Showing posts with label Misty Creek. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Misty Creek. Show all posts

Thursday, September 25, 2025

An Excerpt from When Light Comes Unexpected

 

An Excerpt from When Light Comes Unexpected

Book 4 of the Misty Creek Series

 

By John W. Vander Velden


 

When the morning broke clear with an unusual coolness, the residents of Hancock’s Bluff had decreased by one.

It was at that moment Matthew had come to her. Perhaps he had heard the whispers, or perhaps the man who had bound his life with hers felt the need. The instant he entered, Elizabeth rushed to the arms of the man whose face reflected the sadness she felt. Within his embrace she melted, as if her legs could no longer support her. Matthew held her close as she wept. But the tears that fell were not hers alone, for Elizabeth felt her husband’s as well.

***

Those who lived in the wide-open places understood life and death better than some living in what might be called a more civilized world. The mud and blood of life was something each had dealt with. Mr. Welcome Morgan had built a box. A pine casket that he knew his friend would need when the time came.

The time had come.

Mrs. Schoff and another had dressed the dear woman out, and then everyone over the age of ten came to pay their final respects. Nearly all had said their goodbyes to Eloise before her passing, but that did not fulfill the need to pay honor to the woman who seemed to have always been there. Eloise lived at the Bluff before anyone thought to name the place.

It was mid-afternoon of another cloudless day when all was completed and everyone had gathered. Ben told her that it was time.

“No,” Elizabeth insisted.

“But…” he began.

“In the morning Ben. Early, while the dew is on the grass and the lark sings. That would be the time Eloise would want it done. She would want us all to experience the glory of the day’s awakening. To be surrounded by what she called the “wild opens.” The land she loved.”

***

They left the settlement known as Hancock’s Bluff before the sun had risen. Mr. Morgan had hitched his horses to a flat wagon, and the men—Matthew and Nick among them—had carried her out the store’s front door, down the steps, and slid the coffin gently onto that wagon. It was early, with only the gray dimness of the day, when Welcome Morgan eased his horses forward. The wagon was followed by the sad-faced preacher-man, holding his Bible. The pallbearers came next, and behind the six men, Elizabeth and a multitude of those that called the settlement their home. The procession went up the hillside, past the smoke stacks jutting out of the soil. The train of wagon, preacher, and the rest veered to the right, leaving the strips of dirt that passed for a road behind.

How far they had gone, Elizabeth wasn’t certain, but far enough that she found herself surrounded by the open prairie land. The place they approached was no different than other places she had seen on the prairie, except they followed the crest of the bluff. To her right she could see miles of open land, dotted by a sod house and barn here and there. Fields lay below the bluff as far as she could see. Perhaps further. They stopped, surrounded by the near waist-high, dew-covered wild grasses, the blades burnt golden by the summer sun. There was no fence, no row of markers, nothing to separate the featureless grassland from any other, save for the mound of earth and the place from which that soil had come.

A pink blush in the eastern sky caught everyone’s attention as they waited. The day was dead calm, so unusual for the open country. It felt to Elizabeth as if nature itself held its breath in reverence of the moment.

Ben took his place at the grave, here in what felt like the middle of the vastness of Kansas. The way grasslands had been before it was Kansas. A time before any settlers had come. The men set the casket at the side of the grave and Elizabeth, like the world around her, found herself holding her breath as the sheer brilliance of the first rays of the morning sun tore apart the sky.

9-24-2025 (710 Words)

 

 

Friday, October 18, 2024

Page by Page

 

Page by Page


By John W. Vander Velden

 

There have been several things going on in my life these last months. It has been difficult to carve out the time needed to work on my writing project. But I do my best to attack the second editorial revisions of When Light Comes Unexpected the fourth book of the Misty Creek Series. For I know readers of the series await the next instalment, and I continue, page by page, to work on the near final draft.

I am handling this book differently than the three before it. Perhaps because writing these books has, for me, been a learning curve. So on this draft I will sift through these pages three times.

Step one: I am going over my editor’s comments, making changes when I feel best, but considering each comment she makes carefully. I agree with most of her suggestions, but not all. She understands me quite well, and that helps the both of us as we work on this book.

After I go through fifty or sixty pages, I begin step two: I print off three chapters at a time to be read out loud. I find that combination of verbalizing the pages and seeing them on a medium other than a computer monitor, helps me catch mistakes.

That leaves step three: After I make changes from step 2, I load those three chapters into my tablet and allow my electronic reader to read them to me. This is an important step I learned on my third book. The machine reads what is on the page not what my brain thinks is on the page.

So how far have I gotten into this task.

I have completed all three steps on 330 pages out of 518. That being said I have completed the first step to page 400. So you can see I have done the lion’s share of the heavy lifting.

But the work continues…page by page.   

(320 Words) 10-18-2024



Saturday, March 11, 2023

The Book is Set Free

 



By John W. Vander Velden

 

It is hard to describe the feeling of seeing your book for the first time. Oh, you have poured over the pages many, many times, have seen pictures of the cover, knew the approximate page count, but the emotion of opening the box and grasping the proof of what you have labored to create, is indescribable.

It is the moment art moves from the internal to external―from the imagined to the real.

In November I wrote a blog post shortly after the fist box arrived, about just that feeling. Today I write about a book next feeble steps forward, on its own legs.

March 7th is a significant day on the calendar. On that day in 1925, my father was born. I was asked to pick a day, any day, for the public release of With the Sun’s Rising. I picked Dad's Birthday.

And so, the third book of the Misty Creek Series has gone what publishers call live, on Tuesday. It has been set free from the box―if you will.

I will not predict how successful With the Sun’s Rising will be. Honestly that will depend upon many things, one of them is just how aggressively I promote it. The release party we had at La D’zert CafĂ© Thursday was only the beginning. The fine folks there provided a wonderful setting and fantastic treats, and I thank them for their unwavering faith in this author and the use of the beautiful space downtown Plymouth. But that event was only the beginning. In the next months I hope to find the time to do other Author’s Events. I’ll let you know where and when.

But no matter how well the book sells, I am proud of the finished product―proud of the story.

It is my hope that fans of the series will be pleased as well.  

(306 Words) 3-11-2023

Thursday, April 22, 2021

April Open Spaces Vol. 21.4

 


Open Spaces

Vol. 21.4

April 24, 2021

 

April showers bring May flowers is a phrase we have heard since our grade school days. There are so many ways to interpret those five words. Of course we, as children, took the phrase literally, perhaps we still do. And it, in of itself, is accurate. Early spring rains are needed for the glory of the season to arrive. But if I were to look deeper, I can see that those five words are important guides for other seasons, for other situations.

I can imagine a child yearning to play outdoors. The cold bitter days of winter are behind and warmer temperatures are coming. Yet this child stares out the rain streaked window feeling trapped indoors, unable to run barefoot in the greening grass, longing for the full spring to arrive.

The springtime of that child’s dreams.

For winter’s snow might have been glorious in December and January, but by mid-February the gray days and frozen fingers had lost most of their appeal. March came and it brought the promise of a long winter’s ending, and April, well it excites with its promises.

Yet now this child feels trapped by...the rains of April.

So I will remind us all of what I see as a deeper meaning of April showers bring May flowers. We are to be patient for grander things are coming. For each of us have faced, and many of you are continuing to face, times of stress, times of disappointment, times of pain. It is easy to believe that those rainy day times will never end. That the flowers will not bloom, that the May of our lives will never arrive.

Do not be discouraged.

Have faith that God has something better than dark rainy April days ahead for you. Sunny times of May might seem far off but it draws nearer with each day. Courage friends...and patience too, yet have confidence, for it is coming.

So what has this writer been doing these April days? There always are many things that demand my attention. The lawn for one. The lawns I care for had become quite lush and a little too tall when I hacked them back the first time last week. I also spent some time cleaning up the farm yard following the tree trimmers earlier in the month. Life goes on. Now that Jackie and I are fully vaccinated we had intended to drive south and visit Nick this April. Changes in Jackie’s work requirements at the pharmacy have pushed those plans back a bit. How far back remains unknown. Of course, when I can, I sit down at THIS keyboard and tap out words strung together. The revision of the third book in the Misty Creek Series continues. Hope to have some time to work on that project when I finish this one. You can see I do not have to deal with boredom considering the projects on my list.

I’m nearing 500 words on this newsletter so I will wrap things up.

It is our hope that your April was a GREAT month, and that you look forward to May and all the colors of spring it will bring. That God has kept you safe and well and will continue to do so until we have the opportunity to meet.

Take care,

God bless you and your family,

John



Friday, March 26, 2021

March Open Spaces

 

Open Spaces

Vol. 21.3

By John W. Vander Velden

 

3-26-2021

 

Friends,

Another month nears its conclusion. The days of March have rushed by and April looms very near.

As does Easter.

What does the holiday mean to you? I think each of us needs to ask ourselves that question...the meaning of Easter. My life, during this Lenten season, has been too busy to have spent forty days of self-examination, likely yours has as well. But it would have been good for me to do so. To look at myself a little deeper and focus a little harder on my own relationship with the divine.

But my memories of Easter are as old as I and as varied as the man that sits today at this particular keyboard. Memories of my childhood, of sunny Sunday’s and snowy ones as well. Of family, large and loud. Of Church services with overflowing sanctuaries.

That doesn’t happen so much anymore.

I remember one particular Easter season...the one of my confirmation. Those memories have dimmed little in the fifty-six years that have passed. I remember other Easters, of other families, of other significance. These days I miss most the Easters of my son’s youth. The reflection of the day’s magnificence in his eyes. Yes, Easter means a great deal to me. Not only the day on the calendar, or the memories, or the Church services, but what Easter means...

It is my hope that Easter carries such a significance to you as well...

 

Now for just a bit of writing news.

I will be renaming the book on which I am currently working. I’ll hold my title ideas “close to the vest” for now. Nearly two months into this editorial revise finds me struggling. I plod onward page by page hoping to find a balance soon. All I can tell you is that this set of revisions will take more time than I had originally anticipated. Is that good or bad? Time, friends, will tell. Fact is I never intended to write a third book in the Misty Creek series, or at least not this third book. Perhaps that is why I labor so diligently. I must make this volume worthy of my reader’s expectations. That’s a high bar and I am not certain I have the skills to clear that altitude.

I find there are times I am not completely pleased with the changes I have made. But, I remind myself, the book is a work in progress. So I take one bite and chew on it until it seems little more than mush, then go on to the next. I hope to finish Part 1 next week, and then push forward...always forward.

I have no idea when it will be finished, so stay tuned.

So I will close today with just a few final words.

God keep you and yours safe...today...tomorrow...and always. And I wish you a blessed Easter and a fantastic spring. 

 

John


 

Friday, February 26, 2021

February Open Spaces Vol. 21.2

 

Open Spaces


Vol. 21.2

By John W. Vander Velden

 

February 25, 2021

 

Greetings from my small corner of the world.

What a February we have had. Jackie and I had been enjoying a relatively mild winter until...brrrrr...the temperature crashed. But the last few days of this month have been mild and the snow that was stack around us is melting. A stark contrast to the snowy frigid weeks at February’s beginning. Now most of the yard is visible and only small ice patches remain.

We can tell that the days are noticeably longer and watch as the sun breaks the horizon closer to true east. Though we may yet have snow storms, with each day, spring draws closer. Yet I try to enjoy every day...the snowy ones too. For I remind myself of two things. One is what my father told me often, don’t wish your life away by wanting a change in the seasons, and two, God gives me this day...today is a gift...

So that is what I will wish for you today...that you will find something enjoyable in each day. February’s included. That you grab hold of each twenty-four hours with both hands and make the time special.

One last point about February, it’s my birth month. I guess that has always made it special. I remember the three birthdays I had as a child living in central Florida. You could expect some warm, almost hot days, before the month’s end. But for a kid that really didn’t matter. I remember one particular February day. A hot sunny day, the 19th, I was on top of the old ‘49 Dodge truck, helping lash down the canvas that covered our family’s belongings. I remember, correctly or not, that it was 80 degrees. The neighbors came to say their goodbyes. I looked down at the three of them. My classmate, Susan, her younger brother Duwayne, standing with their mother. The profoundness of that moment did not register with the just reaching ten year old boy I was.

Not then.

But that image is burned into my memory. A reluctant wave of the hand, surely our parting was a certainty...but not necessarily desired.

Perhaps those words can remind you of the precious value of EACH day. For there is something magnificent slipped within those twenty-four hours. You may be like the kid high up on the top of a truck unable to recognize the magic moment at the time. But notice or not the magic happens. Open your eyes and hearts to the possibilities...the amazing instants.

Now for a few words about my writing.

Life’s obligations have stolen most of the time since our last visit. When I flipped over January’s page of the calendar, I began the first editorial revise of the third book of the Misty Creek Saga. The work has been intense, during the time I could pry loose for the task. I find myself behind schedule...again...but doing my best. Kristina has given me so much to think about, and I find comments on each page that set my gears to whirling. Times I must shake my head and walk away from the keyboard in order to figure out my next step.

I find it at times a mix of frustration and awakenings. Having an editor like Kristina, someone I trust, someone that knows my writing as well as she does, is a blessing. Kristina pushes me. Though I will not follow every idea she presents, I appreciate that she offers her expertise and guidance.

So what can John tell you about the timetable...when this book will be finished...at this point...NOTHING.

Sorry...

One other point before I begin the closing. Have you been watching my videos? When it comes to getting out there to see you, whether it is a book signing or some other event, COVID has been a stick in the spokes of my wheels. So in the interim, I have done a few Virtual Author’s Events. Short videos of 10-13 minutes. You can find them on my YouTube channel or at John Vander Velden Author’s Facebook page. If you’re curious check them out.

I have, once again, run long, so I will close with these few words. Love is the greatest force of all the powers that surround us. But remember the single source of love, all love, is GOD. We live in a world where too often it seems that hatred is in control.

But what is hate?

For if cold is the absence of heat...then is not hate the absence of love. And I, personally, believe that genuine love can conquer even absolute hate. 

Remember GOD loves you...and always will!

John  



   Visit my web page www.johnvandervelden.com My World of Words

 

 

Saturday, June 23, 2018

Fiction


Fiction           

By John W. Vander Velden

 

I write fiction, and at times I wonder from where my stories and characters come. 

Imagination is an amazing thing.  It drives new thought, new ideas, and moves our race forward.  Imagination is the central location for fiction’s growth.  My fiction comes out of my imagination.  So fiction might be called fantasy…and it is, even though fantasy is a specific genre’ within the fiction spectrum. 
I use the disclaimer “in this is a work of fiction…”, all references to…“reality” is purely coincidental.  The reality includes people, places, and events.  And that is true, as far as it goes.  But I believe that all fiction grows from “seeds” of reality.  Misty Creek is set in the American frontier of the late 1800’s, a place that existed.  But as far as I know my Misty Creek did not exist…I made it up.  But I shaped it by what I had seen or read of the land that existed at that time.  You see, I used the seed of reality to grow a new place, a new situation, new people…and a new story.
Writers are in some ways an “odd lot”.  In other ways they are just like everyone else.  They move about like anyone.  It would be difficult, most of the time, to pick writers out from a crowd of people.  They are ordinary people…sorta’.  But writers, particularly fiction writers, continually jump from the reality that surround them into imaginary places of their creation.  They watch someone buy a magazine and picture another person in a very different time or situation, buying a magazine.  The seed of reality becoming something else entirely.
Careful what you say or do around a writer.  If they’re worth their salt they will notice.  You are offering seeds they might use in the growing of another story someday. 
And not all the seeds used are acquired by conscious effort.  Years of living have provided me with a treasure trove of subconscious “seeds” that flow through my fingers and into my stories.  My past makes up a veritable warehouse of “seed” waiting for me to draw out one packet or another. 
But I feel that fiction is more than “just” fantasy.  I feel that fiction presents reality in its own way. Revealing truths through events that haven’t really happened…at least not exactly the way I tell it.  I want my stories to be something which the reader can relate to.  I want the reader to say…”Oh that character reminds me of Uncle Mitch,” or “I would have told that guy off when he did that,” or “I’ve face that too.”  The greatest thing I could accomplish, would be to have some part of my stories connect with the person turning the pages.  It would be the place where fiction reaches within and offers a reality not known before.  It is a high target I shoot for…a high target indeed and likely well beyond my abilities to hit.  But does that mean I should not draw back the bow?  Does not lofty goals require not only hope, talent, and effort, but also the desire for the attempt?
So I take my feeble GOD given talents, hone them as best I am able, and seeing the prize take my best aim.  For if I am to use my fiction to reach the hearts of those that foolishly search within my words for…something, then I owe them the best I have.

(571 Words) 8-5-2017

 

Friday, March 30, 2018

1st Book Signing


1st Book Signing

By John W. Vander Velden

 

 

Those who have followed these posts over the years know that I often write about possibilities and dreams.  I write about making a difference and faith as well.  Each week I lay before you a few words…just a few… And I hope those few words have reached within you, as you have taken the moments out of your busy lives to read.  I thank you all.
But today I write about another dream…my dream.  I write about the long years pressing toward a goal now coming to fruition.  For today I will host my very first book signing.  Imagine that, John will be having a book signing.  But greater is the surprise that John has published a book.
I don’t suppose those that knew me in high school ever imagined that I would be in this place I find myself.  Some will point at my age and say, “it’s about time.”  Perhaps it is.  But I believe, strongly, that there is a reason we stand at the particular place we find ourselves at a particular moment.  No, things do not “just” happen.  No, it was not an easy process.  But, yes, I had help.
Each week I have posted “something”, and each week some among you have ventured to read that “something”.  You have supported me in ways you do not know.  Also throughout my life, others have kindly aided me in ways that they too might not recognize.  Each of us face challenges and writing and publishing a book has its challenges.  I would love to list out all of you name by name, friends, other writers, editors, fellow participants in workshops and all the rest, but I must limit the length of this post, and the list of your names would exceed my word count.
But this post is about dreams…and never giving up on those dreams.  This post is about courage, to face new challenges face on.  This post is about self-value for each of us struggle with feeling of self-worth.  This post is about Misty Creek, my book and a story in which I believe.
So if you come to see me in Plymouth today or Nappanee next week, I wish to thank you, my friends, my co-writers, and all the others I have yet not met.  For you all have been part of the voyage I have undertaken.  Dreams can come true…I know that’s true…even now…mine is…

(408 Words) 3-28-2018

Friday, December 29, 2017

To Journey Via a Keyboard


To Journey Via a Keyboard                 
By John W. Vander Velden
 
Being a storyteller and a writer are not EXACTLY the same thing.  I am a storyteller that at times uses words to share that story.  Or a storyteller that writes.
But I have a problem.  You see I never understood the mechanics of language…completely.  I tell my writing friends that grammar is a foreign language.  Perhaps it is in my upbringing.  Perhaps, during my more malleable years, I didn’t give it sufficient effort.  Perhaps the papers returned drenched in red ink closed the door.  Who knows?  And at this point it doesn’t matter.
When I shed the fear of rules I did not understand.  When the stories within me screamed to be released, unbound from the chains of the fear of failing.  Then I began in earnest.  That would have been in 2000.
I wrote my first story, “Tree in the Meadow”, out of a need to tell that story.  I wrote accepting that I would have to hire others to clean it up, to correct the thousands of mistakes in grammar I knew I would make. 
I shared the first draft of that yet unpublished story with a trusted friend.  I was told that “it showed talent”.  That was enough to put the keyboard in gear.
So I began 411 Apple Street and the nearly seven year journey to the completion of the first draft.  Work’s demands changed in 2007 and pages progressed more swiftly.  I fell into a rhythm.  A book draft from September till March, a short story perhaps in the spring, some revising during the summer.  A large quantity of work came out of those five years. 
Then I felt I had a body of work sufficient that publication began to seem a possibility.  Things began to change.  Building an internet presence became another task to learn.  Blogging…. I knew very little of blogging when I set up my blog in March of 2012.  What I learned was it takes time…lots of time.  And often I wonder if it is time well spent.  How many times I considered ending Ramblings…Essays and Such…and yet each week I post another short.  Ramblings is a literary blog, if that makes any sense.  For nearly six years, week in and week out, I post an essay or what I call a micro-story.  Typically under 500 words.  There are more than 300 in the archive.
Rambling’s following is, even after all this time, a small number, but has grown in the last year.  Again I wonder of the value taken from other writing projects.  But I have learned a great deal from blogging.  I have learned how to distill to the core, to simplify a concept to a small enough bite size piece that can be covered sufficiently in a few paragraphs.  In other words to be concise.
Another side effect that has come from the experience is the volume of material written.  I have assembled forty some into a small book called Glimpses from the Window of My World which I have given as gifts.  Nearly each month my local paper prints one of my blog posts.  More than 50 have found their way into the Plymouth Pilot News and in that way I have reached many more than my weekly jaunt in cyber-land.
I have crossed 500 words and so I will, my friends, squeeze the closing.  Storytelling.  Now I stand on a new threshold.  My book Misty Creek will soon be published.  I consider the book a success just by reaching this point. 
There are other stories.  If God gives me a chance, I will tell those as well.  But each day, I will strive to be the storyteller I am.  It is my hope you will come along for the ride.
(624 Words)         12-15-2017

Friday, December 1, 2017

Moving Toward the Unknown


Moving Toward the Unknown

By John W. Vander Velden 

The title I used this week fits life in general, but I use it in this post to speak of my newest endeavor.  In truth it is a trip I began in August of 2010 when the first words of a story made their way to the computer screen.  That’s when I began the story of Elizabeth Beck, the answer to a challenge my beloved made, “Your stories are so sad, can’t you come up with a happy one?”
Misty Creek is that story.  Not that it doesn’t have its share of sadness.  Light and dark are needed to make contrast.  That’s the photographer talking.  But I wrote Misty Creek for Jackie and it ran long, word count that is.  After the first series of revises I let her read it.  When she reached the end of Part 5 and said it could end there.  My editor disagrees.  But I saw her point and I split the story into two books.
In the final two revisions Misty Creek grew by twenty percent to a volume it became.  The second half, titled, Elizabeth’s Journey, calls for my attention.  I hope to begin a new revise of that book after New Year’s.
But for now I have a new uncharted territory to cover….publishing.  The ending of a long story is I’m self-publishing.  I found and am working with a wonderful organization from Charleston, SC.  The cover is designed and I could not be more pleased.  In just a few weeks I will see, perhaps digitally, the first proof copy.  The adrenalin is a pumpin’.  Then the game changes for I will have to be active, to some degree in marketing.  New experiences…unknown lands.
So wish me luck while I continue moving toward the unknown, and I’ll send a prayer your way as well.  

Friday, January 13, 2017

All The Marbles


All the Marbles              

 

By John W. Vander Velden

 

When I was young I had marbles.  And I played with them.  Boy, how has times changed.  I still have a bag of marbles stashed in a drawer someplace.  In that bag are all sorts of marbles, a few “steelies” but most spheres made of glass, purries and cat’s eyes.  Each is a different from the others.  Different colors mostly but some are different sizes too. In the fifties, first and second grade boys were measured by their marbles, how many and what kind.  Playground contests caused marbles to change hands…or owners…from time to time.  A guy might trade a few for one he wanted.  There were lessons to be learned with marbles. 

I was thinking this morning about the mental process which one of my fictional characters might employ to explain his actions.  Matthew is a humble man, who simply does not know how special he is.  He sees himself as ordinary, yet is anything but.  Matthew sees himself as a marble…just a marble in a bag filled with marbles.  He recognizes the uniqueness of every marble, and sees his own strengths and weakness as a sign that he belongs among the masses, because he sees strengths and weaknesses in others.  I think that is an honorable trait, don’t you? 

You might think this whole discussion is absurd.  For Matthew is a fictional character…someone that grew out of my mind and only lives upon the page.  But other writers know differently.  They, like me, have imaginary friends that we know very well.  We know our characters better than many of the flesh and blood people in our lives.  We build them piece by piece, layer by layer.  Reaching inside ourselves to give them life.  By understanding Matthew I understand others as well.  Bizarre isn’t it.  But we place these imaginary friends into circumstances we have never faced and watch them react in ways we feel their personality, a personality we have created, would lead them. 

I have been questioned about a portion of my novel.  It hinges on one particular moment when the two main characters must make a choice.  Most of my readers wonder how the story goes the way it does.  But knowing Matthew and Elizabeth as well as I do, I can see no other outcome.  For Elizabeth is a strong woman that has made up her mind.  Locked solid in her decision. And Matthew has never asserted his desire above any other person’s. 

Too often we wish to place ourselves and our wants toward the top of the bag.  How easily we feel our own needs as more significant than those of others.  That we are a more important marble than those that surround us.  But Matthew understood…oh, how he understood. 

The novel is a story about personal value.  How we see others.  How we see ourselves.  The story touches that topic time and again.  It centers on how Matthew and Elizabeth view themselves…and the value they place upon the other.  Those values do not match, for neither feels the other’s equal.  Humility is much more interesting than ego don’t you think?  So it comes to the point that if Matthew would assert himself, say the right word for instance, the results of that action would change the story.  But Matthew does not feel he has the right.  He does not feel that his wants or desires should trump another’s. And though that appears noble, it is not particularly.  For in truth, he feels that he is not worthy.  Matthew does not accurately see his true value.  He feels insignificant, and sees Elizabeth as unreachable. 

And though this is a fictional story about made up people, yet it holds truths we see each day.  Each day we set values upon others…we set values upon ourselves.  We do not view humanity as a bag filled with marbles.  At least not equal marbles.  We have favorites, and we have those we abhor.  We use our own crooked measuring stick to measure others.  This is neither right nor fair.  We are all marbles.  Each of us has strengths and flaws.  That is the truth of our humanness.  Just because my flaw is less objectionable that another’s doesn’t mean that another person is of less value than I.  And just because you are not wealthy or famous doesn’t mean you carry less worth.  No one knows all the battles others have endured.  No one knows all the secrets hid in dark places of others.  No one knows all the pain you or I have borne.  Each of us has had bumps and bruises throughout the years of our lives.  When we look honestly at ourselves…really honestly…we should see our own failings and seeing our own failing become more tolerant to the failings in others. 

You see we are but one among all the marbles.  Each different and yet not.  GOD made us that way.  Be humble but honest.  See the best in others.  Care about the pain they suffer.  Smile when you can.  Cry when you must.  Forgive others…but don’t forget to forgive yourself as well.  And never forget we are but one among all the marbles.  

 

(860 Words) 11-5-2016