My Hope for Tomorrow

My hope for tomorrow is more bright sunshine and sweeping clouds drifting across a clear sky, as birds wing its’ breadth and awe, amidst the constant we know as time.  When the sun tires and reflects against the east, the storm clouds, crouching in the distance, move forward and as the storm arrives, it brings nourishing rain and cleansing winds, even as it sweeps away things we may cherish, it renews what is left behind with new life and sustenance.

My hope for tomorrow is a gentler spirit among men, a more loving heart and tender mercies, showing forgiveness to the unforgivable. Finding gratefulness in all things necessary or not, and a mindfulness of the consequences of all our actions and words.

My hope for tomorrow is a broadening spirit, reaching out to all men with open arms embracing kindness, thoughtfulness and love, with an understanding of broken hearts and dispirited lives; painful regrets and unrequited service.

My hope for tomorrow, as I lay my head down tonight, is to wake on the morrow to a world healed of its wounds, cleansed of its anger, thankful for its blessings, and renewed by the overpowering love each of us has to give – freely.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Writing a Novel

I’m working on the third book in my Winter Secret Series (Originally called Four Seasons to Choose, series).  The first book, Winter Secret was released in May, 2012 and the second, Spring Promise, is in production and due to be released this spring.  The third in the series is called Summer Truth and, as any reader knows, in a series, there are always issues that need to be resolved and loose-ends that need to be tied up by the finish of the series. Summer Truth is the book that begins to answer some questions left previously unanswered and so, in writing it, I find myself returning to the first two novels to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. I only want to tell part of the truth in this third book – not all of it, because the final book, currently only partially written, will be like the fireworks finale on the fourth of July!

When looking back, I realize how many hours I have been writing; years in fact.  I’ve found that it takes about a year for me to finish writing a novel.  I think I must “chew” on it a lot. Recently, I was looking for a particular chapter I wrote for Winter Secret and when I couldn’t find it in the book, I remembered that I threw it out during the final edit because it just didn’t seem to relate to the section of the story at that time.  That happens a lot when writing.

I still haven’t chosen a title for the last book.  I haven’t found the right word yet:  Autumn…something?  Fall…something?  It must be a singular verb, for instance, Secret…not Secrets. And it must epitomize the culmination of all the books in the series.

Guess I’ll chew on that for a while!

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Feeling Appreciation

How do you describe the feeling of appreciation? The tingling sensation that dances across your arms, around your throat and descends into your heart, where thrilling and deeply touching warmth begins to glow until it spreads throughout your body and soul until your eyes begin to sting with tears of gratitude. Gratitude physically felt, bringing joy, thankfulness and appreciation that covers you with a blanket of happiness that wraps around with a great big hug.

Don’t deny yourself the opportunity to experience this awareness of bliss that awaits when you count your blessings. Begin with one and keep going until you reach the end, which is usually impossible to reach. Blessings are endless and have unlimited repercussions in life, but to try to count them will cleanse and lift your heart and bring happiness into the hardest of times, the darkest of souls, and the emptiest of lives. This is the beginning of true beauty inside you, the love that grows like a flower until its color and scent reaches out to touch others and not only enriches their lives, but changes yours forever.

Begin with: I appreciate the gift of life….

©2012 Linda Gatewood

My spooky yard

As everyone in my family knows, I have a spooky yard, especially around Halloween.  Creepy crawlies climb up your spine, cold shivers tingle every nerve and a scream is only a short breath away. So I’ll try to explain what happens in the yard when that special time of year draws near.

The yard transforms from endless green grasses, bright red dancing Geraniums and golden Marigolds - whose blossoms shelter seeds from the ravages of winter - to the creeping cold death that must end the life of soft ruffled leaves and gentle pansies.  The Morning Glories close their blooms for good, the green vines becoming stiff and brown, their clinging tendrils swinging in the breeze to grasp at whatever passes. Great swaying trees are bare when their leaves perish and fall, the branches raw and exposed. The friendly chirping birds take flight and leave in their stead, flocks of Ravens, ravenous for food or treasure.  The sky, as far as you can see, is black, with only tiny shining eyes that wink in fear.  It sets the stage for Halloween in my yard.

When the silver moon shines its magic metallic light upon the black bare branches of leafless trees, the ghostly spirits appear and begin their dance. Their feet crunch against the dried, boneless foliage lying prone across the spiky shoots of frozen grasses, while their voices croon among the abundant, abandoned nests of hornets, whose white corpses rest deep inside their self-built coffins. Wispy strings of fog tangle themselves together to kiss the ghosts and caress their translucent faces hidden in shadow, as they twirl across the endless black sage covering the ice cold ground. If you ask, “Who goes there?” you will hear the whisper of names reaching out from all directions, their need to speak, to be heard, to touch you, insatiable, unrequited and forlorn.  Best to turn around, run as fast as you can, or risk being bumped by a bony hand, or rattled by a skeletal frame, until you are lost and all alone in the forest of the forsaken.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Be Good to Yourself!

One of the cruelest things we do to ourselves is to beat up our morale with regret, remorse and procrastination.  We take the stick of regret and pound away, and then we grab the whip of remorse and cut deeply. On top of all that, every day we take the needles of procrastination and stab ourselves repeatedly all day long.  Why do we do this?  Are we sadists?

Since Autumn arrived, I’ve been thinking about all the things I meant to do this summer, but didn’t.  For instance, I managed to clean up the garage, somewhat, but never got to the large attached storage room which is definitely a warm-weather job. (I picked up the stick of regret and began to pound.) Why, oh why, did I let the time go by and not do it because now it was too late. (I grabbed the whip of remorse.) Another year will go by and who knows what critters will take up abode in that room!  Then, I moved on to the next thing I never got done. 

Thinking these thoughts did a strange thing to me.  I began to feel overwhelmed and helpless; unable to move forward and achieve anything at all.  The days crawled by while I made lists in my head of all my many failures in life.

Then one day I woke up and said, “STOP IT!” This must stop right now! You must be good to yourself! And how would I be good to myself?  Well, I would start by doing what I could to make my life a little more comfortable between me and my conscience.  I hadn’t vacuumed my bedroom floor all week because I was so busy wielding the stick of regret and whip of remorse.  I hadn’t fixed the newly bent curtain rod in the guest bedroom or hemmed the new curtains for the dining room because I was wallowing in procrastination.  I hadn’t called a good friend for a chat because I felt I never had anything cheerful to say.

I wasn’t seeing the beautiful sunsets or hearing the leaves fall gently against each other.  I was missing the scents of dried herbs rubbed together in the spent garden and the silence of insects that no longer buzzed in the air. The rush of hot and cold air, all in one day, against skin tired of being assaulted by the constant burning summer sun; the settled and sleepy landscape, exhausted after producing, once again, for another season.

No more wasting my time using the stick of regret and whip of remorse!  I plan to make myself happy by indulging in freeing my conscious and moving forward, doing the little things that are important, listening to the sounds of Fall, tasting the harvest, keeping hearts and hands busy, looking forward to tomorrow and all the joy it holds.

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Happy

A good reason to be happy today… is my first thought when I wake up in the morning.  First reason: the wind has softened; the sky is so blue and I can smell fall in the fresh air from my open window.  I slept well and feel refreshed and healthy.  I’m uplifted for a moment before the other thoughts begin to crowd into my mind and I gradually pick up the worries that clung to me as I fell asleep last night.  Did I over spend yesterday when I shopped? Did I remember to put gas in the car? Did I forget my son’s birthday? (what day is it anyway?)  Did the dreadful storm hit the east coast as predicted?

It takes a few moments before I reign in my thoughts, pulling them back to where they belong:  In the present; back to the soft wind and blue sky and sweet smells; back to this moment and my very own reality and my surroundings.  I ask myself why I’ve become such a worrier about things I can’t control or stuff that doesn’t really matter.  Because the most important part of life is happening right now, right here, right next to me.

The sun rises slowly behind the mountains, sending sunbeams cascading across the fields, the shadowy trees transform into green puffs, the tiny birds, hidden in branches, sing their morning songs. If I listen, I can hear life happening in every direction and I can almost see its progress since yesterday.  A few more colored leaves on the bushes, a golden hue cast around the crops next door and tiny dry seeds appearing on spent flowers.  When I begin to number the wonderful reasons to be happy, the count just goes up.

Yes, there is a lot to be happy about today and I’m going to do my best to concentrate on what really matters.  And so should you!

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Turn up the heat (Just kidding!)

Summer heat is on across the nation and it’s HOT!  Luckily, we have a small, sometimes insignificant advantage, in our corner of the world, located in Idaho, sheltered by tall mountain pines and brushed desert sage dampened by morning dew.   We have the soothing, calming, cool summer nights descend when the temperature drops by fifteen, twenty and sometimes thirty or more degrees as the golden sun sets in the west and the shy rising moon sends out its silver moonbeams.  The evening breeze scented with wild rose and juniper is fresh as it crosses our brow and softly washes through our hair, lifting the heat from our bodies, making endless summertime tolerable, refreshing and, occasionally, addictive. These twilight moments are as priceless as a rare radiant sunset or sunrise can be, or as memorable as the robust breaking waves following the tides on the Isles of oceans.

Sitting outside on a cool summer night with the stars twinkling high above is soothing to the soul and brings relief from the relentless heat of summer daytime sunshine. Did I say addictive?

©2012 Linda Gatewood

Love Stories

     Some of the greatest love stories can be found in your own family history.  My family must have been great writers because they all left wonderful stories of their lives, some dating back to the early 1800's. It seems to be traditional in our family for everyone to add a page before they leave this earthly life. If it is possible to find all the stories and bind them together, it makes for very interesting reading.
     The greatest love of my ancestors seems to be their love for the Lord and his teachings. They made tremendous sacrifices for their beliefs and their hardships were combersome and heavy, but they left wonderful legacies and splendid examples for those who followed. It's easy to feel ashamed in our spoiled lives when we forget what went before, especially when we are feeling as if we should have more. We have already been given priceless treasures by our ancestors because we have everything we need now, due to their sacrifices.  And I'm not just talking about material needs; I mean spiritual, strength-building, bone-deep, gut-wrenching and tough moral fiber. You inherited that too. Just read your family histories.
     Their love reaches out to touch our lives even now when we read about the baby that fell out the back of the wagon traveling along a bumpy road in the mid-west. How two little girls who fell behind the company picking wild flowers, came upon the child, wrapped tightly in a blanket, still asleep, lying in the middle of the road, while the wagon train had moved on down the trail. And we are told that the baby was our great-great-great grandfather.
      I hope everyone will write their "Love" story for their progenitors and bind it with all the others for many to read. These stories will give strength and meaning and purpose to the readers.

©2012 Linda Gatewood