Rambling

I'm up early this morning. I can't sleep during these final chapters of the book. I don't know about other writers, but for me, this is the hardest place in a book's life to see to fruition. The beginning is easy. I get an idea and start putting the words on paper. The middle is basically a fleshing out of the original idea, but the end. The end is the culmination of all the months, and in my case years, of working on a story. The end has to tie all the ideas together and make the reader sigh with contentment. It's a tragedy, indeed, to read a book and think, "What an awful ending." I'm now on page 295--not that pages are that important, but again, too long and the book begins to drag, readers become bored and don't finish the book and then they don't want to read anymore books by the boring author!

The Bible study went well on Monday. Unlike me, some people just don't show emotion. I'm one of those people who dance and sing when I'm happy, I tell people what I think when I love them, I'm extremely transparent. I think my friend has a bit of a problem showing her emotions, but we're working on it. She smiles some now, which is a very good thing. I asked her if she liked the study and Beth Moore and she just sadi, "Yeah." Of course, if you're new to Bible study with Ms. Moore, and she is, Beth can be overwhelming. She speaks my language of excitement and raw energy, though, so for me, I was in my element the first time I heard her.

Gramma is still hanging on to life. I find it incredible. No food to speak of. Pain medicine and no other, yet she refuses to stop breathing. What a constitution! I hope those genes have been passed on to moi.

I got a call from my Daddy's brother yesterday. My aunt is going to have surgery tomorrow and they give her a 50/50 chance of surviving. This is not an extremely good time to be one of my relatives.

Daddy seems to be slipping some physically. He sleeps sound during the day. I can walk in and he doesn't even stir. It's a little disconcerting. My heart stops while I check to make sure he's breathing. He's more breathless when he stirs. He's eating okay. He eats the same exact thing for breakfast, corn flakes with milk and Mtn Dew. Then during the day he snacks on chocolate-covered graham crackers. For supper he has one of three things: A double cheese burger, plain, from MickeyD's, a roast beef from Arby's or a hot dog from Chez Ma Casa. His taste buds must have gone into permanent hibernation.

He's not wandering around so much anymore. Thank You, Dear Jesus. He complains about the noise we make in the morning in the kitchen. Now, you have to realize, his bedroom is right off the kitchen and he sleeps til 10:30 and 11:00 in the morning. I try to be quiet, but...well, let's just say I try.

A friend of my mothers sent me a memorandum from a national bridge players book yesterday. I had another good cry. They are becoming less frequent now, but the last few days the hole in my heart left from her departure is huge. Just when I think it's closing, I look down and see fresh blood oozing from the wound. Death is a painful reminder that we are a long way from home, aliens in this land with a job to do until we are united once and for all with our Christ.

Sometimes I'm reminded of salmon. There are a lot of us swimming the same way on a journey for the good of the species and yet we are so all alone in the direction our one path takes. Only one fish can occupy one space at any given time. His ultimate goal, nay, responsibility? To lay down his one life for the survival of the many. It's all about sacrifice. Jesus paid it all so should we.

Gotta go. Gotta get back to the grindstone.

Peace be to you all who happen across this path during your ramblings here on earth. Welcome. Enjoy the journey. I pray your stay freshened you, encouraged you and you maybe had a chance to take a detour to get a bite of Bread. So now you leave energized and ready for the next adventure. Godspeed, Mon Amis!