Winter Irony

Barren branches against a pregnant sky,

Rustling leaves only sigh.

 

Soft flakes fall upon a hard ground,

In multitudes—without a sound.

 

Frozen blanket of icy snow,

Warm the burrows of those below.

 

Chilled bones hinder the will,

Yet glories roam the landscape still.

 

Ponder beauty from above,

As echoes mirror ancient love.

 

Unwelcoming winter may be,

Bringing joy, our eyes to see.

 

Ironic season of buried dreams,

Awakens our souls to hope unseen.

 

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Coming in 2018…

OldEarth ARAM Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd00

The Million Faceted Crystal

Guest Post: By T. E. Frailey: A Young Person’s Vision

morning sunshine (2)In Charles Dickens’ Tale of Two Cities, Chapter Three, entitled: The Night Shadows, he wrote, “A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it! Something of the awfulness, even of Death itself, is preferable to this.”

Dickens struck upon an integral characteristic of humanity, that every beating heart is the greatest quandary to its companions. The uniqueness of each human person far exceeds the design of a thumbprint. The human person (ration animal or not) is a mystery that would take, I think, an eternity to unravel.

Dickens’ words strike a deep chord in me. The fact that we can see only through our own eyes is a somewhat mind-boggling consideration. The image of a city at night, filled with tens of thousands of unique hearts, paints a spectacular image. It makes me think of the human heart as a diamond, or crystal, with a million facets. We show particular faces to particular people. But when all is said and done, even our best friend will, at times, still marvel at the mystery of who we are.

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Historical Fiction

ARAM http://amzn.to/2lTHVXR

Ishtar’s Redemption http://amzn.to/2kHKLtN

Neb the Great http://amzn.to/2kS1Ylm

Georgios I—Hidden Heritage http://amzn.to/2lscPWg

Georgios II—A Chosen People http://amzn.to/2lTK0mu

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Ringshttp://amzn.to/2lWBd00

The Adventures of Tally-Ho

Tally Ho spread 1_smWhile my husband was alive, we came up with a great idea to write a story based on the wonder of raising our kids in the country.  It seemed so right, like an apostolate. We knew we had been blessed in a mighty way, and that God had guided us to our little home and helped us to learn the amazing skills needed to garden and manage a mini-farm.  John took to homesteading like a fish to water.  Other homeschool dads used to call him “Our Amish Paul Bunyan.” So, it felt natural to share our joy and success with others. I wrote stories based on what we did every day: meals, working our little garden, nurturing nature, loving kids…loving God. John was going to create the illustrations since he had a wonderful knack for drawing.  Except he couldn’t.  Leukemia intervened, and that success was put off…forever it seemed.

After he passed away, I felt tugged to see our project through to completion.  But how? God has ways. I’m not sure if John was whispering in anyone’s ear, but somehow or another I met up with a wonderful illustrator who knew exactly what we had imagined. She put her talents to work, and the story unfolded better than I had imagined. It’s been published under the title: The Adventures of Tally-Ho. Tally-Ho was what John called our fourth daughter because she loved to gallop around the house on her imaginary horse. How we used to laugh about that.  What a wonder imagination brings to life!

As I state in the dedication to the story, John’s love made the stories true.  His vision is what made our real-life family possible.  As I contemplate the finished product, I wonder what God will do with this little book.  Surely, He has a plan. I very much doubt that it has anything to do with making money.  I pray it has something to do with loving families.

So Tally-Ho, like a new kid on the block, is finding its way in the world. I pray that it will be a light and joy to souls.  Perhaps it will be a vision of what might be…a hope, a dream, a longing that yearns to be fulfilled. Real dreams don’t die…they grow.

I think John would agree.

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Historical Fiction

ARAM http://amzn.to/2lTHVXR

Ishtar’s Redemption http://amzn.to/2kHKLtN

Neb the Great http://amzn.to/2kS1Ylm

Georgios I—Hidden Heritage http://amzn.to/2lscPWg

Georgios II—A Chosen People http://amzn.to/2lTK0mu

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Ringshttp://amzn.to/2lWBd00

Simple Summer

flowers in AugustI’m sitting outside on the back porch, while Merry, the cat—a poor injured stray we saved—is sitting at my feet doing what cats do…resting and checking out the world whenever the mood hits. The pine trees sway in a gentle breeze while white, fluffy clouds sail serenely overhead.  We’ve had a lot of rain lately, so everything is green and gorgeous. A red rose in a nearby pot practically glows against the backdrop of pine trees. Various summer flowers bloom in their summertime brilliance. Flies and bees and a little jumping spider have also made an appearance. The chicks, still in the brooder house waiting for their outdoor pen are running about, trying their wings as they learn that the ground cannot hold them bound.

The awesome beauty of this summer day, the chirping multitude: sparrows, red-wing blackbirds, robins, cardinals, and cooing doves, the laughter of young children at play, the haunting melody played by one of the girls at the piano, rustling waves of breezes cascading over the fields of corn and beans all work together, creating a pallet of beauty that any artist would envy.

When I considered what to write on my blog today, no words would come.  Yet as I sit here surrounded by simple summer, I find I do not need words—just eyes and ears and a heart willing to believe that this is real.

When the winter winds blow, the sky laden with grey clouds and the birds silenced in their nests, I will remember this day. The yellow buttercups, the red rose, the buzzing bees will live in my heart and imagination. Even in my dreams, I will remember this day, and no matter the clouds or the cold and the barren waste of winter, summer will yet live.

A World Worth Saving

rainbow 3Recently, I read that there have been several cases where surrogate mothers discovered that they were carrying babies with downs syndrome and they were told to abort their babies by the biological parents, but they refused and decided to keep the babies.  I have also read, that Richard Dawkins believes that it is immoral to allow a “Downs Syndrome baby” to come to term. Notice, for him, the syndrome comes first, not the humanity of the baby.  For him, abortion is the only moral option.  I have to wonder at this current attitude in face of the barbaric cruelty of ISIS. After all, they believe that killing infidels is the only moral option.  Sometimes, those infidels are little children.

The other day, as I was walking with my son in the late evening, mourning over the recent gruesome tragedies inflicted by ISIS,  my son asked me how come it was gruesome for ISIS to behead men women and children, but there was little moral outrage when babies in the womb were dismembered and beheaded.  Abortion is every bit as violent as ISIS, but it is funded by US tax dollars.  Millions of babies have been brutally murdered through abortion in the last thirty years. It is so horrifically common it seems to slip by people’s conscious thought.  Every day in the US we basically behead innocent babies.

This leads me back to the eugenics movement to rid the world of people with Downs Syndrome.  I find it interesting that Christians and Downs Syndrome children are especially targeted for extermination.  Why is that? The people I have known with Downs Syndrome, and the parents who care for them, tend to be very happy people.  In fact, one mother  I know who recently lost her adult daughter with downs syndrome to cancer told me that her daughter was the best gift she ever had.  Her daughter taught her to love in a way she had never experienced before. Clearly, people with Downs Syndrome are still people.  Just like Christians are still people, even though they may not believe what ISIS believes.  Yet in both cases, there are those who would convince the world that we all would be better off without them.  Their kind.  Their influence. What is the danger exactly? Are they hurting anyone?  Are they aggressively trying to take over the world?  No, they just ask something of us that perhaps we do not want to give. People with Downs Syndrome ask for an unconditional love, which they more often than not, fully return. Christians ask for a sacrificial love, which, when lived as Christ lived, is also fully returned.

So I have to ask myself – what are we saving the world from? Love?  Perhaps we need to wonder less if we are saving the world, but rather, are we making a world worth saving.

Mortal Eyes

autumn11There’s life and then there’s life…. When I read a powerful book, I feel like I get the value, meaning, purpose, and passion of life’s struggle better than when I am just doing the ordinary duties of the day.  The kids and I are currently reading Anne Of Green Gables, a story where the author draws out the fantastic elements of the ordinary. Her descriptions of a sunrise and sunset allow you to see the grandeur of the moment. I see through her eyes more powerfully than my own.  When reading a What if… story like Flowers for Algernon, I understand the value of a human soul a little better.  Strange?  Perhaps it is because writers try to see what is lost in the glare of “ordinary.”  They try to recover what we forget to notice. We all have the potential of a good writer, if not to put things down on paper, at least to look again and see what is before us with new and vivid appreciation.

Well trained actors do much the same.  They take real life, act it out, play it up, and help us to see what is right in front of us. Authentic writers and actors can help the blind see and the deaf hear.  Life is meant to be lived passionately, but it takes skill and determination to do that. Occasionally, we can be pulled from the ordinary into the extraordinary and reminded that there is more to us than we see with our mortal eyes.

Joy and the Art of Contentment

IMG_0273 (2)Blagobear in the flowersToo often I find that I am waiting for this or that to happen, and then I’ll give myself permission to be happy and know true contentment.  Time passes and I get things on my to-do list finished just in time to fill up another list. It is like the laundry, I have finally accepted the fact that the laundry is never really done – it is just a cycle that goes around and around and around. But life is more than laundry or jobs or things that must be dealt with. If that is all God wanted from us then He would have done better to make us robots.  But he didn’t. He risked everything by giving us free will which allows us to know Him intimately or reject Him utterly. God is willing to live with us and die for us. That truth makes my particular to-do list rather insignificant by comparison.

Don’t get me wrong. I love to achieve results: keep the house clean, teach the kids, organize and plan with the best of home-schooling mothers, but I know that the temptation to work without reference to the God who made me is very great. I end up thinking that disasters like a spoiled dinner, a ruined shirt, or a torn book make the world a little less good. Or when I set goals that are not achieved as quickly as I would like, the sun doesn’t seem to shine so brightly. Yet God exists even when real disasters strike and I can always love Him.  In that acceptance, I feel a joy of contentment because my worth is not based on a thing or a result but on the desire of my God who made me on purpose for some definite good.

So, I once again sally forth to take a walk, listen to the birds, feel the gentle breeze, and thank Him, knowing He is mine as I am His. Life—with all its arduous details and never-ending to-do lists—is good.