Through words and pictures, we walk the winding trails of the untamed west. As a Wyoming Christian author, I breathe the beauty around me, transferring it to paper. I dare all to take the leap into God's country. Learn of its untold stories and reveal for yourself . . . where the wild meets the Forgiven.
As I roll over and struggle to turn my alarm clock
off, I rebel against the rising sun. I bury my head under the covers. The pain
shoots through my body and I wonder how I can face the day.
2 Corinthians 1:7
“And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our
sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.”
The shower pours over me and I start to feel a
little more human. I lather my hair and the smell of lavender fills the air. As
I stand under the spray, I close my eyes to let the heat seep into my bones.
“The LORD will guide you continually, And satisfy your soul in drought, And
strengthen your bones; You shall be like a watered garden, And like a spring of
water, whose waters do not fail.”
I study my reflection in the bathroom
mirror while I dry my hair. The shadows under my eyes are less prominent this
morning. I slept a little better last night. My new bed is a definite plus.
I walk into the kitchen to see my
husband who’s making my lunch. In a heartbeat, I see I’m not the only one in
pain. I stand at the breakfast bar like a ship lost at sea. Do I tell him how I
feel? Do I ask him how he is? Oh, Lord, what do I say this morning?
“Pleasant words are like a honeycomb, Sweetness to the soul and health to
I take a deep breath, “Hi, honey, thanks for
making my lunch.” He smiles and I feel a weight lift from my shoulders. My
husband has a wonderful smile. I really needed to see that this morning.
Gathering my stuff, I move around the bar and feel
his arms enfold me in a hug. He zips my lunch bag closed and hands it to me.
“Have a good day, I love you,” he says.
“Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write
them on the tablet of your heart.”
Punching the garage door opener, I climb in
my car. I blink the tears away and back out, avoiding the pickup in the
driveway. Yes, I still hurt but it doesn’t matter so much anymore. I remember
that smile and know I can make it through another day.
Falling Rock: A Short Story Once upon a time, in a small Indian
village, a brave warrior called Falling Rock fell in love with the chief’s daughter. She returned
his love and they went before the chief to ask for permission to wed. “You
say you love my daughter. Is this true?” The old chief looked to his youngest
daughter, the most beautiful of his children. “Yes,
Father. He loves me and I love him. Please let us marry.” Her small hands
grasped his gnarly ones and he narrowed his beady eyes at the warrior. “What
do you have to offer for this union, young warrior?” He
watched as the bravery seemed to seep out of the man at his question. “I
have nothing, my chief. I do not own any animals or fancy cloth. I can offer my
service and my loyal protection.” His black eyes met the daughter’s. “To you
and yours for the rest of my days.” “I
have that already, my man. I wish you to complete me a task. If you are
successful, you will have permission to marry my daughter. Do you agree?” The
stage… Raving Lunacy I search
every hidden realm in the computer for my lost words.I dig into the recycle bin, the hard drives,
the documents and picture files looking for the elusive data.No bits or bytes are to be found.Strands of hair fall by my chair and unkind
words caress the ceiling.My husband
listens to the moans and groans for a little while then asks the one question
I do not want to hear.
"Did you save
DID I SAVE THEM?Of course, I saved them!I always
save them!What kind of an airheaded
writer does NOT save their work?Do I
look like an airheaded writer?NO!Of course not, that is because I SAVE MY
WORK!(I did say raving lu…