An Ode to Lessons Learned

On Tuesday night, I joined my dear MIL as she attended a meeting for a local writing club. At first I was going because I wanted to spend some time with her, doing the things she liked and it was only a bonus that I enjoy a little writing myself. As it turned out, I was challenged and inspired. They were sharing their "odes" from the previous assigment, and I was privileged to be able to hear some of their work, especially my MIL's ode...it was my favorite. I decided that I would go home and write an ode, too.

Lately, the Lord has brought our miscarriage to mind through circumstances in lives of loved ones, and I remember the lessons He taught me as He carried me through that difficult time. So, I wanted to write my ode (which, I learned is often in the form of a poem) to the lessons I learned.

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An Ode to Lessons Learned

October would bring a joy to us,
baby #2.
Our hearts were filled with eagerness
but some fear and nervousness, too.

See Josefine was only
A fresh, young 9 month old.
And here, we would be welcoming
A new little one to hold?

Could I question God’s plan in this?
Could I trust Him to provide?
For the strength to give more sleepless nights,
I needed to survive.

But a Mother’s heart is born to give
And I knew that God would bless.
All I needed to do was trust,
And believe that His way is best.

Soon my fears gave way to joy,
eager to meet this one, so small.
Already my heart was part of this dream
And my flesh, part of this miracle.

But one day there was a trickle of blood,
A sign that something was wrong.
I prayed that this might be a fluke,
And it wouldn’t continue for long.

God seemed to have a different plan
And the bleeding continued for days.
Again I questioned if this could be
part of His perfect way.

The doctor told us that there was
“99% chance”
that this pregnancy wouldn’t work;
there was no way it could advance.

Then, I looked to God’s Word for guidance,
Sought His wisdom and His peace.
And realized that whatever the outcome,
His love for me would never cease.

But hope still lingered and faith was strong
That maybe…our baby could be alive.
I prayed with tears that the statistics were wrong.
Could this little one survive?

It struck me that prayer is a delicate thing,
You trust and yet you ask
For something that your heart so desires
For a life that would last.

March was the month that brought the answer,
we officially said good-bye
To hopes of an October baby.
Relief mingled with sadness, our mixed reply.

It wasn’t long before I saw
That what would really last
Was knowing that it was God’s goodness
That harbored me in the past.

His love would bring me comfort now,
Just as it had before,
When the storms of life would throw me down,
Leaving an open door...

To build my faith upon His Word
And believe that through all the pain,
He never will leave, nor forsake;
My loss is His glory’s gain.

Right Now...

• I'm eating a yummy gummy treat. Those after Halloween sales are super and I don't feel guilty for eating them because they are fruit snacks. Best of both worlds: Fruit and probably lotsa sugar.
• It's crazy cold out (just wait for the REAL winter) and windy and rainy and blegh. I don't want to have to wear a coat (even though the one I have is cutie pa-tootie).
• I'm trying to remember the do's and don'ts from my Cello lesson that just ended about 5 minutes ago. DO hold the bow correcty. Relax. DON'T hold the bow like and English woman drinking her tea (get that pinky down).
• I love my hubby because he got my watch battery replaced and left my now-ticking watch on the car steering wheel to surprise me. Aw.
• I wish I could think of something slightly more entertaining about which to fill you (and avoiding ending my senctences in a preposition - which sounds weird).
• I'm waiting for my ICL prof to get back to me on my latest story. I hope she thinks this one is actually publishable.
• I'm going to add the story to my post. It's called The Hidden Staircase Revealed. I had to describe a place from my childhood and I took the not-so-traveled road.

The Hidden Staircase Revealed


The air feels thick and heavy in the darkness that surrounds me. My eyes cannot adjust soon enough. The sound of skittering mice keeps my body from freezing – I cannot let the surprise of this new clue dumbfound me for long. The musty smell that has been boarded up for what seems years finally begins to creep up into my nostrils. The staircase above me is only a blur of dust, but what is behind is of no consequence. I need to investigate the newness ahead. I need to know the truth. I am greeted by one the most undesirable creatures; eight-legged and quick. The high-pitch that releases from my vocal chords echoes throughout the dark chamber before me. I can hear my heart beat loudly in the still, empty silence. I walk on – my heels slowly counting out the rhythm of my quest. Clunk, Ka-clunk, Ka-clunk. I reach out to touch the wall for balance and am repulsed by the slimy wetness that clings to it’s earthy surface. The stench of time enters my sinuses, then my stomach. I try to distract myself from becoming sick. Thoughts of victory over this mystery soon override this unpleasant experience.

I hear a voice. It crescendos lightly from faint to jolting in a matter of moments. “I’m telling on you!” The young girl’s voice, shaking in anger and disappointment, justifies her case. “It’s not your doll! It doesn’t belong to you! It’s my doll! Why did you do it?”

The musty air became breathable again and the darkness was swallowed by the overhead light. I hear a scream chased by sobs and whimpers. “Mom! Moooom!” Thump, thump, thump. Little determined feet dash up the stairs and the door slams, leaving the wall that faces me jittery from the activity.

The maternal mumble that floats through the vent over me is followed by silence again. And the dark, dank corridor I was investigating returns as a dream uninterrupted. I lift my flashlight higher. Searching, seeking for any evidence. My head still aches from the fall. A fall well worth it – this secret passageway may lead me to an explanation of the strange goings-on of the past.

Twists and turns accompany the pathway at angles no engineer could duplicate. The fear that was replaced with surprise now returns full-force. Are there really ghosts in here? Will I find the culprit and my father, too? My questions seem as jaunting as the pathway of the secret passage itself. The silence is my only answer.

Then, amidst the earthy smell that has now become my only companion, I notice a lingering scent – a delicious aroma. My sleuthing senses are perked up. I identify the new fragrance as pork chops – with garlic, and gravy, too. The glands in my jaw begin to tingle. A new voice joins in this jumble of sensory menagerie. “Sarah!” The voice sounds faint at first. It is a man’s voice. It startles me. How can they know my name? Could I have found my father? A door opens at the end of my secret hallway and light again interferes my investigation. “Sarah!” the voice repeated - louder this time and more familiar. “It’s time for dinner. Get your nose out of that book and come upstairs!”

Getting Somewhere...

So, my writing is beginning to get somewhere. I mean, it's a small somewhere, but I have a feeling that God can use it to make a big impact for His glory.

My last story (for ICL) I wrote was called "Ada's Story," a story focused on pro-life, and though my professor wasn't as sure it would really make any headway in the wide-world of publishing, I took the chance and sent it to several different people, who might be able to use it for their ministry. I sent it off to Regular Baptist Press, The Baptist Bulletin, Baptists for Life, Steve Deace and the Alpha Women's Center in Des Moines. The Alpha Women's Center has already expressed definite interest in using it.


I have been intrigued by the pro-life ministry since I was saved at the age of 16. I started my journey by doing a persuasive speech my Junior year. Now, I am hoping to impact this generation for life and for Jesus with the writing skills God has given me.


Depending on the interest it generates, I may even get it copyrighted, which surprisingly only costs $35. But, for now, enjoy and reflect. God is good. Life is good.


"I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are Your works, and my soul knows it very well." Psalm 139:14

Ada’s Story
By Sarah Engle

May 21

Today is my first day of life. I am sure I am going to be a girl. My eyes will be a calming green, and my hair – a full array of blondes and browns. Someday I will grow it long and put in up in braids and weave it around my head. Only nine months to go, and I will meet my family and show them all how I am wonderfully made! I especially can’t wait to meet my mother – to see how much I may look like her.

June 11

I know I am small now. But I have such potential. I may be a speck of life in a big world, but I am life nonetheless. I can feel the little flutter, flutter of my heart as it begins to beat!

July 9

Ooo! Aah! Oh, the shapes I can make with my mouth as it develops! Soon, I will be able to tell my mother that I love her. And my arms! They are forming into such beautiful arms!
I am growing so fast and today my mother and father discovered that I am coming! They must be planning a big to-do for my arrival. It will be my first birthday ever!

Aleine walked down the rigid and dimly-lit hallway of the clinic – Christian by her side. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away and crossed her arms over her stomach. Doctors and nurses walked briskly by them, eyes focused on charts and patients. Aleine and Christian’s pace slowed as they reached the elevator. Christian said that it had been a long day. He hoped Aleine would get some rest tonight.

July 14

Wow! I can move! What a wonderful feeling! I doubt my mother can feel me moving around yet. I’m still just tiny- only 1/8” long, but many of my organs are developing so well! I have a feeling I am going to be a strong and healthy child. I will be able to play tag with my siblings and give my father great big bear hugs! Oh, we will have so much fun!

Christian and Aleine were standing on the bridge by the lake where they first met. He tried telling her that it didn’t matter that she was only 16. People weren’t going to be as hard on her as she might think. Christian’s words only seemed to make Aleine more upset. Frustrated, she flung up her hands and walked back toward the car. Tears filled her eyes. She glanced back in the direction of Christian, only to find him sitting on the bench that lined the bridge, head in his hands. She told him to stop crying; she would think more about it. She told him that she would tell her parents that night, and maybe they would help her to know what to do.

August 13

Hmmm. I never knew how much I’d like to stick this little part of my hand in my mouth. It’s comforting. I can feel my body become stronger, and I have ribs now to protect my heart and lungs. So I think it’s safe to move around a little more. I want my mother to feel me and be able to know that I am O.K. Once she can feel me, maybe she will show father how I move and move and move. I’m sure he will be able to see my feet stretch and make little bulges in Mother’s tummy. Oh, how funny that will be! But, that won’t be for quite some time. So, I will have to keep on growing!

Aleine sat on the edge of the couch, her mother‘s arms wrapped around her. She said that Aleine would learn from this mistake; she just knew her daughter would be a better girl from now on. With angry eyes, her father paced. His hands were balled up into fists. Aleine asked if he was going to hurt Christian. He said he wouldn’t; he was thinking of a solution that would be best for everyone. But, Aleine cried anyway. Very hard. Her father paced and paced and paced.

September 5

Oh, my eyes! They are becoming more sensitive to the light now. I can tell when mother turns off the light to go to bed and when we step outside in the morning.

Now I can frown and smile and be as expressive as I feel. I also get the hiccups a lot and I think Mother can tell because she puts her hands on her belly to calm me down. But, it never works. She ends up getting the hiccups, too!

Christian followed Aleine into the clinic. He told her he had given up. She could do whatever she wanted with her body. It was hers to do with as she pleased. But Aleine became more enraged at his words. She told him she didn’t need a guilt-trip and that her mind was already made up.

September 19

I can hear now. My favorite thing to listen to is my mother’s heartbeat. It is so strong. I will grow up to be like her someday. Strong and loving. I know she loves me, because I am kept safe inside of her.

She is talking to me, I think. And I hear a lower voice – my father’s. I bet they are trying to think of the perfect name for me. I hope they call me Ada. It has such a pretty sound to it.

Aleine was alone today. Christian had refused to come to the appointment. She flipped through magazines in the waiting room. A woman with black hair and a quick pace stepped out of the office. Aleine asked her if the procedure would be painful. The woman told her it would feel like getting a tooth pulled and that would be it. Aleine asked if the baby would feel it, too. The woman assured her that, at this point, it was just blob of tissue.

I hear other voices that are not my mother’s or father’s. I can hear my mother’s heartbeat getting faster. I have never heard this thump, thump, thumping before. I hope that she is safe. Ouch! I feel a twinge of searing pain on my body and in my mouth. It is hot and burning and I feel as if I can’t breathe. My lungs are burning. My fragile skin is disappearing, and my body is becoming limp. Mother! Please, please help me! I want to see you! I want you to hold me and protect me!

Mother, I want to know…what…it’s like…to be…alive.

Unpredictable July

Today I sent in my first assignment to ICL (Institute for Children's Literature), and boy am I relieved! It was a little (1 whole week) late, but it's in, and I'm glad.

I wrote a letter of introduction to my professor, answered some personal background questions and wrote my first short story for this course.

It's called "Unpredictalbe July" and it's sad. Why, Why, Why must I write sad stories. I just start going with my thoughts and by the end of the story I'm tearing up. Just a little.

But, if you think about it, most of our favorite stories have driven us to tears, am I right? I mean, really...If something is too unrealistically happy, it makes me want to gag.

My inspiration for this story came from a 10 year old boy we met at one of the camps we spoke at this summer. He was having a terrible time one night at the campfire. Sniffling and crying and outright refusing to talk to anyone about it, he slouched over with his Hoodie hiding his face. Somehow, later that night, Jim was able to talk to him about what was bothering him. It turned out his little brother had died in a fire a few years earlier and he was struggling with with the thought that it might be his fault. Jim spent a lot of time talking and praying with this young boy as he waded through all of his emotions.

So, as sad as it may be, it's applicable and real, and that's why I wrote about it. It may seem there is not much closure the story as well. That's mostly because I was limited to 825 words...so, let's just say - it's a good first chapter.

Unpredictable July

“But, Mommm! Can I, pleeeeaase?”

Annie closed her eyes. If she had to hear her brother whine about one more thing she would scream. Jess wouldn’t give up, though. She knew that.

“Jess,” Mom replied with a touch of frustration in her voice, “I can’t let you do that. It’s too dangerous. Your father wouldn’t…” and then she trailed off and started fiddling with the dishes like she always does when she thinks about him.

Annoyed, Annie marched out of the dimly lit kitchen and onto the porch. She stepped outside and looked towards the barn, now empty and useless. When will she stop saying things like that? It’s been almost a year now since the fire and she still talks about him. Annie wished she wouldn’t.

***********************

Jess groaned as he plopped down on his bed. The model airplane that hung handicapped on one translucent string above the bed wobbled in the air as the fan turned and squeaked and blew. He hated this time of year. School would be starting in a few weeks. Maybe he could hold out a little longer.

Ever since the fire, Jess was bound to this house. It wasn’t his fault that Dad and Nick…But, Jess couldn’t think about it anymore. He just flopped over onto his stomach and drifted into a restless sleep. The setting sun still poured light into his room, but he didn’t notice.

***********************

July was the most unpredictable month of the summer. The sky was dark with clouds one moment, then a still gray matte the next. And when the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, the heat seemed to burn your skin in an instant. The air was thick and the corn was so tall that it sounded like the ocean carrying the tide in and out, in and out as the warm Iowa winds cut through the fields. Jess and Annie had spent hours that day working on the tree house until the rain started pouring down in sheets.

“I told you.” chimed Annie as she ran, pulling her jacket over her head.

“Told me what?” Jess asked. His face contorted with confusion. He tried catching up to his big sister. The rain matted his brown hair to his head and covered his eyes.

“I told you we should have put the roof on. Now we’re soaked!” Annie picked up the pace as the rain began to fall harder and with bigger, wetter drops.

“Let’s go in the barn and wait it out.” suggested Jess.

“No way,” Annie stuck out her tongue as if she had just taken a big bite out of a peanut butter and spinach sandwich with mustard. “You know I hate that barn. Mice and spiders and all that…stuff. I’m going in the house with Mom.”

Jess stopped and glanced toward the barn, while the rain pelted down drenching his already wet clothes. The wind was picking up and blowing from every direction. Jess watched as Dad, with little Nick on his shoulders, huddled under his hooded rain jacket, directed the cows and horses into the safety of the barn. The chickens and ducks squeezed into the opening of a broken slat. Jess remembered that he was grounded for a week when he rode the lawn mower and crashed it into the barn. A small grin appeared on Jess’s face. He remembered Dad trying to squelch his laughter about the whole situation.

“Get out of the rain, Jess!” Mom called from the porch door. The thunder rumbled accompanied by flashes of lightning. She gestured at him to come in. “You’re getting soaked!”

“But…” Jess wanted to help Dad and Nick, but when he turned to the barn again, Dad was just closing the door.

Jess sighed. “Ok.” He replied reluctantly. And he sulked each step of the way until he got to the door.

“Cookies!” Jess immediately perked up as he ran to the kitchen counter.

Annie rolled her eyes, “Can’t you just be patient for once? They’re still cooling.”

Crash! Crack! Boom!

“That was close.” Mom said as she peeled the freshly baked cookies off of the baking sheet.

Annie ran into the porch and stared out the window toward the barn, then Mom followed. “Yeah,” Annie said. “I could feel it!”

Jess smuggled a cookie while Annie and Mom were distracted and joined them at the porch window.

As they watched in silence, the animals began pouring out of the barn doors. Just as they had gone in, they were filing out, but more quickly this time. Jess’s heart began to beat faster, like the pounding of the hooves on the wet ground.

“Is that smoke?” Mom asked with an edge to her voice.

“It looks like it’s coming from the barn.” observed Annie, the tension growing in hers.

“Mom…” whispered Jess. His face was still, his eyes were big. “Dad and Nick are in there.”

Me? A Writer? UPDATE

Yay!

I did it!

After much deliberation, Jim and I decided that enrolling in this class given by the Institute for Children's Literature that will get me on the road to publishing children's literature! If you're wondering what in the world I'm talking about read this and this.

I was pretty much a nervous wreck when I was talking to the lady on the phone...mostly because I was about ready to give her a lot of our money. I've been liking the comma in our bank account figure and I was about to delete it in this one phone call!

But, we've talked about this for a few months now figuring that it's cheaper still than taking a number of classes at the community college and more flexible with our traveling schedule...and in the Sarah Style paraphrase, Jim says it will spark the flame of my writing career and so, I followed through, made the phone call and am now officially enrolled in an online, one-on-one course on getting published in the world of children's literature.

Watch out world...here I come. Well, I'm at least one step closer.

Accepted for Enrollment

I got something in the mail yesterday!

Yup, you guessed it.

If you've been waiting to hear about the results of my assesment test for the Institute for Children's Literature, then you'll be just as excited as I am to hear that, after evaluating my test, the "evaluators," whoever they are, have considered me a viable candidate to be a writer for Children and Teens.

The ONLY (and I knew this was going to happen) downfall is that it's kind of, sort of, a little...well, let's just say it's not exactly cheap. Something we'll be praying about.

I heard they had a course at the area community college that might be comparable. But, what says credentials like graduating from a course at the Institute for Children's Literature? I am hoping to take a sign language class at the community college, so maybe it just makes sense to check out the chilren's writing courses they offer. Just to see...if anything, this assesment test got me thinking seriously about writing.

I'll keep you updated...whether we take the plunge and go for the Institute or whether we've opted for the community college. Maybe there's another option out there that hasn't surfaced. You never know!

Me? A Writer...Perhaps.

So, I was reading this Magazine...well, looking at the pictures is more like it...and I came across this ad for a writing assessment test type thingy. I send in a form saying I want the test and if I score high enough, I could be accepted to this school for writing (children's stories particulary) which I love to read and one of my dreams is to write one (and maybe even illustrate it myself, too).

I gingerly tore out the ad and filled in the form. It's going in the mail tomorrow. I like to take little chances like that. Who knows where it might lead! So, if I'm a High Scorer, I'll probably be excited and then be a little let down because Jim will probably tell me I can't go to school in Connecticut and that it's too expensive even if I wanted to. But, still. I'm taking the chance...maybe it'll be a correspondence class.

FYI: my favorite book growing up was "The Monster at the End of This Book" by Grover.