The Mailbox Days

     Daisy impatiently rocked up on her toes then back on her heels.
     "Mama, please let me go. I'm big enough now."
     "I don't know, sweetheart." Mama thoughtfully stroked her chin. "This is a really big job. And the driveway is really long. I need someone who is very brave and very quick."
     "I am very brave and quick. Just yesterday I beat Seth in a race down the driveway."
     Mama over-dramatically stroked her chin and squinted her eyes, looking at her eager daughter.
     "Well... I suppose you are big enough, and brave enough, and if you beat Seth in a race you certainly are fast enough. Yes, you may go."
     A wide, gap-toothed grin illuminated Daisy's face. She turned around quickly, blonde pigtails swinging wildly, and bolted out of the kitchen. Mama chuckled and thoughtfully rested her hand on her growing baby belly. She knew Daisy would not always be eager to run down the long driveway to get the mail. Soon the novelty and privilege of the quarter mile walk to the mailbox would wear off, and Daisy would complain about having to get the mail again. But for now, it was a source of innocent joy. As was beating her little brother in a footrace. Mama chuckled again.
------
     Daisy ran down the gravel driveway, her Wellies causing her stride to be an awkward waddle instead of a  graceful run. Her small feet were moving quickly, intent on proving to Mama that she was quick enough for the task.
     In a few minutes she reached the rusted mailbox. It seemed so tall to her small self.
     She stretched up onto her tippy toes, Wellies squeaking. Determination oozed from her tiny being. Her hand reached the top of the mailbox door and she pulled it open.
    Envelopes rained down on Daisy, scattering on the ground around her. She bent down and picked up the envelopes one by one.
    One, two. She tucked them under her arm.
    Three, four. She tucked them under her arm.
    Five and six would not fit under her arm, so she held them in her hand.
    The seventh envelope had a small dirt footprint on it, but she brushed if off and held it in her arms with the rest.
     The little girl carefully made her way back the house, being sure to only use walking feet so she didn't drop the mail again. Daisy stepped right foot first onto the porch step. She paused on this first step, very briefly, to collect herself. Then she proceeded to climb up the remaining steps right foot first, then meeting it with her left foot. Right foot first, then meeting it with her left foot.
     She nudged the screen door open with her back and walked into the kitchen.
     "Mama," she huffed. "I am back." Daisy dumped the mail onto the table.
     "Well done, Daisy!" Mama replied, taking stock of the muddy and creased mail. "Would you like to go play with Seth now?"
     Daisy gave a quick nod, then hurried past her mother to the living room.
-----
     The old pickup truck roared into the driveway, and Daddy got out of the front seat with a tried groan. He walked up the porch steps and pushed open the screen door.
     "Hi there, Meg," he greeted his wife, with a hug and quick kiss.
     "Howdy, stranger," Mama smiled, returning the kiss.
     Daddy threw the truck keys on the table, and leaned against the counter sifting through the mail.
     "Did Daisy get the mail today?" he asked.
     "Why yes she did. And she was awful proud," chuckled Mama. "How did you know?"
     "I just had a hunch," Daddy paused for a second. "And the open mailbox, still half full of mail was a good hint." Daddy smiled.
     "Daddy, Daddy! Guess what I did today!" Daisy barreled into the kitchen.
      Daddy caught her momentum and swung her up into his arms.
     "I don't know, Daisy, what did you do?" Daddy looked over Daisy's head to Mama and gave a quick wink.
     "Mama let me get the mail all by myself!"
     "You got the mail all by yourself! I'm so proud of you, Daisy." Daddy gently tipped her head towards him and kissed her forehead. "I'm so proud."

second attempt

Hello blog,
no, that's too formal.
Hi,
no, that's too informal.
Lets try this again.

Hey blog,
I missed you.
And by I missed you, I mean I had completely forgotten you existed.
But I have started writing again. And so maybe, just maybe we can pick up where we left off? I know it can't be exactly like old times. Because I've change. I've hopefully become a bit better at weaving words in a somewhat artsy way. You've changed too...well, no. That's not true. You haven't changed. At all.
So maybe, just maybe I'll actually post my doodles. What have I to lose?
Thank you, blog.
Ever yours,
Rachel

Thus begins my second attempt at blogging. Or as I like to call it: doodling. 

Nerves

Nerves.
My heart is beating at an unnatural, sporadic pace; a rhythm reminiscent of a Zumba beat. My hands have an nearly unnoticeable tremor; more a feeling of unsteadiness than visible shaking. My breaths are steady inhale, exhale and yet the air never seems to satisfy my body's thirst for oxygen. A slight nervous sweat makes my underarms rather uncomfortable.
The only thing worse than these physical symptoms are the thoughts that accompany them.
Uncontrollable thoughts.
What if I say something wrong?
What if I don't know how to answer a question?
What if I don't get in?
What if...What if...What if... resounds with the beating of my heart. echoes with the noise of my breaths.

But what if's don't matter.
If I say something wrong, so what? It happens to the best of us
If I don't know the answer to a question, so what? Just be truthful
If I don't get in, so what? It was never written in my story

Why am I so nervous? The plan is already set. I have a God who is constant and loving. I have a Savior who gave himself for me. I have a Champion, I have no need to fear.

Take the world but give me Jesus
 If Jesus is with me, that is all I need. 
Take the world but give me Jesus

Beneath the April Sky Part I

NOTE:This story has little, if any historical accuracy.

My eyes flash open.

What woke me up? I wait with bated breath for anything that could have woken me, a bell summoning me to assist one of the passengers, or even a scream, but nothing comes.

"Carrie? Carrie!" I whisper into the darkness.

"Ann? Are you awake too?"

"Ya, why? I mean, what woke us up?"

"I'm not sure." We lay in our bunks for another minute. Then a knock comes. A short, sharp rap; an urgent rap.

I hear Carrie shuffle off her bunk, throw on a robe and answer the door.

"Pardon the intrusion, ladies, but we are to to awake our passengers and tell them to put on their life belts and report to the boat deck." I sit up quickly, forgetting the low ceiling, and inevitably hitting my head. The boat deck? In the middle of the night? We are in the northern Atlantic by now! It's freezing outside!

"Is something wrong?" I call down from my top bunk.

"The Titanic has hit an ice berg." With that our fellow steward shuffles down the hall to wake the others.

I jump down from my bunk, in too much of a hurry to use the ladder. My head is spinning. We quickly dress in our uniforms and look at each other.

"When you have woken your passengers, meet me on the boat deck," says Carrie. I nod.

"Alright. Take care, my friend."

"Until we meet again."

We hug, then go to the door, and turn our separate ways.

The Lord is my shepherd

I hear the feet of many shuffling stewards around me as we rush to wake our passengers.

I knock on the first door. Mr. Some-thing-or-other opens the door, his mouth already forming harsh words towards me.

"My apologies for the intrusion, but you are to put on your life belts and go to the boat deck."

His wife comes to stand behind the still fuming man.

"Is something wrong," she asks in a voice that betrays her fear.

"No, M'am," I answer, not at all sure of myself. "It's just routine. I suggest you dress warmly."

I shall not want.

I turn to the next door and repeat the message. Over and over, down some halls, up others, we spread the news.

"Get dressed, put on your life belt, and go to the boat deck. No there's nothing to be afraid of. It's just routine." Just routine. As staff know that there may be more to this than we tell. We know what happened. We know what could be the consequence. But the Titanic is unsinkable!

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

I arrive at the last door on this hall. I knock loudly and rapidly. A governess opens the door.

She already has her life belt on. The child next to her clutches her skirt, and a baby screams from her arms.

"You need to go to the boat deck. Hurry!" I whisper, "There may still be time."

She looks in my eyes, and understands. There is time for her, a nanny of privileged children, to save herself and the children, but there is no time or room for a stewardess.

She nods. As she walks past me she says, "Godspeed!" then hurries down the hall, pulling the older child by the hand.

He leads my beside still waters

I turn and run to the C deck; the entrance to the third class. I rush down the stairs, though I'm not sure why I'm going down here. There is a huge mass of people trying to get up the stairs. They look so desperate. It is then that I realize that just as there is no hope for a stewardess to survive, there is no hope that any of these passengers will live.

The stewards are barring the way of these third class passengers, assuring them that they will be let up soon. I see a mother standing at the front of the mass, holding a baby in her arms.

She looks at me with a pleading glance.

"Please," she screams, "if I can't go up, please take my baby!"

Why aren't the stewards letting them to the boat deck? Don't they have a right to survival too?

I look again at the screaming mother. Even if I can't let them all up, I can take the baby.

I squeeze through the wall of stewards. As I do, I can see by their faces that they do not enjoy their task of holding these people from their last hope of survival.

I hold my arms out towards the mother.

The look of relief in her eyes is incommunicable. She transfers the little one to my arms with a whispered, "Thank you, and God bless ye kind heart."

I rush back up the flight of stairs with the baby, praying that there is a life boat left. I turn to run down the hallway leading to the boat deck. Then my heart stops. The hallway is slanted. O Lord, save us! The Titanic is sinking!

Behind the Shadow

They came and went like lightning, leaving a shadow of destruction behind. They came with waves of fire and weapons, burning, pillaging, slaying. Now the walls of once majestic buildings are crumbled; and only the skeletons of the huts remain. Crows feast on the bodies strewn around the dark remains of the village.

A red light burns on the mountain. On that mountain they are rejoicing. On that mountain they are celebrating another village vanquished. On that mountain they feast. Their sickening joy fills my bones with rage, and turns my blood to fire and I realize…

I’m all that’s left.

¡Feliz Navidad!

Okay, so for the past week I have been praying that it would snow on Christmas.

This morning, just before we started opening presents, my Grandfather looked out the window.

Lo and behold; it was snowing!

Merry Christmas!!!!!!!!!!

I hope your day was filled with joy.

My Life

She sighs

She has so much work

She doesn’t know how she will get it all

Done

In only one day

Have patience, Dear One,

I will help you