It wasn't much of a thought.

In fact, I guess you would call it a "thought in passing."

Did you ever have a thought that led you to believe you could make a story, or even a book out of it? That happens to me a lot. I think that is one reason why my writing schedule (Yes, I do have a writing schedule!) is nearly full-for the next nine years! Winter brings the new words. Spring and summer months are set aside for editing, and the fall months are dedicated to marketing, sales, and publications of the new words--whichever new words have made it through the cycle. I really never know how the funnel is going to spit out the results. I just know that the process works for me. If my thoughts in passing were to make it into the process, I would have to be at least four people! I have to filter the thoughts that I write out on paper, as they come to me. This is a normal part of the writing craft, and a huge advantage to the writer. I learn as I go. Research is a big part of my schedule, too. Writing new words, researching accuracy for location, detail, and plot, editing for everything possible to get the work "off the page" and into the "theater of the mind" for the reader's enjoyment, to the final product--all to begin the second part: publication.

That is an entirely different aspect of the writing life. It is every bit (if not moreso) as important as the creation of the new words. Then, sales and marketing take over in another realm. This gives the product life that can be "adopted" by strangers, people I may never meet. I offer the product (the finished publication) to them in the hopes that they will enjoy the work as much as I. I can raise the child, and protect it to a certain point. But then, the survival of the child depends upon the interest and willingness of others to bring the child into their world.

Knowing the schedule helps--a lot. It is a very helpful tool to the writer. Especially when they have a thought in passing. I wonder if this is the way of the writing life for others--for you. Would you let me know?

In His Care,

Budroe
 

We all have our "numbers", right? Some of us have the numbers we use to play Lotto, or the Lottery. I know they are national secrets, so I won't ask. Besides, if you've used "your" numbers and have won a lottery, what are you doing here? (Just wondering.)

I have numbers, too. For instance, my "lucky number" is the number "13". No, I do not know why. I didn't pick it, so much as it picked me. Good things have always happened to me on this date. When the date is blessed with a full moon, the luck is doubled. It always has been my "lucky number". It's funny, really. Numbers seem so docile, yet there are numbers that literally rule our lives. Medicine must be taken 1, 2, or even three times every day. They must be 1,2,5 9, 20, or 50 milligrams. If you have a temperature of 103;8, you must go to the doctor's office. Use 2 teaspoons of sugar, not 2 tablespoons.

In my personal life, there is a number that has ruled much of the lives of my family members. It is the number 53. No female member of my family has lived past their 53rd year, except my closest sister (and only remaining sibling), who turned 54 this past October 23rd. I am the only surviving male, and I guess we know that my health just ain't so good. I happen to be 53 years of age. In three (3) days, I will turn 54 at 2355, 12/31/09. It is a number that I have been told by many people I would never realize. I've got three days to make it, and I feel like a cop three weeks from retirement! I'm hyper-sensitive to my location, surroundings, people and events around me. I know it sounds or seems silly, or even stupid. I never claimed anything else! But, it's suddenly all over me like a cheap suit.

I have long been resolved within myself that if 53 was to be my age of death, I could accept that. I have not worried much about it at all this year. Now it is consuming me. I see the goal in front of me. My health pretty much (pardon my words) sucks at the moment, and to top it all off I am coming down with a real cold--major problem for those of us having deep trouble breathing, anyway. It's a very private, quiet kind of terror. As I once did for many days, I spend plenty of time at night listening to my own breath. I use a machine to help me breathe during my sleep. It's called a BiPap machine. It helps air go into my lungs. It also helps my lungs to push the air out of them so I can breathe with less pain. Sometimes, my lungs need help remembering how to work. The numbers on my machine are the highest that can be set on them. (28/24 for those of you keeping score!) In fact, a special machine was brought to me just because the set numbers were higher than any other type of machine would handle. Now, after several adjustments and mask changes, I have a machine that is a little more "normal". (More on that later.)

In my world, numbers matter. I have to know how many hours I have sat at my desk, working on the computer with legs dangling down. For several hours every day, I am supposed to lay with my legs and feet higher than my heart. Medicines must be taken at specific times of day. Meals must be consumed at certain times, and blood sugars must be drawn at certain times, and remain within certain ranges. Lots of numbers in my life indicate the presence or need for lifestyle changes. But there is this one number I really want to see. I want to have a victory over it. I want to beat it. I want to see the number 53 fade into memory. I want to see "54" become my number for a while. It has not been an easy year for me, or especially for all those who care with and for me. Perhaps against their wishes (but I seriously doubt it), I just need to know that I am 54. It will pull a huge monkey off my back, and make a whole lot of room inside my heart for good things to come. So, I'm rooting for three days, and the number "54". May your holiday wishes come true. In the meantime, I do remain

In His Care,

Budroe
 

At 11:03AM on this date, a significant event for many people occurred. Deep within the blessed hills of the Appalachian Mountains of Southeastern Kentucky, a child was home-born. The 21st child of his mother, yet the only child of her seventh marriage, would become a loner amongst a crowded life. In the small hamlet of Hazard, Kentucky, my Dad was born. M. B. "Tug" Fields, Sr. would become a local star in several different ways. He would become a star fullback on the local championship High School football team. He would earn a full scholarship to the University of Kentucky to play football for the young coach Paul "Bear" Bryant. Yet, his scholarship would be for his musical ability. He was a superb trumpeter. He was not the most serious of students, yet managed a high "C" average while working full-time as a salesman of new cars for Paul Miller's new Ford dealership, working in the dining room of the Zeta Tau Alpha Sorority House on Campus. It was there that he would meet, and fall in love with his future wife, my mother. In the year her written words would change a nation, he would be admitted (probationary) to the School of Law.

She would see to the making of their new home together in Lexington, and to the minds of young college freshmen studying Journalism while he pursued the greater things of the Law. Upon his graduation, he would move her to their permanent home in the mountains, quite to the shock and disappointment of her family, most of whom would never adjust to this development. His father had been named "Tugell", and my father lived the early years of his life being known as "Little Tug". When my Grandfather died suddenly of Influenza, his name came, and would forever be "Tug". Establishing a private law practice in his hometown, he was gracious, well-liked, and ebullient. He was appointed City Treasurer which included, thankfully, a private office above the local bank. His first business cards, printed as a graduation gift from a local printer, included the tag line "My assets over nine million dollars!". As long as he lived, people knew of "Tug" by his deeds, to be sure. But everyone had a "Tug" story.

I have plenty of "Tug" stories, too. Most of them should never see the light of day. They most likely will not. He went to war, and was a young Lieutenant among the very first Americans to touch the soil of Omaha Beach, in Normandy on D-Day. He would become a decorated hero during those days. He would come home as a conquering hero, and be put up by the very Governor of the Commonwealth to run for political office. He did, and he won--several times, rising to the level of Senator. Given the opportunity to walk into the Governorship of the Commonwealth, he politely declined and returned with his new wife to the hills of his birth, and some very difficult days amongst a community who felt betrayed and embarrassed by his deeds. He would work to create, along with some of his politicos, what would be known as the Workman's Compensation Act of 1964. It was, to him, the greatest accomplishment of his professional life. His life was easy, given to drink, and many great parties with friends from days gone by. He died alone, amongst many, from a massive heart attack the day before Thanksgiving. He went full circle. He was my father. Today is his birth day.

Most of our life together is, and will remain unwritten. This entry is to honor, and to remember the man who was my parent. I pray for his eternal soul, and remember that he loved me. He just didn't much care for children, either his or others'. He was beloved by those people of the hills from whom his life brought much good, and they are many. He believed and fought for the underdog. He was a union man. He was a good friend, who had none. Happy Birthday, Daddy. I love you.

Budroe
 

It's been a nice day for me today. I am visiting Sara's home, and was honored to participate in their Holiday celebration. It was a big deal for me. It's been a while since I have been so honored. A morning which began with a family tradition of having breakfast at Waffle House was hardly noticable, seeing as how I was still pretty much asleep! Then back home for the gift-swapping, which was not only very nice, but way more than I deserved or should have gotten! Then, a wonderful Ham and Turkey repeat from last evening, with all the "stuff" and even more added. An afternoon nap followed a visit to an across-the-street neighbor, who was full of Christmas Cheer. The evening began with a few rounds of the original version of "Jeopardy". I watched the family play an "Uno" version of Jenga, which was a hoot, and some gamesmanship on a Wii which well overshelmed the seemingly abysmal showing by the local Titans NFL squad, as they got summarily trounced by San Diego!

The "kids" went home, and we went back across to visit with some newly arrived family members (nice folks who make, it seems, fragrant Lye soaps for a living--very well!) and then home for the evening. TV and conversation, and a couple of ounces of "Cheer" to top the festivities and punctuate quite nicely an altogether stellar day.

If it sounds pedestrian, it was--wonderfully so. Thank you very much, Santa. It was a holiday which I will always remember with great fondness. Thank you for the telephone visits today, as well. I enjoyed them all very much. I hope we can stretch this holiday out for the weekend. Who knows, we might just be ab....nah. We're just not that advanced as a civilization--yet.

Merry Christmas, and may God Bless us every one! I am,

In His Care,

Budroe
 

I received this today. It is a regular newsletter written by a couple, friends of my family who live in Virginia. The story is a real one, in several ways. I'd like to tell you a little bit about it. (Like you could possibly stop me, right?}

Please read this story, then answer in your own mind this question:

"Our son was an angel that day. Yep, a real-life, honest-to- gosh angel. What I call an "earth angel."

The details are tragic. A co-worker suffered a heart attack and passed away before emergency workers arrived. Our son sat on the floor beside him and held his hand, talking to him and reassuring him that help was on the way while another employee stayed on the phone with the 911 operator conveying information
and following instructions.

We didn't know any of this until Ryan stopped by on his way home from work that night. Visibly shaken, he told the story. There was awe in his voice. He is young, and this was his first experience with death. He told of the surreal nature of those long minutes spent waiting for the EMT's. As the man lay dying, Ryan could see skaters racing, twirling and dancing on the ice rink outside the combination office building and retail complex where the company he works for is headquartered.

"I still can't believe it," he said. "I'm holding this man's hand and he's dying and yet people just outside - just yards away from us - are having fun and laughing. It's like things were happening in two different worlds at the same time, and yet
we were all together."

Ryan needed comforting. We told him what an awesome honor it is to be present when someone passes from this world to the next. It is a "calling" in the truest sense of the word. We told him that God had called him to the man's side to comfort him and hold his hand, to walk with him to the door. We told him that nothing that happened was an accident. He was meant to be there in that place and in that moment. God had asked Ryan to hold the man's hand until He could gather him into His arms and take him home.

As he rose to leave, Ryan said, "I've got a lot to think about." We told him to take his time and to be very gentle with himself. Experiences like this one take time to process. We told him that just as he was meant to be in the dying man's life, the man was also meant to be in his life because there are things Ryan is supposed to learn as he works through the experience. We reminded him that every person whose path we cross in this lifetime is meant to be with us in that very moment and place because he has something to teach or share with us and we have something
to teach or share with him.

And we told Ryan how proud we are of him. When he insisted with some frustration that he hadn't done anything, we told him he had done the most important thing of all: he answered the call and he stayed until the job for which he
had been called was done.

I am often asked if I believe in angels, and the answer is an unqualified "Yes!" I've met far too many of them to have any doubts at all. In my darkest hours, in my times of most desperate need, there have always been angels who appeared to carry me through the ordeal. Only one was ethereal and other-worldly (more about Susan next week); all the others were real-life flesh-and-blood human beings.

You see, the thing about angels is that they are us. What I mean by that is that we are all called to be angels. Not the floaty kind with white gowns and wings, and not all of the time, of course. Heaven knows we're not that evolved! But from time to time, each of us is blessed and honored to be called by a Higher Power to be present for others in their time of need. In those sacred moments, God works through us. He uses our hands to touch our fellow human beings. He puts His words into our mouths to reassure and minister to those who are hurting and frightened. He uses us to comfort and console our brothers and sisters.
He calls us to be His "earth angels."

Dear God, open my eyes to the angels in my life, both the human and the heavenly. And when You need me to serve as one of Your earthly angels, I ask only for the courage to answer Your call.
Amen"


Do you believe in Angels?

Have you ever had "that" moment? Either as the recipient of a Heavenly moment, or the giver of one? Think about it. It may take some reckoning, but we've got nothing more than time (we think), right?

I believe in Angels. I've seen them, and talked to them. I have hugged and kissed them. I have a very special Angel even in this very moment who attends me when I cannot, who loves me when I dare not, corrects me when I should not. I don't know how she feels about the subject, but I can tell you from experience that being an Angel is really tough work!

When I was driving a big truck, I had Guardian Angels at every corner of my rig. I know they are very glad I am "foot-bound" these days. The last time I saw them, they were dragging their wounded wings away from me, saying something about "a union meeting", and "We just don't have to put up with this insanity! Did you see what he did? Forget killing someone earthly, that idiot (God bless his heart!) nearly killed ME! I won't stand for one more second of this assignment!"

(Or words to that effect!)

Like the story of Ryan, being an Angel is really tough work. But the hardest part is being in the right frame of mind, at precisely the right moment, and especially to have the immense courage to hear the call. It usually comes when we are too busy, or too unaware. That's one of the ways you can tell, you know. It may well come at a time when it just feels "inconvenient". I used to get miffed at that, until I thought about how Dad must feel when we come knocking. But, I quit complaining when I began realizing and appreciating the blessings which always seemed to flow to me after the fact.

I have also (especially since "the event") been the recipient of the love and care of an Angel or several. I can name them all, but it would be a very long list. Those "earthly angels" who stop their existence, or suffer deprivation just to make my moment, my day, or even my world a bit better--out of nowhere. It's almost always a surprise (I really hate asking for help.) to me when this happens. But, every time it happens, there are very subtle ways you can tell. It begins with an overwhelming sense of gratitude, or relief. There are even some "earthly angels" that seem to make us a special project. Have you known such an angel?

(To be edited later. My Angel from Tennessee walked in. She surprised me by arriving early to spend some time here with me. How cool is that!!?)

In His Care,

Budroe
 

It's a strange vessel. One the likes of which I have never seen before. The movements are faster than human, but there is no sound. I awaken to find myself in what appears to be suspended animation, floating in air. My body is parallel to the floor, yet I am approximately 4.5' above it, my body lying flat with my arms at my side. I am wearing a black leather suit, zipped at the front. There is a strange smell all around me, like static. This is a very strange place, with very strange life forms around me.

I have been abducted. Aliens have taken me captive. Only you can save me. The aliens have left a message regarding my return. You can find it here:

1624085

The RR Crew Holiday Auction  [E] The RR Crew has been kidnapped by aliens right before Christmas! Can you pay their ransom? by Sara♥Jean

i belong to one of the finest bunch of reviewers on the site, IMHO. Actually, I belong to four of them. I love reviewing good reviewers, and really good work. I even like helping new writers learn their craft! (Go figger!)

I have a goal in my head, but I'm not sure I can pull it off. I just reviewed my friend PlannerDan for his new work Review of "The Lone Oak Tree In the Meadow" . Listen! Its a really good story! You need to read and review this work for our friend along the journey.

Which reminds me. It seems that there has been some unidentified alien activity going on around these parts of late. In fact, it seems that all the members of the group I'm in have been kidnapped! No, REALLY! In order to get us (and some really cool gifts, I'm told) back home, you have to bid on us. Check out the "The RR Crew Holiday Auction"  [E] and puhleeeze! remember that whole thing we've heard they do with probes! Yeah, you laugh NOW! But, when it's your turn I'll bet ya won't be so durned quick to turn the other cheek!

Reviewing is one of my favorite activities at WDC. It lets me participate in one of my greatest pleasures: reading some fantastic work written by people I call my friends in this community. It makes me create work myself at a standard I would accept from others. It gives me the opportunity to make (or renew) friendships that have mattered to me here. And, it's just a ton of fun. I do tend to "specialize" in the review of reviewers for reasons that have been stated here previously.

I'm also working on the Advent Calendar writings, but haven't made it past day 5 yet (as of this writing). Hopefully, they will get caught up soon. I'd still appreciate some better eyes than mine looking over these faith writings; just to let me know if I need to keep or trunk them. You can find them at "The Annual Advent Adventure Activities"  [NPL]. There's also a new course I'm doing in the port that you might enjoy checking out.

I'm doing a lot of writing these days. Oh, how wonderful. "Salt Lake" is going very well. I managed to get almost 115K in rough draft, and am really hacking the words away. This volume is so much easier. The characters are known, the plot is interesting, and the story line is just fun to write. I'm getting bloody in the doing of it, but the writer does win!

Why the good humor you ask? Well, there's not any particular reason. My dear friend {suser:Sarabeth) is now a member of the site, and is beginning her wonderful writing experience with us as a new member of the community. She gets REALLY tired of seeing me on the computer all the time, but she has "joined 'em" rather than "fight 'em!" She's new to the site, and to writing. Go on over and say "Hello!" to her, would you? It would just do her a world of good, and you could make one hell of a great friend in the process.

It has been noteworthy to go through my Blog list lately. 16 of what was 26 Blogs open, and 5 of them "dated". People ill, writing, doing other things, etc. I know that, but this is a solid and wonderful group of people that I enjoy seeing regularly. That's why it was such fun to read new words from Dan. And, such good words at that! It made my soul leap for joy to see my friend writing here again. I know there has been much sadness in our little family as well. Losing mates and illness, job closures, forced moves, and general "blog-itis" running around here faster than the Swine Flu Virus! (Which I got a vaccination for!) Things do happen at the speed of life. There is no doubt that every missing soldier is away on more important missions. But, I want to try to call a rally to the troops! Lets get some blogging (even if its only "footprint") done around here, folks.

Anybody got a clue about the Blog Ring? I've messaged the leader several times, but have received nothing back from Southern Diva. This makes me think she may be MIA, as well. I love this group. Let's get it back on track, okay? What a magnificent Christmas THAT would be. Maybe we could even send Tor up to CC's house, and get him out into the fresh air for a bit. Of course, by the time he gets there, CC might have got hitched and skee-daddled.

That's about it from this arena today. Pain is significant, and worrisome issues to deal with. Please think good thoughts for me. I hope this finds you safe, well, and happy. May you know the special peace, love and blessing of this Holiday Season.

In His Care,

Budroe

P.S.:

Lookit what my dear friend {kiyasama} made for me:
Pretty cool, huh? Thanks again, my friend. I love it!
 

Sometimes, dear reader, it is better to have fewer choices. On the journey, the simple is often the best. Sometimes it isn't. We go with the information we have at the time, looking forward. Leaving other options behind when we are forced to drop them along this journey may be a difficult thing, but it is usually the best thing.

Traveling "light" is highly recommended on this journey. Sadnesses, regrets, and remorse serve no useful purpose except to help us accept our own humanity; it does little to help us accept our mortality. Each day, we are presented choices. Sometimes, we cannot understand them. What are the options, or the ramifications? Is this a bridge burned? Is there no "backup" plan, just in case our eagerness turns on us? Can we accept the consequences of the decisions we make for ourselves and those along with us on this journey? How do you know?

You get the very best information possible. You listen to all the advice that you can find. Look at decisions from both a logical and emotional perspective if you need to. Just make certain that, when it comes time to speak the answer, you are driving the boat for as long as you can. Hopefully, somewhere along the way, you will discover the benefits and/or limitations of your decisions in a timely manner. That means that, if there is a price to be paid, you are the one paying it (or most of it--more than anyone else, at least) from your own account. There will be some difficult calls along the way. There will be some pretty good calls made. In the end, it's usually a wash. If, as you walk beyond the valley, you are at a net zero, you've done exceptionally well. There's nothing you can take with you except your honor, your integrity, and your name. Those are items that should not be too big a burden to carry. Anything else is optional. It's the "anything" that can make you stumble--or fall. I cannot predict your future decisions, or mine. I just try to keep these thoughts in mind when I'm making them. For me, it works out pretty well.

The journey is unique for each traveler. When we talk here about "stuff", you have to keep in mind that your journey is entirely different than mine. That is just so difficult to remember sometimes. But you can make your journey successful. Drive the boat. Get all the information you can get, and share it only with those you trust most--it avoids difficult conflict later on. Understand that it is your responsibility to call the shots for as long as you can. Anyone who feels uncomfortable about that around you is someone you need to help clarify the issues and the consequences.

I know that it can become wearisome to continually fight for the keys to the boat. I just encourage you to do it. No, it's not easy; it's just worth it. We can become "used" to others doing for us, even to the point that we don't try to do for ourselves. It's a nasty turn of events, especially when it sneaks up on us. It is true that we often feel out of control. The reality is that we often ARE out of control. If that grinds your cookies, regain control as well as you possibly can. In the end, you won't regret the choice. Trust your instincts, and go with what seems best for you at the time. Yes, mistakes will be made--by you. Those are much easier to handle than the ones that others, no matter how much they care, will make for you. When you cannot solve the issue of the "rightness" of a decision, it is not improper to justify that decision with the knowledge that you are the one who made it. You've made mistakes your entire life. Why stop now?

Here's to mistakes, and the people who make them! *Raises glass*

May all your choices be good ones, no matter how difficult they may be.

In His Care,

Budroe
 

As many of you may well know, I was able to be reconnected with a dear friend of many years in June of 2008. Sara and I had been together throughout High School. Time would take us away from each other for almost 35 years. We are now renewing our friendship. She has taken great care for me, and of me in these past months. She, her husband, and their family are dear friends of mine.

Last Christmas, Sara sent me something that I had never seen before: an Advent Calendar. (Yes, I know, but have pity on an old, fat, baldheaded fart, okay?)

For each of the 25 December days of Advent, there is a pocket which holds a small candy (chocolate!) and a verse of Scripture. Last year, I simply experienced them. This year, I am writing about them. It will take many more than twenty-five days to get all the essays written, but I am working on them. I will add to them as I can. They are just thoughts of mine, taken from the verses Sara has so carefully selected for each day of Advent.