Loosing Dear Friends

Sometimes, we loose touch with dear friends. It is a sad fact of living in a time of the world when people move about more than they used to. We form fast friendships that withstand the test of time, though only meeting through the odd card or visit as the years pass. Today, I found out that I lost just such a dear friends. They left about this time last year, and I just now found out about it. The usual Christmas and birthday cards were sent. I never thought much of the fact that I did not receive one from them, as sometimes we missed a year or two, but eventually, would think of each other and send a letter or card, again or phone or even drop in for a visit.

The family I am refering to are the Hill's; Larry, Maureen, Rebecca, and Greg. Rebecca telephoned me tonight to inform me that both of her parents had passed away. Maureen was in the middle of chemo-therapy when they moved to Devlin; what seems like an awful lot of years ago, now. I remember meeting her. She had a bandana on and told me that she had lost her hair. With that said, she whipped off the scarf and showed me. It is her sense of humour that attracted me to her. Nothing seemed to rattle her to the point where she lost that sense of humour.

Maureen succumbed to cancer on May 23, 2006. A few short weeks later, Larry was killed in an accident. His motorcycle was hit by a pickup truck. (the man was charged)

In such a short time, Rebecca and Greg lost both of their parents. No wonder it took her a year to finally be able to call me and let me know. She told me that she had only called a few people. She just could not handle saying the words, "both of my parents are dead." How I remember the difficulty of just breathing in and out when my own parents died, and I had a few years between the losses.

My heart is quite broken over it. Maureen and Larry were very special people, and very special to me. Most especially, Maureen. Since she had cancer when I met her, and for the few years they lived nearby, we shared a lot about our fears, desires, faith, and joys; she has always stood, for me, the perfect example of courage. She never complained, even though I knew she had some very ill and painful days. She just took each day and rejoiced in the gift of it.

Even talking of her now, I can see her radiant smile and hear her laughter.

It all reminds me of how very precious the people in my life are, and how very fragile life really is. My life is much richer because of the blessing of this family in my life. Both Larry and Maureen will live on in my heart. The memory of their loving, teasing relationship will always bring a smile to my lips and a tear to my eye, as I will miss knowing that they are there, with a room, when I am travelling in their direction.

As I sat in my office, and finally let the tears flow, I was taken by a thought of complete joy; Those two loved each other, like no other couple I have ever met. What awesome grace that they did not have to wait long to be together again. Larry always seemed like he would be quite lost without Maureen as his anchor. Maureen always told me that Larry always gave her a reason to smile. So, while I am selfishly mourning them, I am also rejoicing in the thought that they are together. No doubt, Larry has a few jokes to play on the folks in Heaven, and is bringing a smile to many a celestial lip.

So, in closing this note, I want to remind you of how very fragile life is. How very short your time may be to let those around you know how much you love them. How very little time we have to "get our house in order" and how very important it is to keep it that way. Live each day as if it will be your last. Don't let an opportunity to love, help, or improve pass you by.

Love on you all, Jude

Growing Up?

When our children are young, we tend to forget that they are living a life attached to ours. It is not until they become teenagers that we truly realize that they are individuals that are completely separate from the narrow world of our personal life.

We tend to forget or ignore that they are having experiences--bad and good--and having to deal with them, learn from them, and suffer through them.

Not that we are completely oblivious to them, more that our lives seem so huge that our children are more of an aside to the drama of our struggle to live each day and come through it as unscathed as possible.

Now that my children are adults, and I am a grandmother, I think back to the many times when my struggle was so overwhelming that my children were merely swept along in the title-wave of it all.

Understanding this, has given me an overwhelming desire to converse with my children about their childhoods. I want to be able to see it from their point of view. Knowing how my childhood was; remembered often quite differently from the view-point of my 6 siblings; I wonder how the muddle of our life, in those years, looked from their perspective.

Their view helps me to put things into perspective. It helps me to realize and confront issues that need to be confronted. It opens me to learning and growing into a better person. Not that I can go back and fix that which I broke, but I can understand, apologize where needed, and move foreword with my children in a much healthier relationship.

Now, I only need the courage to ask, and the grace to truly listen with a God heart, and not with the old defensive mechanisms kicking in.

Moving foreword, changing and growing is often painful and difficult. But, oh what joy is yours when you win the battle over some of these demons from the past.

Be blessed, and be a blessing!
Jude

Characters

I don't know why my lessons on character development always effect me so powerfully. Maybe it is because I am always on the hunt to figure out exactly who I am. Maybe, it is because I am trying to figure out why I am the way I am. All I know is that every time my courses get to this point, I am overcome with the weight of creating these ficticious beings.

Inside every fiction writer, I am sure, is some desire to recreate themselves through their characters. We can right wrongs which we have no power over changing in real life. We can become--somehow a better person than we truly are. We can be the hero; or the villian, and get away with all of our schemes and deceptions. There is no accountability for our actions, except what we choose to include in the story.

In my writing, I seen to have a tendecy to delve the deepest into the victim characters. I know what makes them tick. I know how they suffer for slights that stronger characters seem to be unaware of. They are often, in some part, mirror images of myself and my life experience.

That being said, I also can identify with many of my strong hero types. In my life I have had experience in facing seeminly unsermountable obstacles, and know what it feels like to come out triumphant on the other side.

Today, I shared with one of my students, an outline and character cast for a novel I am working on. Just explaining the action from my character placement development sheet, I could see that she was completely drawn into the characters as I explained them as well as the story as the synopsis was shared.

This gave me the shove I needed to get on with the writing process. I have obviuosly researched and developed the thing as far as I can go until I am actually writing it.

So, That is what I am going to begin doing, tomorrow. After over 2 years of research and development, I am going to take the brave step of actually writing the story.

Keep me in your prayers. It will be my first novel, as I am basically a short story writer. This story, however, can not be done any justice in short story form.

I also feel a pressing to write a series of short stories about my mother, and things she shared with me about her life. Have you ever had something that you are trying to ignor because you know it will be a hard, painful task, but it just won't leave you in peace? Well, this niggling thing is like that. I can hear my mother's voice in my ear saying, "I can tell you, because I know you will understand."

Well, I did, and do understand. But more than that, I want to tell her story so that someone out there, who has faced the same kinds of hurt will be able to say, "Someone understands."

So, keep me in your prayers for that one, as well. The important thing is that I figure out how to honour my mother's memory and memories, while presenting them as works of fiction. Hmmmmmm I am really not that good, so will need all the prayer support I can get.

God honoured me by allowing me to hear and see my mother from His perspective. My desire is to honour Him by presenting what I heard in a way that is within His design.

As I tell my students, "everyone has a story." All it takes is a writer to care enough to listen and courage enough to write it.

Be Blessed, my dear ones. It is Good Friday, today. I finally understand why it is called Good Friday. Took me years to figure that out. Now I know that it is because of God's ultimate goodness in sacrificing Himself so that we might have a way out from under our sin.

I praise His name!

Have a wonderful Easter full of joy and love.
Jude