Tuning In

 

This chapter captures how I feel around my two teenage daughters. Many parents tell me how much harder teen girl are to raise than boys. There are definitely challenges with their emotions, and their intricate wiring, but honestly I enjoy the captured moments of getting to relax and be myself with them. There is such an elated thrill for me to just go shopping together, finding out what there unique differences are along with how much we have in common. Then there’s the special moments when I get to share something brilliant and amazing I see in them and have their undivided time to let them know. I don’t stay close with my kids because I’m afraid they will make wrong decisions, I stay close to them because their mine. I decided I want these three amazing miracles of God, and now I get to enjoy them as much as I can.  And then a funny thing happens; they open up to me, ask my advice, and blossom into amazing gifted women.

 imagination

Chapter 8: 

Tuning In

As Hallie and her mother walked down the lively street, their tight faces relaxed and their steps loosened up. They browsed displays of sparrows, fairies, and garden gnomes at various vendor stalls, taking turns calling the other one over to come and see what treasures she had discovered.

She peered over Mom’s shoulder to ogle a tree dripping with cool vintage jewelry on the counter. Mom picked one like a ripened fruit and said, “I love how they took old watches and skeleton keys and made them into necklaces.”

Hallie found some butterfly wings encapsulated in glass and framed as a pendant. She picked it up and swiveled it in her hand to catch a glimmer of the iridescent blue. “Mom, don’t you think butterflies should be called flutterbys instead?”

“Wow.” Mom tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. “That’s an amazing thought.” She snatched the jewelry from Hallie’s grasp and glanced at the price tag. “What a steal! You have to have this necklace. It’s beautiful, and it’s you. From now on you’re my little blue flutterby.”

Hallie’s insides fluttered as well, and she realized how much she had missed spending time with Mom.

They must have entered half a dozen different photo studios, and after leaving each one Hallie saw another aspect of her mother that she had never noticed before, like what she was truly passionate about capturing in her work. At one studio in particular, Mom drifted away from the landscapes that she always loved and became engrossed by pictures of people’s faces and of everyday people overcoming insurmountable obstacles in nature.

Hallie joined Mom, who stood transfixed by a photo of a climber with every muscle contracted, trying with all his might to hold on to the side of a cliff.

Mom broke the silence. “What do you see?”

Hallie gazed at it for a while. “I see someone strong surrounded by great difficulty but refusing to give up.”

Mom turned away from the photo and looked at Hallie with a smile that lit up her face. “Wow, great job! That’s exactly what I see when I look at you.”

Hallie, who sometimes felt a generation of differences between them, beamed from the encouragement that bridged her to Mom once again.

Back on the street, an aroma of garlic and lemon tempted their noses, and their empty stomachs grumbled as they pursued the scent until they reached the entrance of a local fish-and-chips dive. They opened the door to a yeasty fragrance of beer batter and steaming herbs from a chowder cooking on the stove.

The mother-daughter pair walked inside. Hallie took in a deep breath and studied the menu. Her stomach growled loudly, and she glanced at the people around her to see if they had heard then wrapped her arm around Mom’s elbow. “Let’s get one of everything!”

“Done,” Mom said.

They ordered fish, crab cakes, clam chowder, and of course diet soda to save on calories. Hallie found a table in the corner facing outward, and they plopped their bags down and sat, exhausted but content. They played their game of spying on random people in the room and dubbing in the voices for them. Just relaxing and being themselves around each other again was so fun. After playing around, eating great food, and letting their feet rest, they continued on their journey.

Leaving the restaurant, Hallie heard violin music that called out to her. She looked at Mom, and without words, Mom followed her until they arrived at a secondhand music shop. Hallie stood next to Mom and listened to the vibrant-sounding strings coming from a college-age student trying out his newly purchased instrument. Hallie gravitated toward the storefront window and peered inside.

 

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Drawing Me Under

Journal 56In Chapter 7, Collin has just screamed at his mom that he hates her and will never forgive her. He runs up to his room in the attic of this old mansion, willed to his family from his insane grandmother. This is the second time his drawings began to take on a life all of their own.

Chapter 7:

Drawing Me Under

Something snapped in Collin’s twisted-up mind, intertwining his thoughts like a poisonous vine grafting itself to its host. I have my drawings.

 

Collin scrambled for his sketch pad and climbed up the ladder to draw at his desk in the hideaway. Voices seeped into his thoughts: This life has nothing for you. You can create your own world, make up your own rules.

 

He turned the pages from the buildings he had once loved to draw and echoed the voices inside his head by drawing the images they were stirring up deep inside his soul—towering winged gargoyles that mutated into detestable, mangled-up creatures—and taking on a life of their own.

 

Sitting back in his chair, his eyes transfixed on the heavy charcoal and ink sketches.

 

Are the voices calling me to draw, or are the drawings calling to me? These drawings understand me better than anyone else.

 

“From now on, you will be the only ones I allow to see the real me,” he sputtered out to his creations, like gas to a spark. Collin’s chest began to burn raging from somewhere deep in his gut. He wiped away the hot tears and slowed his breath to calm himself. No one cared about him, much less loved him. So what? He didn’t need anyone. He had all he needed in his notebook.

 

A toxic smoldering inside of his soul caused him to crave drawing these mutated creatures, and his tainted inspirations were endless. He drew into them the dark powers he didn’t possess himself. Each one had its own distinctive malicious personality trait.

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Our minds are the dwelling places that entertain the thoughts stewing around in our souls. What emotional seasonings are we allowing to flavor the pot? Collin has broken up bitterness and self-pity into bite sized pieces, digested them, and vomited them onto his sketch pad. He is creating rot that is blackening everything he touches.

 

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New Discoveries

0765388a0122d3133e7ba169c20275e0This is an excerpt from Chapter 5 Titled, “New Discoveries.”

Hallie has finally finished unpacking her room and is exploring the beauty of the Oregon woods near the coast for the first time. As a 15-year-old who has been recently abandoned by her father, Hallie regresses into deep insecurities and low self-worth, until she meets a mysterious neighbor who seems to have some ’spirited gifts’ to impart. . .

Chapter 5

The hill topped out and she could see a neighbor’s house below, the most elaborate Victorian house she had ever seen. The yellow house trimmed with white had a tall tower in the center with a glass greenhouse roof. A crazy-looking netted circus tent was pinned up in the back yard, almost like someone was trying to hold some of the trees hostage.

 

Hallie considered walking back the way she had come, but this was her adventure, and she had earned it. Digging her heels into the loose rocks and dirt, she scooted down the embankment toward the house. Hallie looked around for a driveway leading up to the house but couldn’t find one.  As she neared the bottom, her nerves almost gave out as she thought of what to say when she met the person behind the front door. What if it’s some old guy with a gun?

 

She apprehensively pulled the rope to the fisherman’s bell that served as a doorbell. It worked like a charm. Before Hallie could turn and walk away, the door swung open accompanied by a warm sea breeze.

 

A kind and elegant woman, with hair the color of snow, greeted her with a smile. This frail lady stared deep into her eyes, as if studying the very core of her existence, and didn’t seem to notice Hallie’s filthy appearance.

 

“What would you like?” the woman asked in a pleasant, lyrical voice.

 

It wasn’t what she had asked but rather the way in which she had stated it. She didn’t seem a bit agitated but rather quite the opposite.

 

The possibilities of what to answer seemed endless. Could this lady actually grant me a wish? A dozen images flashed before Hallie’s eyes: cotton candy . . . to ride a dolphin . . . to find out what this lady had captured in her back yard . . . new friends . . . her life back . . . to be made beautiful. Instead she just settled for, “I just wanted to say ‘hi’ and that my family and I just moved into the house up the hill.”

 

The elderly lady extended her delicate hand. “Well, hello. I’m Charisma.”  

 

Hallie asked, “Is that really your name?”

 

“Yes. It means ‘spirited gifts.’” A playful smile crossed Charisma’s lips along with a fiery sparkle in her deep brown eyes. Mysterious yet entirely transparent.

 

Hallie couldn’t stop staring at how breathtaking this woman was.When Charisma stared back at Hallie, her searching eyes exposed Hallie’s vulnerability. Hallie couldn’t be anything but completely herself around this lady. No beating around the bush, no idle chitchat, only right to the point would do in her presence. Something fluttered deep in her gut. Is this what hope feels like?

 

Hallie had to know this amazing woman who made her feel . . . what was it she was feeling now? Confident? Was that even possible? Whatever it was, it was a new experience for her, and she loved it.

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Do you find yourself looking at life through tainted glasses. It is as if your own low self-esteem or lack of confidence is filtering out the color of magic from your viewpoint. Wouldn’t it be wondrous if a mystical fairy godmother could wave a wand and take away all of our insecurities and  frailties? Well, I have met this miraculous someone and I created my favorite character Charisma in its likeness. It is God’s Holy Spirit. When you are in It’s presence there is no more fear, anger, or self loathing, because the Holy Spirit reveals your true identity. It is like looking in the mirror, but the image looking back at you is who God sees when He looks at you.

Do you realize God is never in a bad mood, He never puts His hands on His hips and gives a big sigh, “Oh it’s you again! What do you want now? Can’t you see I’m busy?”He is quite the opposite. He is much like Charisma, who welcomes you in and playfully desires to give you your hearts desire. Then as if that wasn’t wonderful enough He allows His Spirit which in the Greek interprets as Charisma; meaning spirited gifts, to impart into you, knowledge, wisdom, healings, and much more to everyone who believes in this amazing God and simply asks for these gifts.

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.”- Matthew 7:7

 

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Meeting The House

book cover

book cover

Hallie and Collin’s mom grew up in this very house that stood before them now. How many stories had they begged Mom to tell them about this mysterious old home. Sometimes Collin would fall asleep at night picturing his insane grandmother’s screams drifting out of her locked bedroom door down the stairs to permeate the entire dwelling. The Brandon’s had just inherited this house, and this was where they would sleep tonight.

Chapter 5

“Meeting the House”

Walking toward the house gave Collin the sensation of stepping back in time and into his mom’s picture. He brushed shoulders with Mom and Hallie as they stopped moving in front of him. Focusing all of his attention on the intimidating presence of the walkway, Collin tripped on the welcome mat then gazed up at the enormous wood door that stood before him.

A little dazed, he righted himself, gaining back position on his feet, and then proceeded to turn the knob. To his surprise, the door opened without a key. The creak of the door echoed through the empty parlor like old, stagnant bones that popped and cracked when awoken after too much sleep.

Collin’s knees trembled a little as he walked through the doorway. He turned just in time to catch the apprehensive look on Mom’s face as she followed closely behind. For a moment he thought he could read her mind: What have I gotten us into? Big mistake. Let’s just turn around and go home.

While writing this chapter memories of my childhood home surrounded me and became my ghost writer. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I grew up in an old New England home that was rebuilt in 1899. It was terrifying, mysterious, and absolutely gorgeous all in the same sweep. I decided this home that took preeminence in my informative years was the perfect symbol for my allegory. Our minds are our dwelling places just like the houses we live inside.  The message I wanted to portray in Tunneling is we all have hurts from our childhood. If we try to suppress them, even if we have moved on, they still dwell somewhere inside, crippling us from living in the freedom and joy we were meant to.  I know it is scary to meet our past head on, but if we take the over powering healing light of Jesus Christ with us, He is the great physician that can remove the festering roots and restore the years we have walked around with a limp.

I am a living testimony of a dwelling once crippled from roots of rejection and abuse now, simply because of the transforming miracle of Christ’s forgiveness and love, I run in a freedom and joy that is intoxicating!

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Transplanting Humans

ch4 transplanting humansThe fourth chapter of Tunneling describes the Brandon’s move from Flagstaff, AZ to their new mysterious home, willed to them by their insane grandmother.  This excerpt in the chapter is from fifteen year old Hallie’s perspective.:

Chapter 4: “Transplanting Humans”

 The car headed down the long backcountry roads. The rain turned into a light mist, keeping the sky a forboding gray. Lush green walls of vines and trees hugged the sides of the road for miles. Lonely fields and farmlands stretched out without a person in sight, giving refuge to an occasional fruit stand. Hallie’s excitement began to dampen with the lack of houses and people.

As they drove deeper into the encroaching greenery, her breathing tightened. How on earth was she going to make friends in the middle of nowhere? Thoughts of her friends at home kept poking at her emotions until she was raw. They would go on and make new friends, have sleepovers, go on dates, all without her, and she would rot away in some scary old house.

She felt trapped in a prison cell, with her heart shaking on the bars. Can’t anyone hear me? Please let there be a light at the end of this tunnel. I’m sinking and I see no one standing around to help me out!

Right then she got a text from Brandy.

just went out with the grlz to that movie we wanted to see!!!!!…:) and ohhhhmmmgeee it was amazing!=D we Went out to eat after…..,(it was sooooo yummy!!) and guess who joined us and sat right by me?!?!?!?… Tyler Jacobs =0 :) !… I THINK WE ARE AN ITEM :P !AHH!!! g2g brandy

No Love you, I’m sorry, or I feel just awful that I’m having the life you can never have. Hallie just moaned into her pillow, soaking the center of it with her tears and wiping her nose against her shoulder. Hallie didn’t raise her face up for fear of being heard in the front of the car.

Then she heard Mom’s anxious voice crackle out the words, “We’re home.”

A long driveway lurched up a hill of grass and evergreen trees in the thick, overgrown woods, while a wide but dilapidated stone wall lined the path. The house appeared as suddenly as if it had jumped out from behind the tall bushes to welcome them . . . or scare them off.

The structure looked exactly like the picture but bigger than life!

Shivers, thrill, and apprehension danced up and down Hallie’s spine in unison. Part of her wanted to grab her mom and brother and yell, “We’re here! We made it! Show us everything, Mom, and let’s be one big, happy family that has arrived at the finish line.”

Instead, she just got out of the car, filed in behind her mom, and shook as the wind seemed to speak to her, This is in no way the finish line, it is only the beginning . . . and Welcome.


__________________________________________________________________

Have you ever been transplanted to another home, city, or maybe even country? Sometimes the decision is ours and we take all the uprooting with a sense of excitement, but then there are the moves like in Hallie’s case where the choice is out of your control. Everything is different and just like transplanting a tree or flowers there is an adjustment period. Give your self time to adjust. Set up the things you love that are familiar to you and create your own sanctuary in the midst of chaos. Give yourself time to mourn and say goodbye, but then make a check list of new adventures you want to embark on.  What are some things you can discover where you are now that you didn’t have where you came from. Think about your new challenges. Are they making friends? What are some groups you could join with similar likes you have? Start finding your new favorite stores, parks, coffee shops, and get routines going as soon as you can to get a sense of normality.

I have moved about fourteen times in my life, and more than half of those times were during my teenage years. I, unfortunately spent most of every new move wishing I was back where I had just come from. Moving so much did teach me how to be more outgoing, and enjoy meeting new people and learning new cultures. Moving is like transplanting, because your a not rooted yet. You feel vulnerable and week, and need extra rest, patience, and someone or something stable to count on. In the midst of my moves I found my constant strength in an unmovable God that went with me wherever I went. He became my safe place.

Love to hear from you and your moving experiences!

 

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Seeds of Change

In the third chapter of Tunneling, seeds of anger take root in Collin’s mind from his father’s abandonment. Anger is personified through his elaborate drawings in his sketch pad, and give him a fitful night sleep:

Chapter 3:  “Seeds of Change”

Perched at the foot of Collin’s bed was the winged gargoyle from his drawing, hungry to pounce.

 It drooled over his blankets, baring its long blade-shaped teeth while staring wide-eyed at Collin’s body as he slept, and slid his claws over the bumps and curves of his unresponsive form. Then, without warning, Collin felt the jolt of falling as it grabbed him, dragging him under his bed then splintering his already fragmented mind through a crack in the floorboards.

Dazed, he found himself on the underside of the so-called prairie-dog holes.

He paused only seconds to catch his bearing and then felt his muscles pulled and jerked around by the hideous creature as it made its way through hidden tunnels. Collin felt his whole body being flung out into an open field, like a discarded rag doll.

Collin squinted, trying to get his eyes to adjust through the thick fog and mist, but all he could see was an old classic black-and-white horror film with choppy and spliced-together scenes that rambled and jumped across his still-blurred vision.

He stood up in the middle of the empty field, trying to gather his bearings, alone with only his black-and-white vision.

Then across the field he spotted a squatty gnome running with a shovel, obviously on a mission, and grumbling some obscenities about being seen. Just as quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared into a nearby hole.

Collin sat up in his bed, drenched with sweat and clenching at his beating chest as if trying to keep his heart inside. He caught himself checking his pajamas for mud then realized it must have been a dream.

Letting his head fall back on his pillow, he tried to figure out how something that felt so real could be merely a dream. What on earth did it all mean? Dreams usually had no meaning at all, but why did this one seem like it was screaming something out to him? A warning maybe?

Glancing around his room, he noticed the familiarity of his Batman night-light.

His pulse began to slow down as the gentle light dispersed a golden hue upon familiar pieces of furniture around the walls in his room.

Collin then pulled the covers up around his narrow shoulders and gazed at shadows that lurked around.

Morning was approaching way too quickly, and he had the rest of his room to pack.

For now, he had to sweep the unknown fears under his bed, along with the unresolved nightmares.

ch7 Darkness Creeps In

(illustrations by: Nick Wallace)

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How many times do we, like children, personify our hurts and worries into monsters that lie in bed with us, laying havoc with our sleep? We toss and turn, wrestling with fear and disappointment until we wake up the next morning to face our giants. God promises in His word to give us sweet sleep. Could this be if we trust in a God that is big enough to take care of all of our needs, loving enough to concern Himself with what concerns us, and powerful enough to chase away all of our enemies, that we can lay our heads down and rest in His loving goodness.

God is our loving Father that soothes away the fears in our lives. Just as we could trust our parents were big and strong enough to chase out the creatures under our beds and in our closets, with one flick of the light bulb, we can trust our heavenly Father to light up our path by watching over us and protect us. Before you lay your head down at night,  give God your hurt, anger, fear, and disappointment. If you don’t take them into bed with you, than you will have more room to stretch out inside the peace of God.


 

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Chapter 2 “Family Secrets”

Every family has them. But as the Brandon’s pick up and move into their dearly departed grandmother’s house, the locked up secrets will be waiting like a deadly undercurrent to welcome them home.

(excerpt from Ch. 2 Tunneling)

Hallie could tell that the storyteller in their mother was emerging because she took off the hair tie she wore on her wrist and swept up her long coppery locks into a ponytail. This was always a telltale sign that Mom was about to elaborate on her crazy past.

“My mother was beautiful and exotic. She was from Brazil and moved here with her family as a teenager. She knew only a little English and spoke mostly Portuguese. My dad used to tell me how captivated he was by her rich black curls and pale blue eyes and how spellbound he was  by all the fanciful stories she could weave in and out of her imagination. At first he thought she was incredibly gifted and would always encourage her to write down her fairytales, believing that someday he’d help her get them published. After years passed, my mother’s stories got more intense. It was after giving birth to me, though, when Dad began to understand that these elaborate stories were actual paranoid fantasies, which turned these fears into her reality.”

Collin flopped onto his back, pressing his head deep into the pillow. “Whew, I can’t even imagine what it would be like to be trapped in your own fairytale nightmare!”

“That’s why my dad tried desperately to get help. After going to different psychologists in Hawthorne, the doctors diagnosed my mother with severe schizophrenia and tried convincing him she would be best cared for at their facility. He refused and had to keep her heavily medicated at home, trying to keep her as comfortable as he could. We also had a live-in nurse. That helped until she just got too unmanageable and needed constant care.”

“Were you sad when she moved out?” Hallie asked.

“Not really, because I never got to know who she was. I remember the day they came to pick her up. I sneaked into her room to look through the window, peering down as they escorted her out. She stopped midway in the driveway and just took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and smiled, as if content for the first time.” Mom stopped and thought for a while. “I can almost picture her now that she’s gone, with that same contented look on her face, because she finally doesn’t have to suffer anymore.” She looked down at Hallie and brushed her wayward bangs aside.

ch3 FamilySecrets


How many times does history repeat itself? Only when we face our past can we go on to change our future.

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