pondering | The Writings of A. K. Frailey

https://open.spotify.com/episode/5JycYwduHmtIRprP2BM45p

Elves and Wood Folk live here. In a late summer morning, birds chirping, crickets humming, green leaves languidly swaying, bushes blooming, hens wandering sedately across the yard—queens of their private domain—and my world is blessed.

I do not trouble my soul with questions on such a morning. I breathe deep and trust in God. That is enough.

Imagination rules over all the troubles of life, and hope lights the path for yet another day.

Yesterday, I was in this same space, but not at peace. My heart ached with the knowledge that my father could hardly speak and will likely never truly speak to me again.

I took my newest college kid to get a required vaccine for a disease I do not understand and cannot see the end of.

My youngest daughter needed blood tests for a strange loss of bone that no one yet understands.

A massive insect attack, sweltering heat, and thunderstorms charged across the land.

Memories of lost loved ones twisted my heart into knotted strings.

I faced a flat line where book sales were supposed to be after a vigorous book sale effort.

I spoke with a gentleman suffering from many losses, who comforted me with the story of Job, a sufferer relieved of despair only after he prayed for his friends.

Together we mourned, and together we prayed.

That made all the difference.

Today, I celebrate my second son’s 24^th birthday.

I make ready books and materials for a new school year starting Monday.

A cool breeze and falling yellow leaves warm my soul in light of autumn’s coming glory days.

I celebrate the Life of God with my community knowing full well that not everyone shares the same understanding, but we all long for meaning beyond chaos.

In a wonderfully imaginative picture my middle daughter painted for her brother, set amid the many gifts each sibling gave to their treasured friend, I caught, once again, the spirit of enthusiasm that had all but died yesterday.

An elven figure danced in a wooded glen, whistling a merry tune.

There is life beyond what these eyes can see.

Oh, God of the Universe, when we humans lose our true treasure in the midst of daily toil, fighting the trolls and ghouls of grief and despair, send a gentle breeze in a flowered glen—be it in sight, scent, touch, tune, taste, or pure imagination.

Remind us of Your glory. The Wonder that makes our weary love live anew.

Books by A. K. Frailey

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend Novels

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter https://amzn.to/3iGqGlQ

OldEarth Georgios Encounter https://amzn.to/3v7w8oI

OldEarth Melchior Encounter (In Production)

Science Fiction Novels

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

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

Short Stories

It Might Have Been—And Other Short Stories https://amzn.to/2XXdDDz

Encounter Science Fiction Short Stories & Novella https://amzn.to/3dq6q5l

Inspirational Non-Fiction

My Road Goes Ever On—Spiritual Being, Human Journey https://amzn.to/2KvF3Ll

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings https://amzn.to/3rtAy6S

Children’s Book

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

Poetry

Hope’s Embrace & Other Poems https://amzn.to/3cn22X8

Photo https://pixabay.com/de/illustrations/wald-nacht-fantasie-berge-b%c3%a4ume-6105455/

Poison ivy, phone issues, a leaky sink, and tenacious weeds could have ruined my week. Lucky for me—life is bigger than bad moments, and free will is the true test of love.

There is an old oak tree that stands on the edge of our property, and every time I pass by, I offer a nod of respect and a prayer to the Maker of beauty and growing things. I’d noticed, of late, that several of the branches have died, reaching out like gnarly arms with not a stitch of clothing. Tracing the trunk with my gaze, I discovered that ivy vines had twirled around and were sucking the life from the ancient arboreal glory. So, I did the decent thing—got a pair of clippers and set it free from their death grip.

I didn’t notice any change at first. But the next day, the attacking vines on the tree drooped and the skin on my legs blistered.

AT&T kindly informed me with emails and text messages that they were doing upgrades, and my current phone was going out of business. Originally, I thought I had till 2022 to deal with the issue. Eons of time. Or not. Yesterday, I got a text message telling me exactly what disaster would happen (I’d only be able to dial 911 or 611—suggesting that from then on disasters would be my only option) if I didn’t switch to the new phone that they had sent me soon. I quickly set my tech-ready son to work.

Within the hour neither phone worked. I was Bilbo frantically patting his pockets for his ring!

Since it is summer, we have a garden. And lots of tasty things grow there. Including cucumbers. As wonderful as five cucumbers are, thirty-five can sit on the counter with an air of accusation: “What you gonna do now, eh?” So, I cleaned some canning jars, scrubbed the pot, added vinegar, water, and spices and tromped downstairs with visions of pickles dancing in my head.

Then I was hit with an atrocious stink. I looked around for a dead animal. Nope. Then I peered under the sink to the pipes I repaired last month.

There is a reason I have our plumber on speed dial.

The driveway and I have an agreement—the rocks stay put, and I drive cars over them. Unfortunately, no one told the weeds. Or they just aren’t listening. I have tried pathetic little weed killer spray bottles and got two-tenths of a millimeter cleared at a time. The other day, I saw a guy spraying his driveway with what looked like herbicidal big-guns. Normally, I avoid chemicals of all kinds. But enough is enough. I’ll need all-terrain drive soon to get into the garage if I don’t take action. So, I went to Rural King’s garden section and got a big bottle of something. I soon discovered that not all killers are the same. Helps to read the label.

My point? You’re very generous in reading this far in expectation that I have a point.

There happens to be medicine for poison ivy rash, and the itch goes away in time. The old oak will live another day and whispers thank you as I pass. My tech-magic kid calmed my racing heart when he got the new phone working, even transferring my contacts, thus the Earth continued to revolve around the sun. The plumber scheduled a date to fix the sink. I did get the cucumbers pickled, in case that was on your mind. For the driveway, I discovered the right tool for the job—a spray actually invented for the sole purpose of clearing out grass and weeds! And some people say that there aren’t miracles any more.

As I contemplated the reversals of the week—for good and evil—I realize once again, that freedom makes a big difference. In a true act of love, God gave me a will of my own. In a titled world of blisters, lost connections, broken pipes, and nefarious weeds, I get to choose how to handle each and every one.

And I’ve decided that my life is bigger—and better—than the bad moments.