, we’ll just be down the block. Sal’s Pizza.”
“Got it,” Ella smiled. She couldn’t help but like this girl. Whether it was the Southern drawl or the childlike innocence, Ella really liked this Torrie with an ‘ie’.
After turning her skin to a prune-like state, Ella dressed in her pajamas and climbed into the bed with her cell phone. Punching in Reggie’s number, she waited impatiently as it rang. Once…twice…three times…
“Hello?” Reggie’s voice sounded frazzled, not at all like the normal, placid person Ella knew and loved.
“Reg? It’s me. Is everything okay? Is Chloe alright?”
She heard Reggie stifle a giggle on the other end of the line. “Your daughter is absolutely fine. Me, on the other hand, well…I’m a mess!”
Ella smiled and sank back against the fluffy pillows, relieved to hear her best friend laughing. “Let me guess. She spit her peas out at you. Or…no, wait, I know! You gave her a bath and she splashed you.”
“Bingo.” Reggie hadn’t sounded this tired in ages. “I don’t know how you do it, Ella. Motherhood is hard work.”
“Tell me about it, sister!” Ah, maybe this arrangement wasn’t working out too badly after all. Ella was experiencing an opportunity of a lifetime and Reggie was exploring life beyond herself. Not a bad trade, if you asked Ella.
“Hey, El.” Reggie must have changed positions because there was a moment of static and then her voice, close and clear again. “Have you tried Mocha Lights yet?”
“Mocha Lights?” Ella frowned. “Oh! You mean the coffee shop you told me about? No, haven’t had time yet.”
“Do me a favor?” Reggie’s voice took on a wistful tone. “Go there soon, okay? And have a caramel macchiato for me. Promise?” Reggie pressed. “Will you do that?”
Ella laughed. Reggie might be having a grand time with Chloe but it was woefully apparent that she missed the perks of her LA life.
“Sure, I can do that. One caramel macchiato for you, and something considerably lighter for me.”
When Ella punched the off button five minutes later, she felt a bit sorry for her best friend. And more than a tad sorry for herself. Reggie might be missing her life here in Hollywood.
But Ella missed her baby girl.
*****
Luke hadn’t wanted to go out.
Now—three hours later and packed like a sardine in a booth with Ernie, a fellow crew member, and three of the contest finalists—he still didn’t want to be here. Sal’s was jumping tonight, even if it was a Monday night, and the noise level alone was enough to give a guy a migraine.
Add Torrie Tyler to that equation and the headache only grew.
Not that Luke didn’t like the girl. He didn’t even know her, for Pete’s sake. She seemed nice enough and, he had to admit, he liked listening to her talk. But after three hours, even the most melodic of voices tended to grate on a man’s last nerve.
“So anyway, my Mama said no way could I work there.” Torrie went on with her story, leaning in close to his right side. “But I took the job anyway, eventually working my way from fry girl right on up to short order.” She shrugged her slim shoulders, which were bare except for two skinny spaghetti straps. “It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it’s where I learned to cook.”
Luke nodded. “Impressive, really.” He caught Ernie’s eyes across the table. Rescue me, man! Ernie grinned and gave him the thumbs up sign. “Hey, we all have to start somewhere, right?” Luke stifled a yawn.
“That’s so true.” Torrie’s eyes grew large and she stared hard at him. “What about you, Luke? What was your first job?”
Oh, Lord, I don’t want to be here. The prayer slipped from his mind heavenward. When would he learn to pay attention to his instincts? He hadn’t wanted to come out in the first place. He should have stood firm and stayed home, no matter how pathetic Ernie’s cajoling became.
Luke knew the truth, knew why he’d come tonight even though it wasn’t his custom to keep late nights during the week. He thought Ella Paglia might be here. When Kurt had said they were meeting the contestants for dinner at Sal’s, he just assumed Ella would be a part of that group.
But she hadn’t shown up, and Luke was sorry he’d come.
“You know what?” He forced a smile he hoped was brighter than he felt at the moment. “My story would bore you. Really. And…oh—” Luke glanced at his wristwatch—“would you look at the time. I’m afraid I’ve got to run, guys.”
“Really?” Torrie set her mouth in a mock pout. “Can’t you stay a few more minutes?”
Already Luke was pushing on Andy, a fellow crew member, making him get up so he could slide out of the booth. “No, I’d better not. I’ll see you soon.” He tossed a final wave to the group and headed for the entrance.
When he pushed open the door and sucked in a lungful of fresh air, it was none too soon.
*****
The cab pulled up in front of a classy-looking strip of cafes and specialty shops on Melrose Avenue. Nestled between a baby boutique and a nail salon was Mocha Lights. Ella handed a couple of bills to the cabbie. “Keep the change.”
The man nodded, briefly, his eyes meeting hers in the rear view mirror. “Thanks, ma’am. Want me to wait?”
Ella glanced at the coffee shop, which seemed to be alive with both, patrons and activity, in spite of the late hour. She shook her head. “No. I think I’ll be here a while.”
Stepping back from the curb, she narrowly avoided bumping head-first into a passer-by. The sidewalks were full of people. Many of the surrounding shops seemed to be open, though it was well past normal business hours. Ella had always heard that folks on the west coast didn’t start their days until later. They must end them much later as well.
Taking in a deep breath, Ella pushed open the door to the coffee shop and walked inside. Mocha Lights seemed to be a cozy combination of Starbucks and a local library. While a full coffee bar stood on the left-hand side—complete with bar seating and individual tables—rows of dark mahogany bookshelves, at least seven feet high, lined the right-hand side of the space. While there must be at least thirty people in the small store, the fragrant aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and the quiet reverence around the bookshelves lent an air of quaint elegance to the place.
Ella waited in line to place her order from a tall kid with a long shaggy haircut working behind the counter.
“Can I help you?” He brushed the hair from his forehead and squinted at her.
“Sure. How about a grande caramel macchiato? With skim milk and no whipped cream, please.”
“’Kay. It’ll be ready in a few minutes.” He handed her the change and motioned with his head. “Feel free to look around while you wait.”
Ella nodded and moved aside to make room for the next customer in line. Pushing her wallet back inside her purse, she made her way toward the bookshelves. Many of the books were worn with age or use, but all were neat and in alphabetical order. It wasn’t until she’d pulled a dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice, followed by a gently used version of Catcher in the Rye, that Ella realized the shelves housed beloved classics.
She didn’t recall ever seeing a coffee shop quite like this one, and wished she’d visited Mocha Lights before now. She’d been inside for less than five minutes and already it felt more homey to her than the room she’d occupied for the past several days at the Radisson. Ella made a mental note to thank Reggie for recommending this spot.
She turned a corner and made another delightful discovery. Behind the shelves, tucked in a small yet cozy alcove, about half the size of her hotel room, were half a dozen stuffed chairs and large floor pillows scattered about the space. Pleased with her find, and anxious to return to the reading area with a couple of good books, Ella walked back to the counter just as the teen finished making her drink.
“Thanks.” She accepted the steamy cup of coffee. “Are you always this crowded?”
The boy grinned and nodded. “Pretty much. It’s a rad place, huh?”
“Yeah, really rad.” Ella smiled, thinking of the rowdy group of high schoolers who frequented Max’s Diner back in Milltown, and how much they would enjoy a trendy hang-out spot like this one.
“Have you worked here long?” She perched on a stool and watched as he poured more milk into the steamer.
“Most of this semester.” The boy nodded, and pushed a lever, sending a hissing noise into the air around them. “Micah’s a good boss.” He tossed his head, sending the thick wave of bangs far enough from his eyes so he could see her better. “Have you met Micah?”
Ella took a cautious sip of the hot drink and shook her head. “This is my first time here.”
“Really?” The kid smiled for the first time, revealing a mouth full of braces. “I bet it won’t be your last. This place is addictive.”
“I’m sure it is.” Ella glanced around, fully understanding how this charming coffee shop with its shelves full of timeless works of literature could be a definite drawing card to a select crowd. She smiled at the boy. “And I’m sure you’re right. I’ll most likely be back.”
“Normally Micah is here. I’m Lex, by the way.” He sheepishly reached out to shake her hand.
“Hi, Lex. My name is Ella.” She smiled at Lex, thinking how handsome the boy was when he smiled.
“Micah had to run an errand or he’d be here now. You should check us out on Tuesday nights.” He used his thumb to motion toward the back. “That’s the book club night. I think the group is reading Mansfield Park right now. By Jane Austen.”
Lex reached across her and picked up the top brochure from a small stand on the counter. He opened it up and pointed to a highlighted paragraph. “Or maybe you’d be interested in Blended Hearts? They meet once a month, on Friday nights.”
Ella frowned. “Is that a singles group?” She clenched her fist and stuck it in her lap, reminded once again how naked her ring finger felt without her solid gold wedding band around it.
“No.” The boy laughed. “That’s what most people think at first though. It’s a support group for single parents. They talk about issues with their kids.” He shrugged and looked up as the front door swung open again and a new string of customers streamed inside. “Stuff like that.”
“Uh huh. I see.” Ella took the brochure and stuck it in her bag. “Well, Lex, it was nice to meet you.” She smiled at him and was rewarded with a lop-sided grin in return. “I think I’ll look around a bit more and then head out. But I’ll be back.”
Twenty minutes later Ella regretfully closed the copy of a biography of T.S. Eliot and gave a last wave to Lex, who was still busy behind the counter. Already she looked forward to the next opportunity to visit Mocha Lights.
Outside on the sidewalk, she paused to glance inside the baby boutique, and then walked a little further, doing more window shopping. It was getting late and she really should be heading back to the hotel, but she was reluctant to end the most peaceful evening she’d had so far in Los Angeles.
“Ella?”
She whirled around, already recognizing the husky voice of Luke Abney. Her heart hammered as she searched for her voice. “Luke! Hello! Wow…I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Ella could have kicked herself as she gazed up at him. Coming up with cute comebacks and memorable one-liners certainly wasn’t her forte.
His grin lit his entire face, somewhat shrouded by the now familiar purple Lakers cap. “You know what?” He reached out and took her by the elbow, gently pulling her out of the way as a noisy group traipsed past them. “I didn’t expect to see you either.”
Ella felt her cheeks turn hot and she was grateful for the darkness. How long would it be before Luke Abney noticed she always managed to blush a disturbing shade of red whenever he spoke to her?
He looked down at her, his fingers still lightly on her arm. “How are you?” His voice, low and so close to her ear, sent shivers of—anticipation or dread, Ella wasn’t sure which—dancing up and down her spine. Three short simple words and yet, combined with the intimacy of his tone and his touch on her skin, they created such intensity inside her that Ella didn’t quite trust herself to speak.
She nodded. “I’m good,” she finally managed to utter.
“You did great today.” He edged even closer. “Is it okay for me to say that? Does it make you even more nervous knowing that people are watching you?”
Ella felt all she could do was nod again. She finally looked up at him, knowing that to do so was the same as giving her knees permission to quake and her heart justification to speed up.
If he only knew. Yes, Luke, it does make me more nervous. But not for the reasons he’d thought. It was knowing that Luke Abney’s deep blue eyes followed her every move on set that caused her pulse to do a little break dance of its own inside her.
“Thank you.” She managed to smile. “And yes, it’s okay for you to talk about the show. And yes—” she gave him a playful punch in the arm—“it does make me nervous knowing I’m being watched so closely.”
He laughed, and Ella loved the sound of it.
“I have to hand it to you. And to the others, for that matter. I don’t see how you guys do it. I’ve worked behind the camera for years now and I’m still amazed that anyone can cook, talk, and keep up with the camera changes—all at the same time.”
Ella relaxed, enjoying his easy banter. They walked together for a while, talking, not really paying attention to the time or where they were. It wasn’t until they reached a corner a couple of blocks away that Luke paused. Ella glanced up at him, noticing subtle changes on his features. His grin had been replaced by brows now knitted in thought, and he worked his jaw as though irritated.
“You okay?”
Her words seemed to startle him, but he recovered quickly. “Sure, fine.”
He smiled down at her, but Ella felt the warmth of it was now forced.
“It’s getting late. I guess I’d better hail a cab.”
Luke jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “My truck is parked a few blocks back. Want me to give you a lift?”
Five minutes earlier and Ella might have accepted. But now there was something she couldn’t quite pinpoint in Luke’s mannerisms that puzzled her. He’d been totally into their conversation and then—boom!—something had claimed his attention.
“No, no. That’s okay. I’ll just catch a cab.”
A door opened in the corner shop and Luke jumped. They watched as two people—a man and a much older woman—emerged, locked the door, and rounded the corner. Luke blew out a breath and smiled down at her.
“You sure? Because I don’t mind taking you back to the hotel.”
“I’m sure. Really. I’m sure you had errands or plans tonight. I don’t want to keep you from anything.”
“Nothing special.” Luke shrugged, but his grin was genuine and bright again. He hailed a passing cab and helped her climb inside. Ella found it impossible to take her eyes off of his as he shut the taxi door between them.
“Bye.” She watched his mouth form the word as he stepped back onto the curb, and she fought the overwhelming urge to push open the cab door and take him up on the offer of that ride home.
Free Fiction Fridays, Staci Wilder books, writing
August 4, 2010 @ 6:35 am | Filed under: Books,CFBA Reviews
Mr. Romance
In Life with Lord Byron: Laughter, Romance, and Lessons Learned from Golf’s Greatest Gentleman, Peggy Nelson pens a charming personal memoir.
Her detailed recall of conversations and situations reveals a deep love that marked the Nelsons’ relationship and nearly twenty-year marriage must have kept her memories fresh.
Byron married Peggy, more than thirty years his junior, at age seventy-five. Since her husband retired in 1946 after a career that included the famous “Eleven Straight” PGA tournament victory streak, Peggy experienced none of his career firsthand. What she did experience, however, was a man of deep faith, love, and integrity.
Here’s an excerpt: Read it, enjoy it, and then leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of the book, which includes a CD of Byron Nelson himself reminiscing.
By Peggy Nelson
There were moments in our nearly twenty years together when I would fall far short of Byronʼs or even my own standards of patience, perseverance, and several other virtues. When I would wonder aloud to him about how he managed to put up with me, or what he saw in me in the first place, he would sometimes say, “I saw what you could be.” Isnʼt that amazing? He had such a gift for not only seeing the best in people but helping them, often in some unspoken way, to bring it out, and to become better people just because they had been around him, even for a little while. Youʼre beginning to see, I think, why I have always felt that Iʼm an extraordinarily blessed woman.
One of the most wonderful signs of Byronʼs love was something he did for our second anniversary. Unbeknownst to me he had gone out to Preston Trail where there was a display of some of his medals and other small mementos and asked if he could replace the 1937 Masters Gold Medal with another one he had. They cooperated, fortunately, and he then took that precious piece of history to our jeweler and had it made into a beautiful pendant and gave it to me. It truly brought tears to my eyes, because I knew that was the most important tournament in his career to him, so I understood how much it signified of not only his love for me but also his trust that I could prove worthy of such a gift.
You may wonder what our days and weeks and months and years together were like. We quickly developed a comfortable pattern of normalcy. When we were at home, we had breakfast together, and then Byron would do the dishes and go out to his shop for some woodworking. He would come in later for lunch, then go back to the shop or maybe to play golf with friends in Dallas or Fort Worth. We typically had a fairly early dinner and relaxed in the evenings together. At first I remember Byron had been so used to going to bed early while Louise was ill that he thought 9:30 was about the right time to go to sleep. But he had also been used to getting up at 5:30 or 6 to take care of Louise.
Fortunately, we were soon able to change that schedule by a couple of hours. Soon after we celebrated our first one-month anniversary, Byron announced his next goal was to make it to one hundred months, which we gleefully celebrated with an elegant dinner at the Four Seasons. The monthly anniversaries continued until we got to ten years, then he wanted to get to two hundred months, which we did. Each month was sweeter than the one before, until finally, just eleven days before he went to heaven, we celebrated number 238 at the Olive Garden, another of our favorite restaurants. How we delighted in each other!
When we were driving to Dallas, Fort Worth, Kerrville or wherever, we held hands. Byronʼs were always so warm, and of course, if you ever got to shake hands with him, you knew his hands were really big. In fact, when we were first married, his grip on mine as we drove along would slowly, gradually, get tighter and tighter until I would need to shake mine a little bit to restore the circulation. One time when I did that, he apologized and said, “I guess Iʼm trying to make sure youʼre not going to go back to Ohio.” Fat chance.
As everyone who knew Byron well would agree, he was a born encourager. He found ways to express his appreciation and enjoyment of others and did so at every opportunity. Above the other compliments from him, my very favorite was when he would say, “When you look at me, your eyes sparkle and dance!” It said so much about the feeling that flowed between the two of us. He really did light up my life so beautifully that it was the most natural thing in the world to reflect that light right back to him. I always had the same reaction when we had been separated even for as little as an hour at church, if I was helping with a childrenʼs class while he was in the adult Bible study. When I would catch sight of him again, my heart would beat faster, and Iʼd say to myself, There he is!
We had so many pet names for each other that some folks might find it a bit silly, but we enjoyed and used every single one: Honeypot, Queen of All Queens, Sleeping Tiger, Adorable Darling, Angeldoll, Cuddlebear, and the like. And of course, on a more formal note, we occasionally addressed each other as Mr. Nelson and Mrs. Nelson just for the sheer joyful fun of it.
I felt so secure, so completely cherished and appreciated in every way with Byron. His praise of my every little accomplishment, or sometimes just the way I walked, was unceasing. It occurred to me that, if we could only hear what God is saying to us, it would be like that, too—constant praise and gentle guidance when we needed it. Or occasionally it might be a stronger no when a temptation gets a little too strong for us to handle by ourselves.
KCWC is now scheduling interviews with Peggy Nelson. Contact Kathy Carlton Willis at WillisWay@aol.com for more information.
