The other day, I was struggling with the question, “Should I keep writing on this blog?” I know a few people read it and I do like having a place to vent my frustrations and turn them into motivational moments.

Then, I realized how glad I was I had this venue.  I can write whenever I choose to and only when I have something meaningful to say. I realized that writing on this blog is an attainment of a goal I had a few years ago, to be published.  Being published on the world wide web for over three years now, I see how achieving that goal has helped pave the road to new goals.  Because, Reverend Benjamin Mays was right …

Today, I went over to my mom’s house to spend a little time with her.  It is my mother and my father’s 50th wedding anniversary.  I took her some flowers and cake.  I knew, if my dad were alive, he’d want me to do this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I guess we were both “hearing” my father’s wishes from beyond the grave.  My mom had a gift for me.  I drew this picture of my father and I when I was right out of high school. It’s a picture from the children’s book I want to write entitled: Who’s Afraid of Thunder and Lightening? Here is the picture…

My mom told me that my father kept this picture close to him all his life.  I didn’t know that.  It’s funny what you find out about a person after they’ve passed on.  I thought he’d just look at it and toss it out when I wasn’t looking, but in fact, it was very precious to him.

And his holding onto it shows me that the idea of writing the book is a good one.  Opening this paper up from years of being folded up was like going back in time and hearing my father whisper to me…”Write it Lisa, write it!”

As you know, I DID write it here on our website.  I include it here as another sweet treat of gentle love for my beloved Sketchy Scribes…

I was probably about three years old, the night the thunder woke me.  It was so loud! My little ears hadn’t heard anything so booming.  My ears ached with pain and I started to cry.  I pulled the bed covers over my head hoping to muffle the sound.  But the sound didn’t go away.  It was less, it’s true – but still looming.  My crying continued until I heard a sound…

“Prudy…are you ok, sweetheart!” Daddy called out in the darkness. I couldn’t answer him.  My sobbing was uncontrollable.  He came into my darkened room and scooped me up out of my blankets.

“No, Daddy!  I’m scared!” I told him.  I took deep breaths between each new fit of tears. But he held me close and we walked out into the living room of our old home on Scott Street.  He turned on a lamp.  The light quivered and almost did not come back on.  Then he did the unthinkable – he walked with his arm outstretched to the front door.  My panic got more intense.  Why was he going out there?  I thought.  It’s worse out there!!!! But he turned the deadbolt and opened the door.  

We walked out onto our porch.  It had been snowing.  The white slush had lost it’s sparkle and just sat there waiting for the impending rain to wash it away to the gutters of our Pennsylvania town.  Just then…

CRACK!!!!!!!!!! Thunder peeled through the sky.  If that thunder had been a knife, it would have cut the sky in half.  

“Oh!”  I jumped.  Then I started to sob again.

“It’s OK, sweetheart.  Just listen to the thunder.  Once you get used to it, it won’t scare you so much,” he said.  I didn’t know what to do.  I held onto his neck and cried.

I cried for awhile.

Soon, I noticed I wasn’t crying anymore.

And then I noticed something else…I liked the sound of thunder.

It was like a drum that permeated my body.  I could feel the beat of the drum deep inside my chest.  And the loud cracks – startling as they still were – did not make me want to cry.  They were no longer frightening.  They were impressive.  It was like God was showing off how loud he could be.

I felt so safe and warm huddled into my father’s embrace.  His woolen shirt was scratchy and smelled of cigarettes.  His neck was strong and his voice was soothing.

“You see, Prudy…it’s like a light and sound show.  Look!”

I finally found the courage to look up at the sky.  Light danced across it like a firework that had strangled free from it’s streaming.

“Wow!” I said.

“And you would have missed it if you’d stayed under those covers.  Sometimes, you gotta be brave and face the thunder and lightning,” he explained.  As young as I was, I knew he was right.  He was so wise.  I loved Daddy. I hugged him closer.

Before long, Daddy turned toward our living room. He closed the entry door. He put me back under my bed covers and kissed me good night – the way he always did…

“Good night, sleep tight, pleasant dreams, I love you.” He pulled the blankets up past my ears so I was tucked in good and tight.

Then he walked away in the darkness.

I fell asleep listening to the rain hitting the roof.  It sounded like the raindrops were dancing in a wonderful cosmic ballet.  I imagined the lightning streaking in between the droplets.  How magical it all had become.

And I was never afraid of thunder or lightening again.

I think it’s time to take this story and my illustration to the Writer’s Club so I can get into another critique group and make it the best it can possibly be.  I know I’ve said that in the past, but then I get busy with this and that.  I know the story isn’t perfect, but it needs to be published.  This would make my father so happy.  Even if I self publish it…(Mavi – are you listening?) I can get it out there and start selling it. You know, Mark Twain was a self published author.  And now a days, I just need people who want to buy it on Amazon or Kindle for publishers to be interested in it.

Mother Theresa said this about believing in your goals…

This next song was very important to my dad.  He and my mom had their first date watching the movie this song came from, The Sound of Music.  Here is Jordan Smith from his final performance on The Voice. The song is called, “Climb Every Mountain.”