Underneath her brave facade, she was just a raw nerve, like a plucked harp string. Her mother gently laid her hand on Caera’s arm. “Hush, lass. Deep breaths, honey. I know you’ll do fantastic!”
Author’s Note: This scene is a small piece of a larger story in my work of fiction about Liam and Caera.
Cylest strolled downs the stone path in her flower garden at a thoughtful, deliberate pace. She was searching for a pruning project, and paused at the Apothecary Rose bush that had been her mother’s favorite. Pulling her garden knife from her apron pocket, she curled her feet under her, letting her mind wander.
A hazy memory surfaced of her mother in her own garden, her bonnet off and her hair loose around her shoulders. Cylest had always felt closest to her among the flowers because it made them both happy. And today she didn’t feel quite so much like an orphan.
linking up with
prompt: deliberate 
prompt: orphan
Author’s Note: a scene in my ongoing work of fiction featuring Cylest and Lachlan.
My youngest daughter has the sweetest, purest little heart. She gives words of encouragement, hand drawn pictures, hugs and kisses, and genuine love so freely to those she is fond of.
We were in the car over the weekend, and while I was stopped at a red light, she was singing along and car-dancing to her favorite song, a worship tune called Rise and Sing. Go ahead and click on the song, she would love that you listened to it. I enjoying watching her, seeing her emotions so clearly revealed as she rocked out and sang her feelings to her Creator. She enjoys a lot of other music, too. She has two older sisters who love current Top 40 songs as well as a steady dose of Disney Channel.
After we got home, I asked if she would mind if I had a quick photo shoot with her, and she obliged willingly. I wish you could all meet her. She’s funny, very flexible, incredibly smart, is totally down to earth, very generous, plays well with her sisters and friends, loves school, is fascinated by science, and has a funky little sense of fashion. I hope these many faces of Smallish Girl give you a little window into who she is. Love her so much.
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and various and sundry Wordless Wednesday linkups
“I’d almost forgotten how much I love the way you smell.”
Caera’s voice was a purr, a breathless murmur. Liam moaned in response as her lips trailed down his neck onto his chest.
Linking up with
prompt: 33 words, use an example of onomotopoeia.
Author’s Note: This scene happens directly following Those Three Words. For more in the story of Liam And Caera, click here.
The truth about motherhood is that no one prepared me for this.
No, really.
Have you ever actually admitted that, out loud? That you feel lost, unprepared, five years behind where you “should” be in raising your children?
I just did.
I wonder on a daily basis why God/The Universe thought I could handle 4 kids in 7 years, and be able to meet their needs and teach them what they need to know. I am learning as I go, and hoping I get a few things right.
My mom had a completely different life than I do. She put her kids in daycare and preschool and Catholic school from the beginning. I started out homeschooling my kids. My dad worked long hours five days a week, but she never had a spouse that traveled 50% of the time like I did. She only had 2 children as opposed to my 4. She never had to struggle to keep up with the house, because no one was in it to mess it up except for 2 or 3 hours right before bed every night.
When I was growing up, my mom taught in an elementary school. She went to church or school related meetings most nights during the week, and when she got home, she was grading papers and tests until after I went to bed. I never knew any different, so I didn’t realize I was missing out on relationship and connection with my mom. I also didn’t realize that I was not learning how to run a house or make meals while children clamored at my elbows and hung on my legs. I came into motherhood totally unprepared, and have been flying by the seat of my pants ever since.
I didn’t feel comfortable reaching out for help when I was in survival mode for several years. My ex was super-critical of my parenting, housekeeping, and homeschooling, and depended on me to keep the facade of “white picket fence happy little suburban Christian conservative patriarchal-run family” up and running. When I tried to be real with others and talk about what life was like, I was told had that I needed to pull myself up by my bootstraps. The women I knew, as well as my ex, would ask why I thought I was so special and deserving of assistance when other families ran smoothly without a hitch. Why couldn’t I do it all by myself? I consistently felt uncool, unworthy, unprepared, clueless, helpless, and hopeless.
One day I reached out to another mom, a friend who didn’t attend my church or participate in my homeschool group. I admitted my fears and failures and shortcomings as a mom. I asked for help, for insight, for advice. I told her how I felt about the women in my church, and what they had said to me. I was honest about my ex and how he treated me. In this friend, I found acceptance, wisdom, encouragement, and comfort.
Sshe did more for my emotional health, and my children, than she can possibly imagine. Not long after I began opening up to her, I started to be more authentic with other women in my life. I found bravery and sought connection. And stopped trying to be supermom.
The truth about motherhood is that it’s damn hard.
The truth about motherhood is that none of us really, truly know what we’re doing and we learn as we go. Do not believe the lie that every other mom has it together because they don’t.
The truth about motherhood is that because we’re all struggling. If you find another woman who is willing to be transparent about her struggles with you, it’s worth the risk to be open with her about your fears and questions too.
The truth about motherhood is that knowing my limits and my weaknesses, I can learn to ask for the help I need.
The truth about motherhood is that my kids are different from your kids, and I’m different from you, and our family’s dynamic is our own.
The truth about motherhood is that we all love our kids, and we all want what’s best for them. We need to trust ourselves to know what those things are, to do the best we can, and to resist taking others’ judgment to heart.
What is your truth about motherhood?
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and
Cylest stopped walking. “Why on earth didn’t you tell them?” she shrieked. “All the time you spent in solitary confinement, and the interrogations.. years of imprisonment.. and you’re telling me you never told them why?”
Though he knew the ruins were deserted, he looked around to check, shocked at her forthrightness and the volume of her voice. Turning to her, he admitted “In truth, there were many things that landed me there.”
He reached for her hand and continued walking. “I’d no intention of giving up my family if I didn’t have to. Though they were never grateful, I’ve been loyal to my blood these many years, and I’ll stay loyal to them.”
“But at what expense? Carrying the burden of this without justice has hurt you. Deeply.”
He squeezed her hand. “My love, there are many things that burden my heart. Many people’s betrayals that I may never see avenged. ” His voice became more strained as he continued. “But I try to forgive, and move on, and not allow them to darken my heart.”
Cylest stopped walking and turned to him, placing her hand on his forearm and stroking it with her thumb as she spoke. “Yes, and you do well. You’re a gentle man. Neither bitter nor vengeful. And though I know your story, you don’t frighten me with your past and your battle scars.”
Lachlan opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed on, her voice passionate. “But it doesn’t mean that I don’t hurt for you. It doesn’t mean that I’m not angry at the injustices and the pain, and those who inflicted it. I wish I could make them all pay for what they did.”
“My wee lass, I bet you would make them pay. You’re a scrapper.” he grinned.
“I might not be able to do the damage I’d like, but I’d give my life to defend your heart.” she responded ardently. “It’s worth protecting.”
Lachlan stopped her mouth with a kiss.
Linking up with
prompt: “blood”: related to, descended by blood, kindred.
Author’s Note: This scene happens during the same afternoon as Castle Walls, and is a turning point in the relationship between Cylest and Lachlan. For more of their story, click here.
photo by S. M. Besnier, used with permission
Cylest woke to the first rays of sunlight. Stretching, she breathed in the cold morning air and reached for her robe. As she drew her hand through her hair, she opened the curtains and was delighted to find that some purple snowdrops had popped up during the night.
Hurrying through the kitchen, she cracked the front door for a better look.
“Look, Grady! Aren’t they pretty?”
The dog barked in agreement, and wiggled out into the snow. Pawing near the stem, his nose touched the bloom. He jumped back in shock, growling. Cylest laughed out loud, and walked out to join him.
Linking up with the photo prompt from
as well as the prompt “pretty” from
Soundlessly,
emotional shockwaves
pummel my body
I try to withstand their impact,
but I’m easily overcome.
Rage focused inward
then
searing, white-hot pain.
Unshed tears burn my throat,
threatening to suffocate me.
Oh love,
What have I done?
prompt: use a hyphenated compound modifier in a 33 word story
What are some of your all time favorite books?
This is my favorite book on parenting. Mostly it convicts/encourages the parent, and probably the most important thing it did for me was speak on the importance of modeling healthy emotional reactions for your children. Why are they so reactionary? Because they absorb all of mom’s stress!!
These are two children’s books that have saved my sanity and bolstered my confidence because the moms get frustrated at garden-variety kid things and lose their cool and then make up afterward. They aren’t perfect. And yes, they are just kid books.. but really? They make my list.
Books I love from my own childhood and from my oldest daughter’s childhood. I have a lot more middle school/junior high/young adult favorites, but these are the standout ones.
My favorite romance novels
Books that have important things to say and can be read over and over
Historical fiction based on the Bible, which helps me not only remember the stories better, but helps me to relate my life more easily to those stories.
Do you prefer ebooks or physical books?
Physical books. Every time.
What’s in your “to be read” pile?
All of these books are by people I’ve met/know personally. I also want to write reviews for them and help them sell more!
Dear Friend,
Where are you?
Why, in the expanse of the whole universe, is it so difficult for me to find one local friend to whom I could pour out the contents of my soul? Why is it that when I feel like everything is hopeless and I can’t take another breath without collapsing, that I can’t find one pair of arms to hold me and one shoulder to cry on? So many people love me, and I’m so very fortunate, and grateful for that. But none of them are HERE and if they aren’t HERE it’s so much more difficult to reach out and ask for comfort. I have to think about what time zone they’re in, and if the kids are in bed, and worse.. I have to use words. I can hide behind those. I can present whatever facade I want when I’m texting. I can wait until I’ve bawled my eyes out and pulled myself together before I make a phone call.
If I had a best friend right here, I wouldn’t be able to hide. I don’t want to hide. I’m willing to be vulnerable and let someone in like that. But no one I know wants a connection like that. I’m so willing to drop everything and be there for you when your heart is breaking and you need to get out of your own head. I’m so willing to be real, and invite that kind of transparency, and open my heart up and risk that kind of trust. But I can’t find my kind of people here. Anywhere.
I’ve had such amazing moments with my far-away friends: lightbulb moments at conferences that become skipped training sessions in the middle of the day. With new-old friends back home that after years apart finally want to be closer, dinner that becomes dessert that becomes a heart to heart talk that lasts into the night. Spontaneous connection between those who want to be open. All the time wishing we lived closer, trying to keep the attachment strong by daily use of social media and texting. I cherish all of them, those who have given me belief in myself and confidence in my ability to love with my whole heart. I know what I have to give. And if it’s locked up inside, what good does it do?
Oh my friend… where are you? Is it because of where I live? Is it because of the ridiculously high concentration of superficial people I have to search through? Or is it me? Am I the one hiding and not being available? I hope not. I don’t want to be. I have a lot of practice at being closed off. But not because it’s what I want. I don’t want to be cold and distant. But you have to make me believe you want to let me in.
One day. One day I’ll have a best friend here. And I’ll be a good best friend, too. I know I will. I’ll be so grateful one day to meet someone who appreciates the shelter I can give, and is willing to give it back, too.
—————
Five minutes of free writing, unscripted and unedited, in response to the prompt “friend”.
