Editors Corner
The year is 1945, mere months after World War II has been fought and—by a miraculous victory of truth and freedom over satanic domination—won. The war has been long and hard; responsible for an unfathomable decimation of Europe, and the Allied Forces come together in Berlin to attempt the reconstruction of Germany. Within two years, the differences between the Soviet Leadership, led by communist Joseph Stalin, and that of the American and British drove the allies to disband, dividing the German country into two main sections. The line in the sand had been drawn, and on either side stood an opposing viewpoint—America and Britain trying to get Germany back on its feet, Stalin hungry for power.
On October 3rd, 1990, forty-five long years later, Germany was once again united. While the physical barrier, erected in 1961, had stood for less than thirty years, the wall had been there for nearly half a century, dividing the people of Germany against themselves. It is approximated that 5,000 people successfully defected to West Berlin in this interval, a feat which became more difficult as time wore on, evolving from a well-timed leap over a barbed wire fence into elaborate hijacking of military vehicles, then driving them straight into the wall, smashing through to freedom. However, many didn’t make it. Original reports indicated that 98 people died in attempts to cross the border, but the Center for Contemporary Historical Research in Potsdam has confirmed 136 deaths, while other estimations come in at over 200. The last of these deaths occurred just months before deconstruction began.
This October is the 23rd anniversary of the reunification of Germany. East Berlin rejoined West Berlin, and the people have been freed at last. Between World War II and the Berlin Wall, Germany waited fifty years for the 3rd of October 1990, and we, along with freedom-loving individuals all over the world celebrate with them that first and every Germany Unity Day.
~
Verses of the Month:
1 Peter 3:8 and Psalm 133:1
Finally, all of you, have unity of mind, sympathy, brotherly love, a tender heart, and a humble mind.
Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity!
{Kaylie Rose}
~
Poem
The Cold Within
Six humans trapped by happenstance,
in bleak and bitter cold;
Each one possessed a stick of wood,
or so the story's told.
Their dying fire in need of logs,
the first man held his back,
For of the faces round the fire,
he noticed one was black.
The next man looking cross the way,
saw no one of his church,
And couldn't bring himself to give
the fire his stick of birch.
The third one sat in tattered clothes,
he gave his coat a hitch;
Why should his log be put to use
to warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back and thought
of the wealth he had in store,
And how to keep what he had earned
from the lazy shiftless poor.
The black man's face bespoke revenge
as the fire passed from his sight.
For all he saw in his stick of wood
was a chance to spite the white.
The last man of this forlorn group
did naught except for gain,
Giving only to those who gave
was how he played the game.
Their logs held tight in death's still hand
was proof of human sin:
They didn't die from the cold without
They died from the cold within.
- James Patrick Kinney.
{Nora Rose}
~
Quote of the Month:
Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy.
~ Thomas Merton
{Maria Wytherspoon}
~
The Benefactor
A young widow sees the hand of God providing for her through a mysterious friend. To read earlier entries, please visit our website.
Four
Bryn had hoped that Monday morning would come in gently, that her initiating the healing would turn the entire day perfect. But she awoke, as usual, to the crying of her little girl, she herself wept as was her wont over her breakfast, and used her customary number of tissues throughout the day. A little frustrated, Bryn knew the ache had not disappeared. But there was something being added that she was beginning to find.
Later that morning, when Josie was down for her nap, Bryn found a pad of paper and did some quick calculations. While social security helped her care for monthly expenses such as the mortgage, she realized that she really needed to find work, or with the recent hospital bills, they would not be able to eat. With work, came babysitters, though, and Bryn knew she didn’t want to abandon her daughter. But she had graduated from a good college with a degree in accounting and financing, and opened up her laptop to begin a search for openings in the area that she could apply for.
Specifically, she was hoping for an evening job, one that would limit her time away from Josie to bedtimes, but wasn’t exactly sure how to search for what she wanted.
Suddenly, she felt a voice from within saying, "call your mom, and talk to her. Maybe she’ll come down while you go job shopping." Bryn shook it off. The last thing she needed right now was another mouth to feed, and a well-meaning but slightly nosy parent making recommendations. But the whisper wouldn't go away. She typed ‘Mom’ in the search bar, and had to backspace before she could remember what she was supposed to be looking for.
"Fine." She muttered, and reached for her phone. Dialing the familiar number, she sighed a prayer that she would say no.
"Naomi Benedict speaking."
"Hi, Mom. Its Bryn."
"Bryn! I was thinking about calling you tonight. How is everything?"
"Um, well," Bryn felt a wave of peace sweep over her as she listened to her mother's voice. "I'm calling because... Because I want you to come for a visit." Suddenly, she knew that she needed a yes. Desperately.
The momentary silence on the other line indicated that Naomi was as surprised to hear the invitation as Bryn was that she was making it. After Andrew died, Bryn shunned every family member, seeing them as interferences in her grieving. She tolerated her in-laws once a year at their annual Easter dinner, and permitted her widowed mother to come from her home in Minnesota at Christmas and in June for Josie's birthday, but she never issued a random invitation to anybody.
"I'd love to." Naomi wasn't about to miss the opportunity. "Is everything okay?"
Blinking away rising tears, Bryn shook her head. "Everything is a pretty broad category to put under the word okay, but no one's dying or anything. I've just been thinking about stuff, and there are some things my heart is telling me to talk to you about face to face."
"So you don't want to talk about anything now?"
"I don't think I can communicate what needs to be said like this. Can you try to come down this week sometime?"
"I'll be there Wednesday night, if that's not too soon."
"That sounds great. How long can you stay?"
There was a sound of rustling pages as Naomi searched through her calendar. "I have a wedding to attend the weekend after Thanksgiving, but until then my schedule's clear."
"Well, please feel free to stay as long as you want. I just need to see you. Shall I plan on Tuesday, then?"
"I'll be there." Naomi sniffed. "I'm glad you called. Please call anytime."
"Thanks. See you soon."
"I love you, Bryn."
Tears began spilling down Bryn's cheeks. "I love you too, Mom."
The job search got pushed to the side as Bryn began to really clean her house for the first time since the funeral. While the ache hadn't magically vanished, and her tears flowed as profusely as always, the pause button hit so hard by Andrew's death was releasing, and the tape was gearing up again.
Two days later, her spirits sailed just high enough to prepare a somewhat fancy meal. Expecting her mom around five, Bryn thought the meal ought to be done about ten minutes after that. The chilly October evening suited itself to an aromatic house and warm meal, so Bryn decided to make lasagna.
Filling the home with the flavorful smell of a savory home-cooked meal, the sautéed garlic and onion sizzled on the stove, Josie tottered around the house, chattering to her doll, and Bryn was almost happy, far away from any sorrow or pain. Her home felt cozy and alive, the way it used to be.
She slid the glass baking dish into the oven, and threw the prep mess in the dishwasher. Grabbing a stack of plates, she headed into the dining room.
Bryn's home was a newer house in a older section of town that was in the process of being collectively renovated to be a wealthy subdivision. Herself probably the poorest resident in the neighborhood, Bryn felt a little out of place in such a nice home, but Andrew was very firm in purchasing a good house that would need fewer repairs in a developed location with sophisticated security. He chose to spend the extra hundred fifty thousand dollars to keep his wife as safe as he could while he was away, and Bryn knew it was this decision, among other smaller but similar choices, that made it so difficult to make ends meet. The area was called Lovejoy Park, where old Victorian houses had their interiors renovated, and new construction was modeled after the whimsical styles of the mid nineteenth century.
As she stood in the dining room placing the plates at the table, Bryn could see through the living room windows out onto Lovejoy Parkway, where sleek luxury cars glided past, on their way to the mansions, some with gated driveways which stood watch over the neighborhood. Bryn wondered what it was like to be so wealthy, whizzing past homes of faceless people who were living in comparable poverty, heading home to a steak dinner and a goblet of wine out of Czech crystal while she laid out her garage sale Corelle ware. Not that she was bitter, really, but as she returned to the kitchen to retrieve the silverware, it seemed as though she were kind of living a lie. Here she was, a military widow struggling to raise a daughter on social security and government life insurance income, living amongst the socialites and upper-class country businessmen. Needless to say, she did not mix much with her neighbors, but did entertain curiosity about them and their way of life; decadent foods, powerful friends, and grand parties in their gigantic beautiful houses.
Bryn's own home was large, but being closer to the main road, it had been one of the smaller first projects undertaken—a new construction from the earliest years of the twenty-first century, with an open floor plan complimented by architectural details copying those of the Victorian era. It was from one such detail, a decorative hutch in the kitchen, that Bryn took two plain-Jane tumblers which she placed on the table, completing the setting.
With a sigh, she lowered herself into the oversized chair in the living room, and glanced up at the clock. Four twenty. Now that the day had come, Bryn's excitement rose into a nervousness that couldn't be calmed, and she knew that the next forty minutes would be agony. What would she say to her mom when she went to the door? How would her mom respond as she talked about the lessons of the last week, and the struggles of the last year? Could Bryn bring herself to confess to her mother how wrong she'd been to block her out from the grieving process? Would the pain of remembrance and the temptation to clam up about it overcome the burning desire for restitution Bryn felt springing up in her heart? Until the doorbell rang, and she stood face to face with her guest, Bryn knew these questions would not disappear, but remain, trying to stare her down from her purpose.
Josie broke in on Bryn's thoughts, indicating some signs of hunger and weariness. She had so far missed her normal nap time, and despite her original excitement over meeting Grandma, she was beginning to get cranky, and since she was approaching supper time without the advantage of passing the interval in sleep, her irritability level was increasing. Thus, Bryn gave up on the idea of keeping her up, gave her a cheese stick, and put her down for a sorely-needed nap.
She tiptoed quietly back down the stairs and down a short hall to her own room, where she made faces at herself in the mirror, trying to decide whether she had aged as much as she felt she had, and hoped the quick application of some makeup would help her weary face appear younger and happier.
As she began to finish up her primping, the doorbell rang. Bryn jumped, causing her to dot her mirror with a smidge of red lipstick. She sighed in frustration, capped the container, and ran to the front door, her stockinged feet quietly pattering along the carpeted hall.
Out of breath, she flung the door open, hoping the bell wouldn't sound again.
"Mom!"
Naomi Benedict was a middle-aged woman whose short height and gentle eyes seemed at first glance to indicate a subdued nature, yet to those who knew her best, she stood out as a strong minded lady with a remarkable ability to express firm opinions in a soft-spoken way. From her graying blonde wavy hair to her pleasant grey eyes, she looked a beautiful picture of aging—even her laugh was silvery. It was this compassionate woman that stood on the front step, and Bryn felt with renewed conviction that who she had been hiding from for the last year was the person she'd always needed most.
"This is amazing, Bryn. You always were a great cook." Naomi smiled over her glass of sparkling juice.
"Thanks, Mom. It's sweet of you to say so."
"Well, its true. I'm sure Andrew thought so."
Bryn chuckled. "To be brutally honest, I actually didn't really cook him very many meals. I think I made him a fancy dinner before we were married once or twice, probably a lasagna or stuffed chicken. He liked my stuffed chicken. And, as you know, we pretty much bounced around the country for the first year of our marriage, during which time we ate plenty of frozen pizzas. Then he left." Her eyes filled, and she sighed.
Glancing down at her plate, Naomi felt with pain the remembrance of the brevity of Bryn's marriage. Only four and a half years had passed since Bryn Benedict and Andrew Meadow became one—just over a tenth of the time that Naomi and her own late husband were married.
Cautiously, Naomi asked if she was ready to talk about whatever all was going on.
Bryn took a sip from her glass, and cleared her throat.
"Sure." She paused a moment. "I don't really know where to start, so I'm going to go in chronological order. Starting back when Andrew died, something odd happened inside me that I don't know how to describe. Whatever it was, I allowed it to control me as I tried to regain control of my life, and one of its side effects was plain wrong. Mom, I am very sorry that I've treated you so poorly over this last year. I have neglected you, more or less rejecting you, and not allowing you to speak into my situation. I have been self-centered and sort of a whiner as I tried to handle the death of an amazing husband all by myself, when God was just trying to get me to realize He was there, and as my mother, who had experienced a similar loss, was waiting to help in any way she could. So I just need to start there, with an apology for my behavior towards you. I'm sorry, Mom, very sorry."
Now, Naomi's tears began spilling over, as she shook her head, and granted her ready and complete forgiveness.
"I'm so glad you're willing to have me now, that the past doesn't matter to me anymore." She smiled through her tears.
"Well, I think it does matter, but thank you so much." Feeling better already, Bryn wiped away her falling tears, and spoke again.
"Secondly, things have come up, and Josie has had a few health issues that we need to talk a little bit about."
Suddenly, Naomi's expressive eyes filled with concern. "Well, it's not as bad as it could be. She is hyperglycemic, which I think you already knew, but she's also anemic, which has been causing some hospital trips. She'll be okay, I just need to be sure she takes her iron supplements and eats good iron and vitamin-c rich foods to keep her feeling her best."
"Oh, Bryn, sweetie, why didn't you call me right away? I wish you would have told me sooner."
"I just found out on Monday. But I know I should have called, and I'm sorry I didn't."
Bryn felt it would be best not to dwell on the trip to the emergency room, so she just glossed over it and mentioned some of the potential effects, and then mentioned the provision for the consultation.
"Well, I'm glad that everything is going to be okay." Naomi said, gathering the dishes into a pile to bring into to the kitchen.
"The thing is that with the regular check-ups, and occasional blood tests, along with the supplements, I'm spending a lot more money than I would like to for health care, which leads me to the third thing need to talk to you about." Bryn followed her mom out of the room, and sighed as she tried to gain the courage to say what was on her mind. "I have to get a job. I've been living on the government since Andrew died, and while it is so far legitimately our money, I still don't feel right accepting government life insurance and social security money without contributing personally to my own economy. Besides, with this beautiful but rather extravagant home in my name, the budget is rather tight. I want Josie to be well provided for, but at the same time, I want to do what's right by her, and continue being the readily available mom that I've been so far. I can't do these two things simultaneously very well. I'm going to try to get an evening job, one that I can clock into during Josie's four o' clock nap, but that still means I need a baby-sitter every weekday evening." She looked up from the dishwasher. "Mom, I know it's asking a lot of you, but would you consider being that babysitter? There's plenty of room here for you, I'll help you transfer your magazine subscriptions, I'll stock your favorite snacks, but if there's one person who would do by Josie as I would do, it's you, Mom, and I want Josie to be as happy as possible."
Naomi was looking over her glasses with a somewhat surprised but not shocked eyes.
"You're asking me to move in with you?"
"Yes." Bryn herself couldn't believe she was asking this, as it wasn’t exactly something she’d thought about before, and stood even more amazed that she hadn't backed down from it when given the opportunity.
Naomi returned to scraping the dishes in the trash can.
"Well, I said I could stay until the weekend before Thanksgiving, right?" Her voice was steady and quiet, which simultaneously heightened Bryn's hopes, and lowered them.
"I think that's what you said."
"That's about a month. I think you should wait for a couple weeks, to see at that point whether you really want me to stay any longer. You may get tired of me." She looked up with a smile at Bryn. "But I'm very grateful to have been asked."
Bryn nodded, eyes filling from the stress of making the request, but relieved by the open answer.
"Thanks. I was thinking I might see if I can get something at the bank around the corner, or the tax filing company downtown."
Naomi nodded. "That sounds like a fine plan, but it seems to me that you'll have a difficult time finding a night shift at places like that."
"That's true. I just really don't want to be at work during Josie's waking hours, when I should be playing with her, and, you know, just being a parent."
"And I completely encourage you in that. I'm just warning you that unless you can find a 24-hour financial institution or something else more likely to be open late, getting that dream job will be difficult. Try not to be overly optimistic."
Bryn sighed, and went to her computer. This wasn't going to be as easy as she had been hoping.
Sunday morning came again, breaking clear and cold over the frosty fields. Bryn's preparations for church seemed the same, but had never felt so different. Never had she wept so peacefully, and never were her tears so free of bitterness.
Nor, frankly, had she ever done so little before getting in the car. Naomi handled nearly everything; she whipped up some pancakes for breakfast, dressed Josie, assembled the diaper bag, and even threw a roast in the crock-pot for lunch. In short, Bryn felt the only thing her mother's capable hands hadn't touched was her outfit. "And if she had," Bryn thought to herself, "I might actually look the better for it."
Since Andrew died, Bryn had visibly lost quite a bit of weight, and had not yet replaced the clothes that now hung loosely from her shoulders and hips. She felt like a twig of flesh and bones, swimming in her ill-fitting garments, just waiting for someone to throw her a life-saver. Maybe that life-saver, in this as in seemingly everything else, would be her patient mother.
By the time Bryn slipped into the driver's seat, she had thoroughly chastised herself for ever doubting the wisdom of inviting Naomi to stay with her, and started the car with immense gratitude for her. At this rate, she would never get weary of her.
Never lasted till about eleven-thirty. Church had ended, and Bryn and Naomi wandered over to the coffee and refreshments table, each choosing a glass of juice and a slice of Danish pastry. As Bryn turned towards the trash can to toss the emptied cup away, she nearly collided with Eric Kinglet, who laughed and greeted her.
"I was just coming to ask you to introduce me to your guest." He explained. "Will you?"
"Yes." Bryn nodded. "This is my mother, Naomi Benedict. Mom, this is our new doctor, Eric Kinglet." She smiled, but inwardly felt a little awkward as the two shook hands.
"Very glad to meet you, Mrs. Benedict." Eric was saying. "Here for a visit? Came to see your darling little granddaughter?" He bent over and scooped Josie up, tossing her lightly into the air, and effortlessly catching her before returning her to the floor.
"Yes, actually." Smiling, Naomi smoothed the little girl's hair and skirts, somewhat rumpled from her flight.
"For how long?"
"Till the weekend after Thanksgiving, probably."
"That sounds lovely. Have you been to see any sights?" He reached for a cookie, and munched on it as Naomi shook her head.
"Not yet. It's been a little chilly. It looks like it will warm up a little for a couple weeks soon, though, so maybe we'll go on a picnic."
Eric nodded. "I hope it gets warmer. It has been way too cold for me recently. Are you doing anything interesting today?"
He turned, and looked at Bryn, as though expecting an answer from her, but when Bryn opened her mouth, Naomi's voice piped up.
"Not really. We've got a pot roast going at home, and we'll probably just spend a quiet afternoon together." She cast a sidelong glance at Bryn, and continued quickly. "In fact, we'd love to have you join us, if you're available."
Bryn was shocked, and she struggled to keep it out of her eyes, and look as if she herself had issued the invitation. But when Eric glanced at her, he knew well enough what his RSVP should be.
"Thanks awfully, but I've actually agreed to watch the football game with my buddy. I wish I could, though! Perhaps another time." He smiled, but Bryn seriously doubted that there would be no "another time". Despite her feelings, she managed to smile back, and pretend to be disappointed.
The moment the two of them were safely in the car, Bryn gave her Naomi a hard glare.
"Mom, I know I said you could live in my home as you live in yours, but next time, a couple days' warning might be appreciated."
"Sorry, Bryn. I thought you could use some company."
Bryn gestured with her hand. "Mom, I've got company. You're my company!"
Naomi shrugged, and sighed. "Much company I am."
Softening, Bryn turned out of the parking lot. "You're lovely company, Mom. I was not prepared for you to invite someone short-notice to my home, that's all."
"I'm sorry, Bryn. I won't do it again."
"Thanks." A pause followed, then Bryn spoke up again. "Sorry for blowing up at you."
"It's fine. You didn't really blow up at me. Besides, it's your home." She cracked a smile. "We just have to relearn how to live together as responsible adults. We had this kind of problem when you were a teen. Only now, I'm living with you."
A moment later, they exchanged a smile. "She said it," Bryn observed with half anxiety, half relief, to herself, "she said she was living with me."
Editor/Author Note: This serial is a trial run on my part. I’d love to get fellow amateur writers’ opinions on it as I experiment with the idea of completing this novel. Thank you! ~A
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Editors’ Picks:
edifying media both old fashioned and new
Website:
Librivox.org
For those of you who don't always have time to sit down and read a good book I would recommend checking out LibriVox.org. This site has readers that volunteer to record themselves reading books from the public domain, that means they're all free.
All of the books on LibriVox.org are completely free. In addition, the recordings themselves are in the public domain, you can download them and burn them to a cd or transfer them to an mp3 device and listen to it on the go as well as streaming it online.
Literary Work:
The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde
This book is a nonsensical play with a serious theme. Many of the lines in the play are mockery of supercilious societal customs of Wilde’s era, which were, and perhaps still are, easy to take offense at, but it’s just parody, added to lighten the message revealed at the very end: it is very important to be in earnest.
Music:
Fiddle Concerto by Mark O’Connor
A piece of classical music for fiddlers? Or a piece of fiddle music for classical players? You decide! Listen to this intriguing concerto written for solo violin and orchestra!
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