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Chapter 9—Inspire

Welcome to chapter 9! I hope you’re having as much fun reading as I am writing. It’s not easy, though, to figure out where I’m going with all this. Thanks for hanging out with me! Remember as always that this is a free write, no editing or overthinking at the moment. Just seeing where the story takes me. Start at the beginning by clicking here. It’s more fun that way. Don’t forget to leave a comment or “like.”

Chapter 9

Inspire

 

Pepper was waiting on the stairs to her apartment when Erin pulled in a few minutes later. She stood as Erin pulled the Bug into the parking spot allocated for her to the side of the garage. As she trudged up the stairs to hug her friend, Erin felt like crying.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” Pepper asked, keeping her arm around Erin as they walked up the stairs and Erin unlocked the door.

“Let me put on some coffee, or would you rather have tea? And then I’ll fill you in” Erin answered, trying to pull her thoughts together.

“Tea would be great, something soothing that will help us sleep,” Pepper suggested as she sank into Erin’s red couch and stroked Einstein who had jumped up to greet her.

“I’m not sure sleep will be coming very quickly tonight,” Erin said as she filled the tea kettle and set it on the burner. She turned to look at Pepper and Einstein. “OK, I’ll tell you. I went to Hazel’s house after dinner with Cory.”

“What?” Pepper exclaimed. “What were you hoping to accomplish? By yourself. In the dark?”

“I know, I know,” Erin held up both hands in front of herself in defense. “Scott had already been by there earlier, but I just needed to go myself to see if he missed anything.”

Pepper gave her that I’m-not-believing-what-I’m-hearing look. “You think you could find something, and again I emphasize, in the dark, that a trained police officer couldn’t find? Now I know you’re obsessed.”

Erin knew her friend was right, and that it had been foolish of her to go there by herself, especially when Hazel was missing under mysterious circumstances. At least, Erin thought they were mysterious circumstances. But she just couldn’t get that voicemail message out of her head.

“You didn’t hear her message, Pep. She sounded really scared. And now she’s missing.”

Pepper jumped in, “I don’t think you can call someone who has not been seen around town for less than 24 hours ‘missing.’ It’s a little too soon to be jumping to conclusions.”

The tea kettle started whistling and Erin took it off the burner and reached for the tin of chamomile tea and two bright green mugs. Filling the flower handled tea infusers that Pepper had given her for her birthday last month with the loose-leaf tea, Erin set them in the mugs and poured the boiling water over them. Collecting spoons, sugar, a small box of ginger snap cookies and a bag of treats for Einstein, she added everything to an oak tray and carried them to the couch, setting them on the small, round coffee table.

Opening the cookies, Erin said, “You and everyone else has been telling me the same thing. Maybe I should just let it go until I really have reason to worry.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’, girlfriend,” Pepper said as she helped herself to a cookie. “Now, tell me what’s up with Cory? Has he been inspired to go ring shopping yet?”

Erin laughed and stirred a teaspoon of sugar into her properly steeped tea. “Don’t I wish! That man is slow as molasses in winter. But what about you? Have you been inspired to say yes to a date with Scott yet?”

Pepper choked on her bite of cookie, and took a sip of too-hot tea to wash it down. “Ouch! Now you’ve gone and made me burn my tongue!”

Erin laughed as they launched into a giggling conversation about the men, or lack thereof, in their lives. Erin wasn’t going to give up on helping Pepper see the error of her thoughts about Scott anytime soon. That man was perfect for her.

An hour later, when Pepper finally decided she needed to get home to bed, Erin cleaned up, got ready for bed, and brought the mail that had been accumulating into her bedroom with her, determining to go through it before she went to sleep.

With Einstein curled up at the foot of her bed, she started sorting the pieces into stacks. But the tea had done its calming work, and before she knew it, her eyes were growing heavy, and the mail was going to have to wait yet one more day.

 

 

Chapter 8—Comfort

Welcome to chapter 8! As always, remember this is an unedited free write. Comments, critiques, questions are welcomed. You can read previous chapters by clicking the link to the left on the bottom of the post. I’d love to hear from you! Enjoy!

 

Chapter 8

Comfort

 

Since Cory had an early class before he went to work at the bookstore, they called it a night after taking a leisurely stroll around the Village and then back to the parking garage where Erin had parked just that morning. Somehow it seems so much longer ago than that. A lot had happened in one day.

“Try not to worry,” Cory comforted with a hug. “We really can’t do anything more for awhile.”

“I’ll really try,” Erin answered as she unlocked the driver’s door of the Bug. “But you know how my head works. I can’t stop it if it wants to go running off in different directions. Kinda like herding cats, you know?” She laughed as she settled into the driver’s seat and stuck the key in the ignition.

Cory closed the door and waved her away as she backed out of her parking spot and drove away.

Knowing she probably shouldn’t, but unable to stop herself, instead of heading home, she turned the Bug toward Hazel’s house. It’s not that she didn’t trust Scott, she reasoned, quite the opposite, in fact. But sometimes a woman is just a tad more observant. That estrogen locator device and all. It would make her feel better if she looked around for herself. As she wound around the hilly roads, she replayed the voicemail message in her head again. What had she said? She thinks she knew what happened? She didn’t think it was an accident? She was afraid?

What could she possibly have found out after 20 years? And why hadn’t she called Erin’s cell phone? The questions just kept coming. Soon, she pulled her car into the short driveway in front of Hazel’s dilapidated house. She couldn’t understand Hazel’s hesitation to let people come and help her keep it up. Landscaping was hard to maintain in the hills as rocky ground and steep drops were common.

To look at the outside of the 70s home, one would think it was abandoned. Plywood covered windows and the brown paint was chipping so badly there were more bare places than there were painted ones. Erin grabbed the flashlight her father always insisted she carry in her glove box, and stepped out of the car.

She didn’t really know what she was looking for, but she started with going up to the front door. Maybe she had come home between Scott’s visit and now. Erin pounded loudly on the door and yelled for good measure, “Hazel! Hazel, are you in there? It’s Erin Harrison!” She stopped to listen for anything from the interior, but was met by stone silence.

She stepped to one side and tried to shine her light in a small crack in the plywood over the front window, but she couldn’t see a thing. Careful to watch her footing through the tall weeds and broken pots from long-abandoned plants that were once carefully tended, Erin tried to make her way around to the back yard. In the darkness, even with the flashlight, she feared injury, so she turned back and headed to the detached garage.

Suddenly her cell phone chirped with Pepper’s text tone: “You home?”

Erin knew she couldn’t lie to her friend, so she responded, “umm, not exactly.”

“What does that mean?” Came the quick reply.

Erin debated how much to say. She decided prevarication was the way to go: “made a stop on my way home. Be there soon.”

“I’m coming over” came the reply.

Knowing she was on a fool’s mission anyway, Erin turned aside from her path to the garage, climbed back in her car and headed for home, no more wiser than when she came.

 

 

Chapter 7—Hope

Welcome to chapter 7! As always, remember that this is an unedited free write. Comments, suggestions, critique are welcome! You can read the previous chapters by clicking the links at the bottom of the screen. The link on this post should say “Chapter 6—belong.” Enjoy!

Chapter 7

Hope

 

Just as Cory walked in the door to take Erin to dinner, Scott’s text tone sounded.

“Car doesn’t appear to be in the garage. No lights on in the house. Knocked and no one answered. She must have gone somewhere.”

Erin swiftly composed a reply: “?? She’s never actually left town that I’m aware of. She has no family. Ugh. Why does she not have a cell phone? What’s next?”

Scott’s reply was swift: “We wait.”

Noting her worried look, Cory gave Erin a long hug. “Does that have anything to do with what you wanted to talk about?”

“Let’s get to the restaurant and I’ll fill you in,” Erin said as she waved to Adrian. He’d be closing the shop in less than an hour, and Erin knew she could trust him to lock up and set the alarm. They were a strictly 7-to-6 operation. They rarely had anyone come in the evenings.

Walking hand in hand the three blocks to the restaurant. Cory had been right and the restaurant was nearly empty. The hostess sat them at a quiet table near the fireplace, which was not yet lit on this lovely October evening. After ordering a glass of wine for her and a water with lemon for him, Cory sat back, giving Erin space to say what was on her mind.

“Might as well just jump in, I guess, “ she started. “Otherwise I’m just going to be distracted and you’re going to be curious.”

Cory grinned his reply and she summed up as she had for Scott just a little while before. “And so, Scott stopped by her house on the way home and said her car is gone and the lights are all out.”

“Guess she went somewhere,” Cory stated what he thought was the obvious.

“She never goes anywhere except to doctors appointments and here to the Village,” Erin pointed out.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Cory said.

“In twenty years?” Erin exclaimed. “I know it’s not beyond the realm of possibility, but she doesn’t have any family . . .”

“That you know of,” interrupted Cory.

“OK, OK, “ Erin conceded. “You’re right. I don’t know everything there is to know about her. But her not being there on top of the voicemail message, makes me afraid for her. I just hope she’s all right.”

Their server came back to the table with their beverages and they had to admit that they hadn’t even looked at the menu yet and could she give them just a few more minutes?

Each of them perused the menu and made their choices. The server came back and took their order and left a basket of freshly made rolls with butter on their table.

Ever conscious of her carb intake, Erin declined, but Cory dug in.

“There’s not much we can do at this point,” Cory pointed out. “She’s not reachable since she has no cell phone. We can’t jump to the assumption that she’s come to harm.”

Erin sipped her wine and looked around the dim restaurant. It was one of the nicer places in the Village, known for it’s crab legs and fresh caught fish, since it was so near the ocean. Other couples were scattered around the room, and it looked like there were a couple of business meetings going on.

“What are you thinkin’?” Cory broke in on her reverie.

“I don’t know,” Erin responded. “I just feel a little helpless.”

Reaching over to take her hand, Cory stayed silent, yet communicated his sympathy with his green eyes.

“I’ll give it a couple of days,” Erin said as their server approached with their food. “But if she doesn’t show up, we’re going to need to do something.”

 

 

Just Who Do I Think I Am, Anyway?

I’m think I’m lost.

fullsizeoutput_7d81And I’m trying to figure out how to find myself again.

I knew months ago that there would be a lot of change for me this summer, but since it was (supposedly) all good, I hoped it wouldn’t cause grief. But grief has creeped up on me, causing me to doubt the decisions I made that brought about some of this change.

Some changes were just part of life happening. Positions in which I had served for many, years ended or were taken away. 2 of my 3 kids have moved or are moving out of my house. And then I made the decision to leave the organization of which I had been a part for 32 years.

As I see multitudes of friends posting pictures on social media of their summer travels that will end in the Cru staff conference in Ft. Collins, Colo., and I anticipate my husband leaving tomorrow to attend without me for the first time in more than 26 years, I find myself grieving more than I thought I would.

Yes, I made the decision to leave and pursue a writing career. I could have stayed. But the discontent that had been bubbling on the back burner would still have been there. Still a big part of me wants to be in Colorado with my closest friends.IMG_4361

It was time, though. At the point of my decision, I didn’t doubt that this was what God was leading me to do.

Yet I grieve. And I fear. And I doubt that I have what it takes to make a go of this full-time writing thing.

Where is this that I have found myself? Did I hear God correctly? Maybe I made a big mistake.

My writing muscles have atrophied. I don’t even know what it’s like anymore to pitch articles and do research. And what topics do I even care about? What am I learned enough in to even consider writing for others?

Just who do I think I am, anyway?

And so the tears come.

Soon, summer will be over and my daughter will get into the swing of school. And I will figure out what God wants me to say and to whom He wants me to say it. Are there likely to be rejections? Of course. I’ve already received my first. But after not using my brain for anything more than teaching 6th graders language arts and Latin for the past 5 years, my muscles may hurt for awhile. I may want to quit because it’s too hard.

IMG_4473And at unexpected times the grief of what is left behind might crawl out of the corner in which I’ve placed it. Some days I might let it come out and sit in my lap, and I will embrace it for awhile. Then I will point it back to the corner, hoping it will stay there longer than the time before.

And the joy of the Lord will be my strength.

Who do I think I am? I’m just a girl, sitting in front of a computer, trying to write from my heart, asking people to love what I have to say.

 

Why I Write: A Blog Hop

hopscotchHopscotch was always a favorite game of mine when I was a kid. I can’t hop too much these days as years of bouncing babies trying to help them fall asleep has taken its toll on my knees. But there’s a new kind of hopping going on, and it’s called a Blog Hop. The purpose is to introduce you to other bloggers I think you might enjoy.

Fellow blogger, and someone I hope will be a new friend when she and her family move to Orlando soon, Julie Sanders included me in her Blog Hop last week. julie-sanders-2I’ve only met Julie once in person, in a ladies’ room during a conference we were both attending in Colorado of all places, but I’ve been impressed in her writing by her passions for life, God and her family.

Julie says about herself that she’s a “wife, mother, daughter, friend, and friend of Jesus.” She loves good food, a good book, and talking with good friends late into the night. She admits that she’s a huge fan of her husband and her three boys. Her house is filled with their music, Legos, books and artwork. You can get to know Julie through her blog Along The Way. It was cool for me to learn that Julie and a friend of mine from college know each other. It’s a small world, after all.

So, for this Blog Hop, each writer will answer 4 questions about their writing on their own blog in the near future. After I answer those questions, I will introduce you to these 3 other bloggers that I think you would enjoy. So, here goes.

1. What am I writing or working on?  At the moment, the only writing I’m doing is for my blogs; Compelled, which is what you’re reading right now, and then the one I just recently started, That Senior Year, chronicling my eldest’s journey through his last year of high school. Compelled is a mish mash of thoughts. Most of the time I use things I come across in everyday life to draw a spiritual parallel. Sometimes I talk about parenting; sometimes I talk about current events.

My tag line is “because some things just need to be said.” I’m not very controversial, but I do have strong feelings about some things, so I will talk about them sometimes. I have always wanted to write The Great American Novel, but I keep waiting for inspiration that hasn’t come. I take comfort whenever I read about a writer who wrote a best seller after they turned 60. I’ve still got time!

Actually, I’ve been pondering writing a book that I tentatively call “From Modesty to Marriage: A Former Virgin’s Guide to Being Physically Generous With Your Spouse.” Having grown up in a household where bodily functions were never talked about, and in a church where good girls were modest and nobody really understood what that meant, I entered marriage not understanding how to enjoy the physical relationship I had with my husband. We’re still working on it, and it’s been a battle, but I’m doing much better, thanks to counseling and the Lord. I would love to help other young women enter marriage a little more easily than I did.

2. How does my work differ from others of its genre? Because I’m a unique person, the perspective I bring to my writing is unique. Nobody has the children I have, nobody speaks with my same voice. Has anyone else ever written about how their hermit crabs taught them about life? I didn’t think so. I speak with a touch of humor, and I try to always be respectful. That in itself is different these days!

3. Why do I write what I do? I really want my writing to influence others. Will what I say make a difference in someone’s life today? It always makes my day when someone tells me that my blog post made them think or challenged them or even made them laugh. The most fun emails I get are the ones from wordpress that say someone “liked” my post or started following me. Yay! But even if no one was reading, my desire would be to glorify God in the process. Does He like what I write? Then that’s all I need.

4. How does my writing process work? The last post I wrote, “A Fork in the Road,” came about because I actually kept seeing literal forks in the road as I rode my bike. My husband often says to me, “You ought to write a blog post about that.” Sometimes, things just occur to me. In a few days, I plan on writing a post about things that make me say, “Wait, what?” Sometimes I’ll watch a movie or read a book and want to talk about it, as I did with “Parental Supervision” and the Harry Potter and Hunger Games series. I tend to write quickly without a lot of editing, but if I think something is going to garner a lot of criticism, I give it a lot of thought and prayer. Sometimes I send it to my husband to preview before I post it. His input is invaluable. So there you have it. That’s all about me. Now, I want you to meet 3 friends.

The first is Dena Yohe. Dena has been on a purpose-filled adventure with Christ for 41 years. She and her husband, Tom, married 36 Denayears, are the co-founders of Hope for Hurting Parents, birthed out of their own pain with one of their daughters who struggled with addiction, self-injury, suicidal attempts and mental illness. She calls herself an accidental writer as her pain became her passion. What began as a way of processing the most difficult experiences of her life through journaling, turned into daily emails and then a blog to offer encouragement, resources, and hope to parents on their journey from pain to peace. She loves being mom to 3 wonderful children (31, 27 and 25) and Mimi to two precious granddaughters. Check out her blog,  Hope For Hurting Parents, and her website of the same name.

Next up is my sweet friend Becca Ramirez.

beccaBecca, a born and raised Floridian, has just recently moved to Texas with her husband and their two daughters.  She is a lover of good food, board games, traveling, books, and words.  While always an avid “journaler,” Becca only recently began seeking opportunities to expand (and publish) her writing.  Her blog, Simply Living the Life, serves as an outlet for the roller coaster of thoughts that pummel through her mind.  Her desire is to write and speak in a greater capacity, reaching the hearts and minds of youth (particularly teenage/college-aged girls). Becca is a sweet, smiling friend whom we all miss very much since her move to Texas. I think you will enjoy her thoughts.

Last, but not least, I want you to meet Rachel Knox, an almost-18-year-old that I have known since she was a small girl with wild,Rachel curly hair. She and my son Justin are just 2 days apart in age. As Rachel is also going into her senior year of high school, it’s fun to hear and read her perspective on the process. Rachel was born and raised in Orlando as her parents are missionaries with Cru. From an early age, her creativity was a dominant trait which is evident through her love of dance, sewing and anything DIY.

After attending a small Christian school from kindergarten through middle school, she enrolled in public high school, what she calls “an utterly different environment than before.” In an attempt to keep friends and family afar updated on her journey through high school, Rachel created this blog, Imperfectly Living|Perfectly Loved, to highlight the ups, the downs and the lessons learned in her everyday life.

I hope you have the time to go check out these 4 writers that you’ve been introduced to here. I think you’ll like them as much as I do!