National Poetry Month

Written By: carolmoye - Apr• 12•14

After reading yesterday’s blog post by Audrey Havlin, I realized eleven days late that it’s National Poetry Month. I have sorely neglected the free writing poet in me, so I will try at least once each week to share an original poem. This one is not new. The next ones will be.

 

My Wounds and my Joys

My wounds and my joys

mix

together in

the frightening state

of my mind they

are vastly different

yet walk the same

path into

my tomorrow

seeming tied together

inseparable

 

 

Franklin Regional School Stabbing

Written By: carolmoye - Apr• 10•14

Sitting at the Subaru dealership about 15 minutes from the school where this horrible tragedy happened  yesterday morning gave me a different perspective than if I had been at home. My mother and I watched news reports for the hour and a half we waited on her car to be serviced. We were frequently visited by the service manager whose son attends that school. He was getting updates from his son and others he knew. His son did not attend school that day. It was the first day in eleven years that he stayed home because he was ill. The son’s girlfriend was present and was stabbed in the face. Information from this guy was more accurate than what the news reports were offering. He knew the police chief, the FBI agent, all the players at the school they interviewed. For me, this meant a far more intimate view of the tragedy than if I were at home following it on Twitter or something. I woke up knowing I needed to pray for the young man who was on life support last night. I am also praying for the young man who did this (and his family) as well as all those who didn’t seem to notice that he needed help. Seeing him on camera briefly, it was clear that he is just a child. Finally, I am thanking God that this young man chose knives instead of a gun.

As a writer, I will admit that my presence there was not likely an accident. I don’t know why I was there on that day (I told my mother to schedule for the 7th, 8th or 10th) , but at some point, as usually happens, I will understand why it was important for me to be there.

SPRING!!!

Written By: carolmoye - Apr• 02•14

three daffodils

 

Christian Book Reviews

Written By: carolmoye - Mar• 17•14

A Heart’s Home by Laura J. Marshall

I was looking for a short novel to read last Sunday. I was tired, and just needed to de-stress. This book was the perfect choice . The characters are very likeable, the plot was well developed. It was the perfect mix of romance and suspense. I loved that it was a Christian read that followed Christian principles without being preachy. Laura J. Marshall is a great writer. I’m looking forward to reading the sequel.

 

Reflections on Life: A Collection of Christian and Inspiration Short Stories by Staci Stallings

This book is a collection of stories and reflections on situations the author found herself in. She uses scripture, her faith, and her past experiences to relate how she was made stronger and better by each experience, and “talks” to the reader about how they too can be encouraged through the difficulties in their journey. Each reflection is filled with so much power that I only read one each day. I was really blessed by this book.

 

His Hidden Treasures by Cheryl Stasinowsky

This book worked really well for me as a devotional read. The author walks us through some very challenging moments that she and her family had to get through . She takes us through how each of them grew her as person and helped build her faith (and strengthened her family). I loved how transparent she was, and how she would use each challenge to reflect on what God wanted her to do. As usual, Cheryl made me reflect on my experiences and to see them in new ways.

Wordless Wednesday

Written By: carolmoye - Mar• 12•14

purple crocuses  purple striped crocuses
purple crocus with Photoshop effects

Authorgraph

Written By: carolmoye - Mar• 11•14

Thanks to Twitter user Stewart Bint (@StewartBint), I can now sign my Kindle books using the Authorgraph site. If you want yours signed, click the link below. I haven’t really tried it yet, but I’m pretty excited about the concept.

Get your e-book signed by Carol Moye

Make Enjoyment Your Choice

Written By: carolmoye - Mar• 10•14

Each of us can choose how we handle each day, each challenge, each circumstance. Today, I choose to look for enjoyment in each moment.

Today I read a blog post that inspired me in that direction. May it inspire you as well.

http://www.greatday.com/

Obsession-Part II

Written By: carolmoye - Mar• 08•14

A few weeks ago, I posted the first part of the mystery I am writing. Today, I share part II. I would love your feedback.

You can access  Part I here if you haven’t read it yet.

MISTER MAGIC

 

“Lord, help me please. What am I supposed to do now?” I prayed. I am generally very sensible woman, although my decision to allow Reggie to move into my place certainly contradicted this. I knew in my heart that I shouldn’t have allowed it, but Reggie’s charm was stronger than my willpower.

As I was praying, there was a knock on the door. Who can that be? I wondered. I peered through the peephole and was astonished to find Mr. Magic himself on the other side of the door.

“Well, hello,” I said, opening the door. I tried, but failed, to hide my enthusiasm.

Mr. Magic smiled. “Let me introduce myself. My name is not Mr. Magic. It is Detective Marc Jones. I’m sorry for disappearing on you earlier, but I needed to get your attention pretty fast. Don’t be misled. This isn’t a romantic call, nor are you in trouble. I’m here to help you.”

“How did you know I called you Mr. Magic?” I asked.

“The same way I knew your typical route home, where you lived, and that you were in trouble.”

“So, you’ve been spying on me?”

“Not exactly,” he said.

“Are you a cop?”

“No. Not anymore at least.” Marc answered.

“So, you are a private eye then?”

“You might say that. Do me a favor. Give me some time, and it will all become clear. It will take a while for you to accept all that I have to tell you. Before we talk much about me though, you need to see about Reggie. Send him a text telling him to call you back from another phone. If he’s able to, it might be wise to buy a disposable phone.”

“I’m not so sure I’m ready to talk to him,” I said.

“Have you already forgotten how much you love him?”

“Since you seem to know so much, you must have known he was cheating on me with Sheila.”

“What evidence do you have to support this accusation?” Marc raised an eyebrow as he spoke.

“None, except that he kept canceling our dates to meet with her. Have you SEEN her? She dresses seductively and flirts shamelessly.”

“Nothing you said proves that he was unfaithful. Give him a chance to explain what happened. He really needs you right now-without the attitude.”

Maybe Marc was right. I dropped the attitude and sent Reggie a text. Five minutes later, the phone rang. Assuming it was Reggie, I answered.

“Reggie, I’m so sorry I missed your calls. My phone wasn’t working. I heard your messages a few minutes ago. I saw the news story too. Where are you?”

“Near the airport at a motel,” Reggie’s normally sexy voice sounded distant and defeated.

“Can we meet somewhere?”

“Yes, there is a Doubletree Hotel nearby. Google it.  Their restaurant, Jackson’s, is empty this evening. I’ll be in a booth in the back. When are you coming?”

“I should be there in thirty minutes,” I said. “See you then.”

“Marc, are you going with me to meet Reggie?” I asked.

“No, Janet. I cannot do that. Just go and listen to Reggie’s story. Make sure you find out where he was when Sheila died, when he last saw her alive, and who else may have had access to her office that evening. Be sure to take a notebook to record everything he tells you. I’ll tell you what you should do after you hear what he has to say. I’ll meet you here in two hours.”

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot… tell Reggie to power off his phone, take the battery out, and then place it in a tin can. He should also park his car as far away from where he is staying as possible. Those things will make it harder for the police to find him,” added Marc. “Grab his toothbrush and some clothes before you leave. He will really appreciate being able to freshen up a bit. If you can afford it, hand him some cash too.”

 

REGGIE

 

I jumped in my car, and headed west, toward the airport. I put in my Mary Mary CD hoping it would lift my spirits. The song, “Can’t Give Up Now”, always did the trick. I began to sing along,

But when my back is against the wall

And I feel all hope is gone,

I’ll just lift my head up to sky

And say, help me to be strong…

I just can’t give up now… ..

Nobody told me that the road would be easy.

I don’t believe he brought me this far to leave me…”

 

As I drove, memories of my first date with Reggie filled my mind. He was stylish, smooth and suave. He opened doors for me, pulled out my chair, and listened to me as if everything I had to say was interesting. He had a beautiful smile with deep dimples and a captivating voice. I fell hard and fast. We had only been dating a month when Reggie said he didn’t want to spend one more day without me. He started falling asleep at my place. Then a toothbrush appeared, followed a few days later by some clothes. He continued to pay rent on his upscale apartment downtown, and retained it as his official residence, but he spent most of his time at my place, even though it was much smaller and not as nice. No matter how this current predicament worked out, I resolved to send Reggie back to his place until he was ready to make a lifetime commitment.

I pulled into the Doubletree expecting to see Reggie’s car, but did not. I parked and went inside. I found him sitting in a booth near the back like he said,  drink in hand. I could immediately see why he chose this place; there were no windows, it was rather dark, and except for Reggie, it was empty.

“Hey Reggie,” I said.

“Hey,” he attempted a smile, but the sparkle was gone. His eyes were bloodshot and it looked like he hadn’t slept.

“You look awful. Have you slept at all?” I asked.

“Not much,” he answered as he took another sip from his glass.

“How can I help you, Reggie?

“Just seeing you cared enough to come helps. Thanks.”

“Have you eaten?” I asked.

“Not much. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Since neither of us was really hungry, we decided to share the small barbecued chicken brick-oven pizza and a Greek salad. While we waited, I pulled out my notebook, and prepared to listen to his version of yesterday’s events.

“What happened to Sheila, Reggie?” I asked.

“Not what the news said, that’s for sure,” he began fidgeting with his napkin. Sheila came to my office briefly at about 5:00. She told me what she needed me to bring for our evening meeting. I was to meet her at 6:30. When I went to her office, I found her slumped over. I was too late. She was already dead. As I was checking her pulse, Brandon, the weird IT guy came in and started screaming, ‘You killed the wicked witch!’ That really freaked me out. I got scared and left the building. I called the police from my car, telling them who she was and where they would find her. I’m betting Brandon told them I was the one who had killed her. If only I had stuck around until the cops came…”

“Who else might have gone in her office between the time you last saw her and the time she died?” I pulled out my phone, and turned on the recorder just to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Wish I had thought to do this earlier.

“I can see her office door from my desk, so I can tell you a few of the people who were there. Brandon was there working on her laptop for about fifteen minutes. Marshall, the president of the company, went in next for about five minutes. I also saw Shamisha, our administrative assistant, go in at least once. There were times I was not watching the door, so there could have been others.”

“Can you think of anyone who would want her dead?” I asked.

“I think you mean to ask me if I knew anyone who didn’t want her dead. Sheila was mean, pushy and vicious. Nobody could do anything right. I heard her really rip into Brandon yesterday afternoon when he was trying to fix her computer, and that was not the first time. Brandon is disabled and brings his service animal to work. Sheila hates dogs. She was even mean to the dog.

Sheila was having an affair, but not with me. She and Marshall thought no one knew, but it was kind of obvious. If I noticed, others probably did too. Shamisha and Marshall’s wife talk pretty much every day. It’s quite likely that his wife knew about the affair.

Sheila was planning to leave the company and take some of her clients with her. If Marshall found out about this, he may have tried to stop her. Is that enough people with reasons? Oh yeah, add yourself to the list since you seemed to think I was sleeping with her. Actually, I might be the only one I know who didn’t have a reason to kill her,” Reggie added.

“Wow,” was all I could manage to say. I did as Marc suggested, and wrote down all that Reggie had told me. How on earth would Marc be able to sort through all of this before the cops found Reggie?

When we finished eating, I got ready to leave.

“Reggie, I need to get home. Here’s a few clothes and a toothbrush,” I said, handing him the bag Marc told me to pack. “I brought some cash if you need it too. Would you like to meet here tomorrow for an early dinner?”

“Yeah, I guess. What time?”

“I’m thinking I can get here by 4:30. Does that work for you?”

“Sure. Where else do I have to go except jail?”

“Oh, I almost forgot. A friend of mine gave me some tips to help you stay under the radar.” I handed him a page from my notebook. “He’s some sort of detective and has offered to help. I’m going to meet him briefly and share what you told me. That’s why I was taking notes. Stay strong. This detective and I are going to figure this thing out.”

Before leaving, I gave Reggie a quick hug. Even his hug felt weak and defeated. I pulled away as I found myself fighting off tears, and headed back home to meet with Marc.

 


Psalm 77

Written By: carolmoye - Mar• 07•14

Book Cover: Psalms in the Key of my LifeI am nearly done with the easy part of editing (spell and grammar checking). Two hard parts remain, deciding if and when to use punctuation, and getting the music right.  While both are difficult, finishing the music (and we’re only talking melody at this point) will take the most time. I need to make sure I am matching lyrics to melody, reworking lyrics so that they match the emotion of the piece, etc., I have several reflections that have sung responses. Those were easy. The difficult part is the four full songs I have written: Psalm 63, 80, 92 and 100. My goal is to work through those next week and be ready to share Vol. II with the beta readers the following week. To help me get it right, I am taking: Songwriting on Courseara.org, offered by Berklee College of  Music. It’s a wonderful course, taught by Pat Pattison. I enrolled during week four of a six-week course. That means I’m trying to cram in two weeks of lectures and assignments each week.  And people think retirees have tons of spare time. :)

It was really difficult for me to decide which Psalm to share this morning. Each has a different flavor, a different message. I chose Psalm 77. It’s one that reaches out to those who are having a difficult time, wondering if God still cares. There have been times in my life when it was harder to hear God than others, but as I meditated and reread my own reflections, I was reminded that He’s always there, working things out, just asking me to have faith.

 

Outstretched Arms

Psalm 77

 

I was spent.

I cried out to God

“Please help me, Lord

Hear my cries of distress.”

I stretched out my hands…

No other help I know

Crying out that old familiar prayer

“If thou, O Lord

Withdraw from me,

Wither shall I go?”*

I meditated,

But my spirit

Seemed to grow weaker

 

I could not sleep

Too upset to speak

I began to reflect on my past

And almost immediately

Things began to change.

 

My spirit asked,

“Will the Lord always be silent?

Has he withdrawn his unfailing love?

Has he forgotten to be merciful?

Is he so angry that he stopped caring?”

 

I continued meditating and

Began to see images as vivid

As a painting

 

Your arm outstretched

Separated the seas

The clouds poured out

Torrents of water

The heavens shouted

In a thunderous voice

Lighting lit up the entire sky

The earth began to tremble

 

A path was formed in the sea

You, in front of Moses and Aaron

Leading your people

Like a shepherd leads his flock

 

As this image fades

My faith is renewed

Troubled no more

The mighty God of Israel

Is my God too

 

Just because I don’t see him

Cannot hear him

Does not mean he is absent

I sleep like a baby

Assured of his unfailing love.

 

 

*Charles Wesley, “Father I Stretch Forth My Hands to Thee”, from Psalms and Hymns, 1741.

Psalm 91

Written By: carolmoye - Mar• 06•14

When my father was in the nursing home on life support, I would go visit him, Bible in hand. Psalm 91 was his favorite scripture, and I read it to him often. For that reason, this Psalm is special to me, and in my book is dedicated to my father. I still miss you, Dad.

 

A Soldier’s Psalm

Dedicated to James C. Shelton Sr.

 

Heading off to the front lines with supplies

You carry the best available protection

You are living

In the shadows

Of the almighty

Safe under his wings

 

He alone makes you feel safe

You trust him completely

No need to fear disease

Night terrors do not come

Although danger surrounds you

You feel secure

 

Thousands may be

Dying around you

Yet, you are unharmed

God sends his angels

They keep you steady

You do not stumble

You step on a land mine

It does not explode

Snakes and wild animals

Approach

But do not attack

 

Because you put your trust

In God

He hears your prayers

And returns you

Safely

To your family

Satisfying you

With a long

Full life

Staying by your side

Until he

Calls you home.