Wednesday, May 25, 2005

May Winner and Squirrel's Story Starter for June:

The winner for May's prompt contest is Tracie P! Congratulations, Tracie!
June's Prompt by Cheryl Wyatt

Pick a character ( or two or three :-)) and for each character, pick one attribute and one quirk for that character. Use any combination, or you can do what I do: put them in three separate jars and pull one out of each jar. . .matching that character with a quirk and attribute.

A waitress
A teacher
A toddler
A business owner
A body builder
A single father
A daycare owner
A Captain
A dental assistant
A priest
A neighbor (fictional-ha-ha)
An elderly person
A judge
An Eagle Scout
A flight attendant

Hearing impaired

Snaps gum
Always wears plaid
Can't stand to touch peaches
Sings when nervous
Never uses elevators
Faints when embarrassed
Always opens doors with a napkin
Eats out every Tuesday
Flips hair
Smokes imported cigars
Always drives in passing lane
Compulsive shopping of checkout line items
Sticks old gum on top of cups for recycling
Gives flowers to strangers
Can't stand Christmas carolers
Featured Blog:
Flogging The Quill

That's all for today---I'm beat!



Saturday, May 21, 2005


...for May is officially over. Winner will be announced by 5/25/05. June's prompt will also be posted at that time. Thanks for taking time to enter! I'd dearly love for one of the scenes fashioned from one of these prompts to be turned into a full length piece.
I used to love to shop. That was B.C. (Before children.) Here's a scene from our last shopping excursion.

In the grocery store, I have the baby in the front of the cart and the two toddlers in the back. . .now let's see. . .am I forgetting anybody. . .no, we're good. Anyway, I'm pushing the kart full speed ahead, maneuvering expertly around stragglers, memorizing my shopping list perfectly proud of my expert multitasking, thinking THIS TIME the shopping trip won't cause me to need counseling like the last few have.

At the exact moment my 4 yo opened a LARGE bag of pinto beans, my 3yo preoceeds to hold a glass jar of olives over the side of the kart. . .and. . .


Drops it.

So now I'm trying to skid to a stop, but the forward momentum doesn't let me stop in time to prevent running over the large, green defenseless olives. So now, we have several large olive hit & run's in progress, hundreds of hard, brown beans klinking through the little square holes in the bottom of the kart and coming to rest in a pool of green olive juice. I'm not sure if it was the sound of a thousand beans bouncing off the floor tiles, the nerve-jolting shatter of broken glass, or the horrible smell of escaped olive juice, but every customer in the store ventured over to...


I snatched my kids out of the kart and headed for the doors with the "clean up in aisle number. . ." hitting me in the back.

Your love, Lord, means more than life to me. Psalms 63:3


Father, when our day is hectic and things fall apart, help us look to You for strength and comfort. Most of all, help us to be able to laugh at ourselves. Thank You for the gift of humor, and incongruient-with-the-circumstances-joy that only comes from You.



Friday, May 20, 2005


I'm awed and humbled beyond belief!!!!! I got a call today that one of my wips (works in progress) finaled in touched by love!!!!


For those of you who didn't final....I know EXACTLY what you're feeling right now, too. Been there, done that more times than I care to count and I'm sure I'll be there again faster than a speeding comma. So I'm sending great big cyber hugs and lots of cyber chocolate your way. I feel your pain and disappointment.

In fact, here's today's BLUSH AND CRINGE: the first few contests I entered in. . .I came in DEAD LAST! Thank goodness they don't list your name, you're only a number. Shew!!!!!!

BUT, because of the judges' comments, I began to learn (learning never stops, even when you're pubbed) what some of my weaknesses are as a fiction writer. In addition, I learned how to specifically improve particular entries. So I encourage you to keep at it and I promise it will more than likely happen to you one day. Hang in there. Remain teachable. Look for consistant comments...and don't be afraind of the DELETE or EDIT keys. Persistance pays off and God has a plan for your life. If you commit your works to Him, whether that be writing, or something else He's called you to, he will lead you and guide you, and best of all, encourage you and strengthen you in times of struggle and discouragement.

PS: Both entries that are now finalists in two different contests? Those were the ones that came in dead last when I began entering contests just last year. I know judging is subjective in nature, but you can glean from consistant comments despite scores that are all over the place.
"I have carried you since you were born; I have taken care of you from your birth. Even when you are old, I will be the same. Even when your hair has turned gray, I will take care of you. I made you and will take care of you," Isaiah 46:3-4 NIV

Father, when disappointment comes our way, help us run your way. No matter what comes, don't let us lose faith. Use these situations to make us more like your precious Son.

Thursday, May 19, 2005



It's been one of those frazzled mommy days. The veins in my eyes are bulging, and my face hasn't stopped twitching since noon. Probably from doing the "mommy look" too many times today. Don't know if it's because the end of the school year is approaching or what, but SOMETHING has caused my children to strive to hurl me over the edge of sanity....

Short trip.

Too bad they're so adorably cute, otherwise I'd have to put them up for sale.
At a department store yesterday, I was looking through the clearance pajamas. When I turned around, my baby had a silky leapard print bra over her head, each cup covering her ears like winter ear muffs. Of course I didn't notice it until a myriad of nearby snickers from the group of department store trainees alerted me that her tiny lightning-fast fist had snatched it from a rack...somewhere.

One more day for the deadline for Squirrel's Story Starters--my monthly prompt contest. Scroll down to see May's Prompt contest. Get those entries in!!! I have a great selection of books for you to choose from this month.

in motion. There are four in the running as we speak and here are the tallies so far, count ending at post 109:

Pammer: 34
Heather: 39
Jeanie: 18
Michelle: 11

This contest goes 1. Until Oct. 1st, or 2. Until one of you send 100 people to sign the guestbook on my website. The first five people who send 100 people to sign my guestbook at by Oct 1, 2005 will win one of my prizes (each valued at $200.00). For more information, email me at and ask for information about the Traffic Jam, or sign up for my newsletter (The Acorn Connection) where the details will be emailed to you.
Encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today, so that none of you may be hardened by sin's deceitfulness. Hebrews 3:13
Lord Jesus,
Help us guard our simple devotion to you.


Sunday, May 15, 2005


In Colorado Romance Writer's Heart of the Rockies Contest. Thanks judges!!! Yay me!!! Now I wait until I get the judges' comments back and edit any needed changes.

One day in nursing school, we had a mock disaster drill where we were assigned injuries and had to pretend to be whatever our injuries were. My friend was "unconscious" so all she had to do was lay on the gurney and feign sleep (only she REALLY fell asleep). The slip of paper I got said "compound fracture of the right radius and ulna bones, multiple contusions and bleeding lacerations of the forehead and right cheek." So I sat there in the chair while my instructor and fellow students put red makeup all over my face and drew bruises and cuts across my face with various colors of eyeliner. We'd had kentucky fried chicken for lunch. I was one of the most injured. The VA nurses and doctors had to figure out what was wrong with us without the use of the "injury slips" we got. So my makeup artists cut my shirt sleeve, taped four broken chicken bones to my arm, making it look like both bones in my right forearm were broken and poking through the skin (yes there was fake blood and all) and poured ketchup all over my shirt sleeve. After the disaster drill was over, my instructor wanted to take pictures back at school so she asked us not to fix our injuries just yet. So yes, I had to drive home like that. Fake bruises and blood covering my face, and those ridiculous stinky bones on my arms. I had parked in front of the national guard armory. When I got back to my car, there were about two dozen soldiers standing on the sidewalk. I had to walk through them to get to my car. As if that wasn't embarrassing enough, two of them were sitting on my car hood when I got to my car. I politely ignored the snickers and stares and tried to get my key in my lock. After several attempts, my face is red without the ketchup. One soldier slips off my hood, walks up and asks if he could help me. "No. I've almost got it," I say. To my horror, he keeps standing there.

Laughing. "Are you sure you don't need help getting into this car?" he asks as the soldiers behind him laugh in chorus.

"No. I'm fine." I really wish he'd leave me alone. I mean, what does this guy think, that just because I'm blonde and female that I'm not capable of unlocking a simple car door? But then again, I wonder, why won't this stupid key work? And of course EVERYONE is STILL staring at me.....and snickering.

That's when I notice there is a ball cap on the dash that doesn't belong to me. Just as I begin to wonder whose cap is in my car, I wonder where the stack of papers, books, and various other clutter that should be in my car. I realize this car does not look like Sandford and Son's.

I realize this isn't my car at all. Now I'm about to cry because I'm so shy and these men are all laughing at me and I feel like a complete dork, not only because of the car but because I have Kentucky fried chicken bones growing from my arms like leeches, dried ketchup on my Dokken shirt and all over my face, smeared makeup because it sprinkled on the way back to my car, and a very bad hair day. (GImme a break, it was in the 80's. Every day was a bad hair day.)

Once more, the soldier asks, "Are you sure you don't need help getting that door open?"

With face, flaming red, I turn to face him, mortified. He steps over and opens the door.

"It's your car?" I ask. He nods. I turn on my heel and franticly search for my car, finding it three cars down, identical to his, exept for the license plate and the fact that mine could use a good washing.


For surely, O Lord, You bless the righteous; You surround them with Your favor as with a shield. Ps 5:12 NIV


Dear Lord,
Infuse us with a hunger for time with you. Strenghten the bonds of our communication and communion. Help us to love you like you love us.



Saturday, May 14, 2005


Thanks for the comforting posts, guys. I've always used poetry to release stuff inside me and I was really, really mad at Death and the devil that day. Couldn't you tell? LOL!

Regarding baby's name. If the baby had been a boy, his name is Will. So he's God's Will. If the baby was a girl, her name is Eden since I had a dream the night I found out she'd died in my womb, that she was dancing in a garden with Jesus. It was so vivid and the greatest source of comfort for me. I tend to think the baby was a girl, but my children insist it was a boy. I guess we'll find out when we get to Heaven, huh? :-) Thanks for your suggestions, guys.

When I was in the middle of miscarrying, I began bleeding so heavily my sanitary pads wouldn't hold everything, so in desperation, I grabbed one of my baby's diapers and used it in place of a pad. Then my doctor, concerned about the amount of bleeding, instructed me to come to his office immediately. I forgot to remove the diaper and when I shimmied my trousers down. . .there it was! I shrugged, ignored the urge to snicker and said to the nurse and my doctor, "Dont' worry. I changed my diaper right before I came here so you wouldn't have to." Even though the situation was sad, the moment was hilarious. I wish you could have seen their faces. They were trying so hard not to giggle. Then when I started laughing, they couldn't help it.

Dear God, THANK YOU for the gift of a good sense of humor. Thank you for the blessing of laughter and supernatural joy. You are amazing.

Prov 17:22 A cheerful heart is good medicine.
Ecc 3:4: ...there is a time to weep and a time to laugh...

THANKS for stopping by! Come back often!!!


Monday, May 09, 2005


Someday Heaven

By Cheryl Wyatt 5/9/05

Death-merciless thief
stole life
left grief
of a mother's womb
became a baby's grave
Left in its wake
empty arms
they ache
To hold
what will never be
Until Someday--Heaven
Eyes strain to see
through tears meant to be
Joyous as you emerge
But it was not meant to be
This life is a blink
compared to Eternity
Do you hear it?
Hope breathes
For when Jesus hung from that cross of pain
Death dangled
lifeless from a skipknot rope
Its vicious neck broken
Its gloating power not strong enough
to hold King Jesus in its clutches
He rose
Hope breathed
Life surged
Death screamed in agony
of defeat
by the power of His resurrection
We believe
what will be
has already happened
though we cannot see
it will manifest
Life won
If you believe
you will see--

I SAW IT!!! Now see what I'm gonna do about it. . .

I know, I know. More typos. Cheeks are mighty red here. As I've told you before, I do not proofread well by computer monitor.

So I know my "it's" should have been "its" and "invested" should have been "invented."

And since it seems that me getting through a post without a single typo is something of a rarity, I'm going to have fun with it and polish your proofing/editing skills at the same time.

At the end of every month, anyone who wants to can try to find ALL the typos, misspellings, grammatical goofs, or just plain horrid sentence structure for the blog posts for that month. At the end of the first week of the new month, the person who finds the most errors will win a free book. For ties, I'll draw names to pick a winner.




My precious grumpy bug finally cut that stubborn thing. She's been so miserable. Thank God for the person who invested Orajel. Or is that Oragel?

Forgive if this post seems a bit muggy. (Now let's see. . .is that the right word?) My pain became so severe today I took a half a pain medication and my brain is running in slow motion.

No. Make that REVERSE.

In fact, that leads me to my next question.

OK, not really a question but the other word that was meant to go there escaped the memory of my recess. Or is that recess of my memory?

I miss recess.

Any way. . .here is the blush and cringe. At least, well, it's funny to me....but then again, I'm sort of on drugs at the moment, so pretty much everything's funny at this point. Let's try this one more time:


Tonight, as the half a Vicodin began to seep it's way into my "not at all used to narcotics bloodstream," I could NOT think of common words. So we get home from the grocery store, and I had one of the two baskets of strawberries we'd purchased on the counter by the sink. I'm trying to wash them, and bat away dd2's hand as she's swiping the ones I'd just pitted and washed.

Wait. Hold you pit strawberries? Well, you know, when you pull that green leafy part out and scoop that remnant of a stem thingy out of the middle. So I did whatever you call that, then went to finish putting groceries away. I *thought* I asked my older daughter to please dump the freshly cleaned and *de-leafed* strawberries into the food processor so I could blend them up with some Splenda and make some strawberry milkshakes. She looked at me with a doubtful expression and politely refused to do it. So with a firm, "mommy look" I said, "please do it." Daughter number two begins to cry as daughter number one gives me a strange look and procedes to dump the strawberries DOWN THE GARBAGE DISPOSAL. She turns the switch on before I could stop her. Now my kitchen is filled with one gurgling sink, one very confused mother, and two very unhappy campers grieving over lost strawberries that both girls claimed I said to put down the garbage disposal (instead of "food processor.")

Peacemaker, enter stage left: So my loving husband waltzes in, pushes me away from the blender thingy as I'm dumping the second basket of strawberries in and bans me from the kitchen, saying "you're not supposed to be operating dangerous machinery while medicated, it says so clearly on the bottle." (even though in my mind, "dangerous machinery" is a forklift or front end loader). So I whip my head around, sure they're all mistaken about my verbal blunder which apparently caused the violent demise of a perfectly innocent basket of strawberries, and say, "I'm perfectly capable of using this garbage disposal!!!" and flip the switch on the food processor.

Let us have confidence, then, and approach God's throne, where there is grace. There we will receive mercy and find grace to help us just when we need it. Hebrews 4:16 TEV

Father, this Mother's Day week, be with and comfort all those who've lost their mothers. Help those of us who still have ours, to be thankful and never take them for granted. Thanks for making such a thing as family. Help us be the mothers and fathers that our children need to be nurtured into the destinies you created for them. . .to love you with all their hearts, souls, minds, and strength. Help us model it, live it.

Have a great day.



Saturday, May 07, 2005


To the broken-hearted.

Found out this week I've miscarried my baby. Very sad, but all in all, I see God's hand of comfort. He prepared me through Sondor's sermon last week. He talked about how everyone needs to have a "Good Life Crisis." One thing I just reread in my notes that's having a profound effect on me is "People in pain are in a perfect position to experience God." The first night I found out, I have several very comforting and vivid dreams of the baby in Heaven with Jesus. I also had an extremely strong sense of God's tangeable presence. I pray this for everyone going through loss or grief or disappointment. When I called a good friend to tell her the sad news, seh asked me, "Do you feel guilty." (This pregnancy wasn't exactly in our plans.)

And I could confidently say, "No." I know that even though the news of the pregnancy was unexpected, children are a blessing from the Lord. When I told a friend before I'd taken the test I suspected I was pregnant, they'd said, "Oh no. I don't think God would do that to you."

The fact of the matter is, God didn't DO anything to me. He LET it be. I know that I know that I know that I wanted and loved this baby with all of my heart and soul. During the ultrasound, when I couldn't see anything moving, nor the heartbeat, I felt God whisper the tempo of a beat in my heart...these words over and over: "This one's mine."

So today, I praise Him for renewed patience with the children He's blessed me with. Though they are His, too, He's letting me borrow them for their time on earth. Sacred, precious gifts are they and you can bet I've hugged them a lot more often and a little tighter every day since we got the sad news. So this baby had a purpose and I know part of that purpose was to help me not to take my others for granted. To be thankful for every single day. A reminder that I'm triple blessed.

And. . .I am safe in suffering because I have a God who knows exactly what it feels like to have to watch a child die. So this baby reminded me not only of the sacrifice of Jesus, who willingly gave Himself for all of us, but of the sacrifice of God, who sent His only son to die for us instead of sending the globe spinning off its axis and forgetting about all of us.

I watched the surreal life today. I'm heartbroken at China Doll. Now, granted, I know "Reality TV" is often staged, but this woman cried and was heartbroken because all she wanted was for her ex boyfriend to tell her he loves her. So one of the other dudes on the show goes in to the closet where she's hiding and treis to comfort her and she automatically begins to latch onto him with her hope and love.

She's no different than the rest of us. We are made to need love. But the only perfect love is God's and I pray someone tells her there is a man who will never stop loving her. I pray He reveals Himself to her in a profound and life-changing way. Jesus is the only person who will never disappoint us and he will never, ever stop loving us.

I also found out the same day I didn't final in another contest. This business of writing is sort of like the process of grief. I mean, when a story you've poured your soul into to create, gets rejected, it feels like a profound personal loss. There's teh normal stages of grief. Anger, despondency, denial, depression then eventually acceptance. I admit I did have a fleeting thought, "Why am I doing this to myself?" Pursuing publication is a painful process and honestly, I have a full life, so why bother? Why slash my veins and bleed my heart over the pages just for someone to say they hate my story. Yes, I entertained the thoughts to give up for about half a day.

Then the characters in my heart started to speak. God whispered, "you can't quit because you're doing this for me. It's worship unto me."

I'll tell you, I got right on my computer and pounded out another chapter.


Because God has given this to me and somehow, it blesses Him when I give it back to Him. So if I never get published, I'll whine and moan and probably yell and cry.

But I'll never give up because I know now that I'm doing it for all the right reasons. To know that somehow through all the heartache of rejections, and contest losses, that God has managed to purify my heart and my motives...makes it worth every slice of pain.


"It's part of a new meme that is travelling through the blogosphere. The idea is if you're tagged, you need to choose 3 (or more if you like) occupations from the list below and then finish the sentence for each that you've chosen.
"You then tag three more people who must do the same. You can add more occupations to the list when you pass it on but you must choose your 3 from the list provided by the person who tagged you. You're also asked to trackback to the blogger who tagged you if you know how."
Here's the list:
If I could be a scientist…
If I could be a farmer…
If I could be a musician…
If I could be a doctor…
If I could be a painter…
If I could be a gardener…
If I could be a missionary…
If I could be a chef…
If I could be an architect…
If I could be a linguist…
If I could be a psychologist…
If I could be a librarian…
If I could be an athlete…
If I could be a lawyer…
If I could be an innkeeper…
If I could be a professor…
If I could be a writer…
If I could be a llama-rider…
If I could be a bonnie pirate…
If I could be a service member…
If I could be a photographer…
If I could be a philanthropist…
If I could be a rap artist…
If I could be a child actor…
If I could be a secret agent…
If I could be a comedian/comedienne…
If I could be a priest...
If I could be a radio announcer...
If I could be a phlebotomist...
If I could be Paris Hilton's stylist...
If I could be a movie producer...
If I could be the CEO of Microsoft...
If I could be an accountant…
If I could be a scientist,

I'm choosing the one that cheered me up when I read it:

"If I could be a gardener. . .all the flowers wouldn't tremble when I place them in my cart at the garden center as if they'd just been sentenced to death row, and my mother in law wouldn't have to show me for the hundredth time which green thingies are the weeds and which ones are the flowers.

I'll add to the mix:

If I could be a Mime. . .
If I could be a Spec Ops solder. . .
If I could be an Ambassador. . .

I'm tagging Margaret Daley, Brenda Coulter, and Mae Nunn.