Grief

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Sometimes the news comes quick. Sometimes the news comes slow. No matter how or when it comes, grief travels in the wake of the news. Grief is heavy, weighty, a burden, especially when it involves someone deeply loved. Grief is not meant to be carried alone. It’s too heavy and may last a while—and that’s ok. That’s what family and friends are for, to share the load. Jesus stood outside the tomb of his friend and wept but He did not weep alone. It was a deep, human moment. “ Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted ” (Matt 5:4). If anyone knows how we feel in grief, it’s Him. But His grief did not linger long, as at the mention of his name, Lazarus came forth. We are not meant to dwell in grief, but should leave room enough for it. Let it run its course. Like the song says, “ Every Storm Runs Out Of Rain .” Another song says, “ The storm We will dance as it breaks The storm It will give as it takes And all of our pain is washed away Don't cry or be afraid Some things...

NaNoWriMo Report 9

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43,295 toward the goal of 50,000 words, at least.  Started Chapter 12 this morning and have to start thinking all the more seriously about the end.  I am, for the most part, pleased with what I have but I am also keenly aware of spots to be edited.  Got to get this story right!

Here is the first paragraph of my novel, "The Ghosts of Christmases Past":

"Scrooge was born, to begin with. There is no doubt about that. As to the specific time hardly anyone gave thought to take notice.  On one side of the clock Christmas Eve was laying to rest and on the other began to rise Christmas Day.  The clock had barely begun to toll the midnight hour when she finally began to deliver and the sound of his cry finally mingled with his mother’s own, both together drowning out the final stroke of twelve--hers a cry of pain and joy at his birth and his a cry of simply being born.  He was a Christmas baby, a true cherub and an angel, heralding his own arrival in the world with screaming, kicking, trembling fists--a real gift indeed.  These were not the best of times to be born, especially as each day was filled with the concerns of war.  This tot merely joined the ranks of thousand thousands who were already shaking their fists in the world and at the world.  God only knows what kind of man he will turn out to be and what mark he would make on the world, in the end."

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