Friday Fiction: Come Harvest Time

It FINALLY feels like fall today! Not that I mind summer weather lasting until the end of October, but wearing short and flip-flops on Halloween just doesn't seem right.

This poem was my entry for the "Fall" challenge at Faitwriters.com last September, and I thought I'd share it in honor of the changing weather.

Be blessed,
Cat



---------------


COME HARVEST TIME


Ava wakes to sparrow’s song
heralding dawn
and the balm of fall
fluttering in on dawn’s wing:
a harbinger
of harvest time.

Rising from her slumber,
she welcomes another day’s breaking,
but Ava is not mistaking
the herald’s proclamation of fall
riding in on dawn’s wing
with the hope
of harvest time.

Twas twelve months past
she last awakened
heart breaking open
and taking wing at dawn
to welcome fall,
recalling once more
his promise to come home
come harvest time.

The words he whispered
before he closed the door
behind him,
sealing off before from the morrow,
echo in her heart the year round.
“I’ll be back, you’ll see.
Pray for me.
And look for me this fall
come harvest time.”

Holed up in their shanty
Ava waited, marking time
by moon’s phases
and lines scratched on the door
that sealed off tomorrow from before
his promise to return
come harvest time.

Far too many
years
of months
of empty days
and lonely nights
have passed
for Ava to grasp
how long she’s been biding time
marking days
and seasons
waiting for
another
harvest time.

On this morning Ava rises
answering the sparrow’s call
with psalms of praise
and promise
of hope restored,
of bounties
stocked up for the morrow
that could be waiting now today
just outside the door.
It’s harvest time

She bathes and powders,
dresses in her Sunday best
dons jewelry, bracelets, rings,
adorns herself in finery,
and perches on the front porch swing
to watch, and listen, for signs
of his return
riding in on fall’s wing.
It’s harvest time.


There Ava passes
from today
into the harvest
of evermore.

© 2009


---------------

 

Christina Banks is hosting Fiction Friday today at

her blog, With Pen in Hand. Please come join us!!

Catrina Bradley
"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes." Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Friday Fiction: Sunday School Sendoff

A light piece of fluff today for Fiction Friday. (and a shout out to my Canookian friend, Timmy Boyle.) Have fun! And don't forget to follow the link below to more fiction!

---------------

SUNDAY SCHOOL SENDOFF

Macy lifted a 6-foot long, L-shaped package from the top of the pile of presents. "Gee, I wonder this one is?" She caught the card dangling from the end. "From John and Debbie. Seriously, guys. A hockey stick?

"Everyone plays hockey in Canada, eh hoser?" John snickered, and poked Dianna with his elbow.

"John's right. I think it's a law there. 'All Canadians will participate in the game of ice hockey.'"

"And what kind of impression would that make on your new church, the pastor's wife breaking the law right off the bat? They might send you back."

Macy tore the last of the bright red wrapping from the blade. "Ha ha. Watch it or I'll find another use for my new hockey stick." She waved it toward them and scowled before bursting into laughter and grabbing another present from the stack.

"From Jerry and Linda." Macy ripped the paper off the box and opened the lid. "Oooh!! Did you make this?"

Jerry piped up, "Yeah, I slaved for hours knitting under a hot lamp. Killed my arthritis."

"Riiiight." Macy extracted the end of scarf created from the softest, deepest blue yarn and brushed it across her cheek. "Mmmm, nice. So, seriously. Did you make this, LINDA?" She continued unwinding the scarf out of the box and wrapped it around her neck, and wrapped it, and wrapped it. "And did you make it long enough?"

"We know how cold it is up there in the Great White North. We wanted to make sure you were covered."

"Thanks, guys, I love it. And I love you. I love all of you." Tears started shining in her eyes. "I can't believe you did this for me."

"You've been the best Sunday School teacher we've had, and we're going to miss you. We wanted to do something special for you, as a class." Linda had to grab a tissue and dab her own eyes.

"Don't worry, the church will have another party for you and Pastor Stephen," Jerry said. "You know us. Any reason to get together and eat." As if to prove his point, he plucked another donut off the plate in the center of the table bit off a mouthful.

Laughter danced around the room, and Macy was grateful the somber moment was over. She dreaded breaking down in front of her class, her family, and she had come precariously close. The day was nearing when she would have to say goodbye to them, but until then she wanted to fill every minute with joy.

She opened another brightly wrapped box. "Electric socks? They make electric socks? Oh, I forgot, this one's from Deb and Ernie. Very cool, guys. Thanks!"

"Oh, you betcha," Ernie said. "Can't have you getting frostbite, now can we, eh? Mighty cold up there like Linda says."

"You guys crack me up. Ok, this one is from Amelia. Thanks for missing your youth class to come to my party today, Amelia." She removed the delicate pink tissue paper from the box. "Oh, a book light! Thanks, sweetie."

The girl seemed transfixed by the button on her jacket she was fidgeting with. "I wasn't sure if they had electricity up there yet, and I think it's like completely dark for like 10 or 11 months out of the year, and I knew you wouldn't want to go that long without reading your Bible, so I figured it would come in handy, you know?" She finally lifted her baby blues to look at Macy.

"Beauty."


"Ernie, hush."


"Sorry, Deb."

Macy wasn't sure which part of Amelia's answer to tackle first. "You're right - I sure wouldn't want to go that long without reading my Bible, but I'm almost positive they have electricity where we're going. It will be great for reading in bed, tho! I'm going to love it." She opted to let the rest of it go.

"See, Mrs. Macy, that's why I'm going to miss you so much. You're always so nice even when you're correcting me. What am I gonna do without you?"

"Oh, Amelia, you'll be just fine. See, I've been teaching Mrs. Deb and Mrs. Diane and Mrs. Linda for a whole lot of years now. They're just as nice as I am, I promise. Give them a chance to show you."

"And the rest of you, the bell's about to ring. So, take off hosers! Wait! Just kidding. I need you to help me clean up this mess."

© 2009




---------------

 

Karlene is hosting Fiction Friday today at

Homespun Expressions. Please come join us!!

Catrina Bradley
"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes." Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Book Review: Cardan's Pod

Cardan's Pod
by Rick Higginson

I was intrigued by the premise of a book about mermaids, and being familiar with Mr. Higginson's work, I've been especially looking forward to reading "Cardan's Pod."

It exceeded all my expectations.

I didn't expect the "mythical" creatures to be so human - complete with emotions, needs and desires. Mr. Higginson makes the unbelievable easy to believe.

But this isn't just a sci-fi story about mermaids - also it's a murder mystery, love story, adventure novel, and medical thriller, where mermaids happen to play central roles in the unfolding drama.

I only wish the ending hadn't come so soon. The last few months covered in the book were skimmed over, and I wanted more details! That is a compliment to the author - he drew me so into the life of the Pod, I felt let down when I was shut out of their lives.

Cardan's Pod is a quick read, but is by no means shallow. You will not regret reading this book.


My rating: 4.5 out of 5




Catrina Bradley
"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes." Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Friday Fiction: Genesis: Morning Has Broken Me

The stunning rainbow God painted this week made me think of this story I wrote for the "Wow" challenge topic at FaithWriters. I've done a little tweaking - hopefully I helped it instead of hurting it. Enjoy!

GENESIS: MORNING HAS BROKEN ME

"Mommy, come look!" Bounce. "You gotta come see." Bounce bounce. "Come on Mommy, get up!" bounce, "get up!" bounce, "get up!"

Grrr. Seriously, God? My grand plan to sleep in on my Saturday off has been thwarted. My exuberant five-year old is causing a small earthquake in the region of Ma Bedville.

I yank the covers over my head and growl for real. "What little Bear is bouncing on Mamma Bear's bed?" My attempt at a ferocious roar is cut short by a squealing, 24-pound Beatrice plopping on top of me.

"Momm-MMY! Come ON!" She yanks at the covers, starting a wrestling match that, of course, I let my Beatle-Bear win. How can I not? Losing means I get to harvest joy from looking at those big brown eyes swimming inside her swarming halo of golden tresses.

"Whyyyy?" I whine, "I don't wanna get up. Come on, snuggle with me, Beatle-Bear." I try to pull her into a spoon, but she won't have it.

"No, Mommy, you gotta come see. It’s a wow!"

She bounces off of me and out of the bed and tugs on my hand. I tumble after her with a flop and let her drag me to her room. She prances to the window and jabs her finger at the glass. "See? See the wow?"

I stand beside her and gaze out at the new morning. The sun has just peeped over the trees, painting a pastel backdrop on the sky, and dew sparkles like a web of diamonds spun over creation. God had, indeed, painted a wow.

I rnn my hand over her tousled hair. "Thank you for showing me the sunrise, Beatrice. That's a pretty good wow." I bend down and kiss on top of her head, stifling a yawn.

"NO, Mommy, over there. See?" She’s jumping up and down and pointing across me, to the right.

I sidle over to stand behind her so I can see what her pudgy little finger is pointing at.

"See the wow?"

"Oh, wow! Yeah, Bea-Bea, now I do."

I pull her warm little body into my arms and stand hypnotized by the sight. A dancing prism of color spans the dew-bejeweled trees at the side of the yard, creating a glittering rainbow across windbreak.

My little Beatle-Bear spins around and turns her face up to mine. "You always show me the wows, Mommy. An' I wanted to show you this time, kay?"

She grabs my hand again, spins around, and points out the window. "Wow! It's the raimbow of God's promise." She turns back and looks up at me. "Now, I'm gonna pray just like you do, 'kay? Bow your head, Mommy." She takes my other hand and watches to make sure I obey.

Tears drip onto the front of my rumpled sleepshirt as my little one leads me in prayer.

"Dear God, Thank you for wows. Thank you for raimbows and for promises and for loving us. Thank you for Mommy. Please tell Daddy I love him. And thank you for Jesus. Amen."

Wow, God. I snuffle in and swallow. That's my girl. That's Your girl. Thank you.

I squeeze her hands. "Dear God, Thank you painting beautiful sunrises and rainbows for us, because sometimes we need a wow to remind us how very much you love us. Thank you for Beatrice, God, my precious little Beatle-Bear. Please take care of Daddy. And thank you for Jesus and for our home with You in Heaven, the forever treasure at the end of your rainbow. Amen."


***

"Whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures of every kind on the earth." Genesis 9:16 (NIV)

© 2010

Our host for Friday Fiction today is Rick Higginson (Hoomi) at Pod Tales and Ponderings. Add a link to your own fiction (after reading his story, of course), or just follow the links and read along. Don't forget to leave an encouraging word to let the writers know you are reading! 

Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24

Friday Fiction: The Insurrection of Procrastination Nation

Welcome to Fiction Friday!! My story is a little off the chain today, but please bear with me. The Lord is at work in me, and when "Our King" gives an order, this is a little of what goes on inside of my head - embellished for fictional entertainment purposes and your enjoyment.

---------------

THE INSURRECTION OF PROCRASTINATION NATION

ROYAL MISSIVE

From: Your Regent, Queen Kathryn,
by authority of Our King

To: All Current and Prospective Occupants of Innerland

Let a decree be heard throughout the realm:

We have summoned soldiers to scour the provinces of Innerland. Armed with the prayers of your Regent, they have been instructed by Our King to take up an official census, and to seek out and record all rogue projects, personal or professional, that have joined the insurrection and defected to Procrastination Nation. Tasks that have crossed the border from their home province of To Do into hostile territory currently under the ruthless control of the Enemy will be reclaimed for the Kingdom and put back into circulation.

We hope you have taken notice of the example made of your “hero”, Index.

As you are likely aware, Index, the most notorious offender, has claimed citizenship on our fair isle of To Do for over a year. Although his defection was not rectified, it did not go unnoticed. We have known for some time of the ulterior motives behind his repeated reassurances. We were not amused.

Last night, we dispatched an advance war party who captured Index and returned him to the control of your Regent. He was relocated to In Progress this morning, and, within three hours, he achieved the status of Complete. He would have already sailed for his next intended assignment, Awaiting Final Product, if not for the unfortunate meddling of our nemesis Missing Paperwork. That minion of the Enemy was stopped post haste, and, tomorrow, Index’s promotion will be complete.

Do not underestimate the power Our King has bestowed upon these soldiers.

We have also requested extra security be stationed in Awaiting Final Product, another weak area in our defenses against the Enemy. He and we constantly wrestle for control of this territory, and soldiers are necessary to ensure fortification. Malingerers will be accounted for and dealt with on a priority basis. We plan to be in constant contact with Our King to assure no gaps form in the hedges of protection.

As individuals, you may not be aware of the consequences imposed by the spreading insurrection. The whole of Innerland has been affected to some degree, as have parts of Outerland and the lands beyond. The scourge known as Procrastination Nation must be stopped before it damages you further.

Occupants of Innerland, take heed and take heart: we are not against you. Our desire is the desire of Our King--to protect you from the Ultimate Enemy. To this end, we are requesting permanent placement of armed patrols among you. Their mission is to defend you from attack.

The swords they wield will never be used against you; nay, their sole purpose is to slay the minions of the Enemy. The shields they carry will extinguish the fiery darts of the evil one so no further projects are swayed to the dark side.

Only when you all follow the same path can we reach our destination. If we allow ourselves to be divided by the Enemy, we risk being dominated by him.

Stand firm, citizens, and be strong in Our King and in His mighty Power. He will never leave us or forsake us.

With highest regards,
Your Regent,
Queen Kathryn of Innerland

Written with our hand, in ink on paper, in the year of our King, Two Thousand Ten


Author’s Note: Inspired in part by Ephesians 6:10-18


© 2010








---------------

Our host for Friday Fiction today Is Yvonne at her blog, My Back Door. Click on over and add a link to your own fiction (after reading her story, of course), or just follow the links and read along. Don't forget to leave an encouraging word to let the writers know you are reading!

Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Friday Fiction: Outside In

Thanks for reading my offering for Fiction Friday today!!

Call me a rebel if you will, but I'm not posting fiction. The following is a non-fiction essay I entered in the FaithWriters "Think" challenge. As a rule, non-fiction does not do well in the competition, but I didn't enter this one to win. I entered it because God wouldn't let me write anything else. ;)

I hope you enjoy, and I hope it makes you think a little bit.

Cat




---------------


OUTSIDE IN

I hate getting caught outside the stadium when the national anthem starts playing.

When I'm inside, in my seat, I spring to my feet, place my cap over my heart, and add my voice to those of the proud fans surrounding me, at times becoming teary-eyed in gratitude for my freedom.

But outside in the stadium breezeway, among the hotdog vendors, t-shirt hawkers, and souvenir stands, pride in country all but disappears.

You see, whenever I hear those first beloved notes, my ingrained military training rises again, and, no matter where I am or what I'm doing, the command comes unbidden ... "THINK".

Out amongst the crowded masses, however, I can't concentrate on the brave soldiers who carried our banner into battle through the years; I'm too disgusted at the army of my countrymen scurrying to and fro in front of me, ignoring the musical symbol of our nation's freedom.

I can't conjure up an image of six valiant men raising a tattered flag over Iwo Jima, because the spectacle of a mom and dad herding four screaming young boys waving over-sized foam fingers makes me wonder what happened to teaching children respect for their country.

When I try to picture my brothers and sisters in service who made the ultimate sacrifice, all I see are the hundreds of citizens too busy getting where they're going to stop for just a moment in respect of the men and women who secured the freedoms they seem oblivious to.

I should be thinking about the mere children leaving their families and growing up too fast in a foreign land, unselfishly defending the rights of their fellow humans to simply live like humans, but my attention is focused instead on the children in front of me who feel entitled to clamor for more, different, better, and the parents who cater to them.

Oh, yes. Better I stand safely in my assigned place in the stadium thinking my righteous thoughts, oblivious to what remains unseen outside.

Or is it?


© 2010



---------------

Our host for Friday Fiction today Christina Banks at her blog, With Pen in Hand. Click on over and add a link to your own fiction (after reading her story, of course), or just follow the links and read along. Don't forget to leave an encouraging word to let the writers know you are reading! (We thrive on that, you know.)

Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Friday Fiction: Psycho Semantics

Thanks for reading my offering for Fiction Friday today!!
I'm posting my FaithWriters challenge entry for the topic "Touch". I hope you enjoy.

---------------

PSYCHO SEMANTICS

Zoe didn’t know which hurt worse – the desperate need to be touched, or being touched itself. Dr. Madison was helping her work it out. Trying to convince her that the pain was mental, not physical. All he’d managed to convince Zoe of so far was that SHE was mental. Not that THAT took much convincing.

Ever since the fire and losing her daddy, the horrendously painful skin grafts, and year-long healing process, she’d been waiting for the old Zoe to make a reappearance. It had been one l-o-n-g year. She knew she wasn’t ‘right,’ and Dr. M’s suggestion of “mental” sounded right on.

He never came out and SAID that she was mental, of course. Just a bunch of mumbo-jumbo head-shrinker talk about psycho semantics, but she knew what he was getting at.
She was mental.

So when Tristan walked into her life, you can understand why she was a bit paranoid. First off, he was gorgeous, and Zoe felt that “need” to be touched again – but different this time. It was more than physical. Second off, the first thing he did was reach out to touch her.

Yikes!

Her mom had invited him to dinner. Zoe knew it was a hook-up--even though her mom had told her it was so “the new neighbor boy could ‘meet kids his own age.’”

‘Kids.’ Whatever. I think with all I’ve been through, I hardly qualify as a kid anymore. So when the doorbell rang at 6:00, and her mom and little brothers were (conveniently) nowhere to be found, she was on her guard.

The vision that greeted her was nothing like the pimply-faced geek Zoe had been expecting. He offered his hand, and she hated the hurt she saw in his big green eyes when she gasped and shrank back--and she hated herself for her automatic reaction. But she couldn’t help it – it was automatic.

Zoe mentally (ha ha) rehearsed and practiced the exercises Dr. M had been helping her with. For the first time, she actually had the desire to. A deep breath; pull out a memory of a time when being touched used to didn’t hurt and was connected with good feelings; focus on that and not her fear; another deep breath. Relax.

Zoe opened her eyes, and was embarrassed to realize she had shut them. Tristan was still standing there, gaping at her, more confused-looking now than hurt, and she wanted to die. She pushed her hair behind her ear, and mincingly offered her shaking hand.

Obviously Tristan was no dummy. He didn’t grab her hand, but met her halfway, matching her speed, waiting for her make first contact.

This was an approach Zoe was definitely NOT familiar with, and she didn’t know what to do. So she did Dr. M’s exercise again (quickly), and added an exercise of her own (actually one of her Grammy’s) and said a prayer.

Then she slid her palm under his, wincing involuntarily but not pulling back.

The lack of burning pain startled her and she almost collapsed. A dream. This must be a dream.

Again, Tristan held back and let Zoe make the next move.

Zoe dropped her hand and stepped aside. “Come on in. Everyone’s in the kitchen.”

Lord, what IS this? And I’m not just SAYING the word “lord” this time. I’m really talking to you. And, WOW, I think you’re really listening.



© 2010



---------------

Our host for Friday Fiction today is my bffJoanne Sher at An Open Book. Click on over and add a link to your own fiction (after reading her story, of course), or just follow the links and read along. Don't forget to leave an encouraging word to let the writers know you are reading! (We thrive on that, you know.)

Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24 (Msg)