hI; THANKS SO MUCH FOR WELCOMING ME TO ALL OF THIS; IT'S MY FIRST TIME TRYING TO GET SOME TIPS ON HOW TO BE A BETTER MOTHER AND STILL REMAIN AND HOPEFULLY GROW TO BECOME THE DAUGHTER GOD CREATED ME TO BE, THANK YOU AND I HOPE WE GET TO CHAT AND SHARE STUFF, NOT TRYING TO BRAG BUT, I LOVE MY HOMETOWN, I FEEL BLESSED AND GLAD YOU LIKE IT......SMILES
Hey Carla, We are having a giveaway drawing for one lucky CML member. Invite one person to join the group. Leave a comment letting us know when she joins. April 10th there will be a drawing for a designer (A. Jafee) diamond necklace worth $400!
Carla,
I am on a blind search for a publisher. See sample below. I am first and foremost a mom and love every moment with my gorgeous daughter. I am finding that writing is my biggest outlet for therapy and healing through rough times. If you would please offer any direction to below writing sample. Thank you!
"I touched his face, and the damp tears moistened his durable and comforting skin. They stung as if they touched the deepest break in my heart. I curled my fingertips in towards my palm and held tight my sick accomplishment; I had brought him to his knees. His weakness and dependency that I so longed for was mine and I felt nauseated that I took those years from his life, and from ours together. I took my strength and relentless stealth, and let it sink. I melted into his arms and puddled on his chest. I lay there asking for his comfort, his forgiveness, and for his love again. We stayed there and he let me cry. The darkness seemed to last an eternity. I was reluctant to breathe because it allowed and acknowledged the moments that passed. The irregularity of my gasps gave away my tears.
We had spent years building that big empty house, and I refused to fill it with love. My contempt for his brief mistake, his affair with foolishness denied us both of countless memories. My tyranny he gave me, he crowned me, and he accepted the unjust punishment. I did not recognize myself and could not believe what I had done.
I rose weakly the next morning and felt that my own soul needed repair. His eyes told me that he was still unsure whether or not he was allowed to believe that I needed him again. I peeled my damp face from his chest and looked around. We had slept on the couch. What a tremendous and impressive house. I had never felt more at home than I did on the couch we had bought together, before we both tortured our intentions with tainted mistakes. All I needed was that feeling, him, his strong arms folded around my weak body and nothing else would matter. Nothing would matter any more if I could just hold on to that security, remember our dreams, smile again, and let go of what had taken so much from our family. His mistakes and my contempt did not deserve what I had given them; the glory, the dedication, the time from both of our lives.
I stuttered on the balls of my feet and appreciated very much the stability that the wide wood planks offered beneath my frail legs. The color of the floors I chose and he smiled because he anticipated the choice, and I found myself frozen between the living room and kitchen realizing that I had not thought of that moment, a fun and fond memory, in years. I heard him begin to rustle behind me and without speaking we both began to contemplate what explanation we would offer our daughter when she made her way from her bed to her spot in the kitchen.
Every morning Grace would quietly round the corner at the top of the stairs and I knew she was soon to make her daily debut when I heard her fingertips brushing along the wall which offered her a little support as she peered through sleepy eyes. Her first recognition of a new day began once she was perched on her stool, her legs tucked beneath her, teddy at her side, all warmed by the morning light that shown like a spotlight upon her breakfast thrown. I waited so patiently for her to welcome the day and understood her groans and reluctance to waking up. I was never a morning person myself until I had her gorgeous face to look forward to.
I was on the opposite side of the counter, usually my morning race track, but I stood there so flirtatiously as I looked for a second coffee cup and hoped so silently that I got it right. He gestured to me questioning whether he should stay or go, as it was our last opportunity to avoid our daughters’ curiosity and excitement. I was so embarrassed that he had to ask if he could stay for breakfast, in the home that he built for us, for all of us. I shook my head and looked down, a bit ashamed that I had alienated him from what was his dream too.
I had just begun to wonder when my nerve would return or if it would, when I heard those tiny five fingers against the wall making their way down the stairs. I looked up and our eyes met. Shane straightened his shirt, hoping he had would at least make an appropriate greeting and we nervously awaited our morning sunshine. She rounded the corner slowly and her usual groggy stumble turned in to a bounding sprint. My heart broke again, just for her this time. He met his daughters’ reach mid air and as she wrapped her legs around him I wished I were there too but settled for a firm grip around my coffee cup to remind myself that composure could not be lost."
jwrightalexander@yahoo.com
Hi Carla! Thank you! I feel very blessed. There are sometimes more tears than I can handle in my house. Good thing we have a lot of laughter to balance the tears. Our girls keep us in stitches.
Every year I ask God to give me an insight, word, or phrase for the new year. In 2008 the word was “embrace.” I recall learning a lot about embracing God’s will from reading some of our own Susie Eller’s writing. That word has stuck with me and ca…
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Happy Thanksgiving!
Sara
I received the gift today and I'm so happy to share it with my daughter. Thank you so much and have a wonderful weekend!
Thank you for your message. Kristy
Many Blessings,
Takiela
Suzie
I am on a blind search for a publisher. See sample below. I am first and foremost a mom and love every moment with my gorgeous daughter. I am finding that writing is my biggest outlet for therapy and healing through rough times. If you would please offer any direction to below writing sample. Thank you!
"I touched his face, and the damp tears moistened his durable and comforting skin. They stung as if they touched the deepest break in my heart. I curled my fingertips in towards my palm and held tight my sick accomplishment; I had brought him to his knees. His weakness and dependency that I so longed for was mine and I felt nauseated that I took those years from his life, and from ours together. I took my strength and relentless stealth, and let it sink. I melted into his arms and puddled on his chest. I lay there asking for his comfort, his forgiveness, and for his love again. We stayed there and he let me cry. The darkness seemed to last an eternity. I was reluctant to breathe because it allowed and acknowledged the moments that passed. The irregularity of my gasps gave away my tears.
We had spent years building that big empty house, and I refused to fill it with love. My contempt for his brief mistake, his affair with foolishness denied us both of countless memories. My tyranny he gave me, he crowned me, and he accepted the unjust punishment. I did not recognize myself and could not believe what I had done.
I rose weakly the next morning and felt that my own soul needed repair. His eyes told me that he was still unsure whether or not he was allowed to believe that I needed him again. I peeled my damp face from his chest and looked around. We had slept on the couch. What a tremendous and impressive house. I had never felt more at home than I did on the couch we had bought together, before we both tortured our intentions with tainted mistakes. All I needed was that feeling, him, his strong arms folded around my weak body and nothing else would matter. Nothing would matter any more if I could just hold on to that security, remember our dreams, smile again, and let go of what had taken so much from our family. His mistakes and my contempt did not deserve what I had given them; the glory, the dedication, the time from both of our lives.
I stuttered on the balls of my feet and appreciated very much the stability that the wide wood planks offered beneath my frail legs. The color of the floors I chose and he smiled because he anticipated the choice, and I found myself frozen between the living room and kitchen realizing that I had not thought of that moment, a fun and fond memory, in years. I heard him begin to rustle behind me and without speaking we both began to contemplate what explanation we would offer our daughter when she made her way from her bed to her spot in the kitchen.
Every morning Grace would quietly round the corner at the top of the stairs and I knew she was soon to make her daily debut when I heard her fingertips brushing along the wall which offered her a little support as she peered through sleepy eyes. Her first recognition of a new day began once she was perched on her stool, her legs tucked beneath her, teddy at her side, all warmed by the morning light that shown like a spotlight upon her breakfast thrown. I waited so patiently for her to welcome the day and understood her groans and reluctance to waking up. I was never a morning person myself until I had her gorgeous face to look forward to.
I was on the opposite side of the counter, usually my morning race track, but I stood there so flirtatiously as I looked for a second coffee cup and hoped so silently that I got it right. He gestured to me questioning whether he should stay or go, as it was our last opportunity to avoid our daughters’ curiosity and excitement. I was so embarrassed that he had to ask if he could stay for breakfast, in the home that he built for us, for all of us. I shook my head and looked down, a bit ashamed that I had alienated him from what was his dream too.
I had just begun to wonder when my nerve would return or if it would, when I heard those tiny five fingers against the wall making their way down the stairs. I looked up and our eyes met. Shane straightened his shirt, hoping he had would at least make an appropriate greeting and we nervously awaited our morning sunshine. She rounded the corner slowly and her usual groggy stumble turned in to a bounding sprint. My heart broke again, just for her this time. He met his daughters’ reach mid air and as she wrapped her legs around him I wished I were there too but settled for a firm grip around my coffee cup to remind myself that composure could not be lost."
jwrightalexander@yahoo.com
You can send it to my ministry address:
PO Box 856
Enumclaw WA 98022
Thanks!
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