Tag Archives: a personal note

Waiting for My Next Book

Image result for images of the silver trumpet by lee duigon

Still waiting for The Silver Trumpet to be published, I’m also waiting for the spark of an idea that will start me on my next book. I can’t do anything until God gives me that. And anyway, it’s been too cold for me to sit outside and write.

Between the two projects is The Temptation, Book No. 11 in the Bell Mountain series, all written but still being edited. I purposely left some loose ends in The Temptation to be taken up in the next book–an invasion by a particularly fierce and unpleasant nation from the south, and a project by Lord Orth that could easily get him killed–but I have yet to be given that spark, that scene, that title, or that new character that’ll get the ball rolling.

It’s hard to wait. Once I have a book started, it’ll soothe me, it’ll occupy my mind, and it’s the work that I love best. But there’s no alternative: I just have to wait until the Lord says “Go.” I’ve relied on Him this far: no stopping now.

Tomorrow (so far)

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Just got a call from the eye doctor. They had to reschedule my appointment, so I won’t be going there tomorrow. The doctor’s in the hospital. He’ll be all right, but not today.

I scheduled a couple of posts to appear tomorrow while I was vegetating in the waiting room. You’ll see a repeat of today’s re-post, “Living With Fantasy.” Now, why would I run that two days in a row? Because I’m a nincompoop, that’s why. Hit the wrong key and don’t know how to correct the error.

Tomorrow it’ll be a week since Aunt Joan’s funeral, and we’re wrestling with paperwork. I have to make an appointment to see the county surrogate. This is something they do to you if someone in your family dies. I don’t know the reason for it.

As I was posting, earlier this morning, Thy Word Is a Lamp Unto My Feet, it gave me a warm and lovely glow–which went away as Patty read me the latest news from Sweden: crime rate going through the ceiling, ruling class refuses to admit there’s any problem and stifles anyone who tries to discuss it. What is it about ruling classes in the Western world that makes them so open to schemes to sell their own countries down the river?

Anyway, tomorrow I’ll be here, doubled posts and all–I think. Maybe I oughtn’t say I’ll be here until I check and make sure that I am.

‘Light of the World’–Plus Prayer Request for Me

You’ll pardon me for indulging in one of my very favorite hymns–Light of the World, by Charles Wesley, sung by Maddy Prior and the Carnival Band. My path needs some light right now, and I don’t mean maybe.

Please pray for me! Again, I’m not free to give details, but I have more than one family member in grave danger, health-wise, and my livelihood suddenly seems to be on thin ice. And that’s all I want even to mention. Plenty to keep me wide-awake all night.

Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy on me. O Son of God have mercy on me, and help me.

My Other Four Aunts: a Memorial

Image result for images of aunts cuddling babies

I’d like you to meet my mother’s sisters, my aunts, of whom Aunt Joan was the last one left. Having no children of their own, they showered us with love, their nieces and nephews, all five of us.

My three maiden aunts, Gertie, Millie, and Joan, lived in their father’s and mother’s house all their lives. Gertie, the eldest, died in the same room in which she was born. All three kept the same jobs all their lives.

Gertie worked in New York City and was an ace bowler: I wonder what happened to her trophy. She was fond of cross-country bus and train trips and a little skittish around animals. When she went to Australia, she declined an offer to cuddle a koala. Human children were more her speed. She often took us to New York–museums, the circus, the big department stores. But I had to be taken home early from the rodeo because one of the cow’s horns broke off and I couldn’t stop crying over it. The clowns in the circus kind of spooked me, too. I was much better off with dinosaurs.

As the firstborn, I was kind of a favorite of Aunt Millie’s. She was the secretary at our town’s high school, the voice you heard on the PA system every morning. The pastor at her Lutheran Church called her “our little ewe lamb.” It was a fitting nickname.

Ordinarily a very plucky traveler, she ruined her record by having a serious bout of claustrophobia inside the Great Pyramid.

The second eldest, Aunt Betty, was a nun and a scholar. What a mind she had! I wish she were still here, so I could learn from her. She could quote Horace, in Latin, as easily as I quote Edgar Rice Burroughs.

Aunt Florence, Joan’s twin, started out as a nurse and became a hospital administrator. She and my mother were the only married sisters. What a lot of good, long natters Patty and I used to have with her, on the telephone!

These four women went almost everywhere in the world, always bringing back a plethora of slides and souvenirs. Occasionally they traveled on ships that didn’t customarily take passengers. But I remember them best for the love they poured out on us.

One more anecdote:

My parents went out one night, when I was still a baby, and left me with my aunts at Grandma’s house. Grandma and Grandpa had just returned from their annual trip to Florida.

When my mother returned to pick up her baby, my aunts told her they’d put me to bed in the next room. But I wasn’t in that room. They’d put a doll in the bed, in my place–and something else. One of those grotesque carved coconuts from Florida. And when my mother turned on the light, expecting to see me, and saw this thing instead, she let out a scream you could’ve heard in Egypt.

Meek and mild, modest maidens–with a spot of mischief!

Aunt Joan’s Funeral

This is the hymn they had for Aunt Joan’s funeral mass today, I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say (1846).

There were only six of us. One of my cousins and his wife came all the way down from Connecticut. And one of Aunt Joan’s long-time co-workers stopped in at the viewing. But if you live to be over 90, as Joan did, most of the people you’ve known and loved have already died.

I would like to tell you a little story about her, as a memorial.

She and her twin sister, Aunt Florence: little girls who shared a bedroom, rainy day, what to do? Well, they had one of those old-fashioned beds with an iron frame and bars at the foot. These bars looked like the bars on a jail cell! So the girls decided to play Robin Hood. One of them would be Maid Marian, in the Sheriff of Nottingham’s prison, and the other would be Robin Hood, and rescue her.

So Maid Marian gripped the bars and poked her head through, to cry, “Help! Help!” That was fine, as far as it went. But she couldn’t pull her head back in! And Grandpa had to come upstairs with all his tools and take the bed apart…

The twins are back together now.

Funeral Tomorrow

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I’ll be out all morning tomorrow, for Aunt Joan’s viewing, funeral mass, and graveside service. I expect only my brother and sister to attend, so I made all the arrangements for the same day, to spare them extra trips on the Garden State Parkway.

I’ve instructed WordPress to publish a few posts in my absence.

Aunt Joan used to say she didn’t want to be the last leaf on the tree, but that’s how it turned out. Well, she’s in Christ’s Kingdom now, with all her family and friends. God created us for eternal life, and now she has it. Bless and praise the Lord.

Aunt Joan, You’re Home Now

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My maiden aunts. of whom Aunt Joan was the youngest, were voyagers. They sailed on ships like this one in the picture, and they went everywhere. They were young women living before the age of universal jet travel. You could join the Navy and still not see as much of the world as they did.

Today I’m up early because I have to deliver Joan’s burial dress to the funeral home and make as many of the arrangements as I can. It was only Friday that we finished preparing her taxes for this year.

Well, she had one more voyage to make, and now she’s made it; now she’s there. It’s the last voyage, the voyage home; and she has made it.

Thank You All

So many of you have already contacted me to express your sympathy: Patty and I thank you one and all.

I had been expecting Aunt Joan’s death for quite some time, but still was hardly ready for that phone call. She’d been through so many medical crises, and always rallied. But this time she just slipped away. Now I’m the oldest surviving member of my family–and who ever thinks he’ll one day be that?

All the phone calls now, the ones I have to make. Better get back to it.

Thanks again, all my friends, and I’ll try to be back after supper.

My Aunt Has Died

I just got a call from the nursing home: my Aunt Joan has just died. Apparently she slipped away during the night.

I have no idea what to do. I hope the funeral home can walk us through it.

This was a long time coming, and as of now, Aunt Joan has been reunited with her loved ones in Christ’s Kingdom. For this we give thanks.

I pray the ensuing details won’t be excessively difficult.

Important Notice: Aaaaah….

See the source image

Our traditional cat video will be delayed a bit because the blamed computer monitor suddenly gave up the ghost at 4:30 and I have only just finished installing the new one. Haven’t had supper yet, either.

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