Visit my “Happy Wordcrafter” YouTube channel to view the newest episode in my “Speaking As A Writer” series.
Sandra Pavloff Conner
‘COFFEE & TORNADOS’ — NEW ON MY ‘GOD BLESS MY COFFEE’ CHANNEL
I share more personal stories about drinking coffee, from half a cup, thick with milk and sugar, allowed in childhood, to large cups, hot and black, once old enough to make my own choices. This episode includes the story of my father’s tornado experience and his insistence on building a storm cellar as a result. And, naturally, after a night in a storm cellar, nothing but coffee can get things back to normal. I round out the episode with one of my coffee poems.
THE DELIGHTFUL HISTORY OF MAXWELL HOUSE COFFEE — ON MY COFFEE YOUTUBE CHANNEL
Come over and join me on “God Bless My Coffee” channel to hear the delightful history of Maxwell House Coffee. And to get my unique checklist for finding the “perfect husband.”
THE PRICE IS PAID; THE VICTORY’S WON
Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, when we focus on Jesus’ suffering and death for us. But we want to be sure we don’t focus on the suffering and death without including the victory that resulted from it. I wrote this poem this week to celebrate all that Jesus did.
THE PRICE IS PAID; THE VICTORY’S WON
Mankind was bowed beneath the load of sin and shame.
But in the fulness of God’s time, the Savior came.
He walked as man and lived obedient to God’s law.
Then took upon Himself the sin and curse for all.
His sorrow was so deep it turned his sweat to blood.
In agony He prayed alone, misunderstood.
He cried “Dear Abba, can You find another way?”
But when no way was found, He rose up and obeyed.
The scourging ripped His body; thorns punctured His head.
Nailed to the cross, unclothed, He cried aloud and said,
“Father, forgive them; they do not know what they do.
I’ve done Your will, and now my spirit comes to You.”
The arms of death did grip Him tight within their hold.
The devil felt supreme and in his hate grew bold.
But suddenly God’s voice was heard: “The price is paid!”
And all the underworld began to reel and shake.
The Spirit of Life, who had created all that’s seen,
From Heaven came down and filled Christ’s body once again.
He rose to life victorious over sin and curse,
And in that life now reigns over the universe.
SPEAKING AS A WRITER # 2 – I’M COMMITTED TO ‘THE END’
Over the past decade, the publishing world has experienced an interesting, but, in my opinion, sad phenomenon. Almost all fiction authors and/or publishing houses have started leaving out the words “The End” on the last page of novels. It’s now become passe, and I guess in some minds, even unsophisticated to write those two iconic little words below the last paragraph of a story.
It’s sad. I’ve been an avid reader all my life. My earliest happy memories involve reading stories and having them read to me, and I started writing my own in elementary school. In fact, I wrote my first full-length play in the 6th grade. I get totally immersed in the books I read. I can pass hours and even go without food — even chocolate and coffee — once I get entrenched in a story. I live the experiences with the characters — laughing with them, crying with them, loving with them, fighting with them — and rejoicing in the final resolution of the climax in their favor. ( I do not read stories where the main character ends up defeated.)
But when I come to the end of those stories, I’m generally so much involved that I need closure in order to let them go and move on. Those two little words — “The End” — have always given me that. Now, many have been the times when I hated to see them come. I didn’t want the story to end, and I would have pushed those words forward for another twenty pages or so at least. But eventually, all good stories have to reach their resolution, and when they do, I’ve always found a quiet acceptance and even a serene pleasure in reading those words. I can’t begin to count the times I’ve leaned back after reading “The End,” closed my eyes, and taken a slow deep breath and relished the fact that all was resolved and every loose end securely tucked away.
Those two little words close a story and let me know that it’s all right to let those characters go and move on to the next story — the next adventure — the next romance — the next journey. Yes, I know that any reader of average intelligence is able to figure out that if there is no more text between the covers, then the story has come to an end. But that doesn’t satisfy me at all. Somehow, those two words typed onto the page just make the reading experience complete, and finishing a story without them is not the same. Perhaps I’m the only one who feels that way. I don’t know. It’s not a subject I discuss with other writers — or readers. But it’s something that touches me powerfully enough that I continue to type “The End” at the completion of every novel I write.
And I will continue to do so from now on. The publisher that I have worked with for years is in agreement with me, and, of course, any books that I publish through Amazon or Barnes & Noble don’t require my considering anyone else’s opinion. So whichever publishing route I use I am free to do as I please. And what pleases me is to be able to say to my readers — in effect — “Well, now, we have come the distance together in this story; thank you for sharing it with me; I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have; we’ve solved the problems for the hero and heroine, and they are satisfied and secure; I’ve taken great care to leave you in a good place; All is well.” And I can say all of that with the quintessential conclusion: ‘THE END.’
LOST POETRY SITE ~ NEW POETRY SITE
This post is mainly for those of you who have also been following me on my poetry site “Poetry by Ahyoka.” I recently lost access to that site, due to a stupid glitch in the email that I used to create it. WordPress tried to help me get back into it, but all the ways they had available required me to have some kind of information or connections that I don’t have. (Technology: you gotta love it.) Anyway, after a couple days of trying my best, I finally decided to just let it be. The site is still in existence, since I can’t even delete it without being able to get into it. But, of course, I can’t post anything on it going forward either. Nor can I respond to any comments or communication.
I considered just forgetting about a separate site for poems. I have several other sites for various purposes — ministry, art, my college writing classes, etc. — but, somehow, it didn’t seem right to shut down the poetry site for good, especially since I had some followers on there who don’t connect with me anywhere else online. So I took a deep breath and plunged back into this technological jungle. I now have a brand new poetry site called “Poems by Ahyoka.” Generally, the poems I post here eventually end up there, but I also sometimes write poetry there that never gets to this space. So if you’ve been one of my followers on the old site — or you’re just a poetry lover — please come on over to “Poems by Ahyoka,” and join me there as well.
DON’T FORGET THE COFFEE – DAY 3
I realize I’m lagging in moving forward with this new coffee series. I’ve had tons of stuff going on over the past couple months, and just never could find enough time, energy, and creativity all at the same time to get back to blogging with any regularity. But I’m on it again today. Hopefully, I can stick with it a little better over the next couple weeks at least. Anyway, let’s focus on some coffee now.
I thought today I’d talk to you about dunking. It probably isn’t considered good manners in any culture to take a piece of food in your hand and stick it into your cup of coffee until it gets soggy — and then slurp it into your mouth — possibly even dripping some coffee down your chin at the same time. 🙂 But I’ve done it since I was a kid, and I love it. (Well, not the part about the coffee dripping down my chin.)
Some of my favorite memories from childhood involve times when my grandmother, my mom, my sister and I went to another town very early on several Saturday mornings to visit my mom’s sister and her four kids. Grandma always bought a big box of doughnuts, and my aunt brewed a pot of coffee. We all sat around the table with cups of coffee, ready for dunking. Now, of course, we kids all had cups half full of a brew that was made up of about one half coffee and one half milk and sugar.
But those were such special times. And every once in a while, when I’m missing my family, I think back to those Saturday mornings. And sometimes I go out and buy myself some doughnuts just to sit and dunk them in my coffee while I sit and remember how happy we all were to be together enjoying that treat.
Of course, my coffee today is a little different from what it was back then. I stopped using sugar in my coffee about the time I got out of college, but I still used milk until one day when I was teaching high school and got really nauseous. I knew I had to get something to settle my stomach quickly, so during the 3 minute break between classes, I rushed down to the cafeteria to see what might be available. The lady in charge had just brewed a fresh pot of coffee, and it smelled so good. Suddenly I felt that if I sipped a little hot coffee with nothing else in it, that would help my stomach. And to my surprise, it did the trick. Just a few sips of the black coffee totally settled my stomach, and I have never added milk or anything else to my coffee since then.
Once in a great while, I will try some specialty coffee that has a lot of flavored cream or syrup — just to have a different experience — but those times are rare, and I usually end up disappointed in how it tastes after all.
But now back to dunking: I have never outgrown the desire to dunk things in my coffee. Cookies, of course, top the list of dunkables, along with doughnuts. But I also like to dunk my toast in my coffee as well. Occasionally, I dunk crackers, and I remember a time or two when I dunked my chocolate fudge in my coffee. Mmmmmmm!!!. When my mom was alive and we could be together on Christmas Eve, she and I made it a habit to have some of her homemade fudge and coffee for breakfast every Christmas Eve. What fun.
And, of course, it’s so many of those special family memories that make coffee a comfort food for me. I’m sure that’s a good part of the reason I love coffee so much and want to drink it every day. And I’m grateful that I can drink it without any negative effects. I can even drink it right before going to bed. In fact, some nights when I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep, I can drink a cup of coffee and get all relaxed and settled enough to get to sleep again. And, of course, if I’m really wide awake, grabbing a couple chocolate chip cookies and dunking them rounds off those midnight snacks perfectly.
I hope everyone reading this article has had the joy of dunking goodies in their coffee. But if you have not, be sure you try it before the day’s over. You won’t be sorry. But be sure and keep a napkin handy for your chin. 🙂
I DON’T FEEL LIKE AN OVERCOMER — VIDEO MESSAGE
Are you feeling a little discouraged lately with all the battles of life? Visit my ministry YouTube channel and get a lift from my latest message.
meet the men who made the series
The Great Smoky Mountains: That unique region where Tennessee and North Caroline meet and the ‘Smokies’ beckon to the soul of a man to come and lose himself and his troubles in the beauty and tapestry of these compelling mountains. In this delightful setting, six men experience a love that changes their lives forever. Some of them know the Lord as their story begins, and some of them do not. Those who do know Him learn how to trust Him even more, and those who do not know Him come face-to-face with a God whose love they can’t refuse. Read the little descriptions below to get to know the men who made the series.
Book 1: SET FREE TO LOVE is the story of private detective MADDISON HOLT, who is on the most important journey of his life: It is a journey from grief, guilt, self-incrimination, & an inability to love – to a place where he can be set free from those bondages and finally give himself to loving and being loved. But when an assassin’s bullet threatens to cut his life short, he finds that he must also help the woman he loves to push aside her own fears and take a chance on loving him.
Book 2: CAMERON’S RIB is the story of PASTOR CAMERON MCDANIELS. After several years on the mission field, he now serves Prince of Peace Church in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. He is a dedicated servant of God, and he is also a man in love – with a woman who is too hurt and confused by a traumatic loss to even consider loving him. He’s depended on God’s Word to fight his battles and win them throughout his life of ministry. Now he must learn how to use that Word to help him win the love of the woman he believes is supposed to become his wife. But in the meantime, he must find a way to save her life.
Book 3: REPARIED BY LOVE introduces us to LIONEL BUTLER who is convinced he will never believe in God. Due to much grief and serious issues with unforgiveness in his heart, Lionel finds himself sorely tried when he meets and falls in love with Kana Wallace, a devout Christian, who cannot allow herself to enter into a relationship with him. His feelings for her gradually bring him to the place of questioning his own resistance to God and to finally seeking answers that may require him to let go of his grief, anger, and bitterness. He struggles to find his own way to God and then to help a father he’s hated all his life to do the same.
Book 4: JONAH’S SONG is the story of PROFESSOR JONAH MCDANIELS, handsome, reclusive violinist/conductor. He is used to girls in his college classes having a crush on him. But he has never felt anything in return until he meets Valentina Rosswell. Even then, he pushes his feelings aside, knowing there are too many barriers to a personal relationship between them. But when he meets her again seven years later and realizes that what he felt for a college girl has matured – just as the girl has matured into a beautiful, desirable woman – he still does his best to resist falling in love. Focusing on everything from his age to his very formal, even stuffy personality, he considers himself totally unacceptable as a lover and a husband for Valentina. His serious injuries from a plane crash further insure his feelings of inadequacy. The Lord must use some strong words and even stronger love – and the delightful story of Ruth and Boaz – to knock some sense into Jonah’s hard head.
Book 5: THIS FIRE IN MY HEART introduces THOMAS BLAZE OF GOD ROSS. Full-blooded Cherokee, Blaze is a master craftsman, in wood, leather, and metal. He runs a large craft and trade center in Cherokee, NC, and he spends a good deal of his time sharing the Gospel, both in his home area and across the country as the Lord leads. His love for his native people and all they have suffered is a primary force in his life as he works to help renew understanding of the Cherokee language and artisan crafts. His love for Joy McDaniels, who knows virtually nothing of Cherokee history or culture causes him to struggle. Joy’s feelings of being inadequate as the wife he will need stands in the way of Blaze’s having the desire of his heart. He must learn to let go of his own understanding and lean on the Lord’s counsel in order to prove to Joy that she is the one the Lord has had in mind for him all along.
Book 6: GRACE FOR ATTICUS brings us into the life of DR. ATTICUS ST. JOHN, abortionist. Originally proud of his work and the important help he feels he offers his patients, Atticus has his whole life turned upside down by a beautiful Cherokee woman who loves God and denies Atticus’ right to terminate the lives of unborn babies. Atticus has never believed in God, but he does believe in love, and he cannot restrain his own heart from falling in love with Grace. But her unflinching dedication to God and His hatred of abortion rocks Atticus’ world as nothing else ever has. As he learns to love Grace, he has to recognize that He must face the question of God with an honest heart. But in the midst of his searching, he comes face-to-face with a life-threatening emergency that tries, not only his medical skill, but his very soul – and throws him headlong into spiritual truths that will change him forever.
All books in the series are available in paperback or digital from Amazon.
Book 6: GRACE FOR ATTICUS — Digital Version — is on a special introductory sale until the end of May for $0.99
Get your copy HERE.
BOOK # 6 IS HERE: ‘GRACE FOR ATTICUS’
Great News: Book # 6 in The Smoky Mountain Series is now on the market.
GRACE FOR ATTICUS is another inspirational story that continues the series, introducing brand new characters as well as welcoming visits from some who have been part of the series from the first two books.
SYNOPSIS:
Dr. Atticus St. John owns two abortion clinics and is building a third. He has never considered abortion as anything other than a service he offers women who find themselves in an unwanted pregnancy. He does not know the Lord so has no spiritual foundations from which to judge his work.
However, when he crosses paths with Grace Ross, whose total commitment to Jesus Christ compels her to fight against the ever-growing practice of abortion, Atticus comes face-to-face with the reality of God and a spiritual realm he never knew existed.
Sparks fly between them as they confront each other over Atticus’ work. But in the midst of that battle, another kind of spark ignites in their hearts. And, suddenly, two unlikely lovers find themselves struggling desperately to find answers that only God can give them.
E-BOOK ON INTRODUCTORY SALE – THIS WEEK ONLY – $0.99
PAPERBACK — $9.95
GET YOUR COPY FROM AMAZON
EXCERPT:
The glass front door of Tsalagi Craft and Trade Center flew open, the bell at the top of the door jangling so hard it sounded like an alarm. Grace Walela Ross looked up from the accounting work she was doing at the desk in the back left corner of the store. Her black hair, cut in short tousled layers accented her sable eyes and her bronze Cherokee skin. She rose to her full height of five feet, seven inches, and although she was quite delightful to look at as she stood behind her desk, the man stomping his way toward her had such fire in his eyes, it was unlikely he had taken time to notice.
“I understand you’re the one responsible for this trash,” he said, slamming a copy of The Sword newspaper down on top of the desk.
“I’m the editor of the paper, if that’s what you mean,” Grace replied, standing straight and looking him in the eye. He was a good six inches taller than she was, and all powerful, barely restrained muscle. She felt only slightly intimidated, but had no intention of letting fear have a place.
“Do you have a problem with something in this week’s issue, Mr. … ?”
“A problem? No, I don’t have a problem. I have a legitimate complaint against your libelous excuse for journalism. You’re the one who has the problem, Ms. – ” He stopped and glanced at the masthead of the paper to double-check her name. “Ms. Grace Walela Ross! Because unless you print an immediate retraction – and on the front page – you’re going to court and pay through the nose.”
“And just what exactly are you referring to as libelous, Mr. Whoever-You-Are?”
“St. John.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Atticus St. John. Doctor St. John to you.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I don’t think you do see, Ms. Ross. I don’t think you even try to see the whole picture. You’re so focused on your own personal rant that you don’t care how distorted you make your articles.”
Some kind of righteous anger mixed with personal hurt rose up in Grace. She rounded the desk and advanced toward him until she stood mere inches away. “I never distort my articles! How dare you come stomping in here and speak such lies!”
“Me speaking lies! You have the gall to accuse me after you’ve written and printed this hideous excuse for journalism?! You should be tarred and feathered!”
Grace’s head almost buzzed with the anger she felt. She prided herself in all the effort she put into being sure of her facts, even down to the exact spelling of every single name she used. And she was always hard on herself to make sure she’d used proper restraint before assigning responsibility and fault to anyone in her articles.
Such an attack as this on her character as a credible journalist was more than she could bear, and before she could even think about what she was going to do, she spit in his face. Instantly, the shock of what she had done hit her so forcefully that she gasped, and her hand flew to cover her mouth. Her eyes, wide with the horror of her actions, locked onto his.
But her shock was nothing compared to his. Followed by a new level of anger. “Why you little savage!” he said, grasping her by the shoulders and, without thinking, pushing her backwards against the desk, and pinning her there with his own body. Grace put up her hands against his chest in an instinctive defense, but he was much more powerful than she. Her eyes focused on his shoulders now, and her self-defense training came to mind, but for some reason, she felt a kind of dazed lack of energy to inflict any kind of retaliation.
He wasn’t sure what he’d intended when he’d grabbed her, but was responding to some primal need in him to exact revenge for such humiliation and put her in her place somehow. He fought within himself over whether to spit in her face as well or kiss her forcefully enough to prove his mastery over her.
He had decided on the ruthless kiss when, suddenly, her eyes met his again and held him with a look that said she knew he was in control, but she wouldn’t even consider backing down. There was something so pure in her eyes – an assurance of being in the right – something that pulled on him to side with her unflinching commitment to what she believed – that his own thoughts came crashing to a full stop.
In response, he gradually leaned forward almost touching her lips in what would have been an entirely different kind of kiss, but he caught himself just in time. He pulled back slowly and heard himself say in a tone of disbelief, “Grace? … You’re name is Grace? And if I’m not mistaken, your middle name is the Cherokee word for Hummingbird, is it not?”
Grace was silent with surprise at the sudden change in him, and she just nodded. He laughed softly then. “What a mistake your poor parents made. You most definitely are not a hummingbird. In fact I’d say you’re more like a she-bear – defending her domain – a spitting bear in fact,” he added, taking his right hand from her shoulder and wiping his cheek where her spittle had landed. He quickly grasped her shoulder again, but couldn’t hold back more laughter.
The laughter was genuine, but he was having a hard time understanding everything else he was feeling. Something powerful had passed between them in those moments – something so elemental he couldn’t put a name to it, but it pulled on him and caused him to want to stay close to her. A ridiculous feeling since she represented everything he had to fight against in order to carry out his own work – work that he believed in and had labored hard to be able to accomplish.
He finally released her and stepped back, glancing toward the floor and running his hand through his hair in a frustrated manner. But he looked right at her again and spoke in a disgruntled tone. “Never mind. I don’t really have time to bother with you.”
He turned away from her and started for the door, but just before he pulled the door open, he turned and almost spat out the words, “Just be careful, my little Spitting-Bear. The next victim of your irresponsible journalism may not be as willing to forego exacting his vengeance.” And with those words he walked through the door and almost stomped down the street.
Grace still leaned against the desk, almost as if she needed its support. Her adrenaline was rushing, and she knew she’d been frightened a little by the encounter, but there was something else involved that she couldn’t identify. She realized with a quickening of her breath that she actually wished he had followed through on his actions and kissed her. She shook her head in disbelief now and finally pushed herself away from the desk, making her way around it, where she sat down in the chair again. She closed her eyes and relived the whole experience.
In the heat of the moment, she hadn’t been conscious of noting his appearance, but now, in her memory’s eye, she saw again the strength that showed in the muscles of his arms and chest even beneath the fabric of his long-sleeved dress shirt. His hair was sandy brown and had been tousled by the breeze. She saw again the firm jaw, and the olive green eyes – eyes that kindled with his barely restrained temper as they bored into hers. She felt a stirring inside as she remembered those eyes – and the way his body felt barely touching hers. Suddenly, she shook herself lightly, trying to escape those memories and clear her head.
Everything about the man was the antithesis of her beliefs and agenda for her own life. How could she have wanted to kiss him – to stay in a place where she was touching him and looking steadily into his eyes? She leaned back in the chair with a huge sigh. Everything was quiet now, and she just sat, waiting, hoping her thoughts would clear and her day would get back to normal somehow.
She heard the bell again, but at a normal volume this time, and when she glanced toward the door she saw her brother Blaze heading her way. “Hey, Sis, I read your article this morning.”
Grace looked up at him as he stood now in front of the desk, but she seemed to be having trouble focusing.
“Is something wrong, Hon.” he asked, concern in his eyes now.
Grace really looked at him then, finally focusing, and shook her head again slightly, as if still trying to clear it. “No, not really. I guess I’m just a little dazed after having a confrontation with Dr. St. John.”
“St. John? As in the man you wrote about in the front page article?” Grace nodded her head and, to Blaze’s relief, her impish grin kicked in, and he felt reassured that she was her old self.
“What happened?”
Grace told him how Dr. St. John had stormed into the store and accused her of being irresponsible in her journalism and of telling lies, and how he’d threatened to sue if she didn’t print a retraction of her accusations.”
“I guess you set him straight, didn’t you?”
“Well … about that.” Grace said and started to squirm a little in her chair.
Blaze was intrigued by that move, because his little sister was generally straight-forward and outspoken with everyone, so he just stood there and looked at her intently until she glanced away and then, finally, looked back at him.
“Hummingbird, why do I feel that there’s something you should tell me, but you don’t want to? What really did happen?”
END OF EXCERPT
MAGNOLIA BLOOMS PRODUCTS AVAILABLE
Just wanted to share a few of the products now available featuring one of my newest designs: “MAGNOLIA BLOOMS.” If you’re interested in seeing more or purchasing products, just follow this link and then scroll down the page to where it shows you more available items.
HEALING SCHOOL VIDEO CLASSES – SEGMENT 1
This video is the first in a series of 23, which cover the course titled “Biblical Pathways to Health & Wholeness,” taught by Sandra Pavloff Conner in 2021. It includes several foundational principles required to receive anything from the Lord by faith. It explains in detail 9 specific pathways prescribed by God’s Word to receive physical healing from the Lord, through the finished work of Jesus Christ. The course also covers several common hindrances to receiving healing from the Lord and ways to avoid or remove those hindrances.
The course is part of Sandra Conner’s Healing School curriculum, which she teaches in both public and private venues throughout the year. This particular series of videos was offered to students at a local college in 2021, and listeners may hear a reference to that college occasionally. Please don’t let that interfere with your receiving the truths presented here.
The original course also included study sheets that offered more information on the subject being taught. If listeners on this channel would like copies of those study sheets, they may contact Sandra Conner at the e-mail address below, and she will gladly e-mail free copies to you. Please use this e-mail: radicalaboutjesus@gmail.com.
Listeners can also find the entire playlist on this channel by clicking on “Playlists” in the navigation bar.
LOVE POTION ALA CABBAGE — MY LATEST FREE AUDIO SHORT STORY
I added another free audio short story to my personal YouTube channel today. Hope you enjoy it. A humorous look at romance as a senior citizen.
‘A CHRISTMAS CAROL — THE REST OF THE STORY??? — # 5
A few years ago, with my sincere apologies to Mr. Charles Dickens, I created a series of futuristic vignettes that take a look at a few of the characters of his heart-warming novel and what their lives may have been like decades beyond the words “The End” at the close of his masterpiece. Recently, I decided it would be fun to dig those stories out of my archives and dust them off. Maybe they will make this Christmas a little more fun. These tales are simply the result of my imagination being given free rein, but I offer them in the spirit of the season, hoping you’ll enjoy them. You can also find them in my Christmas anthology Stocking Full of Stories, available from Amazon.
Today is our final story, which focuses on The Spirit of Christmas Future
THE REST OF THE STORY PART 5 — THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS FUTURE: CHRISTMAS PLANET
“Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen. KTZY-TV is here at the 2025 Christmas Market Preview to interview The Spirit of Christmas Future and learn what’s in store this coming holiday season. Future is currently sitting atop one of the newest creations this year – the Infused Light Christmas Tree. Christmas Future, can you hear me all right?”
“I can hear you fine, Tom. And as you explained, I am atop one of the smartest Christmas decorating ideas to come out in centuries. These gold, silver, and multi-colored trees come in several sizes. As you can see I’m sitting in the top branches of the largest size. Their primary feature is their self-infused lighting that glows gently from within and lights the entire tree evenly.”
“I see. So that cuts down the need to buy all those hard-to-handle strings of lights, then doesn’t it?”
“Exactly right, Tom. No more twisted cords to untangle; no more burned out bulbs that have to be hunted down and replaced; less time spent shopping for decorations – all those positive features will add to the ease of preparing for Christmas this year.”
“I see someone else important to Christmas has joined you down below the tree.”
“Oh, yes indeed. There’s St. Nicholas himself. We wanted him on hand to help introduce the video feed of Christmas Planet. I’ll go down and join him on the ground.”
Christmas Future sweeps from the tree branch and glides to a stop beside St. Nicholas. Before he has time to welcome the big guy, Future immediately presses his right hand to his ear to better hear the message coming into the headset he’s wearing. “Wonderful!” he says into the mouthpiece and then speaks directly to the newscaster again. “Tom, the video is ready to role. Focus your cameras on that screen behind me, and your audience will get the thrill of their lives.”
“Yes, we’re focused on the screen now.”
“All right, here it is right before the world’s eyes for the first time ever: Christmas Planet – the long-awaited masterpiece of inter-planetary travel. And the newest word in family holiday entertainment.
“As you can see, the planet itself is green, and even in the video that’s coming from a couple miles above the ground, you can see the red glow from the spectacular light show that is taking place at the main park.”
“That’s amazing!”
“Yes. As you know, Tom, NASA discovered this planet two years ago and began developing it specifically for the celebration of Christmas. Those amazing red light displays are part of the planet’s atmosphere, but it took the scientists all this time to harness those light waves and control them in order to use them in the Christmas productions planned for the visitors to the planet this year.”
“And any family from earth can travel by spaceship to Christmas Planet to celebrate the holidays, is that correct, Future?”
“Yes, Tom. NASA tells us the round trip – with tickets to all the events for two days and one night – is just about twice the cost of two full days at Disney World. And, of course, as we all know, Disney World has now been demoted to Christmas Past.”
“And when is the departure date for the first group of visitors?”
“December 10th will see the first group of families setting off in Noel I – the spacecraft specifically designed to shuttle visitors back and forth to Christmas Planet. And reservations have been coming in non-stop since last year, so anyone who wants to get in on the first year’s visits needs to be sure to go online and make the request today. According to NASA, the scheduled trips are nearly booked to capacity.”
“Well, unfortunately, we’re out of time now, but thank you, Christmas Future, for this thrilling report.”
“Thank you, Tom. And have a Merry Christmas.”
“Thank you, Future. The same to you.”
Turning his eyes back to the main camera in front of him, the announcer wraps up his newscast. “Well, folks, there you have it. Looks like Christmas has a great future ahead of it. I’m sure many of you out there want to make your own reservations, and you can contact NASA at the website showing now at the bottom of your screen. Until tomorrow evening, this is Tom Hilton wishing you good night, good news, and Merry Christmas!” ♦
*****
Note To My Readers: Thank you for imagining with me. I feel confident that Mr. Dickens would not begrudge me my little vignettes. In fact, I think he would probably encourage me to write even more. Charles Dickens was one of the world’s great storytellers, but he was even more. He was a man who saw far beyond the surface things of life, and he wrote most of his stories with an eye toward helping his readers to see beyond that surface as well. Exposing through his stories so many of the serious, even life-threatening social evils of his day, he literally changed a whole generation in many ways.
The one thing that stands out to me concerning A CHRISTMAS CAROL is that the story has had a powerful impact on every single generation since it was written. I don’t know of any piece of fiction that can equal it in having been told and retold and retold and retold for centuries. Even in our most modern digital society, we find at least a dozen different productions of the story — generally around Christmas time — spiffed up with currently fashionable clothing for costumes and high-tech corporate executives playing the main characters. But the truths of the story remain the same. And whether it’s a TV production, a local theatre group musical, a Hollywood spectacular, or an animated cartoon, every year brings the story around again, and it draws amazingly large audiences every time. It’s so encouraging and exhilarating for a writer like me to know that an excellently crafted story with a strong moral theme can have such a powerful impact on our world year after year after year. It makes me want to write all the stories I can. What about you???
‘A CHRISTMAS CAROL’ — THE REST OF THE STORY??? – # 1
A few years ago, with my sincere apologies to Mr. Charles Dickens, I created a series of futuristic vignettes that take a look at a few of the characters of his heart-warming novel and what their lives may have been like decades beyond the words “The End” at the close of his masterpiece. Recently, I decided it would be fun to dig those stories out of my archives and dust them off. Maybe they will make this Christmas a little more fun. These tales are simply the result of my imagination being given free rein, but I offer them in the spirit of the season, hoping you’ll enjoy them. You can also find them in my Christmas anthology Stocking Full of Stories, available from Amazon.
Today’s story deals with Ebenezer. But be sure and come back for the next 4 days as I tell you “the rest of the story” about Tiny Tim, and the Spirits of Christmas Past, Christmas Present, and Christmas Future.
THE REST OF THE STORY PART 1: EBENEZER THE SUITOR
Ebenezer had never felt his heart stop beating before. Was that what was happening, or was he just forgetting to breathe? He wasn’t sure, but He did know he was looking at the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, and he was glad he’d worn the new suit.
“Ebenezer, meet my cousin, Marilee Cratchit,” said Bob.
Marilee extended her hand, and Ebenezer took it, becoming submerged in the magical cloud of her cologne. He’d been nervous about attending this party, but since his regeneration on Christmas day last year, he was welcomed everywhere. Right now he felt ten feet off the ground. It seemed being a kind, generous man really was the most important thing in life.
“Ebeneezer, I’ve been dying to meet you,” Marilee cooed. “Come sit with me and talk.”
His heart danced. He couldn’t believe anyone so beautiful and fragile would be interested in spending time with him. His heart skipped a couple beats as he wondered: was he actually going to get another chance at love?
“What shall we talk about?” he asked her, contemplating ways to express his renewed heart to her. Ever since his transformation, he found that he wanted to tell everyone how good life was when you learned that people are more important than money.
“I’d like to talk about your money, of course!” she said. “They say you’re the richest man in London!”
Disappointed at her words, he answered: “Uh … I don’t know. Is it important?”
“Well it is to me! Without a lot of money one can’t own a fine home, or fashionable clothes, or beautiful jewelry. And there’s no chance to travel and have fun without a lot of money either. Surely you, of all people, know how important it is.”
“Well, I admit that I used to feel that way. In fact it cost me the love a wonderful woman when I was quite young. But last year I had a most unusual experience that taught me a valuable lesson about life.”
“Oh? What lesson was that?”
“That people are much more valuable than money and that unless you care about people money doesn’t really do you any good because no matter how many things you buy with it, it cannot take away loneliness and give you love.”
“Well, I’ll take my chances,” she said. “I do not intend to be poor or to do without all the finer things in life.” She gave him a saucy look, her seductive smile in place. “I may as well warn you, Ebbie, I’m looking for a rich husband, and I have my eye on you.”
He squirmed just a little where he sat and cleared his throat. “Marilee,” he said, “I think perhaps there’s a book you should read. I’ll loan you my copy. It’s a little Christmas story by Charles Dickens.” ♦
The Happy Wordcrafter 