Showing posts with label worries. Show all posts
Showing posts with label worries. Show all posts

Friday 27 October 2017

Did the Twins Miss Each Other?


Excerpt from the Upcoming book Emily and Alice Margaret lifted anxious eyes to the sky. Lord, what am I supposed to do, she cried inwardly. The sky looked innocent enough, a few cottony clouds floating by; they weren’t the cause of her turmoil. She wrung her hands in anguish then realized they were still stuck into her slightly shabby gardening gloves. With a sigh, Margaret dropped to her knees in the handkerchief-sized garden behind the tall Victorian style apartment and dug out a thistle. Her mind wasn’t on what she was doing. Soon the children would be home from school and she must be composed before then. But how could she be? She had been having a peaceful morning with her -turned-six year old but all changed. Alice had been chattering away about what they would do when David and Sally came home from school ‘for good’ and the holidays began in a few days. Margaret knew most of it was fanciful thinking but she liked listening to the lively little girl’s chatter, who wasn’t really her daughter but fostered. The happy mood continued over the noon hour. Alice didn’t protest being told to rest for a little while since they had walked earlier to the shops in downtown Halifax. It was after her nap the trouble started. “Mommy,” she called, “I had a dream.” A dream? a dream? Not one was funny or interesting or scary? Margaret went into the storage area, turned bedroom and pulled the shade up. The sunlight streamed across the rumpled bunk, single at the top and twinned at the bottom. Alice’s beautiful blue eyes drifted shut then she opened them again. “I dreamed I had a twin,” She stifled a yawn then sat up. Margaret’s heart clenched and she sat down beside the precious girl, reaching for her hand. “Care to tell me about it?” Alice leaned her head against her shoulder. “She was small, like me, and had red hair like me, but it wasn’t in curls like mine. She had two long braids. They f’opped over her shoulders an’ she got no bangs.” “You mean she didn’t get hurt?” Alice shook her head and touched her forehead. “No bangs like me,” she explained. Margaret felt the colour drain from her face. “Anything else?” “I was looking in a store window and she looked back at me.” Margaret was about to say it was her reflection but Alice wasn’t done. “She looked like me. She looked sad, we both did.” “ Why do you think you were sad?” Alice shrugged. “ I guess ‘cuz we didn’t know we were so close. Even our dresses were the same, “ Alice continued. “They were like my first day of school dress.” She bit her lip. “I think you called it a gingham. The green one.” Margaret swallowed but made herself respond. “’That’s interesting. Did you like dream?” Alice shrugged her shoulders. “Kinda. But kinda not.” “Why not?” Alice gazed into her mother’s warm brown eyes. “When I waked up I felt like crying. ” She flung her arms around her mother. “Mummy, I wish I had a twin!” Margaret stroked her daughters’ long, curly hair. “I think a lot of little girls dream of having a twin. I wanted a sister, badly, when I was a little tyke.” “But dream Mummy,” she looked up at her Mother again, “Like in sleep-time dream?” “That is strange, “ Margaret murmured, “Very strange.” As she twisted one of Alice’s shiny curls around her finger, there was a faraway look in her eyes, her cheeks were pale. Alice lay her head back on the pillow murmuring “I’m still sleepy, Mommy,” so Margaret tucked a light throw over her and said she would be in the garden. That was fifteen minutes ago and Margaret still wasn’t in control of her emotions. Deep down she knew why. With every passing month, no, week even, she felt condemned for not encouraging Marita to break the wall of silence between herself and Randall. Many times she had taken out paper and pen to write 'you must tell your husband Emily is a twin, you must get your daughter back,' but it was too hard, she couldn’t bear to let Alice go, and she knew the rest of the family would be devastated also. Davy had been tossing the ball up in the air on the way home from school and catching it with his gloved hand until he caught sight of Margaret with a watering can. She was sprinkling their elderly landlady’s petunia-lined walk. “Hi,
Mom.” “Hi Davy, how’s my boy?” “Fine.” I guess.” Oh no, Mom’s been crying. I wonder what happened. “Can I have a peanut butter sandwich?” “Of course, son. I meant to make some peanut butter cookies since I know you love them so much but it didn’t get done.” “That's okay,” Davy mumbled so low he doubted Margaret heard him. He kicked at a pebble on the cement sidewalk then glanced once more at his mother before turning the corner of the house and pounding up the stairs. “Davy, you scared me!” Alice’s giggle floated through the open kitchen window as Margaret put the trowel and watering can away. She was about to join her children in their hot, stuffy apartment but old Mrs Bentley poked her head out the back door and invited her in for a cup of tea, she couldn’t say no.

Tuesday 10 February 2015

Silly White Stuff


“Isn’t it ridiculous picking up this silly white stuff day after day?”
“Shh, you had better be careful what you say. God sent it. Would you rather be eating… eating, well who knows what and dying of thirst like our forefathers practically did before Moses struck the Rock?”
“Yes,” a younger voice piped up, “And he sure got in trouble for doing that. Now he won’t be able to go into the Promised Land.”
“Promised Land,” the first one scoffed. “We’ve been wandering in this desert for nearly twenty years already. Why, you and I and everyone else our age was born after they were shut out of that so called Promised Land.” Dinah huffed as she swung a big basket over her arm. “I’m getting a weeks’ supply of that manna. I’m sick and tired of gathering it every single day just because Mama is so sickly all the time.”
“Go ahead,” her friend Lilka scoffed, “You know what Moses warned us would happen. I’ve heard rumors it has already  in some other areas of ‘tent city’.
Twenty four hours passed. Same time same station as it were, the only difference was facial expressions, mostly, and of course the conversation had changed.
Dinah looked so sullen, or was it subdued, that Lilka and Josiah didn’t dare say a word to her.  They had observed her, from a distance mind you, trying to dispose of a whole week’s supply of moldy wormy manna and trying unsuccessfully not to throw up over the whole repulsive mess.

Dinah learned her lesson, have we to? God simply does not want us to gather too many worries for example. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

Some might wonder if I sit down at the beginning of every month and map out the topics I will be writing about for the next thirty days.
“ Nope, not a chance.”
“ Well, for the next week then?”

“ Uh uh.  Why bother, I want my manna (which comes from Heaven) fresh and new.” Give us our day our daily bread.  

Tuesday 23 December 2014

Seeking Shelter in a Cave

24 Chisleu
December 8th





I feel that my time is drawing nigh, and I am  anxious. It is
frightening to think of having my baby without my mother, or
a midwife, nearby. I am worried about the baby. What will happen if
He comes before we can move on to a better dwelling? This cave is not
clean enough!

Two of the wayfarers, a middle-aged couple, were cooperative and helped us out, but some of the others growled that they were here first, and were not at all inclined to be agreeable under such chilly weather conditions.

I fear they have been indulging too long in the wine that is red.

Oh, surely, surely Adonai, hallowed be His Name, will be with me during this difficult time. My every breath is a prayer that  Adonai will
protect His own Beloved Son and me.


By the dejected slope of, Yosef’s shoulders, I can sense that he feels
that he has somehow failed me and us. I must stop writing, now, and tell
him how warm and inviting it all looks by the light of the lamp. Surely
these stabbing pains will ease off now that I have a place to rest. It seems

 too soon for the little one to make His appearance.