Visit the Daily Post to learn how to participate. I’ve fudged a little by using a graphic rather than a photo, but I created this piece specifically for this prompt, so it seems fair to me. π

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Visit the Daily Post to learn how to participate. I’ve fudged a little by using a graphic rather than a photo, but I created this piece specifically for this prompt, so it seems fair to me. π

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Today WP has challenged us to write a post that relates to an apology. One of their many suggestions for ‘how’ to respond to the challenge was to write a story about an apology gone wrong. I decided to take that direction just a tad farther, urged along by a couple episodes I’ve known about in real life that gave me the basis for this tale. (All names have been changed.)
One of the sad realities in this life is that not everyone who hurts another person can even comprehend that he/she is actually responsible for inflicting wounds and damaging lives. For those self-focused, clueless people, the word “apology” has no significant meaning. I’m grateful that the vast majority of people I know in this world do understand and practice making sincere apologies when they are warranted.
On to the story:
SORRY
βGet out! Get out! Get out!β Marcy’s voice bounced off the walls of the living room and echoed down the hallway to the front door, where Ryan stood, putting on his coat. Sadness overwhelmed him. He was beyond using words. They wouldn’t do any good anyway because she couldn’t hear them now. Her mind was so filled with her own pain and her need for revenge that it couldn’t receive anything from outside.
Ryan knew, in the objective part of his brain, that he couldn’t deny he was partly responsible for things coming to this point. But even as he accepted that truth, he also realized that he was more sorry that he had told her than he was about having committed the acts themselves.
He was a man, after all. Even the pastor of the church he occasionally attended had acknowledged that sometimes a man had needs that couldn’t be ignored. He’d heard him talking to another member, and he’d said that if a man couldn’t get those needs fulfilled at home, it was understandable that he’d feel driven to look elsewhere. That had surprised him a little, until he remembered that the whole reason the congregation had hired that particular man was because of his loose, liberal leanings where scripture was concerned. Ryan liked the way the guy explained scripture. You weren’t supposed to take it literally for every single situation in your life.
Ryan had told Marcy what that pastor had said and even offered to go with her to meet with him and let him explain it all to her. She’d refused, shouting, βPastor! He’s no pastor! No man of God would condone what you’ve done! He’s nothing but a hypocrite the rest of you hypocrites voted in so that he’d tell you what you want to hear. His brains are probably the same place yours are, and I won’t lower myself to describe where that is.β
Ryan shook his head from side to side in obvious expression of his befuddled thoughts. Women! Who could figure them? It wasn’t as if he had left her and committed himself to some other woman, after all. He’d just had sex on several occasions. What was the big fuss about anyway? Marcy hadn’t seemed too interested in that part of their marriage lately, so why should it bother her if someone else took care of that part of his life?
He shook his head again in disgust as he opened the door and stepped out into the 0Β° chill factor. He pulled his coat up around his neck and hurried to unlock his car and get in. He was angry at himself for not at least waiting until warmer weather to get kicked out of the house. He guessed he’d have to bunk down in a motel for the night and see what tomorrow brought. Maybe during the night he could think up some kind of apology that would work on her. Confounded women!
Yeah β¦ he was sorry all right β sorry he’d told her.
~~~
To participate in “Share Your World” visit “Cee’s Photography”.

Question # 1: Β When do you feel most connected with others?
When Β I’m teaching them. It seems to be true whether I’m teaching the Word of God or a writing class or a blogging class. Any period of time when I am sharing with people some part of knowledge that will make their lives better or that will help them to grow and do something important to them, I feel very closely connected.
I relish those times because so much of my life is lived in a solitary state. Because I’m in ministry, I spend a great deal of time studying the Word of God and praying. Both of those activities are best done alone. When I’m preparing a lesson — regardless of the subject matter — I need to be alone in order to concentrate and give it my best work. And since one of the biggest parts of my life is writing, that, too, requires total solitude. I’m not the kind of person who goes to a coffee shop to write my books. I’m able to do some writing even when I find I have to sit in a restaurant or library at times, but I do my best writing when I am totally alone and with no noise.
I enjoy sitting and visiting with friends and family, and I do manage to connect with them pretty well during those times, but it’s when Β I’m actually teaching and interacting with someone to whom I’m imparting knowledge that I “feel” most connected.
Question # 2: Β What daily habit would you like to introduce to your life?
Returning to a pattern of cooking and eating more regularly. Because I have the freedom to do as I please where most meals are concerned — and because I am generally doing much of the solitary work that I spoke of in question # 1 — Β I often eat at erratic hours and seldom put the time and effort into actually preparing food the way I did 10 years ago. But I always Β enjoyed cooking. I guess it just can’t compete with the writing and the teaching these days.
Question # 3: Β What one mini-little-adventure would you like to have in the coming week?
I’d like to fall in love. It’s been a long time since I was really in love, and it’s such a great experience. Of course, it has it’s up’s and down’s — as all things do in real life — but all the joys are worth the aggravations ——— well, at least that’s how I remember it. Maybe this week, if my adventure comes true, I’ll find out if I still feel that way. I’ll let you know.
Question # 4: Β List at least 5 things or events that changed your life.
Bonus Question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?
I’m grateful that I FINALLY finished a novel that I started 4 years ago and have struggled to get finished.Β During that four years I completed two other novels and saw them published, but this one kept getting away from me.Β I don’t feel I am required to finish every story I start, but I felt this one had real merit, and I didn’t want to give up on it. But whew! Β I thank God it’s done! Β (A lot of my readers won’t like the ending of this book, because it’s different from the norm in my novels, but I believe the ending is what it’s supposed to be, so that’s what counts.)
This coming week, I’m looking forward to basking in the joy of not feeling guilty and not mentally beating myself up because I didn’t write another chapter in that book. It’s done, it’s done, it’s done!
~~~

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Never underestimate a smile.
One heart-felt smile directed at a soul
Can lift the fog of sadness, shift the weight of worry,
Release the mind from tension that was siphoning its strength,
And help the wounded spirit become whole.
~~~
Visit Cee’s Photography to learn how to participate and share your own world.

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Question # 1: Β You win a pet monkey but this isnβt just any old monkey. It can do one trick for you whenever you want from getting a pop out of the fridge to washing your hair. What would be the trick?
Eeeewwwwwe!!! Β I hate monkeys so that takes care of that question. No monkey would ever find a place in my home as a pet, nor would I let one do anything that connected it with my food, my hair, or my possessions. Β Okay, on to question 2.
Question # 2: Β What caring thing are you going to do for yourself today?
Well this day is coming to a close as I write this post, but I did do something caring for myself. I visited my sister and spent the afternoon with her. We had a blessed time, and it made us both happy to have the time together.
Question # 3: Β What color do you feel most comfortable wearing?
Β There is no answer to that question. I wear so many different colors, and I am comfortable in all of them, or I wouldn’t wear them. I love color, and I indulge in wearing a large variety of colors on a regular basis. About the only color that I do not enjoy — whether in clothes, accessories, or decorations of any kind — is orange.
Question # 4: Β Complete this sentence: When I travel I love to …
When I travel, I love to take my time and enjoy things at my own tempo. I do not like to feel pressed to get up super early in order to make it to breakfast by a certain time, nor do I want to have to call it a night when I’m still enjoying whatever activity I’m involved in. Β I don’t enjoy being rushed through activities, and I love going to places that allow me some time to sit and soak up the atmosphere and just ‘be.’
Bonus Question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?
Β I’m super grateful for a friend who fixed the terribly leaky faucet in my bathtub. I’m also grateful that his wife gave me a gorgeous lighthouse cookie jar — because they know how much I love lighthouses — and cookies.
This coming week, I’m looking forward to FINALLY finishing the novel I’ve been posting recently on this blog one chapter at a time. Since I started this particular book almost four years ago and resorted to posting it here in order to FORCE myself to get it finished, I’m going to feel super relieved when it’s done. I’ve actually written two other novels and seen them published since I started the one that has been giving me such a struggle. But I can now see the light at the end of the tunnel for May I Borrow Your Love. In case any of you readers have missed it on here and want to check it out, here’s the link to Chapter One.
.
~~~

Like a stream running through the mountains,
Like a cool wind sweeping o’er the plains,
Like a river rushing to the ocean,
Like blood coursing through the veins,
Like a current running through a cable,
Like a song swirling through the mind,
Like inspiration flowing through the poet,
Like compassion coursing through the kind,
So love for you is running through my soul,
Super-charging me; causing me to grow,
Reminding me that loving makes us whole.
***

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I surely do miss my mom, but I’m hoping at least some ofΒ her good qualities live on in me.
I think I remember my dad telling me (as he took the picture) to act like I was looking at somethingΒ in the oven, but since our oven didn’t have a glass in the door, I just look a littleΒ bit stupid. Oh, well anything for a family photo.
~~~
The sun was low in the sky and to my back. I lay on the ground, looking up at the clouds and turning them into all sorts of things. One looked very much like a turtle. One like a smiley face, since it had two holes where the blue peaked through, giving it eyes, and another opening that really did look surprisingly like a grin on a child’s face. One of the clouds looked a little like an old school teacher I’d had who wore her hair piled high on her head in a beehive style. Boy, did that thought give way to pondering where time has gone.
Suddenly, I heard a branch crack behind me. Now, I’m not normally skittish, but this cracking sound was loud enough that I knew it must have been more than just the normal activity of birds or squirrels in the bushes. And, since I was in my own back yard, with a fence around the perimeter, there shouldn’t have been any other creatures β human or otherwise β setting foot beyond that fence uninvited. I didn’t welcome that sound.
I didn’t sit up immediately, but sort of rolled my head to look toward my left first β and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then I rolled my head toward the right side, and on the ground beside me I saw the shadow of a huge head β not human β but obviously belonging to a beast of a different sort. My heartbeat went into double time, but I just lay there sort of frozen. As I watched, fighting down panic as well as I could, the shadow moved, coming forward and revealing the shoulder area, two legs, and an enormous frame.
I thought about praying, but the words stuck in my throat. I suppose I did manage a silent cry for help, but my primary thought was how to manage rising from my vulnerable position without seeming a threat to said beast and prompting a vicious attack on my person. I contemplated what I had available as a weapon. Well, there was a broken branch or two close by that had blown from a few surrounding trees during a recent windstorm. I glanced again to my left to see if I might be able to reach out for one without actually moving the rest of my body.
As I did so, I felt rather than saw the beast move closer to me. Frantically, I scanned the area to my left, but found no branches big enough to provide weaponry. Just small twigs and several old leaves. Not even a big rock. Finally, I decided that I couldn’t just lie there any longer. If I did so, I was obviously going to be dead meat, and just maybe my jumping up quickly would be enough to throw off the beast’s attention and give me time to start running.
Okay. I squeezed my eyes shut and psyched myself to do it, but just as I opened my eyes, the huge shadow suddenly loomed right over my head, and I knew it was hopeless to try to escape. I could hear it breathing in my ear. Then I really did decide to pray, because if this were to be my home-going, I wanted to be ready. I squeezed my eyes shut again, bracing myself for the impact of the attack, when to my greater shock, something sloppy wet took hold of my right ear. The next thing I knew something else cold and wet nudged me in the side of my neck. And then my face was being slathered with slobber from my chin to my temple. What was it doing? Tasting me to see if I merited being eaten?
I put my hand up to try to cover my face, and when I did, this little furry body just sort of threw itself at my hand and started whining and wriggling, trying to get my hand away. Well, the body attacking mine was so much smaller than I had anticipated that I decided I could open my eyes and chance a look. So I opened one eye and squinted between my fingers, which I still had pressed against my face, and what I saw brought me into a sitting position roaring with laughter.
The little yellow lab puppy who was pouncing me and trying to give me a bath in his saliva couldn’t have been more than three or four months old. So this was the beast I’d seen in shadow form? Surely I wasn’t foolish enough to have made a mistake like that. But upon making the effort to sit upright fully and look around me in all directions, I realized that, sure enough, this little pup and I were the sole occupants of my huge back yard. He was little enough he could have squeezed under the fence if he’d had a mind to. And on further reflection, I realized that considering how low in the sky the sun had been, if it had been shining just right on that little fellow’s body, he would have thrown a shadow many times larger than his real size.
I grabbed the little guy and took him onto my lap, giving him a few good scratches behind the ears and a thorough belly rub. While doing so, I thought about how so many of the problems in my life had looked bigger than life and had threatened to destroy me. But, in truth, when I had finally decided to stand up to them and look them square in the eye and recognize them for exactly what they were and nothing more, I had forced them to show their true identity. And when all was said and done, they were always smaller than I was, and I had eventually defeated every one of them.
I determined to make a lasting mental note of my experience that day and to remember the lesson I’d learned from that little fellow with the monster shadow: Never judge a problem β or a puppy β by its fearsome shadow.
~
To participate visit Daily Post Prompts.
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Sanaa, over at “A Dash of Sunny” asked us to write a Β poem or prose piece inspired by our favorite author (or favorite quote) for this week’s challenge. To participate in the fun, follow the link to visit her site and get the details.

I don’t have a favorite author.
Oh … wait … yes I do!
It is I.
Okay, I know that sounds quite pompous, and the truth is that there are scores of authors whose works I love to read. Normally, I am reading at least three different books at any given time. Some of them I read over and over and over and over. So, obviously, those authors have great influence on me, and I like them — I really do.
But to be totally honest (and I’m talking mainly about fiction now), I rarely read a book that I don’t want to change in at least one or two places. Most of the time, I’d have the hero or heroine exhibit just a little bit different characteristics βΒ or I’d have one of them decide to act or react differently. And sometimes, even in books I enjoy, I really want the ending to be different.
So, when it’s all said and done, the truth simply is that, although there are myriads of excellent authors out there, my favorite stories are the ones where Β people are the kind of people Β want them to be, where things work the way I want them to work, and where the end results of all the activity are the end results I want. In order to get those things, I have to be the author. I don’t think I’ve ever written a perfect book. But neither has anyone else. So if I want what I want the way I want it and when I want it, then I’m going to have to write it myself.
So … Β yeah … I guess I am my favorite author. Now, there’s just one problem with that situation: I can’t just sit down and relax and read a story for the pleasure of reading if I have to do the actual writing myself. So I’m more than grateful for the thousands of other authors out there whose books I can pick up and carry with me to my favorite chair, where I kick back with a steamy cup of coffee beside me, and delve into the world they’ve created their way. Now, if I could just stop wanting to tweak a character here and a plot line there ….
~~~
Abandon your fears. Abandon your insecurities. Abandon your doubts. Abandon your past failures. Abandon the negative words others have spoken concerning your abilities or your future. Abandon the so-called ‘friends’ who do not help draw you to your best and highest.
Life is too short to live it in fear, doubt, and the faulty judgments of other people. If you’re going to get anything out of this life, you’re going to have to put a lot into it. And you can’t do that if you’re constantly afraid or second-guessing because of past failures or someone else’s opinions.
Stand up and lay hold of this day in faith. God made you, so He loves you. And because He made you, He obviously has a plan for you. So get hold of Him today (you can find Him by calling on Jesus Christ) and find out what His delightful plan is for your life. Then get started carrying it out.
Abandon what is negative, dark, and destructive. Seize what is positive, light, and life-giving. Then go out there and LIVE!
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I haven’t had a chance to participate in Friday Fictioneers in a while, and I’m just getting in under the wire this week. But the picture conjured up this little story, and I couldn’t pass up sharing it. The picture prompt is courtesy of Mary Shipman. My story is below the picture.

SALES APPEAL
βPops, when you asked me to come and help with the store, I had no idea you’d been losing money the past ten years. What’s the deal with all these tools and auto parts? And your line of pipe and chewing tobacco is weighing down the shelves.β
βI’m just well-stocked.β
βBut your only customers the month I’ve been here are genteel ladies. They don’t buy that stuff.β
βYeah, the men never shop here.β
βWell, get me the ladder. I’ll fix that.β
(Two hours later)
βIvan, you can’t hang all those women’s undergarments from the rafters! It will embarrass our customers.β
βNot the customers we’re after. You just wait and see. We’ll have men customers coming out our ears by next week.β
~~~

I’m a musician. I play keyboard instruments mainly. Over the years, I’ve had the pleasure of using my talents to entertain in various venues, to minister as organist and choir director for two different churches, to help facilitate weddings and funerals for scores Β of families, to compose and orchestrate numerous songs, and to teach others to use their gifts and talents to bless the world with music from their own keyboards.
These days I rarely sit down to a musical keyboard. Instead, I’m nearly glued to the kind of keyboard that is attached to a desktop or laptop computer. For, Β you see, I’m also a writer. Now, some people feel that I have left music behind as I’ve devoted so much of myself to the writing. But you know what? Β I’ve discovered a truth that, ten years ago, I may not have even thought about:
I’ve discovered that music βΒ true music βΒ doesn’t come from a keyboard on a piano, an organ, or an accordion. Nor does it come from a horn, a guitar, a violin, or any other instrument. On the contrary, music comes from the soul. It’s the melody, the harmony, and the rhythm of life that courses through our beings and finds its release through any number of avenues. Frequently, it is released through instruments constructed for that specific purpose, but the music of the soul is also released through words.
I find that I’m releasing the music of my soul constantly as my fingers whisk over the letter keys of my laptop. I’m letting all those melodies, harmonies, and rhythms of life course through me to touch every reader. And when those readers are touched, my words create emotions, thoughts, actions, and reactions as surely as the strains of sound vibrating from a piano or a horn. I’m calling to and capturing the soul of the reader as surely as the chords from a guitar call and capture the soul of the listener.
It is not the instrument that creates the music. In truth, the music is created from the deepest part of our being and simply seeks an avenue βΒ any avenueΒ βΒ of expression. So, personally, I believe I am offering music to the world through the words that flow from my soul onto the page as surely as I have offered it in the past from the keyboard that sent forth vibrations of sound.
So, my fellow writersΒ β let the music play.
~
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