"My Lord, I have failed you..."

(This is originally from my writing blog, but I wanted to share it here, too)

Sir Hawthorn waited outside the King's chamber. He was nervous, which was unusual. On a normal day while visiting his King, he felt at peace, happy, and in awe to be in the presence of such a King as he had the pleasure of serving. But today... today was different. He had no happy tidings to bring, no questions or requests that needed answering. Today he was only to give an account of the recent quest he had returned from. 

"The King will see you now," the page announced. Sir Hawthorn jumped slightly, being drawn out of his reverie rather suddenly. He stood, nodded, straightened his uniform, and followed the page's lead. He tried to calm the nervous butterflies in his stomach, but to no avail. How was one supposed to even prepare for such a task as this?

As he entered his King's chamber, he took a deep breath and kept his eyes on the ground. He could not bring himself to look upon his King's majesty. Not like this. 

"Sir Hawthorn! My faithful servant, how are you?" The King exclaimed, coming down from the throne and extending his arms for a warm embrace. Sir Hawthorn ducked his head in a quick salute, but stepped back quickly to evade the embrace.

"My Lord, you will not think so highly of me once you have heard my news," Sir Hawthorn, eyes still lowered, willed his voice not to tremble. He had gotten the first part out. Now to just tell the news.

"What is it, my son? You do not need to fear telling me anything. Come, sit and talk," The King motioned to two chairs by a table. Sir Hawthorn reluctantly followed and took a seat beside his King. He felt ashamed to be sitting so near to Him. 

"Now tell me, what is it that troubles you?" the King asked, in a gentle voice. 

Sir Hawthorn did his best to keep the tears from rolling down his face, yet one escaped and slowly made a trail down his cheek. "I have failed you, my Lord. Yes, I have failed you," the last words were barely whispered.

"Ah, I see..... I believe I know what you are talking about," the King answered, slowly. 

"What? But how could you? I've only just returned," Sir Hawthorn replied, confused.

"Yes, that is so. But I still know. You feel you have failed because your recent quest failed. Is this correct?" 

Sir Hawthorn stared at the King for a moment, surprised. "Yes... yes, this is so," 

The King smiled sadly at Sir Hawthorn. "My son, you did not fail me. Not in the way you think. Your quest failed because it was a quest of your own making. I did not send you on the quest and you did not even seek my permission,"

"But I saw a need, Sire, and my desire to serve this need was great!" Sir Hawthorn argued.

"Indeed! I saw it was so. But still, this quest was not of my making and therefore, you feel as if you have failed because your quest did not end as planned."

Sir Hawthorn sat quietly, realizing his King's words were true indeed. 

"My son, did you receive my letter for the quest that I would have had you go on?"

"Yes," Sir Hawthorn replied quietly, once again looking at the ground in shame.

"And did you receive them before, or during your own quest?"

"Once before, sire, and once during," Sir Hawthorn replied, beginning to realize where this was going.

"Indeed, it was so. I knew you had gone on a quest of your own. I knew you were thinking of going on this quest before you even went! This was why I sent you the instructions for mine. And when you still left for your own, I sent you instructions once more, in hopes that you would listen and return home."

"But, my Lord, I felt that there was greater need for my quest. That it was more... important."

The King smiled sadly and looked into Sir Hawthorn's eyes. "And that, my son, is where you are very wrong. No quest of mine is too great or too small for the one I have given it to. You need only listen and fulfill that quest as best you are able in order to please me. I cannot make you go on the quests I send you. I do not want to make you. I wish for you to serve me with your whole heart and willingly because you choose to do so," 

"Yes, my Lord," Sir Hawthorn replied. "But the fact remains, that I *have* failed you,"

"Nay, that is not so. My quest is still standing. It still needs to be done. And there is time to complete it."

"But, my Lord.... I feel.. I feel as if I am not able to complete it. Not without your help," 

The King smiled and took Sir Hawthorn's hand. "And my help I will certainly give you, my son. You need only ask and I shall be by your side," 

Sir Hawthorn smiled and bowed his head, "Then I have only to receive Your instructions once again, my Lord, and I shall go on Your quest."

Have you ever felt like you 'failed' the Lord? Like He had given you a task to do, but somehow that task got lost among the many other 'bigger' things you could be doing?

I know I've had it. Many, many times. In fact, I had it just recently. The sense of failure. The knowing that I wasn't doing what I was supposed to be doing.

See, as a writer, we sometimes get stuck in this sense of 'must be doing, must be doing'. And we're finding out what the most popular genre is at the moment so we can write some epic and amazing novel to put out there on the shelves of millions of book stores around the world. We start losing track of what our main goal is.

My most recent one was NaNoWriMo. I've written before about why I love this contest, so I won't repeat it again. But I was ready to participate and win and write a novel that I would publish and would become New York's Best seller, etc, etc, etc.  But I had something missing in my plan. A really big thing; God. I didn't have God in any of these plans. Sure I sort of halfheartedly prayed that God would give me inspiration and guidance on how to write this novel, but I wasn't focused on serving Him in it. I was focused on serving myself. I was tired of only being known as a 'children's author'. I wanted to write something my friends would read and actually enjoy. I wanted to write something that would become popular and talked about. I, I, I, I..... it's all about self.

So one evening, while driving home from work, I turned on the radio and heard a song. I don't remember what it was called or who it was by. But I do remember this... it was talking about "less of me, more of You, that who I want to be,". And the words struck a chord in my heart as I realized, "Lord, I have failed you. You gave me a task. A task that I thought was too small and not big enough. I got caught up in what the World thought of me instead of seeking You on a daily basis,". I started crying. Because you know what? This wasn't the first time I'd made that mistake. No, sir. I wish it was, but it wasn't.

As I cried, asking the Lord for forgiveness. And as I prayed, He said to me, "You haven't failed. Do the task that I already gave you and seek Me on it."

And so, feeling renewed again to go about my task, I began afresh. And isn't that wonderful that we can do that? That the Lord's mercies are new EVERY morning? It's beautiful and humbling.

So I 'failed' NaNoWriMo. I didn't get in a word count. I didn't get very far in my story. But I learned something far more valuable from it than I could have ever learned on my own. I may never come out with some big novel that hits the top 10 in book stores. Yet I will have something far better because it is the task, the quest that the Lord has given to me. And it is my honor to complete it, despite what others say, despite what I think, and despite the nagging that Satan gives me to tempt me to do something else.

And I have a feeling that this time, with the Lord by my side on His quest, I won't fail.

Convention Surprises

This past Thursday, Friday, and Saturday were filled up. The CAPE homeschool convention was on! =) It's always a favorite time of year for me. Not only do I get to see friends and visit with them I also get to... well, see friends and visit with them. lol! Actually, it's a really great time to see friends, yes, but you also get to hear great speakers, see awesome vendors, and really get encouraged. =)

For the past two years I've had a table at the vending hall with a friend where we have sold our books. This year I wasn't as excited about it as I was the first year. I was disappointed that I hadn't gotten another book published and I was feeling a bit like a flake. Not only that, but I had a head cold, so I wasn't feeling all that great.

However, I got to convention, set up my books, started feeling a little excited about it, and settled in for a long weekend. When the first day ended with no sales, I was feeling a bit discouraged. However, I hadn't sold any books on Thursday of last year, either, so I figured it was just because mom's were looking around before they decided what to buy. So Friday dawned bright and early... way too early. I hadn't slept well, so I was feeling worse. With a somewhat bad start to my day, I was letting it affect the rest of my day. I only sold 4 books by the afternoon. I was feeling really discouraged. On top of that, I had a couple of people who weren't very nice stop at our table. Normally I would have been able to at least smile and try to encourage them (knowing they must be having a bad day or something). That day, however, I failed to be cheerful and let the bad moods of others affect me.

Saturday morning I woke up feeling a little better. I had been encouraged the day before by my wonderful mother, reminding me of my purpose and Who I needed to be glorifying. With her words in mind, I got to convention feeling much better. When I went to the exhibit hall to set up the table for the half day, I was greeted with a beautiful package, wrapped in newspaper (a writer's favorite!!) and a little note that read: "To Sarah Elizabeth, Authoress". No signature or any other indication of who it could be from. Inside was a beautiful journal and a homemade hair scrunchie. My curiosity was peaked to a high level. Who could have given that to me?

I inquired from friends, but no one really seemed to know. A few hours later, I stepped away from the table for a bit and, when I returned, my friend informed me that I had been left another package. This time it was a little bag of peanuts, some chocolates, and a note saying: "To Sarah, from ??" Now I was REALLY curious!! Who was doing this?? The Handwriting didn't match the other note, but if someone was trying to keep their anonymity, they certainly wouldn't use their own handwriting....

So I pondered over this for another hour or so before I left the table again to say hello to a friend. When I came back, my friend once again informed me that someone had dropped something off at our table. This time, however, there was a slight clue. The person who had dropped it off had simply tossed the note on the table, said, "The name's Paul" and ran off. The note was a folded up napkin that read: "Hey Sarah, I hope you sell lots of books today! =)". I scanned my brain trying to remember anyone I knew with the name of Paul. It came up blank. I really had no idea what was going on! A group of friends came up to the table and I told them about the new mystery. We all tried to figure it out for a bit... None of us had any ideas.

At lunch, a runner came up to me (for clarification, "Runners" are homeschoolers who have applied to help out at the convention. They kinda of have 'special' tasks like setting up, tearing down, helping vendors, etc, that other volunteers don't do, necessarily.). So a runner came up to me and said, "excuse me, ma'am, but I'm supposed to give this to you from Paul." It was a Dr. Pepper. I was totally floored. Not many people know that I *really* like Dr. Pepper. I don't have it very often, so it's a rare treat! I puzzled over this during lunch. My dear friend was laughing at me as I tried to figure this whole thing out. Who in the world??

Later, as I was looking at all the pictures of the graduates who would be graduating that afternoon, another runner came up and said, "I'm supposed to give this to you," It was another napkin note. I asked her who it was from, and she said she couldn't say.

At this point I thought I was going to go crazy! I really wanted to know who was doing this. I figured it had to be a friend, but I just didn't know who!

Finally, the culprits were revealed. Two of my good friends had pulled the whole thing off... Rachelle and Kelsey! They planned everything out, delivered the notes, got runners to do the little things for them, etc. It was totally awesome. And you know what? It really made my day. Not only did it add some interest to the rather slow day, but it really made me happy to think that they did that for me. I was totally floored. It was a blast hearing about how they pulled everything off!! I was completely clueless!!! =D

And then, my dear friend Sarah (who I lovingly call my 'conscience'- since she and I share names) was the one who got me the journal! =) So very sweet!!!! =D

So, thank you my lovely friends! Y'all are amazing and awesome! =) Now I just have to try to top it off next year!! =D  =D

Just Your Typical Day on the Ranch ~#4

Hey y'all! Another Typical Day on the Ranch post!

Yesterday afternoon my brothers and I were charged with a task: To run all the cows through the chute, get hair samples, put patches on them, and give them their dose of bug medicine.

No problemo. The cows are really quite gentle and work fairly easily. So when Dad gave us this task Sunday night, we were ready to go. The plan was to get up early and get started right away to get it done. We had two set of corrals that we were working cows: headquarters and 'up top' corrals. Thankfully, the guys had gathered all the cows that night, so we didn't need to worry about that in the morning (that seems to be the hardest part sometimes). Deciding we would work the house first, then come in for lunch, and head up top, we went to bed, figuring we'd want a good rest before the next day.

The day started out slightly later than we had hoped (as one of us, ahem, wasn't able to get to sleep until about 2am)... However, we decided we wouldn't let that stop us. Dad had headed into work already, and mom was getting ready to leave for her day in town to do some things. Josh fixed us egg burritos while I went over the plans again to make sure everything looked right. So far so good. I was rather excited about getting the hair samples. =)

As we were about to head out, a friend who leases some pasture with us came by to pick up some of his cows. So Josh and Mr. S went up top to get his cows while Caleb and I prepped everything for working the cows at headquarters. After making several runs back the house then out to the corrals, we finally had everything (not that there was a whole lot but we just kept forgetting things...) Josh got back right as we were about to start. Glad to see our third cowpoke, we met him half way to see how his morning had gone so far. He brought us bad tidings. The cows had either knocked open a gate, or one of them didn't closed properly and they were now scattered in two pastures.

Pause for great big sigh.

We decided the boys would go ahead and go regather the cows before the spread out much further and I would wait down at the house. They left and I decided that, instead of wasting time, I'd go start working the cows on my own. There wasn't a whole lot to do per cow, so I figured it would be fairly easy. Slow, but easy. I headed out, intent on my mission and getting at least a couple handfuls of cows done before the boys got back.

Lesson learned.

When I got out to the corral, I realized that the cows needed to be pushed from a holding pen into the alley so I could push them into the chute. May not seem like a big deal, but when you're trying to push a bunch of bovine, you need at least two people else they just run past you in all directions. I attempted to push them from behind, but that ended rather quickly when I realized I was fighting a losing battle. So, racking my brain for ideas, I finally came up with a brilliant idea that, amazingly, worked quite well. I then began the process of gathering them into the chute (much easier now that I was in a narrower alley!).

I had done three cows by the time the boys got back. Not quite the handfuls I wanted, but hey, it was a start. Once they got there, we all jumped in and got to the task at hand. Josh dosed them, Caleb put on patches, and I collected hair samples.

I will go into a bit of detail on how we did the samples.. It was really cool. I simply had to grab their tail, take a section of the longer hair at the tip, and pull upwards, against the 'grain' of the hair. This pulled the hair, roots and all, out in neat form. I then placed the roots in a clear sticky pad. These will be sent into a lab for testing so that we make sure the cows don't have any illnesses or some other genetic defect that will affect their calves.

As we were working cows, we enjoyed joking around with each other, laughing about 'inside jokes' (none of which needed explaining because we were all on the 'inside'), and liking how smoothly things were going... Guess we thought that too soon. Before we knew it, a heifer had decided she didn't want to go forward and had succeeded in turning herself completely around inside the little alley leading up to the chute. Lovely. Thankfully, though, we didn't need her to go head first, since none of the things we were doing required her head to be caught. However, it's always a little scary when they are in the process of turning around as they can get stuck... Not to mention that you simple stand there looking at her helplessly, knowing you can't do anything to stop her. Getting near only makes her more frantic. So we backed off, silently praying she wouldn't get stuck. She didn't and must have had an interesting time going through the line backward.

Another cow later on almost broke her leg in an escape attempt by trying to jump up and out of the chute. Brilliant idea, cow. What was I saying about our cows being quite gentle? ;-)

Other than those little incidents here and there, everything really did go smoothly. A couple times, when reaching to get the tail for samples, my hand met with 'wet stuff'... *sigh*. All I could imagine was Adrian Monk doing that... (if you've ever seen "Monk", you know what I'm talking about).
But then, I suppose that's why I live on a ranch. It didn't bother me too much (or maybe it's because of living on a ranch that it doesn't bother me... hmm...) You just have to keep going. No stopping to 'get it off! get it off!'... =) Yup, bonafide country right thar. =)  Anyway, back to my story...

So, we finished the cows at the house and went inside for lunch at about 2:30. Finished eating and checking a few things for mom, then got ready to head back out. We took all our gear with us, drove up to the top corrals (takes about 5-10 mins to get up there). As we went to gather the cows, poor Caleb walked right into a metal pole/bar that is sticking out horizontal to the ground. It is part of a fence, but we haven't finished building that fence yet, so it sticks out... he's not the only one that has done that. Poor guy. He really hit it hard. After he recovered a bit, though, we joked about him 'walking into a bar' and tried to put on shocked faces... Yeah, that helped a little. He's such a trooper, though, and got right back to work.

We had done about 5 cows when Josh realized he was out of the meds he was giving the cows and had forgotten to grab the new container from the barn. So, we paused operation and headed back down. Worked out fairly well, actually, as the boys wanted to grab some protein bars from the house (don't know why they were hungry, though. It's not as if they were working really hard....). =)

On our way up, I had taken off my jacket, as it was getting a little warm. When I hopped out, I guess I knocked over my water cup and later, then it got a little windy and I needed my jacket, I realized it was soaked and wouldn't do a whole lot of good for keeping me warm. =P So my new routine of getting hair samples went from 'get them and stand in the open while I'm putting them in their sticker' to 'get the hair as fast as you can, rush back and hop in the truck to stay warm while you now put the hair in the sticker'. =)

During all this, we did have a couple times that some cows got out and we had to chase them around the pasture a bit... or sometimes we'd actually analyze the situation to see how we could outsmart the cows to get them back in. Usually that worked better.. lol!

And so, after a day that we had hoped would be a morning/part of the afternoon project, we finally got home at 8pm. However, dad was really sweet and went and got us Taco Bell so we didn't have to cook anything. =)

So that, my friends, is just another typical day on the ranch. Do your days look similar to this? (I've found most people's do, whether they live on a ranch or not).=D

Sincerely,
Your Ranching Friend Out in the Middle of Nowhere

P.S. Keep an eye out! I'm planning on doing a blog post of our recent trip to Montana (pics included!)

A bit more of my book

Ok, I decided that I would go ahead and post some more of my book.  I kind of hated to leave you hanging like that.  So, I will probably post a chapter or two and then that will be it.   Thank you so much for your kind comments on my last post! I really appreciated it.  Also, if you have another questions/suggestions, please feel free to share them.  I am always looking forward to hearing what people suggest, so fire away..... just don't be too hard.. ;-) haha!  Oh, and I did include a tiny bit from the end of the last post, just to refresh your memories....

He awoke with the feeling that he was being drug.  Yes, he was most certainly being hauled along through the tall, dry grass, but he couldn’t remember what had happened.  Trent summoned his strength to lift his head off of his chest and look up at his captor, or perhaps rescuer, but to no avail.  Licking his parched lips, he struggled to remember what had happened.

            He noticed that whoever was carrying him was breathing hard, is if he was a heavy load for them.  Once again he tried lifting his head.  Fresh blood from his wound came trickling down his face.  Trent became dizzy and rested his chin on his chest as his  eyes slowly closed and all became dark.

When Trent woke again, he was lying in the grass with his head gently propped up on a blanket roll.  He slowly turned, grimacing as a sharp pain shot through his head.  He was lying in a small clearing in the woods.  A fire was crackling a few feet away, offering a welcoming warmth.  A few articles of clothing were stretched out on a log on the opposite side of the fire.  There seemed to be a pot of something cooking, but other than that there was no sign of another person being there.

            Above him the stars twinkled brightly, peeping through open spaces in the canopy of tree branches.  Reaching up, he gingerly touched his head.  A bandage had been wrapped around it and bound tightly.  The blood had been cleaned off his face.  His armor had been removed and a blanket covering placed over him.

            A branch snapped in the woods to his left.  He swiveled his head to look, instantly regretting it as another sharp pain shot through.  Half closing his eyes in feigned sleep, he scanned the edge of the clearing.  There!  Another branch snapped as a form appeared. The tall figure was cloaked and hooded, hiding any identity that Trent might perhaps recognize.  When it had drawn nearer, it paused as if looking at him for a moment.  Then it walked over to the fire and neatly deposited it’s armload of wood next to it. 

            Trent slowly turned his head again and watched as the figure neatly stacked the wood.  It’s back was toward Trent, allowing him to open his eyes wider and get a better look.  The figure, though rather tall, was small in form.  It’s hands were also small and slender.

Another twig snapped, accompanied by the crunching of leaves.  The figure by the fire straightened and looked out beyond Trent in the direction it had just come.  Trent held his breath and waited.  Footsteps drew nearer and nearer until they stopped right next to him. 

            Opening his eyes ever so slightly, he watched the person still standing by the fire.   Whoever it was hadn’t moved.  He could barely see the face inside the hood.  A slight glimmer from the fire revealed where the eyes were.  They seemed to be staring directly towards him.  The person beside him now gently touched his bandage.

            “How long since you brought him here?” a man’s voice came from the second figure and joined the first by the fire.  The answer wasn’t audible.  The man looked over at Trent and sighed deeply.  “You’ve done a good job on bandaging his wound.  I am afraid that when he awakes he will find more to wound him than simply the gash in his skull.”

The first figure said something as it clasped it’s hands in front of it.  The man simply nodded in reply and squeezed the shoulder of his friend.  “Here, if your soup is ready, perhaps you should feed him some of the broth.  No doubt his body could use it.”  The man sat wearily on the log and put his head in his hand.  The other figure picked up a wooden bowl and put a ladleful of the aromatic broth into it.  Walking over, it kneeled next to Trent, then reached up and removed the hood from it’s head, revealing long, brown hair.  Trent’s eyes instantly flew open as he gazed in bewilderment at the young woman that was bending over him.

Well?  Whatdya think??

My Thanksgiving story, focusing on contentment

Hello dear readers!!

Well, we have been extremely busy.  Becca and Josh headed out on Tuesday morning to spend the rest of the week with grandparents.  Daddy, Momma, Caleb, and I headed out on Wednesday afternoon for Thanksgiving at our grandparents house.  We had a very nice time and got several good visits in with family that we don't get to see very often.  We came home right after lunch on Friday, rushed around to get ready for our square dance that was being held that night, and enjoyed an evening of fun (pictures coming, just as soon as I get some from Ink Slinger...). 

Ok, so here is my Thanksgiving story. I couldn't think of a title for it, so I would love suggestions! (It's only 3,580 words!! Yeah, "only"....)

The pale moonlight shone down through a small opening in the cramped cabin.  Amanda strained her eyes to see the diary page in front of her.

January 3^rd, 1621

  The weather has been horrid.  Poor Mother has been beside herself trying to watch little James.  I believe he is teething and cannot sleep at night.

   I do so wonder if the Lord has forsaken us.  We have landed hundreds of miles from where we were supposed to. Now we are in an uninhabited land. I sometimes wonder if we will make it where we were originally supposed to go.  Eleven passengers and two crewmen have already died of the illness that has struck this ship, and no wonder for we have no pure water.  By now whatever water we have in the barrels has gone rather stale.  We are also on food rations.  I do not mind this too terribly much, but Paul is starving all the time.  Though I suppose a growing boy is likely to do that, even with all the food in the world.

Amanda stopped and smiled to herself.  Paul was her older brother by three years.  Being at the age of fifteen, he suffered from “hungry illness”, or being hungry all the time.  Amanda didn’t know where he packed all the food he used to eat.  He was so limber, lanky, and thin!

    Once more the scratching of the quill pen on paper sounded in the small room.

Paul and I have tried to enjoy ourselves on this trip, but it is rather hard.  We have explored most of the places we are allowed to venture to already and now have nothing to do but try to spot whales during the day and listen to them at night.

   Papa has been rather concerned lately, I think.  He walks around with his brow furrowed most all day long.

  I do not understand half of the things the men decide on their weekly meetings. Paul tries to sneak in and listen, then relates things to me later.  Still, I am afraid I frustrate him with my candid interest.  I am very glad he is excited about this new country we are going to, but quite honestly, I am terrified.  What will we find when, and if, we get there?

Just then the short door that led into the cabin opened, squeaking on it’s hinges.

   “Mandy, you in here?”  Paul’s voice called out softly.

“Yes, over here.”  Amanda answered, setting down her pen and blowing on her diary page to help the ink dry.

   Paul made his way over to her and bent over the makeshift desk she was using.

“Writing in your diary again?”

    “Yes.  How was the meeting?”  Amanda gently closed her beloved diary and held it in her lap while she waited for Paul to speak.

   “Well, I am not sure.  To tell you the truth, even I am starting to get confused.  Some of the men are with John Alden to keep sailing, and others are saying we should just stay here. I think the majority have voted to stay here and conquer this untamed land.  I have been looking at the maps in the Captain’s Cabin.”

   Amanda sucked in her breath.  “You went in there? I thought…”

Paul held up his hand.  “Don’t worry. I asked if the Captain would mind if I took a look at the maps.  Any how, I was looking and from where he says we are, we are miles and miles away from where we were supposed to go.”

    “What will we do, Paul? I mean, do you think we have many more days until we can build houses and move off of the ship?”

   “Days?” Paul snorted.  “More like months.  It will be a long time until we are able to build.…. For one thing, it is too cold. The ground is frozen solid. We couldn’t dig proper holes to put support beams in.”

    Amanda clasped her hands together and licked her lips.  Her heart started beating a little faster and she felt somewhat dizzy at the thought.. no, surely not, but then again…

   “Paul, you don’t mean… surely you can’t mean….”

“That we will stay on this horrid ship? Yes, I do mean that.”

   “But Paul! We can’t, we just can’t!  Mother has almost gone out of her wits keeping up with James, and Father is worried about who knows what…”  Amanda stopped when she noticed the look that passed over Paul’s face when she mentioned their father.

    “What, Paul? What is Father worried about?”

“It isn’t just Father, Mandy. All the men, and some women who know about it, are worried. Worried that we won’t have enough food.  They were working out stricter rationing plans this evening at the meeting.”

    Amanda clamped her hand over her mouth and stared wide-eyed at Paul.  Paul stared calmly back at her for a moment.

  “I suppose you shall suffer most, Paul.”  She smiled and giggled slightly at the thought, but quickly sobered again.

   “What will everyone do?”

“Amanda? Amanda where are you?”

   Amanda sighed.  “That would be mother. I best go help.”  She stood to leave.  Paul stood and opened the door for her, then followed her out.

   “I will see you later,” he called as he went in another direction.

January 15^th, 1621

    The weather hasn’t changed much.  It is so cold that we are wearing almost all of our clothes to keep alive.  This of course means that we cannot wash, not that there is any water to wash with any way.  The constant spray of sea water that hits us everyday doesn’t help either.  Any time I enter our small sleeping cabin I gag at the smell. However, we learn to live with it. I suppose it is better to stink with everyone instead of stinking by yourself. Still…

    We have been put on stricter food and water rations. Quite honestly I haven’t the slightest idea if we will survive.  Five more people have died. I almost cannot bear it. To have some one die every three or four days is awful. Little James got dreadfully ill and both Mother and I lost plenty of sleep taking care of him. Even when we could sleep, we didn’t for worrying over him.  He seems to be pulling through, but he is so weak and frail now. I suppose hard stale bread is good for his teething, though.

Amanda held her diary open for a few moments to let the ink dry before shutting it.  Replacing it in her secret hiding place for it, she ventured out onto the boat.  Land was just right there and yet they couldn’t get out onto it. Only the men who went on scouting parties could do that. It was too dangerous, they said, for women to go along.  Paul had been longing to go, but was also denied as he was still rather young.  Secretly Amanda was glad.  Only one week ago the scouting party had had a run in with Indians and had lost two men.  She hated the thought of Paul being put in those dangers.

    Leaning over the railing Amanda breathed in the air.  She loved the fresh salty smell, but not when it was sitting on clothes for days on end.

   “Hey! Stay away from the rail!”  A nearby sailor shouted at her.

“Sorry!” Amanda moved away from the rail and wandered around a bit.  Finding a large coil of rope, she first sat on it, then noticed she could fit inside. Why, it was big enough to two small people.  She looked around, saw no one was watching, then hopped in.  It was a little warmer there, being blocked from the wind and all. 

   Amanda leaned her head against the rope and closed her eyes.  She was so very tired. Tired and hungry. She had never known hunger before. Although she didn’t eat much, she did get her fill, or used to any way.

    “Good morning, sleepy head.”

Amanda’s eyes flew open as she started.  Looking up, she saw Paul’s mischievous black eyes and boyish face looking down at her.

   In a moment he had climbed in beside her.  “Well, not bad. So, will this get added to your list of hiding places?”

    Amanda smiled.  “The fact that my hiding places are always getting ruined means that I never have a list, and you know it.”

  “Well, I suppose hiding behind crates that you knew would eventually get moved wasn’t the brightest idea in the world, if that is what you mean.”

    Amanda playfully smacked his arm.  “Paul Roberts, I don’t know what I will do with you.”  She frowned when she heard a strange noise.  “What in the world was that?” She whispered.

   “My stomach, what else?”

She covered her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.  “Poor Paul, starving yet again. Oh, I do wish we weren’t on rations, but I know we must. I hate this horrid ship dreadfully.  I feel caged in. Three months wasn’t so bad, especially since I knew I couldn’t go any where. We were surrounded by water.  But when land is only a few feet away, it is almost unbearable. I wish we were off this horrid, horrid ship!” She breathed deeply to calm herself.  At least the biting wind helped to cool her burning cheeks.

   “Paul, do you remember when we first set out on this journey?”

“Of course I do! How could I forget. Most exciting day of my life, you know.”

    “Even when you knew you were leaving your friends?”

“Well, that was hard, but I was excited about starting a new life in the New England Colonies.”

     “But, what if.. what if we don’t survive long enough to build houses to live in?”

“Well, we didn’t exactly know this would happen, so I didn’t think much about it.”

     “I remember all the flowers Holland had. All those tulips.”  Amanda breathed in as if she were smelling the fresh scent of those tulips right there.

    “I miss all the color.  All the people in Holland wore such lovely clothes!  I do wish we didn’t have to wear such drab colors.”  She sighed as she smoothed her brown skirt over her knees.

     “I suppose, being a girl, that you would worry about colors of clothes.  Well, to be honest, I kind of liked it myself. I wouldn’t mind going around in a green jacket and sky blue waist coat.” Paul chuckled, stuck his thumbs in his vest and acted like a very highly stationed man.  Amanda, once again, had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

    Paul put his arms down and looked seriously at her.  “What else do you remember?”

Amanda closed her eyes and leaned back, imagining she was standing on the threshold of their Holland home, looking out over the lovely fields of tulips.  She could almost feel the fresh scented breeze playing with her dark brown hair as if it wanted to pull it out of the strict braids, which were commonly worn by girls her age, and let it blow freely.

     Younger children were playing in the field of corn just a little ways off, and Paul was with a group of older boys playing kick ball.

    Amanda herself was standing next to her friend, Brenda.

“Brenda,” She had said. “I do believe this is the happiest day of my life.  Everything is almost perfect.”

     Brenda had only smiled, nodded her agreement, and squeezed Amanda’s hand she was holding.

    It was that night that Amanda and Paul found out they would be sailing away from Holland and go live in the New England Colonies.  Amanda had been dumbfounded.  She had heard this sort of talk going around, but she never paid much attention to it, supposing it to only be disgruntled men speaking their opinions.  Paul had been ecstatic.

    The next month was filled with cooking, baking, canning, sewing, packing, and all other sorts of things.  Amanda had never worked so hard in her life.  Her poor diary had suffered with no entries for that whole month, for she was too tired to write in the evening and didn’t have time to during the day.

     Then suddenly everyone was hugging and saying good bye to friends and family that were to be left behind, and then everyone was on the ship.  Amanda had waved and waved to Brenda for as long as she could while tears coursed down her cheeks.  Brenda was brave enough to smile for as long as Amanda could see her face so that she could carry the memory with her forever.

      When the docks were just barely visible, Amanda let sobs pour out of her very being.  She was grateful to Paul for comforting her.  He had come up, dropped an arm around her shoulders, and said nothing.  He knew exactly what she needed when she was like this.  Paul was so very good to her. She was thankful, oh so very thankful, that he was coming along. Several families had to be split up. Mostly the older children were left behind with friends or relatives.  Amanda was so frightened she would be left behind too, but Father and Mother made sure all three of their children were on board the ship when it sailed.

      Amanda opened her eyes and saw that Paul had just about fallen asleep.

“Paul, wake up, you goose! It is the middle of the day.” She shook his shoulder.  He roused for a moment and looked at her.  Amanda’s hands went cold and clammy as she noticed a strange look in his eyes.  That same look that all the other dead passengers had gotten right before they were seriously ill.

   “Paul? Paul speak to me, please!”  Amanda shook his shoulder again.

“I’m… ok…Mandy,” He said slowly, right before a spasm of coughing shook his whole frame.

    “How long have you been coughing?” Amanda asked trying to help him stand.

“It started three…. Days ago.”  He coughed again. Amanda had to hold on to him to keep him from falling over.  “But it has.. never been this bad…”

     “Come, I will help you to get to your bunk. You just need some rest. I suppose you haven’t gotten enough sleep, what with all the exploring and running around that you do.”  She tried to speak cheerfully as she clambered over the tall coil of rope they had been hiding in.  She was trying to help Paul over it when he slipped and fell.  Amanda started panicking. He couldn’t be getting this weak already, could he?  It seemed to take others a long time until they were weak enough to stay in bed.  However, she had heard the doctor say that it could come as quickly as the storms they had faced out on the Atlantic.  One moment the day was beautiful, the next a large, dark, menacing storm was threatening to crush the ship with it’s fury.

    “Help! Some body, please help me!”  Amanda called out, coming close to screaming. A nearby sailor and a few passengers rushed over.

   “Oh, please help him. He is too weak to stand.”   A sailor grabbed Paul and lifted him over the coil as if he were a small bag of flour. 

   “No wonder he can’t stand, he’s light as a feather.”  The sailor motioned for Amanda to lead the way to their cabin as he followed with Paul in his arms.

January 19^th, 1621

   Paul has been so very ill. He seems to be recovering one day, and then gets worse the next.  I have heard the doctor telling Mother and Father that he may not have much longer. Oh, I cannot bear the thought of Paul dying!  He has been such a good brother to me. I dread the thought of them sending him to his watery grave. 

   Life is terrible here! Why did we ever come? I hate it here and I wish we could go back.  Dear Holland would be so much better than this, even with it’s restraints. We had a good life there, why can’t we go back? I hate this horrid ship. I hate the sickness that surrounds us and takes so many lives. I hate everything about this new country. So many are ill that there is hardly anyone to attend a Sunday service. What was the point of coming here, if not to die?

   

Amanda set her pen down, let the ink dry on the page, then slammed the book shut.  She hated life here.  She stood and paced to the little window in the small hut.  She had been talk that this was the sailor’s cabin.  In bad storms, sailors, or passengers, could run to shelter here until they got a better chance to get in the hull.  Sailors, of course, stayed on top to see things went well, but some could come in to get out of the weather for just a bit to catch their breath.

    Amanda remembered the storm that they had gone through.  As soon as any storm started to threaten to burst, all the women went down stairs to the cramped cabin.  Once, Amanda had hidden in one of her secret places and then crept out once no one would notice her.  She might have gotten thrown overboard if a sailor didn’t catch her peeping out from around some crates then told her to get down into the hull. 

   Paul had somehow stayed up on deck without being seen.  He then later related the whole thing to Amanda.  She loved it when Paul told stories. He was so good at painting vivid pictures into the listener’s mind.

   Now Amanda frowned.  Perhaps he would no longer be able to tell any stories.  If he was going to die soon, what was she to do? Poor James would never know his wonderful older brother!

   Amanda rushed out the door, flew down the steps, and entered the small bunk cabin.  Her Mother was there, sitting by Paul’s bed keeping his head cool with a wet cloth.

  “Here, Mother, let me take a turn.”  Amanda offered, anxious to be by her brother’s side for as long as she could.

    Mother smiled gratefully and got up.  She wrapped a warm shawl about her and headed out to get some fresh air up on deck.

    Amanda gently rewet the cloth, wrung it, and patted Paul’s face. 

His eyes fluttered open and he smiled softly when he recognized her.  “I thought I knew that gentle touch.”  He said, almost in a whisper.

   “I’m here Paul.  Do you need a drink?”  He nodded so Amanda fetched a glass and poured out the tiny bit of water that was rationed out daily.

   After Paul had had just enough to wet his throat, Amanda sat down again and held his hand.

    “So, I here they say I won’t make it,” intense coughing followed this statement.

“Yes, Paul, they are.” Amanda said with a slight tremor in her voice.

Paul smiled at her and squeezed her hand.  “Don’t worry, Mandy. I will make it through.”  he coughed again.  Amanda watched as his whole frame was wracked with the motion. 

    Tears started coursing down her cheeks.  “Oh Paul! I am so sorry, so sorry you have to suffer like this.”  She bent her head down and let the tears flow.

    “Mandy, look at me.”  Amanda slowly raised her head and brown eyes looked into the sunken ones.  Even in their dullness, there was a slight twinkle coming from the depths.

     “Mandy, I don’t mind being sick.  I’m actually thankful I am.”  Mandy opened her eyes in surprise.  “Means I get a little more to eat. But honestly, it has taught me patience. I used to get frustrated waiting on other sick folks, and here I am receiving tender and gentle care without a word of complaint passing from either yours or Mother’s lips.”  A violent cough forced him to stop for a moment. Then he paused a little longer to catch his breath.  “Thank you,” was all he could manage. 

   “Rest, Paul, and get better. I will stay here, so if you need anything…”

Paul closed his eyes and soon his labored breathing filled the room.

February 21^st, 1621

    The funeral was held today.  Two men, three woman, and one baby. We all stood together on the deck watching the procession to the shores.  Now that the weather has been turning a little warmer, they have been able to dig graves to bury the coffins instead of rowing them out to sea.

   Paul, who is now almost his old self, and I watched it with the most solemnity, but him more than me, I think.  I was so sure he was going to die, but the Lord has been merciful.

   I used to hate this horrid ship. I used to hate this new land, but somehow I feel differently about it all now. Now I am grateful. Grateful that we were able to make this journey over to this new country as I now see that it will be much better.  Grateful that Paul is living. I believe the Lord has taught me one of the greatest lessons in my life. To be content with what I have, thankful for it, and to not covet those around me and things I cannot have. Perhaps this journey wasn’t just a journey on a ship, but my own personal journey as well.

So, there ya have it! What do you think?  Did I scare you with her last journal entry? This was definitely new for me. Not the short story part, but the way I wrote it.  I have never written something where I used journal/diary entries but for this, that was the only thing I could think of to help the time pass in the story.  Instead of saying in every other paragraph "5 weeks later" or trying to include that in a sentence so people weren't confused, is somewhat difficult for me.  I have to say that I like how it turned out, but I suppose that sounds like a prideful writer!! Any way, please, please, PLEASE give me your thoughts/suggestions/etc. I am trying to learn and want as much help/suggestions as I can get!

I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving filled with the Lord's blessings!

In Christ's Service,