Lisa R. Howeler's Blog, page 107

A slow mental recovery

I’m slowly mentally recovering from my five-day hospital stay from COVID.

I was on a low dose (very low) for about two days but had to stay longer to finish an antiviral treatment which may or may not have helped (there are mixed studies on it). I had to take five doses over five days. So I went into the hospital on Thanksgiving night. I’d been sick for about nine or ten days by then. I went to the ER when my pulse ox seemed to drop. The ER doctor admitted me and at first, it looked like I would have to travel to a hospital more than three hours from my house. That thought terrified me and my husband.

By some kind of miracle, a bed was found at our local hospital (larger than the one I went to for the ER), about 45 minutes from our house.

There is so much I could write about all this and so much I want to, but I’m not totally mentally there.

This was the scariest situation I have ever been in in my life.

I relied completely on Christ. I felt his peace even when I didn’t know how I was feeling it.

I couldn’t have visitors, or at least as far as I knew. I was truly alone other than the amazing staff and nurses. Well, and God, as I’ve already mentioned.

My roommate almost died Saturday night, two days before I left. That was so hard. I prayed over her and even rubbed her shoulders at one point and prayed for her o2 levels to come up. By laying on her side they would come up and at that moment it rose from the low 80s up to 98 as I prayed. I don’t know what really happened, but I was so grateful to see that number.

The staff was doing all they could to keep her off the vent. I called Wednesday to see how she was and the staff can’t tell me much since I am not family but they did say she was still there. I took that as a good sign that she had not been sent to the ICU yet. It is also possible they couldn’t get her in the ICU as there is a huge surge in our area right now.

I am not keeping track of seven people battling COVID in our area. They are a mix of vaccinated and unvaccinated, which is who was in the COVID unit at our hospital, according to the nurses and staff. This virus isn’t discerning at this point, unfortunately. We just need to get on our hands and knees and pray to God for it to get better soon and for the doctors to keep finding ways to treat people as best as they can.

When I was in the hospital the attitude was very positive. There was no negative talk allowed about what could happen, other than realistic reports on how we were doing in our care.

They had us lay on our stomachs for an hour at a time every four hours. We were given low dose steroids, cough medication, albuterol every four hours or so, low dose blood thinner shots in our stomachs once a day to prevent blood clots, any regular meds, encouraged to walk around and also given a breathing device to strengthen our lungs. And we all, pretty much all, were on a drug that some say can affect your kidneys, but our kidneys were tested through blood work at least twice during our stays.

My lungs remained clear my entire stay, thank God, even though I had an annoying cough. The cough medicine was mainly an exportent (sorry, I can’t spell that and am too lazy to look it up.)to keep the mucous thin and loose.

So, I’m home.

It’s been a weird journey since being home too.

I have an internal tremor that started a day or so after my symptoms started on the 16th of November. That’s pretty intense, especially when the anxiety kicks in but it’s similar to tremors I had after my 14-year old dog died in 2017. Doctors couldn’t figure that out then and the nurses were bewildered this time, other than to say the virus puts a huge amount of stress on the body of patients and they believe it’s a mix of that and insane anxiety.

Oddly, as I am typing this the internal tremor is better. A lot better. Hmmm..maybe getting back to writing and sharing with my lovely blog readers is helping to distract me. Praise Jesus!

I’m sure I’ll write more about all of this in future blog posts. Or maybe I won’t. I don’t know how much I can handle writing about it all. Even thinking about it is very traumatic at this time.

Thank you to those of you who prayed and who I know will continue to pray now.

Stay safe out there everyone but don’t live in fear. God has us, one way or another! (remind me of this when I find myself doubting again!)

A Convenient Risk: Book Review with Celebrate Lit

About the Book

Book: A Convenient Risk

Author: Sara R. Turnquist

Genre: Clean Historical Romance

Release date: October 26, 2021

He never imagined her heart would be so hard to reach.

Forced into a marriage of convenience after her husband dies, Amanda Haynes is determined she will never love again. Not that it bothers Brandon Miller. He needs her husband’s cattle. She needs financial stability and long-term support for her son and herself. But she never expected to care so much about the running of the ranch.

Butting heads over the decisions of the ranch, only adds to her frustration. Her wellbeing is soon threatened as their lives become entangled with Billy the Kid and his gang.

What has she gotten herself into? What kind of man has she married? Is there any way out?

Click here to get your copy!Review

I don’t usually read historical fiction, but I was intrigued by the plot of this book and I am glad I picked it up!

I didn’t even mind it took place in a different time period and in fact barely noticed because I was so caught up in the story.

It was very easy to become immersed in the lives of these characters and fall in love with them. Their challenges were very real and raw without being in the least bit graphic. There was just enough tension in the book to keep me turning the pages so I could find out what would happen next, but not too much that it was overdone.

I loved the real, raw reactions between Amanda and Brandon and there was more to this book than a simple romance, which I loved. Some books are only back and forth between the man and the woman and how they are feeling about each other but in this book both Brandon and Amanda had their own personal demons they were battling. They weren’t just focused on how they felt about each other, with long drawn out mental gymnastics like there are in some books. They did have their relationship with each other to consider since their situation was more unique and challenging than a normal relationship, but it didn’t consume the book or take away from the other storylines.

After reading this book I know I will be reading more books by Sara. She has sold me on historical fiction.

I was offered a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review and this review was my very honest opinion.

About the Author

Sara is a coffee lovin’, word slinging, clean Historical Romance author whose super power is converting caffeine into novels. She loves those odd little tidbits of history that are stranger than fiction. That’s what inspires her. Well, that and a good love story.

But of all the love stories she knows, hers is her favorite. She lives happily with her own Prince Charming and their gaggle of minions. Three to be exact. They sure know how to distract a writer! But, alas, the stories must be written, even if it must happen in the wee hours of the morning.

Sara is an avid reader and also enjoys reading clean Historical Romance when she’s not traveling. Her books range from the Czech lands to the American Wild West and from ancient Egypt to the early 1900s. Some of her titles include The Lady Bornekova, Hope in Cripple Creek, The General’s Wife, Trail of Fears, and the Convenient Risk Series.

More from Sara

Hello, Readers!

I am always asked about the inspiration behind my work. These tidbits can be wide and varied from one story to the next. But none is so interesting, in my opinion, as the thing that sparked A Convenient Risk.

It just so happens that one of my good friends, best-selling contemporary romance author Hannah R. Conway, is my conference buddy. We go to writing conferences and retreats together, networking with other writers and learning more about the craft of writing.

And…at one such conference during some down time, Hannah (who is a fellow lover of history) said, “hey, let’s go to the cemetery.” I wasn’t quite so certain about that particular jaunt, but it was daytime and she raved about the history to be mined there, so I was in.

As we walked around, indeed we did look at stones—especially older ones—and thought about the lives of the people based on the era they lived in and whatnot. Just a heyday for our writer brains. We came upon a particular set of stones from the early 1900s. And, according to the little bit information on the stones, we determined that the woman had first married a man who was much older. Then he died. And she married a man closer to her own age. My writer wheels started turning!

Did her parents arrange a marriage for some sort of benefit? Maybe she was from a poor family and they needed her to have a better circumstance? At any rate, the man died a few years later. Then she married a man closer to her age…perhaps a man she had previously been in love with and had always wanted to marry?

I thought, then, about second marriages after a spouse passes. And how we tend to memorialize loved ones who pass—remember the good times and gloss over the hard, more challenging things. I don’t think this is a conscious thing, more of a way our mind handles grief.

So, if a widow must make a marriage of convenience, how does that affect her ability to develop love for the second husband if she is comparing him to this image of her first spouse in a way he wasn’t actually in real life.

Now, I don’t know for certain…I’ve only been married once (and thank the Lord my Prince Charming is patient enough to stick it out with this writer). But I wanted to work this scenario out within this fictive bubble…play with this concept…see where it led. After mixing that with a bit of history, throwing in a dash of a famous American outlaw, A Convenient Risk was born.

Blog Stops

For Him and My Family, December 1

Boondock Ramblings, December 1

Debbie’s Dusty Deliberations, December 2

Texas Book-aholic, December 3

Inklings and notions, December 4

Britt Reads Fiction, December 4

Ashley’s Clean Book Reviews, December 5

deb’s Book Review, December 6

Locks, Hooks and Books, December 7

Musings of a Sassy Bookish Mama, December 8

Because I said so — and other adventures in Parenting, December 9

A Modern Day Fairy Tale, December 10 (Spotlight)

Cats in the Cradle Blog, December 10

Blossoms and Blessings, December 11

Happily Managing a Household of Boys, December 12

Truth and Grace Homeschool Academy, December 13

Abba’s Prayer Warrior Princess, December 14

Giveaway

To celebrate her tour, Sara is giving away the grand prize package of a $50 Amazon gift card and an eBook copy of A Convenient Risk!!

Be sure to comment on the blog stops for nine extra entries into the giveaway! Click the link below to enter.

https://promosimple.com/ps/1417f/a-convenient-risk-celebration-tour-giveaway

Spotlight and Excerpt: Heart of Stone

Welcome to the Blog + Review Tour for Heart of Stone by David James Warren, hosted by JustRead Publicity Tours!

ABOUT THE BOOK

The continuing adventures of Rembrandt Stone from the creative minds of James L. Rubart, Susan May Warren, and newcomer David Curtis Warren, writing collectively as David James Warren.

Title: Heart of Stone

Series: The True Lies of Rembrandt Stone #6

Author: David James Warren

Publisher: TriStone Media

Release Date: November 23, 2021

Genre: Time Travel Detective Series

Rembrandt Stone has nothing left to lose…or does he?

Detective Rembrandt Stone doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror. Doesn’t recognize the world he’s returned to. Doesn’t even know his own name. But he knows one thing…living in this world is impossible.

Good thing he has an ally—an unexpected friend from the past. And together, they just might be able to unravel the entire mess. But first…Rembrandt will have to return to the past one final time and intercept himself before he makes a lethal mistake.

Time has outwitted him. It’s time for him to outwit time. Can he reconstruct a past he just destroyed or is there nothing left of his world to save?

The explosive ending to the True Lies of Rembrandt Stone!

PURCHASE LINKS*: Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookBub

EXCERPT

They say that without hope, people perish.
I say hope crushes the soul.
That’s why I look away when Frankie Dale’s beautiful gray eyes fall on me as I
walk into Alexander Malakov’s third-story office.
The pulse of some electro-dance beat pumps in from the nightclub below, the odor
of bodies and a hint of reefer saucing the air. Turbo is on fire tonight, the line to get
into the club a half-block long despite the sultry July-heated night.
Alexander leans against the front of his desk, his arms folded over his gray silk
Brioni dress shirt, his cuffs rolled up—as if he’d actually do any of the bare knuckle
work it takes to keep his multi-million dollar organized crime empire running.
That’s why Vita, Alexander’s “XO,” the guy who delivers his orders, called me.
Vita is shorter than me, lean, blond and about my age, his face heavy with lines and a
scar that runs from his eye to his chin.
We’re work friends.
“Staz,” he says in greeting and I nod at him and walk over to Alexander. The
female—she can’t be Frankie, not right now—sits on the sofa. I can’t tell if she’s been
roughed up, but I don’t look at her, just in case.
“Thanks for coming,” Alexander says from his perch on the desk.
“Of course, boss.” I’ve played the undercover game for years, so this can’t be any
different. Booker briefed me earlier—wait for that, I’ll catch you up—and apparently,
I’ve been at this game for years, so sliding into my persona as Staz, Malakov’s right
hand thug is an old shoe.
According to my sketchy research, Alexander Malakov runs the biggest Russian
gang in Minneapolis, filling the void after Burke and I took down Somali warlord
Hassan Abdilhali some twenty years ago. According to Booker, Malakov’s also
recently declared war on the police department, hoping to carve out his own Little
Moscow in the North Loop.
I remember this part from past versions of my life—my 1994 Porsche 911 having
recently been a victim of this war.

And I know you’re wondering—past versions?
Again, wait for it. It’s worth it, I promise.
Alexander is vaping, and now sets down his cigarette. My guess is that it’s filled
with high end snow because he’s edgy and ticking with energy. I walk over and put a
hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”
“How did she get in here?” He directs the question to Vita, and I look at him,
expecting an answer, too.
“I don’t know. We found her in here rummaging around. Say’s she was lost, but I
don’t buy it.” Vita says.
Now I look at Frankie.
The sight of her makes me pinch the corners of my mouth and take a breath. Her
lip is bleeding, although that could be from a struggle. Frankie has it in her to cause
trouble, thanks to her parentage.
I know for a fact that Booker doesn’t know what she’s up to. But then again, she’s
in her mid-twenties and can make her own decisions.
If she were my daughter, I’d put a tracker on her.
Okay, not really, but the thought catches me, and I inhale sharply.
I had a daughter. Once upon a happier time. With blonde hair and blue eyes and
the kind of laughter that made me believe in things like hope, and faith, and love.
For the last month, I’ve tried to believe—to hope—that I could find her, save her,
bring her home. I haven’t succeeded.
Remember what I said about hope?

BOOKS IN THIS SERIES

CONNECT WITH REMBRANDT STONE: Website | Instagram

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

James L. Rubart is 28 years old, but lives trapped inside an older man’s body. He’s the best-selling, Christy Hall of Fame author of ten novels and loves to send readers on mind-bending journeys they’ll remember months after they finish one of his stories. He’s dad to the two most outstanding sons on the planet and lives with his amazing wife on a small lake in eastern Washington. More at http://jameslrubart.com/

CONNECT WITH JAMES: Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter

Susan May Warren is the USA Today bestselling, Christy and RITA award–winning author of more than eighty novels whose compelling plots and unforgettable characters have won acclaim with readers and reviewers alike. The mother of four grown children, and married to her real-life hero for over 30 years, she loves traveling and telling stories about life, adventure, and faith.

For exciting updates on her new releases, previous books, and more, visit her website at www.susanmaywarren.com.

CONNECT WITH SUSAN: Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter

David Curtis Warren is making his literary debut in these novels, and he’s never been more excited. He looks forward to creating more riveting stories with Susie and Jim, as well as on his own. He’s grateful for his co-writers, family, and faith, buoying him during the pandemic of 2020, and this writing and publishing process.

CONNECT WITH DAVID: Instagram

TOUR GIVEAWAY

(1) winner will receive one The True Lies of Rembrandt Stone print copy (winner’s choice) and a $10 Amazon gift card!

Full tour schedule linked below. Giveaway began at midnight November 29, 2021 and will last through 11:59 PM EST on December 6, 2021. Winner will be notified within 2 weeks of close of the giveaway and given 48 hours to respond or risk forfeiture of prize. US only. Void where prohibited by law or logistics.

Giveaway is subject to the policies found here.

ENTER GIVEAWAY HERE

He is holding me in his hands

I posted this to Instagram today and will write more on my blog later …

Bettie.. please pray for me.

This is the view outside my hospital room where I am battling Covid. I came in Thursday and am already doing so much better. Would love prayers that that trend continues. I was on a small amount of oxygen when I came in and am off that now. I have prayed this entire time to Jehovah Rapha, Jesus Christ, our healer, Yeshua, Elohim, Adonai. Hold fast to him and he will hold fast to you. He has been there when no one else could be. I have had to go this alone as no visitors are allowed but I can talk to family on FaceTime. God has been my strength and I have no one to hold on to but him. It brings a whole new meaning to him sustaining me completely and wholly. Not sure any of this will make sense. The brain fog is rough and the steroids make me jittery. God bless.
covidsucks #covid #battlingcovid #godisgood #godisgoodallthetime #jesusmyhealer #trustjesus

Randomly Thinking: My quipping 15-year old, my 7-year old is sending me texts, and purses.

I’ve been trying to finish one of these for a couple of months now. Something always seems to interrupt or distract me, though. So this might not be the most exciting randomly thinking ever, but at least I’m finally getting one done.

Recently my son and I have been watching videos for science and he likes to let me know subtly that they aren’t the best produced things every by pausing them and adlibbing.

“Look at that lion. He looks so depressed. He looks like his wife just left him.”

The women on the video then asked if the lion had a backbone so they could discuss what category the lion would be placed into.  

“No,” my son responded. “He doesn’t have a backbone. That’s probably why his wife left him.”

“That word sounds like a disease. Is it a disease?”

“Yes, he’s slimy he left the Denny’s without giving them a tip.”

Finally, he said, “I have to stop doing this or we’re never going to finish this video.”

Exactly. He was simply dragging his lesson out even more, so he finally stopped.

***

One night my son and I were watching a documentary about the various palaces the British monarchy live in. The first part of the series was about Buckingham Palace and among the many features the woman was talking about was a statue of a naked Mars and Venus. Before we knew it she was touching the bare right buttock and upper thigh of Venus and telling us how supple and soft it looks and how smooth it feels. She then pointed out a small space between the two statues and called that space a “erotic space.”

Needless to say, that documentary took a very weird turn.

At one point The Boy used his adlibbing again and said, while speaking like the female host, “When the queen sits on the throne, she just sucks the life force out of us. That’s how she stays alive and why I look so old. I’m actually 20.”

***

The other night my son said, “You know people who were born in the 90s are in their 30s now? That’s totally crazy.”

“Um…thanks for that reminder,” I said, my voice full of sarcasm. “Most of them are actually in their 20s, but okay. And I was born in the 70s you know.”

My daughter looked at me in horror. “You were born in the 70s?!!”

My son. “Yes, she is old.”

So, anyhow, if you want to be humbled, have children.

***

Have you ever thought maybe you should see what the other “theys” in the world think before you tell everyone you’re doing something because “they said I had to”? And maybe you should ask why some “theys” are censored and no longer experts while other “theys” are the only experts you’re allowed to listen to. How different the world might be right now if more people did that.

***

I’ve had to cut back on milk to try to lose some weight and I reminded my son of this as I had him pour me half a cup the other night.

He deepened his voice and added a gravelly rasp to it.

“I had to cut the milk. After that guy came after me and told me he wanted the money I’d taken off him and I didn’t remember it because you know — the milk – it messed with my mind.”

Then he had me in a milk anonymous meeting saying, in the same low voice, “My name is Lisa and I’m addicted to milk. It’s destroyed my life. Don’t start drinking it. It’s a slippery slope.”

***

At the end of last school year, I was worried Little Miss wasn’t going to learn to read. Now I get messages like this on my phone from her:

***

Little Miss and I are reading a book called Freedom Crossing for school. It is about the Underground Railroad. In the first chapter, the main character, a 15-year old girl, is hiding and listening while her brother and another young man talk about her. She finally steps out and tells the boys she has heard every word.

Little Miss and I agreed to continue the story the next day and then she announced, “Yeah, she’s probably going to kick them in their weak spot because all boys have a weak spot.” She grinned at me. “Right between the legs. That’s what I’d do. I would kick them because I’m feisty. I wouldn’t let anyone talk about me and what they think I’m going to do.”

Yes, we did have to have a little conversation about violence after that, especially since she has tried this tactic on her brother and now I know she’s doing it on purpose more times than she admits.

***

Run, don’t walk, to get a copy of all the books of the Rembrandt Stone series. I just finished the last book in the series and oh gosh. Wow. Blown away by the whole series. Cried like a baby while reading the final book not once, not twice, but three times. And I mean outright sobbed. I’m sure that had nothing to do with the fact I had a 102-degree fever and was completely exhausted. Okay, it might have had a little to do with that, but mainly it was because the ending hit all the spots a time travel/romantic suspense book should. I felt empty when I finished it. Lost even. How could I read anything else that captivated me the way those books did? I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll eventually find something.

The books are by David James Warren.

***

I posted this on my Instagram earlier this week and thought I’d share it here too so my blog readers can’t let me know what they think too.

Ladies, tell me about your purses. I should probably explain that I am not really a “girly girl” so shoes and purses are not my usual thing to talk about but recently I purchased a purse that was small and cute and I thought I would love it. I haaaated it! I couldn’t fit all my stuff in it. Where was the space for my planner and my Kindle and maybe a paperback book? Not to mention my essential oils, bottle of ibuprofen for the days Aunt Flo shows up out of the blue, and a pocket for snacks for the kids because they didn’t eat their breakfast when I told them to and now we’re out somewhere and they are “hangry”. In other words, I didn’t need a purse I needed a bag. Yes, a big bag to apparently put everything but the kitchen sink in and carry around on my shoulder so that I pinch that nerve in my neck yet again and have to find a chiropractor, yet again.

How about you?

Do you like small, cute purses that are unassuming and you can carry to your dinner date without knocking ten people out on the way to your seat? Or do you need a “bag” that you can fit everything important in? Or do you have more than one purse that you switch back and forth? Maybe you’re much fancier when it comes to purses than I am.

***

Well, those are my random thoughts for this time around. Do you have anything random that happened to you or a random thought? Let me know in the comments.

Book Review: Songs in the Storm. A story of love, trust, and triumph over trials

Book: Songs in the Storm

Author: Kathy Geary Anderson

Genre: Christian Historical Fiction

My rating: 5 out of 5

Songs in the Storm is a moving story about a newly married couple struggling with a difficult diagnosis for the husband. The story walks the reader through the ups and downs, triumphs, and trials in an emotional way.

The characters of this book are so well written that I immediately fell in love with them and wanted to be sure their lives turned out okay. Yes, there was some heartbreak for both of the main characters, but they walked through the heartbreak together. This isn’t a book where the book shows the main characters meeting and falling in love. They are already in love when the book begins but their happiness is threatened when a medical tragedy strikes.

The reader is pulled into Anderson’s story through the vivid characters but also through vivid details which capture the atmosphere of the time period.

I’m not someone who reads a ton of historical fiction, but I have read some, and the books in this genre which capture my interest the most are those which immerse me in the time period they are set in. Anderson did this in such a flawless way and none of the information about the time frame or the characters seemed forced or awkward.

Be prepared to feel a range of emotions in this book but don’t let that deter you because underlying beneath it all is a comforting, sweet buzz of hope that only God can bring even in the moments we think he has left us.

I was provided with a  complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.

Sunday Bookends: Rembrandt Stone and a short update

Welcome to Sunday Bookends where I ramble about what I’m reading, watching, listening to and doing.

What I’m Reading

This past week I ended up skimming through a couple of the books I volunteered to read for book review tours. The one just was not good, the other one was good but just not my type of book.

Two books I read in the last couple of weeks that I enjoyed included:

A Convenient Risk by Sara Turnquist and Songs of the Storm by Kathy Geary Anderson.

Both books are historical fiction, which I don’t usually read.

I am reading another historical fiction, Saving Mrs. Roosevelt, by Candace Sue Patterson, for another book tour.

I am reading the last book in the Rembrandt Stone Series, Heart of Stone, for a book tour and for fun. I’d like to breeze right through it, but I’m also enjoying savoring it and don’t want the series to end. I’m having a hard time going to bed when I get into it, though, because I really need to know what happens and that it turns out okay. I might have it finished in the next couple of days as it is a fairly short, quick read.

Rembrandt Stone is a detective who comes into possession of a watch that takes him back in time to solve cold cases, but as he works to solve his cold cases he also tries to fix some other situations, resulting in a messed up timeline and his entire world being turned upside down. Even if you aren’t a fan of science fiction, you will like these books, I promise you. If you like suspense, intrigue, and romance, then you will really love these books.

Little Miss and I finished These Golden Years by Laura Ingalls Wilder last week and started The First Four Years. I hope to finish Blood Brothers this week, which I have been reading with The Boy. It is about a Christian Palestinian and the challenges he faces as a child, as well as how he has fought for peace and reconciliation between Jews and Palestinians for more than 50 years.

What I’m Watching

This past week I have been watching Irish R.M. with Peter Bowles. I had previously watched To the Manor Born with him, so I thought I’d check this one out as well and now I’m caught up in it. I guess you would describe it as a lighthearted comedy without laugh tracks. The characters are endearing and hilarious, especially the Irish who the main character (Major Sinclair Yeates) has come to be the magistrate for. Flurry is devious, but the charming character who is always getting the main character, the Major, in trouble either locally or with visitors.

In fact, most of the people of the town are usually trying to trick the magistrate in one way or another which makes for hilarious developments during each episode.

This show was very popular in the UK when it was on and apparently ran for a number of years.

What’s Been Occurring

We literally have been doing school and that’s about it. If anything exciting or halfway interesting happens, I’ll be sure to let you know in a future blog post.

What I’ve Been Listening To

I finally set up a playlist on my phone that features some of my favorite songs.

I thought I’d share a few of those today.

So that is my small update for today. How was your week last week? Let me know in the comments.

Fiction Friday: The Next Chapter. Chapter 11

To catch up with other parts of this novel in progress, click HERE.

Chapter 11

Encounter Church wasn’t only the largest church in the area when it came to congregation size. Its building stretched much further than any other church structure in Spencer Valley and anywhere in a 60-mile radius.

The building housed a full-size gym with a basketball court, a moderately large sanctuary set up stadium-style, a state-of-the-art sound system, and separate rooms that stretched down long, well-lit hallways and served as a spacious nursery, two conference rooms, and six adult Sunday School rooms.

In the lower level, there were rooms for Sunday School from kindergarten to high school, as well as a kitchen stocked and furnished as if it was in a culinary school.
This wasn’t the church Matt had grown up in and it wasn’t the type of church he ever saw himself being a member of up until a couple of years ago.

Now, though, he couldn’t imagine attending anywhere else. The music was outstanding, the pastor’s sermons were electrifying, and the congregation had become like family to Matt, even more so after his dad passed away.

“Matt! Good morning!” Jake Landers stood from the table he’d been sitting at in the Sunday School room and held out a hand.

“Glad to have you with us tonight.”

Matt took the older man’s hand and shook it firmly. “Glad to be here. I finally got a Wednesday night off.”

Jake shook his head as he sat. “I don’t know how you do it, kid. You go 1,000 miles an hour all day every day and still look refreshed.”

Matt laughed as he sat his Bible down and reached for an empty mug by the Keurig machine. “I might look refreshed, but I don’t often feel it.”

He waited for the mug to fill with the hazelnut cream flavored coffee he had chosen and then stirred in a dash of creamer and a packet of sugar. By the time he was done, the room was filling up with more men and they were seating themselves in the comfy chairs set up in a circle around the room.

He had been trying to attend this men’s group for a couple of months now. He needed this pick-me-up, the reminder that he wasn’t alone in his struggles and in sometimes feeling emotionally and spiritually drained.

The session turned out to be exactly what he needed and when it was over, he felt a renewed energy as he walked toward the gym to meet with a group of teenage boys he had agreed to mentor through a bi-monthly youth Bible study.

When it concluded, he challenged the seven boys to a pick-up game of basketball while they waited for their parents. The game reminded him he wasn’t young as he used to be and despite being a police officer, he also wasn’t as in shape as he should be.

“See you next week for a rematch, old man,” Trevor Banks called to him as he left the gym.
Matt grinned and waved back. “Challenge accepted, Stretch. I’ll be ready for you next time.”

He collected his Bible and notebook from the floor against the wall and as he looked up, he saw the head pastor Taylor Jenson strolling toward him, his charismatic smile firmly in place.

“Matt. Good evening.” He spoke in his familiar, smooth Southern accent that hadn’t faded in the least in the ten years since he’d lived in the north. He stuck out his hand and once again Matt was struck with how tall the man was and how the cowboy boots he wore with his crisp blue jeans and polo shirts made him even taller and even a more imposing figure.

“Pastor. How’s it going?”

“Good. The Bible study go well?”

Matt nodded and filled the pastor in on the young men and how each one was doing.

“That’s great, Matt.” Taylor slid his hands in his front pockets and propped his side against the gym wall. “Listen, I need to talk to you about something.”

Matt propped his Bible under his arm, hoping the pastor wasn’t asking him to take on another commitment. His schedule was completely booked.

Taylor looked at the floor and tugged at his earlobe, a move Matt had seen before, usually when Taylor was about to bring up a tough subject he really didn’t want to address. “I had a couple calls today from some members of the congregation. A couple of them were parents, a couple weren’t. They had some concerns about you leading the youth after what they read in the paper this week.”

“What they read in the paper?” Matt wasn’t following. What had been in the paper that might — “Oh. The birth announcement.”

Taylor winced and brought his gaze back up. “Yeah. That.”

Matt’s words about not caring what others thought about the announcement echoed back in his mind. Maybe he hadn’t thought this all the way through.

“They’re just a bit concerned about you leading the youth, being an example to them if you’ve had a child out of wedlock.”

Taylor was rubbing the back of his neck now, then held his hand there. “I didn’t know what to say to them. I didn’t even know you’d had a baby until someone showed me the announcement. I mean, I had seen you with Liz, taking her to some appointments, but I had no idea you were even dating.”

Matt blew out a breath and chewed on the inside of his bottom lip for a few minutes. “We’re not.”

“Oh.”

“No, I mean — it’s just. Liz and I are friends. I’m not her baby’s father. I told the nurse I was to keep Liz from having to connect her baby to the real father. I asked the nurse not to send the announcement to the paper, but I guess there was some kind of mix up.”

Taylor whistled, his hand still on the back of his neck as he tipped his head back. “Oh, man. That’s crazy.” He tipped his head back down and laughed softly. “I had a feeling there was a bigger story here. Sounds like you were trying to do the right thing.” He kicked at the gym floor with the tip of his boot. “It’s put us in a tough spot here at the church, though. I don’t want to reveal your private business but at the same time, I don’t know how to answer the parents without doing that very thing.”

Matt pushed his hands into his jean pockets and shook his head. “I don’t want to put the church in a difficult position. Why don’t I just step down for a bit, until I figure out how to handle this? I told Liz we should just ignore it, go on with our lives, and maybe I should explain it to some people, but I don’t know how to do it without making Liz look bad.”

Taylor sighed. “I really hate to do that to you, Matt. You’re an important part of this church, a leader to these boys.”

“But I’ll also be gone in a couple of weeks. You’ll have to find someone new to step in anyhow. I’ll just step down a little early.”

Taylor nodded. “That’s true. I guess that will save us both from the awkwardness.” He rubbed his hand across his chin. “I really am sorry about this. You’re a good guy, Matt. If there is anything I can do, please let me know. Can I pray for you at least?”
“Of course. Prayer is always welcome.”

Taylor took the time to pray for Matt left and then men shook hands. A few minutes later Matt was behind the steering wheel of his truck, laughing to himself. If he wasn’t leaving for the academy in a couple of weeks that conversation would have caused him more concern. He easily could have been offended that the church members who had a concern hadn’t approached him before they approached the pastor. At the same time, their concern made sense. Who would he be to tell a group of boys that waiting to have sex before marriage would protect their hearts and their bodies if he himself had been sleeping with a woman he wasn’t married to?

It did feel a bit like a betrayal that part of the congregation had made up their mind about him without even asking about the situation, but he wouldn’t have been able to ask someone about something so personal either.

He could just imagine approaching a person whose name had been listed as the father of someone’s baby when no one even knew they were in a relationship. “Hey, so . . .um . . . About this baby thing . . .”

Yeah. It would definitely be an awkward conversation to have.

He turned the radio on and tapped his hand against the steering wheel to a Christian song playing on his favorite radio station.

It was his decision to tell that nurse he was Bella’s father. No, he hadn’t thought it through, but he had to live with it and in the end, it would be worth it, as long as it meant Bella and Liz wouldn’t have any official ties to Gabe Martin.

***

“I can’t believe I did it.”

Ginny turned her head and tilted it to get a better look at her hair. While it had previously fallen across her shoulders when she let it down, it now stopped at ear level. She blew out a slow breath, tilting her head up again. What was Stan going to think about this impulsive move? She truly wasn’t sure.

Liz stood behind her, admiring her own shorter cut. “It looks fantastic, Ginny. Seriously. You’re drop-dead gorgeous. Just wait until Stan sees you. He won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”

Ginny’s chest tightened. Wouldn’t he, though? He was certainly able to keep his hands off her a lot these days. She couldn’t even remember the last time he’d hugged her, let alone held her in his arms.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but your cut certainly came out great. It will be a lot easier to manage for you, which will be great for when you start back next week.”

Liz pulled her lower lip between her teeth, still looking at her hair in the bathroom mirror, pulling the strands against her jawline. “I can’t believe my maternity leave is already over. It was nice of Linda to even give it to me. I don’t think it was easy for her to give me that much time off.”

She ruffled her hair and pouted. “Look, I look like a brunette Taylor Swift that time she chopped her hair. Well, the haircut does at least. Not the rest of me.”

Ginny cocked an eyebrow. “Who?”

Liz snorted. “A pop singer whose music I don’t even like.”

“Oh. Well, I’m old. That’s probably why I’ve never heard of her.”

“Be glad. You’re not missing much other than a lot of sappy songs about broken hearts.”

Ginny touched her finger to her chin. “Oh wait. Is she the one who breaks up with men and then writes songs about her breakups?”

Liz laughed as she picked up a brush and pulled it across her hair. “Yes. That’s her. Maybe I should have written a song after I left Gabe. I might could have made a few bucks.”

She turned and looked at Ginny, at the way Missy had angled her hair so it was short in the back and longer along the sides. Ginny looked ten years younger, if not more. Her entire persona seemed brighter now. Maybe this would help raise the heaviness the woman had around her some days. Maybe her husband would see her and whisk her out the door for a fancy dinner, bringing a bright spot to her day. She certainly deserved it.

“Is Stan going to be home tonight?”

Ginny shook her head. “No. We’re going to a real estate banquet together. He’s up for real estate agent of the year for the region.”

Liz’s eyebrows raised. This was a change from Ginny’s usual answers to questions about Stan. Most of the time he was away on business or not home at all. “That’s awesome. He’s finally taking a night away from work and taking you out to boot. Way to go Stan.”

Soft pink spread along Ginny’s cheekbones as she hooked an earring in. “Yeah, it should be a nice night out. We haven’t been out in —” The pink darkened to crimson. “Well, a while anyhow.”

Liz leaned back against the dresser behind her and gnawed at her thumbnail, pondering the color along Ginny’s cheeks. Was it brought on by anticipation or something else?

“Do you think he’ll win?”

“He has before and he’s been even busier this year so I’d be surprised if he doesn’t.”

Liz didn’t hear the excitement in Ginny’s voice she thought she should. She studied the woman for a moment then let her gaze drift across Ginny’s bedroom to the lightly -colored dresser and the mirror attached to it, the queen-sized bed set up high off the ground, covered in what looked like a handmade quilt of various colors, to the peach-colored walls and pillows that matched the walls. The headboard and armoire against the wall near the bed matched the dresser she was leaning against and a walk-in closet was open on the other side of the room.

“This is a beautiful house, Ginny.”

“You’ve never been in here?” Ginny turned her while adjusting her other earring. “I thought you were here for the engagement party.”

Liz shook her head. “Just the backyard. I was so focused on feeling out of place and left out I barely noticed even that.” She walked toward the walk-in closet. “I would say I’ve matured since then but it’s a work in progress, as you know. Hey.” She reached for a black gown hanging in the closet. “This is lovely. You should wear this tonight.” A white blouse with a silver sheen caught her eye and she reached for it too. “Oh, and you could put this over it. It would set off your eyes.”

She turned to see Ginny blushing again. “You think so? I don’t know. Maddie bought that for me two years ago and I just — well, I never — I didn’t have anywhere to wear it. I thought about wearing it to last year’s banquet but it seemed a little too . . .” Her voice trailed off and she shrugged. “Revealing? Sexy? I don’t know.”

Liz laid the dress and blouse on the bed. “It’s hot is what it is and you will look hot in it. Stan isn’t even going to want to go to the banquet when he sees you in it. He’s going to want to get you right back out of it again.”

The blush had spread to Ginny’s neck and chest now and she laid a hand at the nape of her neck as if to stop it.
“Oh — well, I don’t know about that but I — I mean, I could wear it, I guess.”

Liz walked to the dresser and flipped open the jewelry box. “I bet you have a necklace that would go great with this.” She shut the box abruptly and turned away from it. “Oh, my word. What am I doing? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be getting into your things like that.”

Ginny laughed and opened the box again. “Actually, I would appreciate your advice and opinion. I haven’t really dressed up in a while. I do have a couple necklaces that might work.”

The women looked through the necklaces for a few moments. Liz pulled her gaze away when her phone dinged. She reached for it and checked the message.

She sighed. “It’s McGee. Asking what to bring for dinner.”

Ginny swung around with a gold necklace in her hand and placed a hand on her hip. “Dinner, eh?”

Liz scowled playfully. “Calm down. It’s like a potluck dinner. Molly, Alex, Ellie, and Jason are all going to be there too. Then we’re going to watch Ellie and Jason’s wedding video.”

She texted a response and tossed the phone onto the bed. “Matt and I are just friends. Like I told you.”

Ginny held the necklace up in front of her while she looked in the mirror. “A friend who is clearly in love with you. I get it.”

Liz scoffed. “He is not in love with me. He’s just a good friend. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a very good friend. He’s been there for me in the worst moments of my life and in the best. He brought me food when I was too big and sick to get around when I was pregnant. He drove me to a few appointments when my car broke down. He, well, obviously delivered Bella. He’s also stopped by plenty of times and held her while I cleaned the apartment or took a nap. He’s just a good guy. You know that. He’s good to everyone.”

Ginny held up another necklace, narrowing her eyes as she studied her reflection in the mirror. “He’s not as good to everyone as he is to you, and I can’t say I’ve ever heard him say he was in love with you, but I do know that he was very upset when you had that fall at your apartment last year.”

Liz’s chest constricted and a lump pushed up into her throat. Her hand trembled as she straightened the dress she’d lain on the bed, averting her eyes from Ginny. “What do you mean?”

“Stan said Matt asked for prayer for you during the men’s Bible study a couple nights after you were taken to the hospital. He didn’t give any details, but said there had been an accident and he’d arrived before the ambulance.”

The room suddenly seemed small and tight as Liz sat on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. Matt was at her apartment that night? She’d known there was an officer there, but she’d been told it was Tom Landry, Matt’s older partner. If

Matt had been there, why had he never told her?

The idea of him seeing her, barely conscious, at the worst moment of her life. Bile clutched at her throat and she gagged.
Ginny whirled to look at her. “Uh-oh. Are those tacos we stopped for causing an issue?”
She shook her head against Ginny’s concern then changed her mind and nodded. “Actually, yes, they are a little. Will you excuse me?”

She found the bathroom down the hall, doubled over the toilet as she shut the door, and gagged again. She closed her eyes tight, desperate to remember the voices that night. Had Matt’s been one of them? She couldn’t remember. She needed to remember.

Dear God . . . Please no.

So when she’d first lied to him, said she’d accidentally taken too many pills from a prescription for painkillers for her knee, he’d known all along. He’d most likely even known she was pregnant. She wretched into the toilet bowl, grasping the seat as colors played across her vision.

Reaching for a piece of toilet paper, she wiped it across her mouth and shook her head. He’d never said a thing. He hadn’t told her he already knew. That had been almost a year ago. And he’d never said a thing. She couldn’t believe it.
He had now twice seen her at her most vulnerable. If the earth opened up right now and swallowed her whole she wouldn’t have been totally fine with it.

“Really God? How much more do you need to punish and humiliate me for what I did?”

She stood and turned the sink on, cupping a handful of water to wash her mouth out with. She pictured herself in the bathroom floor of her apartment that night, desperately trying to get the pills to come back up again. She hadn’t wanted to die. Not really. She’d simply panicked. She hadn’t wanted the baby to die either. She hadn’t even really accepted there was a baby yet.

In those moments when she shoved those pills in her mouth, she had told herself it was the best way to keep her parents from finding out how she’d been living, from Molly being disappointed in her, from feeling the same day after day. But at the moment she stuck her finger back against her tonsils a different kind of panic had set in. A panic that she might actually die, that she’d never had a chance to say goodbye to Molly or her sister.

There was a baby to think about. The baby hadn’t done anything to deserve a death sentence. She had to stop the pills from taking effect and there was no way they wouldn’t. She’d downed half a bottle of opioid painkillers.

Praying to God, she had begged while vomit trickled down her chin. It obviously wasn’t enough vomit to bring the pills back up because blackness had encroached across her vision quickly. She had chased the darkness away with a deep breath that was more like a gasping scream.

“Jesus! Save me!”

She couldn’t even feel the phone in her hand when she’d hit the 9 and collapsed against the cool linoleum.

A knock on the bathroom door ripped her from the memory and back to the present. She tried to gather herself, remind herself she wasn’t in her old apartment, begging to live. She was at Ginny’s and she needed to get it together already. She splashed her face with water and snatched the hand towel to dry herself off.

“Liz? Honey? You okay in there.”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be right out.”

There she went again, lying. How many times in her life was she going to tell everyone she was fine when she clearly wasn’t?

No matter.

She smoothed her newly cropped hair back, took a deep breath, and forced what she hoped was a natural-looking smile on her face.

Faking happiness had become like breathing to her.

This time would be no different.

Fiction Thursday: The Next Chapter. Chapter 10

I’m posting a chapter on Thursday because Bettie asked me to. That is all.

To catch up with the story click HERE or see the link at the top of the page.

Chapter 10

She glared at her reflection, at the boring, straight strands falling around her shoulders, and wished she was young again.
When she was younger, she could cut her hair and feel like a different person. Not now. Nothing she did made Ginny feel like a different person. She was the same, boring, never-does-anything-exciting woman she always was, whether her hair was pulled back in a ponytail or hanging across her shoulders.
Still, maybe a change would help her feel less stuck somehow. She pulled the hair up on her head and held it in place with her hands, turning her head and looking at the effect in the mirror.
Maybe she should have it styled differently. Or cut it short.
What would Stan think, though?
She snorted.
He’d never even notice.
His nose was buried too far into real estate paperwork.
She picked up her phone as it rang. She heard her thoughts in Liz’s voice. “I want to make a change and I’m starting with my hair. Is that stupid?”
Ginny huffed out a breath blowing at a strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead. A strand of hair that had once been blond but now featured streaks of gray. “No. Not at all because it’s the same thought I had.”
“I’ll get us an appointment with Missy.”
Missy Fowler? Ginny had always gone to Betty Richardson. Missy was for young women. Her styles were more modern, bolder, and — exactly what she needed.
“See if she has anything Friday afternoon. I’m free then.”

***

Most of the time she didn’t think about the night with the pill bottle clutched in her hand, the way she’d swallowed all those pills and wanted it all to end but then all of the sudden, when her chest had gotten tighter and her breathing was shallow, she suddenly didn’t want it all to end.
She’d tried to throw it all up but it didn’t work, no matter how many times she shoved her finger into the back of her throat. Her hand had trembled when she reached for the phone, her vision blurring as she hit the number 9, as far as she got but luckily enough for her cellphone to tap into the local emergency center.
She’d tasted bile and choked out the words around a rush of vomit. “Help me.”
When she woke up bright lights blazed into her eyes, deep into her brain. Voices swirled in her mind, running together, overlapping, making no sense.
“Pills . . . floor . . . bottle . . . Hold her down we need to get an IV in . . . pregnancy test. Check that, Tom.”
She hadn’t known who Tom was at the time. Maybe that good-looking emergency room doctor she later found out Jessie Landry was dating, which means he obviously had no taste anyhow. Later she learned Tom Stapleton was Matt’s partner, a veteran police officer, on the force some 20-years. He must have been the responding officer, the first to arrive before the ambulance. She wished she could remember but by then her world had begun to fade around her and she’d started imagining her friends and family crowded around her casket in Homer’s Funeral Home.
Matt’s partner was how he had found out about her being in the hospital. Tom had thought the two were dating and asked Matt if she was okay. The day Matt came into the hospital room to check on her she had wished her bed would transform into a venus fly trap so she could disappear inside.
She’d smoothed a hand back through her hair but she knew it wasn’t going to help. She was a mess. There was no getting around it.
Matt’s expression had been hard to read. He seemed to be trying to be cheerful but there was something else lingering behind his eyes. Was it concern? Disgust? Liz seized on the disgust interpretation in that moment because it was the emotion she held toward herself. Absolute and total disgust. How had she sunk so low that first she was pregnant with the baby of a man she despised and second she’d actually tried to kill herself? Kill herself. My God. She’d fallen so far. It wasn’t something she’d ever considered before, even when she’d battled depression while living with Gabe. What had snapped in her brain to make her think that was the logical way to handle the news of her pregnancy?
And now here she was in a hospital room with the handsome police officer she’d gone out on two dates with looking at her like she was a complete crazy person, most likely wondering what he’d been thinking asking her out in the first place. Until the moment she saw those two lines on that pregnancy test she had seen the possibility of a new future with Matt, one full of tenderness and friendship and maybe even love. A future very much unlike the bleak one she’d been looking at when she’d been living with Gabe, before she woke up and gathered her courage to walk away.
“I took too many pills from a prescription I had for painkillers. It was an accident.” The lie spilled out of her before she even thought. There was no way she could tell Matt the truth. Not now. Not ever. She laughed a little pathetic laugh that she hoped sounded real. “It was for a knee injury I had a few months ago. It had flared up again but I guess I forgot how many pills I was supposed to take. When I realized I had taken four instead of two I tried to throw them up. It didn’t work so I called 911.”
It wasn’t all a lie. The pills had been painkillers and she had been prescribed them for a knee injury. The pain from that injury had been long gone before that night, though, and she’d definitely taken more than four pills. It was clearly not an accident. Tom must have known that if he had been first on scene. Apparently, he hadn’t told Matt the truth because Matt seemed to buy it, hook line and sinker.
“Yeah. Those directions can be confusing sometimes.” He’d reached over from the chair he was sitting in, leaning toward her, and covered her hand with his. “All that matters is you are still with us. It all could have ended a lot differently.”
The words haunted her for weeks afterward and even now she thought about them often.
“It all could have ended a lot differently.”
She looked at the baby asleep in the crib next to her and took a deep breath, grateful she had a breath to take, grateful she had a baby to look at.
She tossed the covers off of her and walked gingerly toward the desk on the other side of the room. Opening her laptop she blinked in the light, waited for her eyes to adjust, and read the email she’d received a couple hours earlier.
Dear Liz Cranmer:
Thank you for taking the time to apply to Travers Community College. We are pleased to let you know that you have been accepted for the fall semester for online classes and may begin scheduling your classes upon receipt of this letter.

There it was. Her green light to improve herself. Her green light to forget the past, change her future. Her green light to reject who she’d been before. Her green light to at least pretend she was a fully functioning adult and not an abject failure at everything she tried.
Maybe she’d fail at this too.
Maybe she’d be unable to understand the coursework.
Maybe her thoughts about being stupid were true.
Maybe. Lots of maybes.
But maybe she’d succeed and maybe she’d make a better life, not only for herself but for her daughter.

Homeschooling Notes: Homeschooling grade school level verses high school level

I had an epiphany this week about homeschooling my first grader. Yes, it is a little sad it came at the beginning of our third month of school, but, hey, better late than never.

I am in a unique position in that I am teaching an elementary school student and a high schooler at the same time. Well, maybe it is not that unique since I know parents who are homeschooling multiple children of various ages. I suppose it just feels unique for me because the majority of people I know (with the exception of one who is teaching five from ages 6 to 15) who are homeschooling are teaching one child or a couple of children around the same age.

My problem was that I was trying to apply the same tactics that I used for teaching my high schooler to how I teach my first grader. While my ninth grader can handle multiple subjects a day and comprehend everything presented into those subjects each day, my first grader is a bit overwhelmed and when she gets overwhelmed, she shuts down and doesn’t want to even try to learn.

She wasn’t brought up in a school setting where a teacher presents several subjects to students a day and expects them to retain all that information. My son was. He was taught to be a little learning soldier, moving forward to the next thing whether he understood what he’d just learned or not. No time for trying to understand. They had a schedule to keep and a goal to reach before the end of the day/week/month/year.

Little Miss is used to more leisurely learning days where she can focus as much time as we feel is needed on each subject, only I wasn’t really doing that. I was making myself a list of at least four subjects that had to be done each day. This left us feeling rushed and scattered. Instead of lingering on a concept she might not have been grasping as quickly as others, there was a clock ticking in my head that said her work had to be done within a certain time frame so we couldn’t dilly-dally on place value, for example. In my mind, if she didn’t grasp the concept in the time frame we had, well, too bad. We’d address it again the next day because I still had Reading/English and Science to do.

This week, though, I abandoned the traditional idea of school and decided to focus on only two subjects a day for Little Miss. Two main subjects and an extracurricular on some days, plus Bible every other day.

We are homeschooling for a myriad of reasons and one of those reasons is the luxury it gives us to take our time to learn. Unfortunately, I wasn’t taking that time or recognizing the benefit of homeschooling very well. I was trying to make homeschooling like traditional schooling and doing that negates the entire point of homeschooling.

So, for now, I am going to do Math and Reading, Monday, Wednesday, Friday. The lessons I have for those right now are short and to the point, so we are doing two lessons on those days. The math lessons are a little more time-consuming and now we can take time on them and give Little Miss the time she needs to be a bit of a goof while she figures out whatever concept she is learning that day.

I might decide we need to do one of those every day so I will see. The great thing about homeschooling is I can change our schedule as needed.

For now, I am going to do science and history on Tuesday and Thursday. Two lessons on science maybe depending on each subject, each of those days, and most likely only one on history on those days.

Art will be Wednesday and Friday or other days if it fits with the other subjects. Then I want to add music in on certain days – maybe Tuesdays and Thursdays.

I am hoping this schedule will help Little Miss stop dreading school days. She knows she has two subjects, Bible and something like art or music each day and that’s it. She can focus better and not feel like her brain is stretched too far. When I mentioned the idea of only two subjects a day, without mentioning why her response confirmed for me this is the right move.

“Oh, good because when we do all those subjects, I can’t keep all of that stuff in my brain.”

Here is to hoping she can keep more stuff in her brain with less of it being poured in each day.