I love listening to WITF, our local public radio station. Initially I began listening for the classical music. It's such a nice background to anything and everything that I am doing during my day. But what kept me listening are the stories. The news reports sound like personal essays and they air stories of real people's lives that read like novels. Needless to say as a writer, this type of broadcast appeals to all of my senses.
Anyhow, one day I was listening and heard mention of a writing contest. I looked it up on the computer to find out the details. Entrants had to write a short work (1500 words or less) of fiction for a chance to win. First prize is $500 and the possibility of having your story read on air and printed in a local magazine. Second prize is $200. I've entered a writing contest once before and didn't win. But I figured I'd try it again. I have a journal of stories, poems, and thoughts that I drew from for my submission.
The due date was at 5:00pm today and I dropped it off at about 3:45pm today. There were about 5-6 other envelopes underneath the one I placed in the drop off box and who's to say how many more were dropped off prior to today. My husband recently told our kids, "On a multiple choice test you always guess. Never leave it blank. If you guess, you at least have a chance at getting the correct answer. But if you don't guess, you have no chance of getting the correct answer." All I know is that since I submitted an entry, I at least have a chance of being chosen as the winner. I will know by the end of March...
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Extra payment
Remember my "Hip Hip Hooray for 3 Paydays" post at the end of September? Well this week we finally used that extra paycheck to make an extra payment towards our mortgage. Yahoo! (No one probably remembers any more but "yahoo!" is actually an expression of elation and not just a search engine)
This is the second extra payment that we have made towards our mortgage, but the first one since I started this blog. As excited as I am, I also know that this is not the end all be all of how our mortgage is going to be paid off in 5 years. God has something else up His sleeve. Something more than I could ever conceive of in my finite imagination. Just the same, I continue to marvel over how we are able to even afford an extra payment with only one income. His miracles never cease...
This is the second extra payment that we have made towards our mortgage, but the first one since I started this blog. As excited as I am, I also know that this is not the end all be all of how our mortgage is going to be paid off in 5 years. God has something else up His sleeve. Something more than I could ever conceive of in my finite imagination. Just the same, I continue to marvel over how we are able to even afford an extra payment with only one income. His miracles never cease...
Proverbs 31:15
Beating her alarm she rolls out of bed, trudging down two sets of stairs to the basement. Yes! The clothes are dry. You never know with that fickle dryer. She puts in a wet load to dry and a new load to wash.
Basket in hand, she travels up the steps and stops at the kitchen table to fold the basket's contents, every person's clothes in their own neat little pile. After completing this chore, she makes her way up the steps once more.
With the occupants of the house still deep in sleep, she drops off piles for each of them: first the brothers, then Dad. She pauses outside of sister's room to acknowledge a small victory: the shirt that the young girl had prayed would be washed and ready to wear in the morning is in her hands. It is placed on the top of sister's pile in plain view for when she awakens. Pleased with her work, she walks down the stairs, through the dim light of dawn, onto her next task.
Is she an angel? No, she is a mom.
Basket in hand, she travels up the steps and stops at the kitchen table to fold the basket's contents, every person's clothes in their own neat little pile. After completing this chore, she makes her way up the steps once more.
With the occupants of the house still deep in sleep, she drops off piles for each of them: first the brothers, then Dad. She pauses outside of sister's room to acknowledge a small victory: the shirt that the young girl had prayed would be washed and ready to wear in the morning is in her hands. It is placed on the top of sister's pile in plain view for when she awakens. Pleased with her work, she walks down the stairs, through the dim light of dawn, onto her next task.
Is she an angel? No, she is a mom.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
The Poinsettia
Around Christmas time my husband, Ross, purchased a poinsettia from the school where he teaches. This being a year that we spent Christmas at home, the house was all decked out for the holidays and the poinsettia was a nice added touch.
Fast forward two months--the poinsettia has about two flowers left on it, each of which has way fewer petals than it should. You can see its gangly stems because there are no full blooms left to cover them up. It is an eyesore displayed prominently on the fireplace.
I have plotted on numerous ocassions to "off" the plant. My plan was to put it in the garage and just let the cold cause its demise. However, Ross has been asking about it. "Has anyone watered that plant today?" he would say every couple of weeks. 'Ugh! He does notice it,' I would think. 'That means he would miss it if I got rid of it.'
Recently our youngest son celebrated his 6th birthday. We had a party at the house and everyone had a great time. The next day as I was sitting on the couch reading, I looked over and saw the hideous flower. 'Oh my goodness! We had company in the house and they saw it!' It hadn't even occurred to me in the midst of preparing the house and the food for the party to put the plant away. I wanted to keep it hidden. I wanted things to look nice.
The next week I saw one of the parents from the party. She thanked us for inviting them and told me how much they enjoyed themselves. This got me to thinking--I believe that people feel more comfortable when they see the imperfections of others. When I see a house that looks like a museum, I feel like I will get yelled at for sitting on the chairs. But when I see a house with a blanket lying on the couch, I feel like I can sit down and cuddle up on it. The same goes for people. Show me the side of you that hurts, hates, and has issues. It doesn't make me feel threatened. It lets me know that you are human. In 2 Corinthians 12:10 Pauls says, "That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."
My weakness is a testimony of God's power. Please excuse me while I go water my poinsettia.
Fast forward two months--the poinsettia has about two flowers left on it, each of which has way fewer petals than it should. You can see its gangly stems because there are no full blooms left to cover them up. It is an eyesore displayed prominently on the fireplace.
I have plotted on numerous ocassions to "off" the plant. My plan was to put it in the garage and just let the cold cause its demise. However, Ross has been asking about it. "Has anyone watered that plant today?" he would say every couple of weeks. 'Ugh! He does notice it,' I would think. 'That means he would miss it if I got rid of it.'
Recently our youngest son celebrated his 6th birthday. We had a party at the house and everyone had a great time. The next day as I was sitting on the couch reading, I looked over and saw the hideous flower. 'Oh my goodness! We had company in the house and they saw it!' It hadn't even occurred to me in the midst of preparing the house and the food for the party to put the plant away. I wanted to keep it hidden. I wanted things to look nice.
The next week I saw one of the parents from the party. She thanked us for inviting them and told me how much they enjoyed themselves. This got me to thinking--I believe that people feel more comfortable when they see the imperfections of others. When I see a house that looks like a museum, I feel like I will get yelled at for sitting on the chairs. But when I see a house with a blanket lying on the couch, I feel like I can sit down and cuddle up on it. The same goes for people. Show me the side of you that hurts, hates, and has issues. It doesn't make me feel threatened. It lets me know that you are human. In 2 Corinthians 12:10 Pauls says, "That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."
My weakness is a testimony of God's power. Please excuse me while I go water my poinsettia.
The Purple Folder
This week we got our taxes done. After looking at last year's stuff, I noticed everything was contained in a blue folder with the preparer's business label at the top and our names written in marker underneath. So I put all of our 2011 tax documents together in a purple folder (I didn't have a blue one), left enough space for him to put his label at the top and wrote our name in marker underneath.
On Tuesday I went into his office and introduced myself. After he greeted me, I handed him the folder with everything in it. He looked at the folder and joked, "This is going to throw me off. I always give out blue folders to my clients."
After getting a call that our taxes were done, I returned to the office today. My check for his services was already written out and laying on the table. While he was going over the details of everything with me, he absent-mindedly picked up the check and put it into a drawer.
I had a few questions and then he handed me the bill. I sat and looked over it a bit for the sake of courtesy, then sat it down. He did some things on his computer and made some light conversation as we were both sitting there. I was wondering what was next. Then he said to me, "Were you going to mail the check in?"
At first I thought he was talking about my tax payment, but then I thought, 'No, we don't owe anything.' Suddenly I realized he forgot that he had already taken my check. "I gave it to you earlier. I think you put it in the drawer," I said as politely as I could. He turned beet red. He was so embarrassed. He apologized and explained to me that he has a system in place for how he does things. Usually after receiving the bill, he sits and waits for people to write the check. I already had the check written. "I think it all started with that purple folder," he joked. "I told my wife the other day about the lady who brought in the purple folder to my office."
We talked some more and towards the end of our conversation he asked me where I was from. I told him that I was from the area. He said, "You don't seem like you're from Central Pennsylvania."
"How's that?" I asked him.
"You don't talk like someone from around here, and your mannerisms and courtesy...It seems like you're from out of the country."
I was kind of taken aback by that, especially since I don't have an accent and have only met with this gentleman once this year and once last year.
"Your parents must have raised you well," he concluded.
Then a light bulb went on in my head. "Yes, they did," I agreed, "and my Father Jesus still raises me to this day."
"Well, God bless you," he ended.
Walking out of his office I thought, 'I pray that every day I can stick out to people like a purple folder.'
On Tuesday I went into his office and introduced myself. After he greeted me, I handed him the folder with everything in it. He looked at the folder and joked, "This is going to throw me off. I always give out blue folders to my clients."
After getting a call that our taxes were done, I returned to the office today. My check for his services was already written out and laying on the table. While he was going over the details of everything with me, he absent-mindedly picked up the check and put it into a drawer.
I had a few questions and then he handed me the bill. I sat and looked over it a bit for the sake of courtesy, then sat it down. He did some things on his computer and made some light conversation as we were both sitting there. I was wondering what was next. Then he said to me, "Were you going to mail the check in?"
At first I thought he was talking about my tax payment, but then I thought, 'No, we don't owe anything.' Suddenly I realized he forgot that he had already taken my check. "I gave it to you earlier. I think you put it in the drawer," I said as politely as I could. He turned beet red. He was so embarrassed. He apologized and explained to me that he has a system in place for how he does things. Usually after receiving the bill, he sits and waits for people to write the check. I already had the check written. "I think it all started with that purple folder," he joked. "I told my wife the other day about the lady who brought in the purple folder to my office."
We talked some more and towards the end of our conversation he asked me where I was from. I told him that I was from the area. He said, "You don't seem like you're from Central Pennsylvania."
"How's that?" I asked him.
"You don't talk like someone from around here, and your mannerisms and courtesy...It seems like you're from out of the country."
I was kind of taken aback by that, especially since I don't have an accent and have only met with this gentleman once this year and once last year.
"Your parents must have raised you well," he concluded.
Then a light bulb went on in my head. "Yes, they did," I agreed, "and my Father Jesus still raises me to this day."
"Well, God bless you," he ended.
Walking out of his office I thought, 'I pray that every day I can stick out to people like a purple folder.'
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