Lots of Stories

The other day I went to a book study. Part of the study is sharing personal stories. The more I share, the more I realize how exciting my life has really been. A lot has happened! And I got to thinking. I have wrote most of these stories down. Maybe I should compile them and make a little testimony book?

A few stories I would want to tell.
How our marriage home, was a room in a basement...
How God healed two cysts on my ovaries and gave me a child.
How God protected us during a shooting.
How I went through a painful skin condition that limited my ability to function or touch anything...
How I battled depression, three times.
And many more... The question is, should I do it? It will take a lot of time and energy. But it might be worth it.

Thoughts...

My Adam - # 2 soon

I love my little baby Adam. He is 8 months old now and looking so handsome. Most people say "pretty", his long eyelashes and huge hazel-brown eyes make him so lovely. My favorite sound in the world is his little cackle-squeak laugh! And those huge dimples. I love how his smile lights up his face and how he smiles with his eyes. I love spending time holding him close when he wants to cuddle. I love it when he kisses my cheek or blows raspberries on my tummy. I love listening to him sing. I love hearing him call me mamma and knowing that he loves me. I love watching his daddy play with him and toss him around. Adam has no fear. Adam is a party boy; loves to be surrounded by people and music and roam free to play, and dance.

I am so excited to meet my second little baby; to see what beautiful personality emerges. I forgot about the up-side to pregnancy. Feeling that little baby move inside me. Knowing there is a life being formed within. Being excited to know if it's a boy or a girl. There has been so much peace surrounding both my pregnancies that I am blessed! And my delivery went so smooth with Adam that I have no fear of labor this time around. I'm 10 weeks along and feeling great!

I know it's going to a be a challenge with two little ones and I can't say I look forward to that everyday. But I know this will be amazing for Adam. And eventually it will be a huge blessing to have children who are so close in age, to play together, create together and learn together. What can I say? I am fertile beyond my wildest dreams! And I don't take that for granted... It is a huge blessing not to have that struggle. God be with those who struggle conceiving. I can't imagine. I am ready for the next step in our lives. June holds so much promise. I have a baby, Seth graduates and I turn 27, all in June 2014. What exciting times to live in!

I guess that is all I have to say today.

-A proud mamma

Stay at Home Mom

I have a desire to be the ideal housewife, a modern day June Cleaver. A woman with a well kept house and happy children. But my desire isn't strong enough to get me motivated. I only have one child, but between changings, feedings and comforting him, I am either eating, sleeping or trying to relax. I rarely find myself with the extra energy needed to clean. I put away dishes. I pick up. But I rarely do laundry, vacuum or dust. It's easy to condemn myself for NOT being June Cleaver. Or for not living up to my own hallow expectations. But self disappointment isn't profitable. I will end up feeling inadequate if I focus on what I didn't have time for. In stead, I must find joy in spending time with my baby and remember that he is my priority, my house is not. The problem is, that it is much easier to relax and enjoy myself in a clean environment. Finding the balance is the key. I love spending time with my son, as long as I keep that in sight, everything else grows dim in comparison. Relearning to enjoy my day with this new little person, and changing my expectations for myself is my new adventure.

I Dance

I move fluid, feeling the music surge through my body, like light shooting out my finger tips. I glow.
My feet feel the floor and become one with stability. I balance. When leaping I feel the floor is leaving me; I am not leaving it. I fly. I reach to the edges of my heart and soul through my finger tips and toes. I express my feelings. My whole self is thrown into the music, becoming an instrument itself. I sing. I spin and shoot across the floor. I travel. Some steps I know and choose into, others my body remembers. I create. As if a powerful wind takes charge I am thrown unto the floor and dipping, I come up again. I roll. Like the waves of the sea I dance up towards the sky, and down towards the earth. I want to be dynamic as my limbs weave in and out from my center. I use the space. My every desire is expressed in deeper ways than words can tell. My heart meets the beat of the music and tells the story. I speak. Every whimsical note tingles through my every part.
I stop and breathe, my breath is heavy and my eyes are closed. My heart feels free, flying, soaring above all trouble. I am in step with my self, at peace in my soul, and one with God and his creation.
I am new.
As if I've been drenched by a waterfall, I feel clean. All the stresses of life have fallen, now heavy, to the ground.  And every time I wonder, why don't I do this more often?

That is how I feel, when I dance.

Adam David Guerra LeJeune

My baby boy was born 3 days after his due date. The delivery took about 9 hours and with all the contractions I have had over the past few weeks, there was no pre-labor. From the moment the contractions started till the moment Adam was born they were only a couple minutes apart and very intense! I've got to say, labor was every bit as painful as one might imagine. But I am so thankful that everything went smoothly and naturally. The birthing center was great, although I only spent 2 hours in labor there. Almost all the laboring I did at home. My mom, Seth and my dula Andrea were my amazing support.
When I held Adam for the first time it seemed so unreal. We didn't even check to see if he was a boy or girl till after he was on my chest. I looked down at him and there was no mistaking, we had the boy we had imagined. Seth and I felt sure he would be a boy, although we didn't find out his sex prior to the birth. I'd have to say it didn't feel real till a couple days later... He really is my son and I am his mamma and he is the cutest baby in the world. I am a proud mamma.

He was born at 8:09 am on March 9th, 8 pounds 6 ounces, 20 inches long and beautiful.

His name is very special. Seth and I loved the name Adam and agreed it fit our first son, the first man. David (his first middle name) was chosen in honor of my "brother" Paul whose birth name name is David Paul. When I think of what an adventurer Paul was as a boy (and is today) I can only hope that Adam embraces the world with such courage and joy. Paul loves the Lord with all his heart and will be a good example of a man for Adam. Adam's second middle name is also my maiden name, Guerra. It means war in Spanish; and that is what I hope for Adam, that he become a warrior of light. Also, my father never had a son, in his honor our little boy carries on his name. Also Adam's father has two middle names and the second one is his mothers' maiden name. So in a special way he is also named after his father. 

I thank the Lord daily for such a precious gift He has trusted us with. A sweet little person to love and hold and teach in the way he should go. Our little family has grown. I look forward to many new memories...

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My Bird. My Baby.

Our new home is much better than our last.
Although the stories were hilarious to recount, the experience was less than desirable. We had neighbors with the stamina to fight with each other (loudly I might add) for over 12 hours. Impressive. I felt like I was eavesdropping with our cardboard thick walls. Another joy of our apartment was, "our pets". At least, that's what we humorously called them. We had a least two small creatures living in our attic. They liked to claw,  and tumble around. I'm not exactly sure WHAT they were doing up there. But a wrestling match with a trampoline for hurling their furry bodies at each other was not out of the question. There were times when the thumps were so loud I was sure they would fall through ceiling and land in my house.
The worst thing about our old place was how common the sound of gun fire was. At least 2 or 3 times a week we would hear shots fired. And the really disturbing part was that we got used to it. We were so used to it, in fact, that we stopped calling the cops. And more often than not the shots were followed by silence, instead of sirens.
Our new house is a new experience altogether. We can't hear our neighbors at all. Haven't once. In fact, most of the time it's a quiet neighborhood. (I haven't heard a single gun shot, thank God). We have upgraded in so many ways. We have two bedrooms now instead of one, the kitchen is bigger, the windows are nicer. But one of my favorite things about our new place is our bird. I began calling it that after it's third or fourth appearance. You see, there is a bird couple residing near our house. They are adorable little things that are obviously in love (as much as a bird can be).
They fluttered about like they were twitterpated and the lady bird was obviously full with eggs. The mommy bird liked to perch her chubby eggfull self on the ledge of our deck. Which is how I first noticed her cuteness. I was sitting on the chair by the sliding glass doors when she looked at me. She likes to just sit, look in, bob around a bit and flutter away. Sometimes she uses her perch to rest for a few minutes and we look right at each other. If she could talk I'm sure we'd be friends.
It snowed nearly a foot and I didn't see my bird for a few days. At first I was concerned. But then, there she was, she managed to sit in the snow on that ledge. Her tiny body was covered in the mess, so she didn't stay long. The last time I saw her perch was a few days ago. I don't think she'll have as much time for me as she used to... Because she wasn't chubby anymore. She must have laid her eggs.

Maybe the reason I was so enamored with that little eggfull bird is because of my own pregnancy. It was a journey we were both experiencing. I am 1 day past my due date and I am desperate to have this baby! I've eaten spicy food, taken a walk, done squats and more. Most first-time moms are late. My mom was 10 days late with all three of her kids. And I know I don't REALLY have a choice when this baby will come. And it's not as if I need to rush... The baby will be more of a challenge than my uncomfortable belly ever was. But....
I'm ready to hold my baby.
I long to hold this new little person in my arms and tell my little one how much I love it. I long to see my husband's tear stained face at becoming a father, and I long to be a mother. I can't wait to know if it's a little boy or a little girl.
I feel so honored that God has entrusted us with this special little person. I know so many struggle to get pregnant and many cannot conceive at all. I don't take this for granted. We are blessed. Undeservedly blessed. And I am thankful. Everything about the pregnancy has been pretty normal. No reason to think they'll be any complications with the birth. We will be at a birthing center with no conventional pain killers, just all natural remedies; that's my style. Any hour now I hope to go into labor. Or as I tell my belly, "bring it on baby!"...

Please pray that the baby comes swiftly and everything goes well. Pray that God gives me the strength and endurance for labor and pray for speed and ease.

Thanks for reading...

-Leah LeJeune

Belly Magic

One of the most amazing feelings in the world is the feeling of a child moving inside the womb. It is something so sacred shared between mommy and baby that nothing in the world can touch. They say 13 weeks is the earliest time which a mother can truly feel the movement of her child. However, many woman have an inner knowing long before 13 weeks or even before they take a pregnancy test that they are indeed with child. Some mothers have reported "knowing" immediately after intercourse. With the knowledge of a baby inside, a mother is eager to connect with her baby and to protect her baby. The first time you feel a baby inside you it's like butterflies wings gently batting at the insides of your stomach. A little fairy magic sprinkling nervous surprise.
I am a pregnant mother, a first time mom, and the experience is new and wonderful to me. I did feel the butterfly wings as 13 weeks and have felt my little one moving ever since. My husband and I got to witness a beautiful sonogram as well. Our tiny little child was swimming and flapping its' arm very passionately. The connection we felt to our child at that moment was amazing. I can't even imagine what we will feel upon holding our baby. And meeting our child in person. We laughed, we held each other and for hours after the sonogram, we were walking on air. We had a happy, healthy ball of energy growing inside me, a person our love had formed.
For weeks I tried putting my husbands' hand on my belly so he could feel it move, but our little one was too small. He felt left out. There he was, so close to his child. The baby could hear his voice. But daddy still couldn't feel the movement. I am 18 weeks along now and today our baby got stronger. Seth (my husband) put his hand on my belly right where I told him, as we had done many time before. But this time he felt it! The thud, thud, of our baby was more pronounced. I wish I had taken a picture of Seth at that moment. He was a proud father, glowing. And he got to feel just a small part of what I get to feel everyday; belly magic.

Walking on Water-Chapter 16

The rains began the next morning and continued for three days. It was heavy rain. The kind that penetrated even the deep forest. But unlike feeling rain like big constant drops, the upper leaves would deposit showers that drenched periodically if you stood in just the wrong spot. Marcson tried to explain to Ethory how to walk just right between the trees to not get as wet... But it was no use. After hours of instruction no matter how closely Eth followed Marcson and no matter how he tried to heed his advice a downpour would cover his head what seemed like every three to five steps.

Sheera turned and laughed after a particularly heavy dump. “How do you expect to make it across land with us when you can’t even stay dry?”

“Well I suppose I’ll just have to learn to travel wet.” Ethory said shaking his arms and wiping is face and hair with his hands. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”

“Wise man. Truly spoken.” Marcson encouraged. Who was getting a bit discouraged that Ethory couldn’t stay dry even after his extensive lessons.

“I mean I can’t be perfect at everything right?” Asked Ethory with a laughed.

“Or perfect at anything.” Sheera cut.

“Hey now, you haven’t eaten my cooking, or seen me hunt. I’d say I’m fair at both.”

“I must agree my lady. Ethory makes a mean stew.” Marcson said.

“Yet to be eaten, too true. But I don’t think you men would know a good meal from a bad one.”

“Fair enough my lady. Fair enough.” Conceded Marcson.

Ethory thought her too proud. “Can you cook?” He asked her. “I don’t think you’ve made a single meal in three days.”

Sheera was caught off guard. “A Trivedell has no need to cook. Magic of the north makes my food when I am there.”

“Isn’t much use down here with us regular folk is it?” Ethory prodded. "We have to cook for you..."

“Speaking of food. I am rather hungry. Should we stop and make a tent and some sustenance before dark?” Marcson cut in.

“No. There is a clearing up ahead and I think we should push up the next incline and then rest.” Sheera suggested.

“But wouldn’t it make sense to set up camp within the trees where at least we have a little cover?” Asked Ethory.

“Do you feel dry here?” asked Sheera.

Ethory seceded and both men followed her lead up the next hill. It took nearly thirty minutes to reach the crest and they were very hungry and tired once they reached it. One thing Ethory could say about their female companion was she certainly had more endurance than any woman or man he had ever come across. He accounted it to her ancestry. In the next hour dinner was made and a shelter as well. The three sat huddled together under their scant shanty and heard the rain tapping on the cloth. Ethory watched as the drops rolled off the edge of the fabric and disturbed the short grasses beneath. The wood lay behind them and an immense field lay before them with no end in sight to their long journy. 

“How many days do we have left before we see the others?” asked Ethory.

“At this pace, ridiculously longer than it would’ve taken on my own.” Sheera replied. “I would’ve been there days ago.”

“Aren’t you special?” Mocked Ethory, who was done with Sheera’s pride. “Now you can tell me what you think or you can leave me guessing. But I really don’t understand why you wouldn’t just tell me when you think we’re getting there.”

“It should be about one more day.” Interjected Marcson, “Don’t you think Sheera?”

“Yes, or half day at my pace.” Sheera said.

“Lets try it my pace shall we? I might travel through tonight. I’m sick of all this walking. I want a roof and a soft bed.” Ethory said.

“Do you think the castle will house you?” Sheera laughed.

“I don’t mean to question your ladyship.” Said Marcson, “But that’s just what he will do. My father and mother are the king and queen of Berloge and have been on good terms with the king of Natchare for many years. We will all be welcomed into the courts.”

“A prince have we?” Asked Sheera.

“You never told me you were a prince.” Ethory said.

“You never asked.” Replied Marcson.

“You are of the Kensworths’ then… I should’ve known.” Replied Sheera shaking her head as if her chide herself. “You’re Marcson the second. The son who has been on a quest to find his brothers’ killer for years now… You left your father, mother and sister years ago.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister…” Ethory began to feel Marcson had hidden a great deal from him. “Yes. Princess Melodi, the lovely. She is my older sister…. Sorry I did not tell you Ethory. I like for men to know me as a man before they know my bloodline. I don’t like my crown to proceed me.”

Ethory could respect that and he nodded.

“Oh such a sweet prince. The ladies swoon over thee I’m sure.” Sheera laughed.

Marcson just shook his head and laughed. But Ethory wondered if there was someone back home. Why wouldn’t there be? Marcson wasn’t only a great guy (not to mention a talented man) he was royalty too. Wasn’t he what every woman wanted?  Ethory felt very ill. Once Amber knew who Marcson really was, she’d never give him a second glance. But he didn’t dwell on her long.

Wasn’t his mission to find his father? (How impossible it seemed). Why was he going to the capital in the first place? Maybe he should try going on his own for a while.

“I think I’m ready to go.” Ethory said. “I can head west and get to where were going right?” A huge leaf dumped gallons on his head that very moment and he paused pursing his lips with frustration. Sheera and Marcson could not help but laugh. Ethory wiped his eyes and left them. But he heard Marcson’s voice behind him. “Yes that’s right Ethory. We will catch up.”

But Ethory hoped they wouldn’t. He wanted a moments peace. He hadn’t had a minute alone since he got to this world. His own world felt strangely distant and he wondered if he would ever drive a car or eat a cheese burger again. Would he ever really be home? Ever find his father? Ethory knew he was becoming discouraged and he didn’t care. He let the dark thoughts overtake his mind and he fell into a despondently thoughtful and determinedly quick stride.  

Soul Mates

I didn't used to believe in the concept of "soul mates" two people so perfectly suited for each other that them ending up with someone else would be a travesty to love. I had been wrong too many times. I'd been so sure that this time it was real, was right, was God's design. I began to think more and more that choosing a mate had more to do with my choice than anything else. You meet someone and instead of some cosmic force of God and nature the Lord Himself (being a fan of free will) says, go for it if you want to! I liked this view better because it took the pressure off. There was a thought in the back of my head, a fear really, that if I finally made my decision and settled down that i would shortly after meet the one person the universe and God had destined me for. And I would be doomed to live a life short of the beautiful romance I'd hoped for.
When I met Seth I tried to run in the opposite direction. I was sick of being wrong about the guy. Sick of dating. Of committing. Of having my hopes dashed on sharp rocks. I wanted to wait for a storybook, a chic flick relationship. A relationship so perfect that I couldn't have a doubt in my mind that this was it.
But as I grew up I realized I no longer wanted anything that was fake. Anything that was contrived. I wanted the ugly reality. I wanted a man who was so real and honest that there was no way he was "acting" to get me to love him. I knew Seth so well I hoped it would be him. I didn't have some romantic notion about him being perfect. I liked it. I also had an immense amount of respect for him as a person.
He is the kind of guy that men revere, that grown men turn to for advice. The kind of man that is proceeded by a pastor who says he appreciates him. He's the kind of guy that past girlfriends can't say an ill word of. He was first and foremost the best, most faithful friend I had ever had.
So I married him. I made a choice. I prayed, I asked God if this is what He wanted. He said that it was my choice. And that it would be hard, (marriage to Seth that is). And the He would be with me in it and we would be blessed.
I must say that not having a clear "yes" or "no" about the this infinitesimally important decision was not fun for me. But I knew that I loved Seth more than I had ever loved anyone. I knew He loved God with the same devotion and fervor that I did. I knew we had sparks. Chemistry. Fun. And when it wasn't fun we had solid friendship and made decisions well together. Worked well together. So in the end I married a man by choice, not by destiny. But what has happened since we got married over a year ago is curious. I began to think that not only was this God's perfect design, (for Seth and I to marry) but that Seth and I were truly made for each other. Soul mate seems like the perfect description for the kind of melding we have together. The kind of magic that happens when we're together.
Not everyday is easy. Quite the contrary. We live far below the poverty line (in US standards). We stress from week to week about bills. We get our feelings hurt. We get mad at each other. We don't always agree. But there is a rhythm to our life, our communication and our marriage that is the heart beat to our song. The most beautiful sonnet I've ever heard. A life I couldn't have imagined. It's too beautiful for words...

Gift of Rain

I sat in my living room lit by a dull grey from the window. The clouds were think and the house gloomy. I went into my tiny rectangular kitchen to find the sink full of dishes from the night before. I proceeded to transfer them to the dishwasher. Something about the lightbulb in the kitchen kept me going. I brush cleaned the sink, the counters, the stove. I glanced begrudgingly at the rubbish bin. A full bag of trash, (my husbands job to take out). But i didn't want to look at it a moment longer, and he'd be gone for hours. I lugged the bag full of old food clippings, papers and such out my front door.
As I proceeded down the three flights of steps. I stopped on the landing halfway down. There were three beer bottles that had been an eyesore for a week. I quickly proceeded to add them to my load. When I was about to be greeted by the outside I noticed the last two steps of my journey to the sidewalk were soaked. The wood looked slick with rainwater.
I managed not to slip as I carefully maneuvered down in my flip flops with the trash bag and my little pregnant belly.
I've never been afraid of a little rain and I wasn't about to bring my trash back up to rot. As I walked along the sidewalk to the dumpster I remembered again how much I love rain. There was always something so cleansing and romantic, so pure and perfect about a rainy day.
I felt the gentle spray peppering my arms. I watched as the huge green trees on the other side of the chain link fence blew gently in a soft wind. The sound of rain drops masked any other. Everything felt quiet. As I looked out into the car park it seemed, no one was going anywhere. There was not another soul.
I heard a familiar bird watching me from the trees. It's soft song elated my spirits. I dumped my load in with the other garbage. I took my time as I moseyed back up to my building. I noted the soft pitter patter of rain drops making puddles in the dips in the sidewalk. The cool rain drops on my skin and the general feeling of the world being blanketed and washed. The smell of rain is something I've always loved... That fresh earthy smell like green is growing greener. I took all this in, in a matter of moments and then I felt two feelings unmistakably present.
Peace and Gratitude.
The peace was surrounding me, incasing me in a soft warm blanket of stillness. Steadiness.
And the gratitude, it welt up within me like a mountain stream. I found myself thanking my creator for giving me such a beautiful morning as to be in His creation during a little rain.
I loved every moment.
It's rather remarkable how my creator can change a mundane task like, taking out the trash, into a gloriously magical moment. But He always has. When I was a girl I remember picking up the mail from the mailbox at the end of my parents' property. They have a long driveway that passes by a pond and over a creek on its' way to the mail box across the street. This task took a few minutes and I always cherished it. It meant I got to spend time alone with Jesus in His creation, to feel His peace and joy and still myself from the stresses of the day, whatever those were.
There are so many gifts we've been given everyday. They are free gifts. We have to do nothing to receive them. All we need to do is look, in order to receive them.
 It takes a looking of the spirit. A longing for it.
And we have to stop thinking about our own worries, long enough to accept them. But if you'll look for a gift everyday. An experience. A word. Something special, even small...
I promise you, you'll find it. My God is that good. You might even find it in the rain.

The taste that fits my mouth.

I love tea.
As a child I did tea parties for my birthday 4 years in a row. I wished I was English. I was prim and proper. As a child I chose to take an etiquette class, for fun! I even tried reading parts of a 400+ page book from the 1930s with the title, "Etiquette" (I was ten).
As a homeschooler I chose a Canadian curriculum based on Anne of Green Gables which meant I learned European history more than American. I studied the Kings, the Queens... As I grew I didn't change much. I was not as prim and proper as a teenager, but my love for the English grew stronger. (Too many English authors, movies, BBC, I loved it all).
At age sixteen I became friends with a boyish adventurer from England named Paul. After years of spending time with our family I began to feel like I had a little brother. Now, he is family. I consider him as much my brother as I do my sisters, my blood sisters.
At age 19, I flew across the pond!
For two weeks I enjoyed the company of Paul and his parents. England was all I'd hoped for and more. Someday, I want to go back and live there. Be a true English native. The culture fits me. But until I live there I'll have to settle for the taste that fits my mouth. Nothing tastes more perfect to my tongue than my favorite tea.
Roobis, filling a gold edged English teacup.

Walking on Water-Chaper 15

Eth looked over his shoulder. Only an open field stretched out behind them and he wondered if this woman knew what she was talking about. It was midday, where could someone hide in the short grasses? But Marcson seemed to take her seriously, so they sped up their pace and Eth followed. But he wanted to talk to Marcson alone to see why he had trusted this woman so quickly. She did seem to command respect. But they didn't know where she came from. She did know a lot about them. She could've heard it from some god. But it was almost as if she had been listening to their private conversations and that made him leery.

The openness of this world was something he was sure he'd never get used to. The sun was high in the sky. About noon, he would guess. Eth felt inner pride at his knowledge of the sun and the time. Soon they left the field and trudged yet again into a thick forest. It was similar to forests he had already seen. The multicolored huge leaves created the forest canopy. And Tittles rested like glowing lights on the bottom sides of the leaves. They occasionally swished down and about them. But as Marcson had explained, they were sacred. And seeing them in a forest was an honor because of their connection to the Islands of the north.

As Eth understood that Elderworld was all the same and a small world. That is, except for the far north which was ethereal and eternal, and an altogether different  sort of place. The only creatures who could come and go from the Islands of the north were the Trivdels. Trivdels were said to be more powerful than humans. They were an ancient race which were known for their incredible artistry, architecture and weaponry. Marcson himself had obviously never been to the Islands of the far north. But the stories had been past down for generations. Even some of his fathers old friends had been taken to the Islands, by the will of Milanius and returned to the mainland. As Eth understood it, Milanious, although he looked like a common man, had been present at the creation of Elderworld itself. A participator in the beginning of time. The group of three walked the thick forest all deep in thought, it seemed. For no words were spoken between them. The forest grew thicker and spaces between the trucks became smaller. They could no longer travel side-by-side. The woman led with Marcson behind her and Ethory brought up the rear. He looked over his shoulder occasionally, but he couldn't see, hear or sense anyone watching them.

"Are you a Trivdell?" Ethory asked the woman. "You said you were sent here..."

She couldn't help but laugh and he wondered if she mocked him.

"You are a clever one." She said shaking her head and adjusting her long bow as it was strapped around her. The ornate wooden handle was wrapped in front of her with the thin rope hugging her pack. Her leather pack and supplies looked much like Marcsons and Eth felt strange carrying nothing but the clothes on his back. When Marcson and him had practiced swords together they had just used sticks. Ethory hoped when they got to the kingdom to get a sword of his own. When they had hunted they had merely used Marcsons bow (which was much smaller than the woman's long bow). Finally she spoke again, "I am half Trivdell."

"Half?" Questioned Marcson. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"Shows how much you know." Replied the woman sarcastically. "My name is Sheera and my mother was a Trivdell and my father was human."

"How did they meet?" Marcson asked.

Ethory thought it a rather impolite thing to ask, but he waited for Sheera's reply.

"They met in the old days. When humans traveled to the far north more readily. Before the humans were as corrupt as they are now, when they were right with the higher powers they could travel to the Islands as long as a Trivdell accompanied them; on a boat over waters to the two stars."

As Eth understood it, the Islands looked like two stars from afar and could be seen on a clear night.

"My father came with a Trivdell friend of his, to the north, and met my mother on the Islands. Because humans are not allowed to live in the paradise until death, my father offered to die in the mainland in order to live with her. But my mother didn't want him to give up all his human family, friends and life. She didn't think it was right." Sheera looked at the trees ahead and picked up her pace.

"What happened?" Ethory asked. "I mean, they obviously got together or you wouldn't be alive."

Sheera glanced at Ethory... "My mother gave up paradise for my father,” Sheera’s eyes shown with distain. “Baffles me... I wouldn't have done it. But that is what happened.” Sheera didn’t speak for a few minutes.

Eth wondered that she scorned her own birth.

“My mother eventually moved to the mainland and gave up eternal bliss for a man… She lived with my father in Natchare until his death."

"I'm sorry." Said Eth, who knew something about loosing a parent.

"It wasn’t by your doing. That was more than fifty years ago." Replied Sheera, turning to grin at him.

Marcson and Eth looked at each other. Sheera looked no older than twenty. But the Trivdells were eternal beings. Would a half child last for hundreds of years or would she live forever like her father? It seemed impertinent to ask.

"How could someone be following us?" Ethory finally asked.

"Magic." Replied Sheera, "They're invisible and have soundless magic. But we might meet them yet."

Ethory wanted to laugh, but he was learning quickly that nothing in this world was like his own.

She had spoken about the human race, and the change. The fact that all humans were no longer worthy to go to the north made Ethory think about earth.

Every person he'd met in Elderworld had seemed more trusting and kind and generous than anyone he'd ever met. He couldn't even comprehend the purity that the first humans of Elderworld must have possessed. But if someone invisible and soundless was following them, then shouldn't they be careful what they said? He cataloged everything they had talked about. They had definitely talked about where they were going. Ethory wished she had been more descript from the beginning. He scanned the trees, the upper branches, he thought he saw unusually movement. Or was it just a strong wind? He decided not to mention it. Certainly Marcson and Sheera would notice if something was off. They were natives and people of the land. 

Man, Woman, Love and Chicken.

So I must start by saying that I've always known I was an emotional person.
I can cry during sad movies, or happy movies and I get all oogly about puppies and kitties. But, the thing is, I can control it 90% of the time. The 10% where I don't do so well controlling my emotions has to do with family (while excluding grief and catastrophe; I get emotional about those uncontrollably). I think we can all agree family brings it all out. The best in all of us, the love, the faithfulness, the friendship. And dare I say it; all the other stuff too. We know how to push each others buttons and even when we're not trying... family seems to bring out the anger, and all those emotions too. 1 reason? Love.
Love always brings it out in us. Because when we care about someone, it changes us.

Well, I am pregnant and I think I just had my first irrational out burst of the pregnancy. Generally I consider myself a really rational person. As previously stated, I can generally control my emotions. I don't start balling at work. And if a friend upsets me I think about it, wait, pray, and then talk to them about how I feel through rational discussion. (Hoping they listen to reason).
Or decide to let it go.
Even with my husband I am pretty rational. If I do have an emotional outburst I can usually (within 5 minutes) explain why. I can chock it up to "time of the month" or some underlying issue that I forgot to deal with. There is little that escapes my rational radar. All that to say... Tonight I wasn't rational like never before.... Are you ready?
I called my husband into our room to talk.
I said, "I don't think you were being considerate buying chicken for you and your friend when you know it makes me nauseous." I was sincere, intense, and completely serious. Chicken? Yes, Chicken.
My husband (who is even more rational than me) said, "Honey, I asked you on the phone if the chicken was ok for tonight. I asked your opinion. You said it would make you nauseous and I asked you what you wanted to eat in stead." Sweet right? No! I was on a mission.
"But honey, I told you the smell made me feel sick a few days ago and you should've known not to bring it into the house." I replied. Our discussion continued for at least 22 minutes. I know because I heard the opening song to the office and the then the closing song. (Our friend watching it in the next room). I was crying. I was. I was crying about chicken.

And he should've known?

For future reference, women, I've learned something about men. Whenever the phrase "should've known" exits my mouth or even enters my mind in regards to a man. The truth is... That whether they should or shouldn't really shouldn't be up for question. Rather, if we are shoulding them, it's probably because we're expecting them to be like us. Understand something we understand.
Women Read.
Us creatures who can jump topics at will and follow. Us who understand emotional intuitive sensitively and connection in a way that most men tip their head in confusion when sighting. Our emotional outbursts are like a rare breed of bird in a shopping mall to them.
They are like, "what the heck? Where did that come from?"
And we are like... "Obviously it escaped from the pet shop down stairs and no one knows how to catch it that high up. duh!"
What is such an odd thought to them, seems like common knowledge to us.
Now back to the general group of readers.
(yes you too men, just wanted to be clear, this next part is for you too).
I am not a feminist and I don't think women are "superior" to men. However, I do think that women have a language men won't understand fully, till the end of the time. And we may never understand why they don't quite get it. But if we don't learn to be ok with them being them, ladies, we will all end up dating pansies, or become lesbians. (I'm just saying). I'm not saying guys can't be emotional, sensitive or considerate. (Seth is definitely all three).
It's just different speaking Girl. (Our non-official language best sooted for sleepovers, long walks and chocolate or ice cream movie nights).

I know that the scientific explanation for a pregnant womans' extra emotional outbursts is accounted to hormonal changes... And I'm not saying that, that isn't the case. But like I was saying before my rant, family brings about emotions, bad and good. Even in the healthiest of families, it seems. I attributed this fact, to love. (However, emotional wounding dating to childbirth, personal and religious differences, personal expectations of parents, competition among siblings, lack of belonging or family identity, abuse and 100s of others things do factor in. I just don't want to talk about them right now). But well, in stead of accounting this chicken emotion to hormones...
I'm going to say to my self, it's also because I am developing a passionate love for an unborn person. And my concern for this little being is changing me.... It is already so strong. I can't imagine the love I will feel the first time I lay eyes on him or her.
Thank-you by-the-way, for reading the emotional rant of a pregnant woman.
"May the force be with you."
(I don't know why that seemed like a good ending quote. Don't judge).

Walking on Water -Chapter 14

Marcson and Ethory traversed vast rivers, and mountains and fields. Both were becoming fast friends as the days passed. The distrust Ethory had felt melted into a melding of general admiration and trust. Marcson was good at everything he did. He hunted beasts and birds, he knew every herb and spice its' use and flavor; no fruit or green evaded his knowledge. He knew the time of day simply by looking at the sun. He even made a shelter easily when it rained. He could start a fire, with brush and stone, even on moist earth. Ethory found himself wanting to learn to do everything Marcson did with ease. He pressed Marcson to teach him daily, (mostly with a barrage of questions). “What is that? Is it eatable? What should I eat if my head hurts?” Along the journey Ethory had learned to make his own clothes by weaving cotton and preparing hide to leather. He felt like a true Elderworldian now. Leather strapped boots, a brown hide vest and a tan cotton tunic with leather trousers were his daily garb. The clothes were for practicality. They kept him warm at night and made sure no stickery plants could cut him; while his top was breathable enough to travel in the light of day.

“How did you learn to do all this?” Asked Ethory, one morning after Marcson had built a fire on a particularly damp morning.

“My father. He taught me everything… My mother says he taught me my sense of adventure mostly. But I think that was the only trait that wasn’t learned.” Marcson stuck the small fire with a green limb and smiled. He adjusted his sword on his hip as he sat himself on the grassy earth. Ethory was seated opposite him with his back against the trunk of a large tree.

“You must have loved learning it…” Ethory spoke. Imagining if his father had been around to teach him such things.

“No actually,” Marcson laughed, “He always said, ‘a lesson a day’. And I hated them. My sister was the firstborn and she was my mother’s charge. I think my father had waited the five years his little girl grew, getting ready for me, and my lessons. Some days he would wake me from sleeping, realizing he had not yet taught me a lesson that day.” Marcson smiled at the fondness of the memory. “My mother chided him for waking me, but he always had the same return. ‘Megan you can teach Melody with any whiles and ways you wish, but my dear, I will use my own methods with my son’. My mother would shake her head, smile and leave use alone (even when I wished she would rescue me). He let me teach my brother some of his lessons… He was born when I was ten and my father taught him just as diligently. The only difference was his questions to me, he tested me, by watching me teach my brother.”

“Sounds like the perfect childhood.” Eth said.

“Like I said, I hated our daily lessons at the time. It’s only now that I’ve come to appreciate them. I didn’t even realize how much I had learned till my father sent me on my quest.”

“Your quest? Did he send you to find your brother’s killer?”

“No. A quest is a trip a man makes when his father thinks he is ready. In my case, he pointed at a mountain when I was fifteen and said, ‘go, I’ll meet you on the other side’.”

“Were you scared?” Asked Eth.

“No. At that point, I had felt ready to take my quest for six months or more. But my father told me ‘no’ everyday. He would say, ‘why don’t we get finished with today’s lesson and we’ll will talk about your quest tomorrow’… He said that everyday.” Marcson let out a hearty laugh.

“What’s your father’s name?” Asked Ethory, Marcson had never spoken so much about him.

“Same as mine. I’m Marscson Kensworth the second. But he always went by Marken.” Explained Marcson. “We better get going. The sun is nearly up.” Marcson and Eth went about putting out the fire as they did daily by burying it beneath earth. Once Marcson was satisfied they set off. They were in an open field when they both spotted a woman, not fifty yards ahead of them. She was obviously female because she wore a long scarlet dress and a huge blonde braid poured over her back. The men looked at each other. “Why would she be so far out here by herself?” Asked Ethory.

“She’s no farm girl. She’s a hunter. See her bow.”

Ethory looked closer and noticed the long bow strapped across her back. Marcson quickened his pace and Ethory followed.

“My lady,” Marcson hailed. But she didn’t turn. Maybe she couldn’t hear them. They came still closer, “Fair maiden,” Marcson called a second time.

“What is it?” Asked the woman turning. She looked less them amused. But her skin was smooth and her eyes were huge blue and lovely. In fact, her whole face was beautiful with childlike futures.

“We are on a quest, headed to the capital… Hello.” Marcson said.

“Hello,” Replied the woman and she turned to keep walking.

“Where are you headed?” Asked Ethory with newfound boldness.

“Same as you, I guess…”

“You guess?” Asked Marcson.

“I was sent here to aid you both on your journey.”

“Sent here?” Asked Ethory.

The woman sighed, “Yes. I guess I’m supposed to help you idiots on this ridiculous quest to find his father, right?” She had pointed at Ethory, “And were supposed to be avenging your little brothers death Marcson…. Isn’t that the plan?” Her tone of voice of uninterested; she sounded like she was stating the weather.

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds rather drab…” Marcson laughed.

“I am a servant of Milanious. I have sold my life for his service. I love the king, God, fellow, I do. But I don’t have to be thrilled about everything he asks me to do. Now hurry up boys… You’ve been followed.”

Baby on the way...

I was reading the Bible this morning and had revelation in Phillipians. I realized momentarily that with the news of a baby coming on facebook there was no chance I was writing about it on my blog today. (Save it for another day). My husband and I have been married almost a year... We found out a week and a half ago that we're having a baby. I had my suspicion, but a test and then a doctor confirmed.
I am full of emotion at the prospect of baring a child. I have always wanted to be a mother and have a big family (and I am 25 about time to get going). But this particular timing wasn't planned, nor was it a surprise. I am torn between true joy and fright. I have trusted God with the seasons of my life and He has never failed me. Now I am learning to trust Him with a whole other life, one that grows inside me. My husband and I are overjoyed that we've been given the honor of being parents. But I am sobered that a life long journey has just begun. Birthdays, family vacations, graduations, recital, games, education, awaits. More than that, the equipping and teaching of a little person about everything in life from how to wash hair, to how the eat veggies, to how to be kind to others. I know I will fail. I know I know I will fall short. But, by the grace of God I hope to be an encouraging mother who hopes for the world in her kids and supports them to reach the stars! I hope to be a beacon of love. I will love the name, mother.

Walking on Water-Chapter 13

"Your world is void of magic. And full of new technologies. And the woman you were with, Amber, she is not your sister..." Marcson said.
"You've got that right..." Eth replied. "How much of my dream did you see? If that's even possible."
"I saw the whole thing... From a distance. The wolves. The water falls. He told me what it all meant."
"That's really weird." Eth rubbed his eyes. "Why did this guy want you in my dream? And why did he tell you all about me?"
"Because Eth. I'm supposed to help you."
"Help me what?" Eth asked. He hadn't told Marcson the name Eth, he was sure of it.
"With your quest..."
"What quest?" Eth asked. Why didn't this Milanius guy just talk to him directly?
"Do you think you came to Elderworld by chance? Do you think there is no purpose to your self coming here so far? Every decision you made led you to where you are now. And every decision from here on out will lead you down your quest... Which ever path you choose."
"If I'm on a quest, what am I supposed to be looking for?" Eth was getting impatient.
"You mean who."
"Ok then, who?"
"Your father."
Eth came to his feet and walked towards the tree line. He'd had enough. This man could talk about quests, he could know his dreams. It was invasive and violating, but he could handle it. However, he had no right to tell him anything about his father. His Dad was off limits. No amount of prodding would help. This man could no longer be trusted.
"Where are you going?" Marcson caught up.
"That way!" Eth replied, pointing to the trees.
"You don't know the way to Amber and the others... You don't know the countryside. You need my help."
"We'll see," Eth replied under his breath.
"Stop. Can we talk about this?"
Eth didn't say anything. He met the tree line and plunged into the thick green forest.
"Your dad isn't dead."
Eth whirled around and looked at Marcson. He wanted to slug him, he almost did. How dare he be so cavalier. His Dad was sacred ground. If that Milanius guy told Marcson what to say, then he was cruel too! How had he been so trusting? What was he thinking?
"You don't know what you're talking about." Eth said finally.
"I'm sorry." Marcson said. "You're right..."
Eth paused trying to decide what to say, "My Dad died when I was ten. You don't know anything about me, not really... And if your friend Milanius told you my Dad is alive; he lied to you. Get a clue man. Snap out of it."
"He said you might say that..." Marcson responded.
"What?"
"Ethory you are in a magical world. It's different than where you came from." Marcson said. "The impossible just might be real."
"Why don't you shut your mouth for a while; see how it feels." Eth snapped.
"Ethory... What if this is all real?" Asked Marcson.
"What if what's real?" Eth asked.
"What if your Dad didn't die? What if he just came here." Marcson presented his hands in a sweeping motion, as if he were presenting a popular band on tour, about to perform.
For the first time Eth examined the unique forest. He stood on blue carpet moss. He looked up at the canopy. Huge sea-foam, crimson and sage leaves shaded the forest and small glowing lights fluttered about the canopy. The lights came flying down as if swept by a breeze. As they brushed passed his face Eth saw they were little flying people with wings. Like fairies from the story books. But there wings glowed all different colors, purples, golds, pinks, reds, oranges, none exactly like the other. Eth's eyes followed them as they swept back up to nestle in the canopy.
"That's impossible isn't it?" Asked Marcson, "They are called Tittle birds. Look around? Is any of this possible to you? You are in another world, should that be possible?"
"I guess not." Eth relented. "So if all this is true. Then where is my Dad supposed to be?"
"I don't know exactly. But were supposed to meet up with the others. That's the next step." Replied Marcson.

Vintage Things

I've always loved Vintage. But not usually vintage from a recent era, like the 70s or 80s. I like things that are REALLY old. Things that if they could talk would tell a story much longer than my life. Last summer I lost a job (and I was really down about it).
My husband turned to me and said, "Leah, we're going out!"
I tried to tell him how we shouldn't. How this wasn't the day for that. But he was determined. We ended up at an auction of all things! They sold everything, from christmas lights to computer parts, they had it all. Furniture. Jewelry. More christmas decorations. Some tools. Old VHS tapes.
I looked to the left of center stage scanning the merchandise. My eyes followed kids tricycles, bikes, desks, clothes... I spotted a handle and top of a simple brown suitcase. I could tell it was old, even from our row, near the middle of a hundred rows. I knew I wanted it.
"I want that." I said. Half to myself, "But it'll probably be too much."
"What?" Seth asked, scanning the rubbage.
"There, see. That antique suitcase."
"Oh ok. I see it."
"It's so perfect." I said. "But I'm sure we don't have the money."
"Well, lets just see." Seth said.
People bid on lighting equipment. Tables. Old projectors. Bowling shoes.
Finally, my the suitcase was up.
I smiled nervously as Seth put up our little number. I can't remember now if anyone bid against us or not. But it sold for a very reasonable price. I vividly remember the complete washing of joy as I ran to the front of the old warehouse to retrieve my old battered suitcase. I loved everything about it. The old smell. The scuffed leather. The fact that it's from the 1940s.
I wished I knew it's story.
All the people it accompanied. All the places it must have traveled. I like to fancy its' been across the sea. I love my suitcase. It sits now in my home as a reminder of a beautiful evening God gave us. One where challenging circumstances turned into a glorious gift...

In the Moment June 14, 2012

I am beginning a new quest.
In the past few weeks I've stopped watching netflix and started eating healthy again. And by healthy I mean, extremely healthy! Inspired by my husband I have started chowing down primarily on fruits, vegetables, and grains. I've ate a few processed things in the last week and a little ice cream once (in a week). But my three meals a day have consisted mainly of fruit, vegetables, rice and wheaties. I will start today drinking the amount of water that I SHOULD'VE been drinking all along. I feel like I'm cleaning myself out. Physically (obviously) and also in my mind. With less TV and movies I find myself taking time to clean out my house. In the process of cleaning out my life I've also been cleaning out my heart. It is easier to submit to God my heart when there is nothing in my life that is coming in the way. No distractions. As a result I am more open to hear. A bunch of emotional junk came to the surface!
By distracting myself with tv or junk food I was putting a lid on what the Lord was doing. Jesus wants to gently pry off the lid and deal with all the junk underneath. Which is no fun. To truth is, there is a lot of baggage. Most of us have it. Painful memories, disfunction, unhealthy habits. Lies we live by. I have it all! Last night and today I felt a conviction to relax. Much of the time, I am stressed about my life. I worry. But God commands me not to fear, and not to be anxious. That doesn't mean I always obey.

The instructions Biblically are simple, pray! But I don't always keep God in the loop. I don't always tell Him what is going on in my life like I would a friend. I don't wake up every day ready to submit my every thought to God. But I want to... There have been seasons of my life where I was more consistent.

I felt the Lord whisper today; live in the moment.

Moving forward towards Jesus looks different everyday.
Some days it means caring for a friend. Other days it means being more patient with a family member. Some times it means shutting up and listening to what God wants to say... Other days it means balling my eyes out! Dancing till my sides hurt. Or laughing like there is no tomorrow. Some days it means going on a an adventure and speaking the words God gives me to a stranger (even when I don't feel like it). But today I feel so strongly about living in the moment that I know it's a key for me. I hope it unlocks a whole new season with my Jesus. I'm ready for go further up and further in! Into new promises...
I will live in the moment all week! I refuse to worry about the future. Or dwell in the past. I want to enjoy the journey again... So Jesus, help me keep my promise, to live for today. With NO WORRIES!!!! Just Hopes. NO FEARS. Just dreams. And NO DOUBTS. Just promises.

It's just you and me here now!

My Life and Tri-Happenings 6.7.2012

I stood with a dozen yellow roses in the heat of summer. I was waiting for my friend to answer the door. "My Dad died"... That was her only text of explanation. She was going to his funeral out of state and making the arrangements for his house with her sister.
She is 19-years-old.
On the car ride over to meet her, my heart began to ache. Healing always hurts. After the last session with my counselor I realized something. The wounds I sustained, the disfunction I lived in, molded me into the woman I am today.
My counselor said, "You can choose to be a victim, or choose to move on." I knew it was true.
I'd seen it play out in dozens of lives. Some lives where there had been change, growth, a moving forward, even after years of struggle and others where I had seen I very sad story.
One of stillness, drowning stagnation. Life of wallowing in self pity, sinful choices that just led to more pain. I knew I was at a cross road, once again.
As I waited for my friend to answer the door, I was trying not to think about myself. My pain. I knew it was wrong for me to focus on my self while she was going through so much more. But I knew a part of my old self was dying. I was letting go of that victimized little girl hiding in her room or taking care of everyone. The dual roles that I played, for 20 years.
The choice I was making today, I knew, was a big deal.
It would determine how I responded to people for the rest of my life. I was scared.
Changing again.
It meant starting over again. Discovering my identity again. Going through the same circle of healing and restoration, again. My friend answered the door with a smile. She didn't talk about her dad for a while. Finally, I asked. "What happened?"
Her answer broke my heart. He was an alcoholic. "He drank himself to death," she said non-challantly. He hadn't been himself her entire life. At least not his true self. He had continued his pattern, his circle, his cycle of pain and sin. He left a wife and two kids in the wake. He abandoned them.
She never spent time with him. She barely knew him. In addition, she had no time to grieve his passing. Too many things to take care of. Too many responsibilities. Not to mention her first time on a plane. In stead of asking about the lawyers, or the house. She asked me if she could use her phone on the plane. If she could text once she was in the air.
My heart went out to her. I wanted to cry for her.
But instead I told her all about airplanes and airport security. I told her to call a lawyer and understand her rights, before she left. I tried to equip her and be there for her.
But who am I?
I'm not really her family. Although I find myself more often than not, playing the big sister (6 years between us). And I don't mind at all. In fact, it's my joy! My pleasure...
That's probably why I'm going into the profession that I am.
I watched as my friend tied a red ribbon around the jar full of yellow roses.
I watched as she played with the crawdads in the creek. I watched as she told me about many more struggles in her life lately. Hard things that if they continued could overtake her life and de-rail everything she had hoped for. Everything she really wanted. I realized all the more that my future plan for me is perfectly sooted to me.
Art therapy is the best way I can think of, to lay a dozen yellow roses in the jar of a persons life. A person who has experienced hardship and pain. And for me. Life seems to happen in threes.
A death.
A new college.
And saying goodbye to my old self; the girl I used to be.

Walking on Water-Chapter 12

Eth felt a leaf hit his face. He was running down a steep wooded hill. It was dark the only light was an eery red glow casting long shadows to his left. His limbs were burning and his lungs were on fire. He wanted to stop running; but he couldn't. A pack of ravenous wolves were chasing him. He felt their hot breath nipping at his heals. The darkness did nothing to slow them. His legs became like lead and he wanted to fall in a pile of leaves with heaviness. Next thing Eth knew he was standing on a precipice overlooking a dark grand scheme. He wasn't worried about the wolves anymore; and he wasn't sure why. It was like they had vanished.
He heard a familiar sound. It took a moment to recognize. A river. He was standing on a dark rock and the rushing sound came from all directions. The darkness began to lighten. He couldn't see a sun but the sky was gradually lightening as if there was a sun in the sky. It turned from black to crimson. The sky kept folding away at the edges till the entire expanse was lit with a bright array of color. The variety and veracity of shades was like nothing Eth had ever seen. It was brighter than a rainbow and stretched horizon to horizon. The reds, blues and yellows stood out to him. Soon all the colors lightened and they continued to do so until it looked brighter everywhere. Eth thought to look around him. He was in the center of the river and it rushed down on either side of him. Just in front of him it cascaded down into two water falls with him at the center. Those falls broke into smaller falls each pooling at the end and splitting again and again, till it seemed two had become twenty. Pool after still pool and rushing fall after rushing blue fall stretched downward over black rock. He could see further than he ever had with bare eyes, and with such clarity. Maybe it was the light. The river was a powerful, beautiful, force that only became more beautiful and powerful and huge as it divided and grew. Everything tumbled forward and down ward. Eth was humbled by the gorgeous display of beauty. He felt still and didn't ever want to move or speak again. Then he heard a familiar voice.
"My son, Eth."
"Yes," He turned to look for his father. But he wasn't there. Only the voice.
"This will be yours."
Eth looked once more at the glorious portrait playing out before him. From the glowing colorful sky to the falls of majestic glory. The powerful strength and sound. He wanted to ask what his father meant, but the question never came. In stead, he found his hand was being held. He loved the feeling. Like a companion had found him in paradise. But for some strange reason he didn't want to turn his head and see who it was. It was as if by grasping his hand the person already knew what he was thinking and he knew what they were thinking too. A connection so deep and penetrating and revealing, yet he wasn't fearful. He knew the person holding his hand was perfect for him. But perfect not in the sense that they could do no wrong. But in the sense that it was the person that he needed and who needed him; in every deep and unfathomable way that a person needs people. He began to search his mind to see whether this person was a sibling, or a friend, or his father, or a lover. But his mind was too overcome with pleasure to think of anything at all. He just wanted to soak in every breath his lungs could take, because he knew (somehow) that he wouldn't be here for long. And then, it happened.
"Eth... It's time to go." He heard Marcson's voice. Never had a he hated waking more.
"What?" His eyes blinked open. It was too bright.
"Eth... I've given you two extra hours, but we really must fly."
"Fly where?" Everything was becoming clearer. He was lying in the clover-like flowers and Marcson had put on his sword and bundled his mat on his back and was ready to go.
Eth legs were sore. The sun was bright. The trees at the edge of the field were blowing gently in the wind. But the dream felt more real. The dream felt more solid than the earth he was laying on. Eth shook his head to see which reality stuck.
"Here," Marcson handed Eth a roll of leaves. Eth unfolded the wrap of green and found a mixture of berries that looked familiar. Eth shoved a few of them into his mouth before he realized they weren't quite the raspberries and blueberries he expected. They were better! More sour, more sweet and with a tinge of piny green in the after taste. They were quite refreshing and left him feeling hydrated and awake.
"Morning berries. They are better than any cold bath. And eat the leaves too." Marcson urged as he began walking toward the far tree line.
"Alright." Eth took a small bite of one of the greens. It tasted minty and felt scratchy. In fact it did a marvelous job cleaning his mouth with every chew. By the time Eth had eaten all three leaves they were in the forest again.
"I had a dream." Eth finally said.
"I know." Marcson answered.
"How?" Eth looked to Marscon, but he didn't turn. He kept walking ahead, holding back limbs. Stepping softly in his leather boots.
"I know more than you can imagine," Marcson finally answered.
"What?"
"Last night, after you fell asleep, I couldn't sleep. I was visited by a man who is more than a man. He told me he was giving you a dream; among other things." Eth wanted to ask what he meant; but he didn't know where to begin. So he just waited hoping Marcson would explain. Both men remained silent for a while. Eth thought about his amazing dream, experience. And Marcson kept clearing the path.
"Do you know about King Milanious?" Marcson asked.
Eth fell silent. Should he have been told who this king was? He was afraid to answer.
"It's alright. Not everyone is as privileged as I was. My father and mother knew him from an adventure in their youth. And without going into too much detail... Milanious is a man that is more than a man. He can do things men can't do. And he is hundreds of years old. He was king of Natchare for many years, but now he has returned to rest, in the north...." Marcson paused to glance back at Eth. "What I was trying to say was. He appeared, beside my mat, last night."
"What?"
"I know. It sounds impossible. But he was there... He spoke to me. He told me about you. He told me where you came from."
"He did?" Eth was skeptical.