Ok, Ok, Enough Sillyness....

Back on track we are... more writing less sillyness!
Here is the next installment of:

Red the Color of Blood

The Revolutionary War Diary of Sophia Anne Marie Willington (Circa: 2004 Author:Me)

November 4, 1773;
    Charles took me to Dr. Compton's today. He has the most wonderful library! Much more extensive then ours. If not for all those books, I would go out of my mind with boredom. They speak of nothing but the British. Can I never escape them? They are everywhere!  On the streets, in the shops, at the wharf, and everywhere else. I can feel their eyes on me when I am out alone, they have the impudence to stare at well bred young ladies. How positively aggravating.

November 5, 1773;
    Papa, and Charles are at Dr. Comptons again this week. Goodness knows what they do. They talk about the British all day everyday, they can’t possibly hold meetings to do the very same thing.  How utterly absurd.  Charles said  Something has got to be done about the tea tax. (it’s been around since May) Oh how I would love a good cup of tea! Papa has refused to allow it’s consumption by any member of the Willington household, staff included. He storms about when anyone mentions it, for he is very fond of it too. Some we know have digressed to coffee. I shan’t. I’ll not give in to king George’s attempts to weaken the American Spirit. (I’m not sure if this is his intention, but if it is, he chose the right way to begin, taxing our tea. The very idea!) 

I believe that's the supper bell.... perhaps I'll have something more exciting to write about another day.

 

Maternity Clothes?!?

Seriously? Already? Wow.
Not sure I'm ready for this!
But I guess I should take a hint when I can't sit comfortably without impaling myself with the button of my jeans.
Oh boy... elastic waists, here we go! :)

OK- so here's the perfect outfit from www.motherhood.com: Perfect for wintertime! :)

The Changes of Fall

It's official, Fall has begun! This is all well and good, but what does it mean?
It means the sun will set sooner, gracefully leaving behind a rich, colorful sunset.
It means the lush green leaves will fade into rich autumn hues.
It means sweaters to shelter against the now crisp air.
It means the flowering plants fold away their blooms to bring out another time.
It means waking up to a serene blanket of fog that makes the world feel smaller.
It means rain. Glorious rain that aggresively pelts the roof when accompanied by thunder and lightning.
It means wind that whips the trees back and forth in a naturally rythmic motion.
But I think, most of all, it means change. So many things around us are changing.
Do you think God was trying to tell us something when He made the seasons?
Multiple times a year, we see a change in our surroundings.
What an inspiration to us that we should do the same!
God loves us enough to take us where we are, but He loves us too much to leave us there.

 

Reading Between the Lines...

A humorous list of things that have gone through my mind...

So, I've discovered recently that I will be joining the ranks of motherhood. 
AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!   HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I take comfort in the fact that the Lord knows what He is doing, even if I don't.
Are you sure!?
My husband is especially excited and is eagerly looking forward to the whole experience.
Yeah, easy for you to say.
I think we are taking the whole thing one step at a time and learning all we can.
So much information, so little time!
I am feeling just fine at this time, no real morning sickness at all.
Of course, when I think there is a little alien in my stomach, I get just a bit nauseous. 
Then there is always a question of what gender the baby will be, of course, it does not really matter, we'll love him or her just the same.
Hmmm.... tough call..... older protective brother or a girl to help with the next one... (wait, "the next one? Slow down!)

We keep thinking how amazing the whole system that God set up really is.
OUCH!
I think overall, we are overwhelmed but also very blessed.
Ok... this isn't going to be so bad...
Welcome little baby-belly Friesen.
AKA - Dietrich Bonhoeffer Friesen

Here we are at 6 weeks gestation -  little baby Friesen

A May/December Romance...

I don't typically do the poem thing, so this is a sad attempt...

9 years, is that really too much?
In the end, does it matter when dealing with love?
He is older and wiser, while she keeps him young.
She is growing and learning while teaching him fun.
He has his ways, which she tries to change;
But she is far from creating his "home on the range."
He is a prophet and also a teacher,
But she is sarcastic & it seems hard to reach her.
Together they are an interesting pair,
Her long blonde tresses and his dark, thinning hair.
A balance they create, to level the other out
And together they're perfect, Of this there's no doubt.
So now we know, 9 years isn't much at all.
In fact now I beleive the gap is rather small.
It seems they fit together just like hand and glove,
When you get to see the way that they love.

The Barnabas Objective

(I wrote this the other day after a good sermon and sudden inspiration to share...)

Do you know who Barnabas was?

In the New Testament was a man named Joseph, but he is better known as Barnabas. We see him in Acts 4:35-37 where the local church is providing for one another and this man donated the proceeds from the sale of his field. Chapter 4:36 tells us that Barnabas actually means "son of encouragement." While his name was Joseph, they called him "son of encouragement."
We see him later accompanying Paul on his missionary journeys. We see him sticking up for his cousin against Paul. We see him pouring his life out for others.

Last night we listened to a session by Cindy Patten, a keynote speaker at the 09 Women Discipling Women Conference held by The Master's College. She spoke on our words and how we use them, giving Barnabas as an example. She described Barnabas as one of the 2 people in the Bible with whom she wanted to relate.

What does it mean to be a son of encouragement? Cindy explained that Barnabas was one who's words always lifted up, always edified, always encouraged; he was someone who was others focused, who spoke on behalf of other people and built relationships on these words. They called him what he WAS, not what he was called. Barnabas, Son of Encouragement.

I put to you this challenge: The Barnabas Objective
Be a Barnabas. Use your words to lift up, edify, affirm, encourage, focus on the good things.

Cindy pointed out that if we think of all the hurts that we have either experienced or inflicted, we would see that they are mostly on account of words. Things we have SAID to hurt others or vice/verse, even in "jest."

So, at the risk of sounding totally corny, I ENCOURAGE you to be a Barnabas. :) :)

Read up on Barney for yourself:
Acts chapters 4-15

Stormy O'Beagle

My first attempt at young children's fiction. :)

The Adventures of Stormy O'Beagle

 Loveable and curious, Stormy O’Beagle is the neighborhood watchdog-in-training. 

He likes to follow the Sheriff and his deputies around town and help catch the bad guys! 

Usually, what he ends up catching is a heap of trouble!

Chapter 1----------------
Stormy O’Beagle ran down the alley as fast as he could. He glanced back over his shoulder and didn’t see anyone behind him. Slowing down, he came to a corner and carefully peeked around both sides.

“All clear.” He thought, and started to make his way home.

He jetted out across the empty street, looking back one more time, just to be sure, and slammed right into Deputy Beardsly’s big belly.

Deputy Beardsly was a very big bear. He looked down at Stormy with a frown and grabbed his arm.

Tucking his tail between his legs, Stormy looked up at him with his big grey eyes and whined just a little.

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times!” The bear said in a deep, deep voice. “Stay out of police business, son. You’re going to get yourself hurt!” Scolded ThornPaw Beardsly.

“Aw! Come on!” Stormy whined. “I was just watching! Can’t I just watch?” Stormy pleaded with the bear.

“I should be over there helping the Sherriff bring in those crooks, but instead I’m over here babysitting you.” ThornPaw grunted as he began to lead Stormy down the street.

“Come along, young one, I’ll take you home to your parents. We’ll need to have a talk with them.” Deputy Beardsly shook his finger at young Stormy and kept a firm grip on his arm all the way home.

Mr. and Mrs. O’Beagle were sitting in the living room watching television when Stormy and the Deputy came in.

“My heavens!” said Mrs. O’Beagle.

“Not again!” sighed Mr. O’ Beagle.

“Afraid so, Sir.” Deputy Beardsly told them all about what happened that night. But Stormy thought he was leaving out the best part.

“That’s not all, Ma!” He went on excitedly. “The Sherriff was closing in fast on those crooks and he signaled to the policemen to post themselves all around the old abandoned grain mill, you know, the one downtown? Well anyways, he—“

“That’s enough, Son.” interrupted Mr. O’Beagle. “I’m sure your story can wait. Go on up to your room now, we’ll talk later.”

Stormy sighed. “All right, Pa.”

Stormy’s shoulders sagged as he slowly made his way up the stairs to his room.

His little sister, Breezy, was waiting in the hall.

“Stormy’s in trouble! Stormy’s in trouble!” Breezy teased.
She laughed at first, but ran into her room when he started to chase her.

When he got to his room, he shut the door and flopped on his bed. He stared up at his ceiling that was covered in newspaper clippings of all the heroics of Sherriff Duke Shepherd.

Sherriff Shepherd was the best! He always caught the crooks. Stormy’s favorite article was the one about the Wolf Brothers when they tried to rob the bank. Sherriff Shepherd was too smart for them. He had seen them in town and knew they were troublemakers. So he followed them around disguised as an old lady fox and learned their plans.

When those Wolf Brothers tried to pull their stunt, they didn’t know that the bank was full of policemen in disguise!

“Boy, I bet they were they surprised!” Stormy thought to himself. "If only I could help the next time something exciting like that happens!"
--------------------------

I've lost the Irish Potato Famine!

Hmm... Let me explain...
Black as a Crow: A Diary of the Irish Potato Famine, another diary type story I wrote years ago, is officially missing off my hardrive!
I'll have to start looking for the actual handwritten notes... how archaic. :)
And after 3 moves too... only God knows where that lies.

Red: The Color of Blood - 2nd Entry

Another installation of:

The Revolutionary War Diary of Sophia Anne-Marie Willington: 

Circa 2004

Author: Me

November 1, 1773;
    Charles is home again and all is as it should be: merry!  As I knew he would, he inquired after this book, hardly five minutes after I met him at the harbor. I told him that I had just finished writing, but that it was only my first entry. He laughed his wonderful, deep laugh, and said, “You are just as I left you, silly as a school girl!
 And pray, what did your young girl’s mind have to say?”
    I fairly scowled at him, but replied sweetly that I found it amazing how he could possibly be older than I.
    We walked arm in arm towards home, he all the while, asking questions about home. But mostly about the British Soldiers stationed here in Boston. He despises them as much as father. Lobster-backs he calls them. (a popular phrase among Bostonian gentry) Charles  was away when they first showed up in 1768, he was only a cabin boy then. Now look at him! Supercargo on one of Papa’s finest ships. If it were not a sin, I would truly be proud of him, I am glad of all his accomplishments. We always knew Charles would be a seaman, but Dear Fredrick is
something else altogether.
    He wanted to be a college professor and had studied accordingly. But mother wanted her boys to go to sea, just like their father. She wanted her great-great grandchildren to know they came form a long line of the finest sea captains. When she passed on, Fredrick put all of his studies aside and became a man before the mast, then only 15. So much has changed since then, so very much.
    Now King George lounges in England on his royal throne, ordering us about. He refuses to diminish the taxes or the soldiers here to enforce them. Charles says he is just begging for trouble.

Revolutionary War, Anyone?

So as I go through my writings, I often find some of my early (and also lame) stories that I must share. :)
The following is the first entry of a diary I wrote about a girl in the Revolutionary War.

Title= Red: The Color of Blood

The Rev. War Diary of Sophia Anne-Marie Willington

Circa= 2004?

Author= Me (duh)

October 30, 1773;
The air feels tense, even here at my favorite spot, the captains walk atop our house. I have been especially bored these past weeks. Both my brothers have been abroad on their ships, and father is always at some meeting or another. But I do expect the “Smitty” and my brother Charles almost every minute. I have been up here since dawn. Sally brought up my breakfast earlier, but my stomach is empty again. While I wait, I am trying to read “Robinson Crusoe” by Daniel Defoe. Fredrick, my eldest brother, gave it to me the last time the “Liza” put it at the Boston Harbor. It’s quite a dull book, but to please him, (he thinks it the greatest book) I have resolved to finish it before he returns in the spring. Today however, I feel as though I have a hundred different thoughts battling for attention in my mind, and I simply cannot cope with Robinson’s problems when I have so many of my own. Charles knows that I often have this dilemma, and so he bought me this blank book in which to write these tumbled thoughts. I am ashamed that I have not used it till now.


Interesting, yes?

What am I doing?

I'll tell you...
I am a writer. Always have been always will be.
I have quite a little collection of stories and I want to DO SOMETHING with them.
This is my something.
Follow along while I compile my pen scratches. :)