Monday, May 6, 2024

Losing Baggage @ the GSP



This is a cooperative short story written by B.W. Kay, S. J. Clydeson, and Hope Ellen Rapson. They are members of Scribes and Scrolls, the Christian Writers Group of Edwards Road Baptist Church, Greenville, South Carolina.


Losing Baggage @ the GSP


After a frantic drive through driving rain, and a mild altercation with the parking attendant, Coach Jay finally made it into the Greenville-Spartanburg terminal. Catching his breath, he thanked God for his safe arrival adding, “Whatever this day brings may your Name be praised.” He gazed up at the arrivals/departures board; all he saw was delayed or canceled flights. Oh, for crying out loud, he muttered to himself, a phrase he learned from his dad. After going through TSA, Jay plopped down in the nearest seat he could find, looked around, and prayed, Lord, don’t let my heart be troubled. 

Immediately his mind went back to when he and Katie, his wife of fifty years, had driven an hour to the Indianapolis Airport just to people watch. Doing the same, he saw a lady with her support Doxie cradled in her arms while pulling a large suitcase. He overheard two attractive young Hispanic women, who could have been mistaken as twins, fussing with each other while putting on their embossed boots outside the security check. 

When Jay noticed a young couple with toddler twins, his eyes teared. He and Katie had twin boys a year after they were married. They had lost one to SIDS. With this sad, lingering memory, Jay decided it might be best for him to distract himself by walking.

Jay only had one small suitcase for a five-day visit; he was an experienced packer from his time in the military. However, after thirty minutes of carrying his bag around, he decided to go somewhere out of the hustle and bustle to find some comfort. 

As Jay walked by The Asian Grill, the aroma of searing teriyaki chicken and fried rice stopped him in his tracks, but there weren’t any open tables, so he marched on. He really just needed some strong java.

Arriving at the Flatwood Grill, he spied an isolated open table, ordered large black Americano, and seated himself in that quiet spot. Jay started thinking of all the years God had been with him. In quiet reflection, he thought his greatest times were when he was a high basketball school coach to his recent retirement celebration. A smile spread across his face as he recalled all his former players that had come to pay tribute to him. Filled with emotion, he prayed the prayer of David from 1 Chronicles 17, “Who am I, O LORD God, that you have brought me thus far?’ 

His sentimental feelings had everything to do with the purpose of this trip.



*************************************************


One week. That was all he wanted. Josh had just spent days with an aging parent in the hospital. He had spent the whole month dealing with nurses and more nurses, feeling like he would never get to see the doctor in charge of his mom’s case. 

He tried to make sense of what was going on with her, both for his own sake, and so that he could explain it to the seemingly endless retinue of friends, pastor, and family members whom he barely ever spoke to except at times like this. He had spent hours engaged in group texts and phone calls speaking with people who it seemed could never be positive, and always had a sad report of “Dear, old so and so” who suffered from the same affliction and, of course, died from it. His church, who Josh turned to for comfort and prayers, just repeated the same kinds of tiresome stories. This was his mother! Not, “Dear, old-so-and-so.”

Going home didn’t seem to offer much respite either. His seven-year marriage to Molly was reasonably happy, and they were both committed to their two little towhead girls. Yet the unspoken tension between them over the situation with his mom had led to a dwindling bank account. This was compounded partly by a low paying gig, and hospital bills related to a procedure he had recently undergone, ironically due to stress.

Josh was tired of everyone’s glib advice “to turn everything over to God.” It wasn’t that easy. He had grown up going to church, listening to his pastors, and trying to do all that they said. He worked at building a “relationship with God” through reading the Bible and living a moral life. He even tried to encourage others by posting Bible verses on social media. The rub came when he prayed. Nothing seemed to go past the ceiling of his self-styled study, and what bounced back always left him with a sense of loathing and condemnation. Whether he was condemning himself or whether it was God, Josh didn’t know, but he had ceased to care.

One week. That was all he wanted. One week away to clear his head and get away from everyone who depended on him, from anyone with a “Dear, old-so-and-so,” and most of all, to get away from the God he couldn’t reach.

Josh heaved his frazzled six-foot frame down in the worn swivel chair at his dusty desk, pulled out his phone and credit card, and ordered a one-way plane ticket to Medford, Oregon. From there he would be able to get to the Redwood National Forest. If Josh could just get lost among the natural beauty maybe that would quiet his soul. Whatever he did on this trip, it had to be a break from the rat race of hospital visits and dull ruts of home life. He needed a place to think and relax, and maybe just have “fun.”



************************************************


“Did you remember to arrange for flowers to be sent?”

“Of course, I did…I thought black orchids and red poppies were the perfect pick.”

“You didn’t!”

“No, I went with your choice of white lilies with yellow daffodils as an accent. Where is your sense of humor! I know what’s appropriate for a funeral bouquet, little sister!”

“Well, don’t scare me like that, Espy; you have never shown ‘appropriateness’ to the family for a long time. I can’t tell when you are serious or not.”

“Oh, give me a break, Tess," Espy retorted. "Lighten up!"

Esperanza and Teressa Fernandez shouldered their bright colored bulging carry-ons and headed toward the TSA line to get to Gate 6 and their flight to Atlanta. Their destination was ultimately San Francisco and the reading of their estranged father’s will.

As they pulled on their embossed goatskin boots, the loudspeaker crackled and a monotone voice announced, “Attention all passengers. Due to extreme and dangerous weather conditions currently centered in the Atlanta area, all flights have been delayed for at least one hour. Please check the monitors for estimated new departure times.”

“Blast it!” Tess moaned. “We are going to miss our connection, and probably lose our luggage.”

Espy slicked her long black hair behind her ears, carefully avoiding her sterling silver hoops. 

"Not likely," she replied. "Even the connecting flights will be grounded. Let’s find some place more comfortable to wait than the gate, a place where we can have a salad, plus I need a beer or a joint or something even stronger…” 

She ignored Tess’s disdainful look.

Entering the Flatwood Grill, Tess immediately claimed a clean table between two men, lay down her things, and rifled through her purse. Espy sauntered to the counter and ordered two taco salads, a sweet tea with lemon, and a beer. She scanned the area, catching the eye of an attractive brown-haired man sitting alone left of the table where Tess was now rapidly punching numbers into her I-Phone. She smiled; he smiled back but quickly turning back to his sandwich, he missed her returning wink.

“Well, now. I just might have to introduce myself!” Espy declared to herself. Plotting that possibility, Espy didn’t notice the ketch-up smothered French Fries on the floor. Swoosh! She barely caught herself, the tray, both salads crashed to the floor, and sweet tea and beer doused her sister and their table.

Tess jumped to her feet. “Espy, really! I am soaked and now I smell like you! Really, drama just follows you everywhere you go!”

Simultaneously, two gentlemen appeared with friendly smiles and a handful of napkins.

The older one, Jay, coming from the right, motioned to the counter for help, and Josh asked Espy, “Are you okay?”

Espy just leaned on the table looking at the salad on her boots and laughed. “What a perfect ending to this week! One I don’t want to repeat in my next life!”

Josh, picking up the tray and lemon slice, remarked, “Sounds familiar! Come to think of it, I rather not repeat my whole month!” 

Jay supervised the floor clean up, and Tess went to the restroom check out the damage.

Once order was restored, Jay invited all three to join him as his larger clean table, pulling up extra chairs. “I already re-ordered your lunches, ladies, so you have to let me be your host.” He addressed Josh with “What can I get you, sir?”

“A beer would be great!” Josh replied with a quick look at Espy.

“Got it! Everyone, make yourselves comfortable.”

“So…” Josh hesitated, covering his left hand with his right. “Are you ladies caught in this flight delay, too?”

Tess just nodded, but Espy coyly countered, “Just like you, I’m guessing?”

“You guessed right,” Josh quietly responded, “and waiting anytime, anywhere drives me nuts.”

“I would have used a stronger word!” Espy whispered sarcastically, reaching out to pat his shoulder.

Observant Tess rolled her eyes commenting, “Seriously? Sometimes…” 

Then catching herself, she said, “Yes, my sister and I stuck are as well. I’m Tess and this is Espy.”

“My name is Josh, just Josh.”

Returning the older man added, “Well, I’m Jay. We might as well make the best of this situation. What better way than to talk? I know we just met, but that’s the fun of it.” Handing Josh his beer, he smiled and sat down.

“Oh, what do you think we’ve been doing? Texting?” quipped Espy, focusing her attention on Josh, who whose hands he moved beneath the table.

“I am not much for small talk,” commented Josh with a warming smile.

Jay settled in his chair, and said, “We’ve all got our own stories, and I’m sure they are all interesting. Getting to know you would not be small talk. We are all worth getting to know.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Tess laughed, throwing a dark look toward Espy, “but I’m up for it! I can’t think of a better way to spend an unexpected delay in my life.”

Espy said, “This could be interesting…an old guy, a religious prude, a beer-drinker, and (with a wink toward Josh) a handsome mystery man?”

Jay chuckled. “Well, I am the ‘oldest,’ but I don’t feel particularly ‘old.’  Looking at Espy, he asked, “Why don’t you start, since I can see you’re a talker. What are your interests? Where are you traveling?”

“Well, since you put it that way… I’m unmarried, and like men. My sister and I are attending our cheating father’s funeral in Sacramento, so we can ‘dutifully’ find out if the miserable man left his only daughters anything. We’re staying with his last wife…Rosa, who likes to claim to be our stepmother but….”

Tess interrupted. “What Espy means to say is that our father left our mother when we were in our early teen years, and it’s not been an easy situation. I’m Tess. This is the first trip I have ever taken with my sister; she and Dad did not get along. Being the baby, Daddy favored me.”

Espy sneered, “You just want to believe that. He only favored himself and, if you were honest with yourself… Oh, well! Like ‘your daddy’ always said, ‘If Tess went right, Espy would go left!”’

The waitress arrived with the cilantro loaded taco salads and two jars of salsa. Tess chose the medium green, applied it, and declared, “Well, you can see that neither Espy, nor I are sheep. She goes her way, and I go mine.”

Espy shook her head and opened the red salsa. Slowly applying it to her salad, she looked flirtatiously at Josh and asked, “And you, my mystery man, what’s your story?”

Josh realized that under the table, he was twisting his wedding ring around and hadn’t even touched his beer. This woman’s dark eyes were alluring!

He smiled shyly.  “I really don’t know exactly where I’m going, except away. I'm just looking for a change…the Redwoods, Yosemite, somewhere new and different, an adventure, I guess.” 

Jay nodded in Josh's direction, sensing the younger man's tension. He told them: “After thirty years of coaching boys’ high school basketball, most people call me 'Coach.' I retired this past Friday, at the young age of 70, and I am making an important trip to Manteca, California to see my 94-year-old uncle. I am his favorite nephew and honored to bear his name.”

“Congratulations on your career and retirement, Coach,” chimed in Tess. “I guess I don’t have much to tell…”

“She doesn’t want to tell you how many religious groups she has joined looking for a father-figure since our father died to us when he moved out to live with a younger woman,” interrupted Espy, dabbing her full red lips.

“Well, I relate to that," Jay said. "I lost my father when I was 25. He was only 55. My world seemed to go wildly out of control. You see, even with the firm foundation I had grown up in, my focus was only on myself, not where it ought to have been.”

Tess queried, “What’s this 'firm foundation' that you’re talking about? I was raised in church and in catechism learned to be a moral person, go to confession, and attend mass, and I still do sometimes, but I have also tried some other faith practices…like Mormonism, Buddhism, Transcendentalism…even some modern Wicca. None of it ever feels firm or foundational.”

“Yeah, and I find all that religious stuff to be a real bore. If any good came out of our father running off, it was that our mother didn’t make us go to church anymore. It freed me to have a lot more fun!” 

Espy leaned meaningfully toward Josh and their eyes locked.

Suddenly overwhelmed, Josh stood up. “Excuse me. Nature calls.”

Espy watched him leave, and having lost interest in the conversation, ate the rest of her salad.

Coach returned to Tess saying, “Before I answer your question let me ask you something. If you really love someone, what would you do to keep that love?”

Tess cocked her head and answered, “I guess I would try to please them as long as they pleased me.”

Espy laughed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you when you ask me why you can’t find a guy. Isn’t there a song? ‘What’s Love Got to Do with It?”’

Returning to his seat, Josh reported that the delays had been extended another hour. The group groaned.

Coach continued, “Tess, there are many ways of defining love. From a very early age, the verse in the Bible where Jesus states that we should love God first and others as He loves us was ingrained in my heart and mind. Earlier when I had mentioned that I lost that focus, I was referring to a period in life of self-pity, grief, and alcohol abuse, among other harmful things. It wasn’t until my uncle gave me this advice: “A man wrapped up in himself makes a very small package.” It made me see myself through God’s eyes and I haven’t been the same since. Love is not a god, but God is love. He revealed that by sending His only Son to take the punishment for our sins and rose from the dead to give us a new start on life starting here and continuing past the grave. I asked the Lord to forgive me and open the package of my heart and life. 

I am making this trip to thank my aging uncle for his loving commitment to me and for sharing of all this with me when I so needed it…Achoo!” Coach sneezed again. He commented, “Either my allergies are acting up, or I’ve been talking too much. I’m getting hoarse, so I better just shut up.” Pulling a tissue from his jeans jacket pocket, he blew his nose, and settled back in his chair intently looking at the countenance of his fellow sojourners, wondering if he had gone too far.

The ladies finished their salads silently, and Josh bowed his head, spun his wedding band nervously one last time under the table, and then quickly guzzled down his beer making sure to use his right hand.

Abruptly, Espy stood and announced, “Well, I’m going to freshen up; Tess would you like to join me?”

“Sure, I need to stretch my legs.”

Josh stood and said, “I’m going to get another drink; would you like something, Coach?”

“Another black coffee? Here’s some money that should cover it.”

“No, I’ve got this.” Josh smiled and headed to the counter.

Coach prayed, "Lord, you have said your sheep will recognize you voice and follow; call them now. You are the Great Shepherd."

Once everyone reassembled, Coach noticed that Espy was no longer wearing white slacks, but a short leopard-print skirt. Thanking Josh for the coffee, he asked Tess and Espy if he might get them anything else.

Tess smiled and exclaimed, “Well, since I already smell like beer anyway, I might as well have one.’”

Espy giggled and ordered, “Coffee with two sugars and cream.”

Laughing, Coach left the three to talk among themselves; he felt prompted to let them process what he had said without being present. They seemed to be doing that as he brought the drinks back towards the table. With a big grin, he faked a stumble to startle the sisters. As they gasped, he laughed, “Just reminding you of what brought us together!”

Tess teased, “That was mean!”

Espy scrunched up her face and made fake wail, “I can see it now; I will never live that story down.”

Josh chuckled, “Thanks, Espy, for being a delightful klutz. All this has been better than stewing alone in my own thoughts.”

Pretending to pout, Espy responded, “Oh, Josh, you really know how to charm a girl.”

Laughter broke out among the four as a loud squelch came over the PA system.

“Departures will resume in thirty minutes; please check the board for your flight information.”

Coach stood. “Well, ladies it has been an absolute delight spending time with you. My prayer is that you will find some resolution to your feelings and relationship with your father as you attend his funeral and that your personal stories forward will be filled with comfort and peace that only the Heavenly Father can give. God bless you!”

The rest stood up to gather their things, and Tess feeling a little awkward asked Coach if she could give him a hug.

“Of course, you may,” Coach said with a grandfatherly voice.

As she did, Tess softly whispered, “Thank you for being such a nice person to spend this time with and for all your words of wisdom. I plan to check out what you said with my different spiritual advisors when I get home. I will certainly light a candle for you the next time I go to mass.”

Out of the corner of his eye Coach saw Espy giving a Josh a lingering hug, while handing him something that Josh immediately put in his pocket. She then turned toward Coach and, with an impish grin, said, “Thank you, “Preach,” oh, I mean “Coach,” for not baptizing me with beer! Perhaps the visit with your Uncle Jay will be as meaningful as you think it will be.”

With a grin Coach replied, “Thanks, Espy. I hope your father gives you a bigger package than you expect.”

As the two ladies headed left, Jay and Josh went right. Walking a few feet in front of Coach, Josh stopped to throw something into the trash receptacle. Coach paused and inquired, “Are you okay? Did you lose something?”

“No, nothing lost, but I have decided to refund my ticket and go home to my family. This whole idea of me getting away to find myself was just me feeling sorry for myself. Man, how selfish can I be… a pretty small package, I guess. Your testimony made me see things more clearly, and when Espy gave me her phone number…well, that was a deciding moment. I hope your trip goes well. Coach, would it be possible for us to get together and talk some more when you get back?’

“Absolutely!” Coach exclaimed with joy. “Here is my contact card.”

Above the coach’s name, number, and addresses, Josh read Matthew 25:33: “And He will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left.”



END

Wednesday, April 10, 2024

Meeting the Master on the Road to Emmaus




Painting by Liz Lemon Swindle


What follows is a first-person account by a biblical person that draws the reader into the life and times of Jesus and his followers. Such vignettes stimulate the imagination. They encourage contemplation of real events and real persons.


By S. J. Clydeson


The last time I felt this discouraged was when my good friend “John in the wilderness” was beheaded.
 
Then Jesus came speaking words my ears had never heard before. He spoke of hope and everlasting Life. His parables were remarkable and profound. They changed me from the inside out. 

It was very pleasurable to see the effect His words had on the “spiritual leaders” and the SO Sad U sees who rejected belief in bodily resurrection.

The thought troubled me that people could despise one so much. Because of all the good Jesus had done, they put Him to death, but not until they had Him beaten unmercifully, then the crucifixion!

My Savior was tortured, bleeding, and in agony. How could anyone endure this suffering?

My heart is broken! What am I to do? Who will save Israel now?

After the events on Friday there is an emptiness within me, even the report of the tomb being empty does not register.

It happened like this:

My good friend Cleopas and I were heading to Emmaus, when a stranger met us on the road. As we walked, He listened intently to our rantings about what we had witnessed days earlier. The stranger listened. The last thing I remember saying was, “no longer is our conquering redeemer with us, is there a future for this nation?

Then the stranger began to speak. He spoke of things that sounded so familiar, as if straight from the Scriptures! We insisted He break bread with us and as He blessed it, we saw His nail-pierced hands and knew immediately that our King Jesus lives!

Father, forgive my unbelief!

* * *



Imagine the greatest Teacher explaining the greatest themes from the greatest book and bringing the greatest blessings to men's lives: eyes open to see Him, hearts open to receive the Word, and lips open to tell others what Jesus said to them ~Wiersbe

Saturday, March 23, 2024

Anne Ball's "A Month of Sundays"

 


Anne Ball, author of 5 novels that I have reviewed, has a new book, and you don't want to miss it. A Month of Sundays is clever, well written, and engaging. Available from the publisher or at Amazon and a bargain at only $11.00 (paperback).



Anne, the protagonist, is a resident of the future New Earth and she's been given permission by the King of the universe to write to an old friend back on the old earth. A letter is delivered to the mailbox of her "dear friend" every Sunday for thirty-one Sundays. Have you ever wondered about the life of the world to come?

Using an epistolary format, the author weaves a compelling picture of a future home where every tear has been wiped away and all infirmities and distress are banished forever.

The book draws on passages of Scripture that speak of the promises of God concerning those who place their trust in Jesus, the Son of God. He prepares a place for those beloved of the Father (John 14:2).

There is a map showing places in the Cheer District including the Village of Grace and the Town of Linger. The letters speak of life in bodies that are made immortal through the Resurrection power of Jesus Christ. 

None are surprised that angels walk among them, or that they should be hugged by a mysterious scaly creature that emerges shyly from Lake Cheer. There are face-to-face meetings with Adam and Eve in the Bountiful District, and the reader is given to overhear fascinating conversations with great saints before roaring fires in cozy pubs. 

I loved this book! I highly recommend it. Few books will lift your spirit and gladden your heart as this one. 


Alice C. Linsley




Monday, March 18, 2024

Archive Your Writings!

 

Archives of the 1970s.


Dan Sinykin of Fiction, Scholarship, and Academic Twitter

"Reading these archives meant learning in a kind of skimming form. You gradually, incrementally pick up important details. Names that were completely meaningless to you at first start to take on significance. You start to build a sense of who this person is, and then suddenly you come across a document and it’s like, “Oh wow!” 

Sinykin is referring to academic archives at Columbia University. Perusing the literature there helped him think about his writing in a new way. It also gave him a sense of the shifting times. Archives are a way to capture snapshots of history and culture.

Today we are able to retrieve information from online sources as well as print material. The way in which the internet works makes archives necessary if one wishes to retrieve specific information. The archive is especially useful if you are doing cutting-edge research because it will be years before the algorithm resets to include new sources of information.

It is important to archive your writing so that:

  • You can find material to use again.
  • Others can find material they want to read or re-read.
  • To make it easier to find material that probably is not available elsewhere on the internet.
  • To preserve a record of your writing and your growth as a writer.
  • As a backup to the Cloud.

All my writings are archived in indices. Check out how to do this here.

Start today. Every time you publish something, put it in your archive and update the INDEX.

Happy writing! Happy archiving!

Alice C. Linsley




Wednesday, March 13, 2024

Archive of NYT Writers on Writing

 


Writers on Writing


This is a complete archive of the NYT Writers on Writing column, a series in which writers explore literary themes. Writers are listed alphabetically and the links work!

The series began on March 1 when John Updike, writing as his character Henry Bech, considered the relationship between an author and his alter ego.

Please avail yourself of this excellent resource! This is a way we can learn from renown published writers.


Related reading: Archive Your Writing


Wednesday, December 27, 2023

The Holy Other

 



The Holy Other


How the Only, Holy Other

Would become just another,

To walk among men

I cannot comprehend.

Only His holy character

Caused Him to come matter,

Allowing us here so far below,

To know Him and to show

Us how far we have fallen,

While giving hope of heaven.

Truly God is holy, holy, holy!

Just as true "Woe is me!"

Only God's love and grace

Can compel me to face,

Jesus, born of human mother, 

Imaging the Only, Holy Other.


Hope Ellen Rapson



Wednesday, December 20, 2023

This Christmas, consider His infant hands.

 


This poem about the Incarnation of Jesus, fully human and fully God, is offered as a Christmas poem by Hope Ellen Rapson.


Hypostasis

With his infant hands,

All stars are held in place.

The brightest one stands,

To shine upon the face

Of Him who expands

And orders all matter, space.

So emptied---into finite man,

Here born, lays Eternal Grace.

Bound now within time’s span,

His flesh-clad feet will trace,

An ancient redemptive plan

To re-create Adam’s race---

With His Infinite Hands.