Whispers from the Willow Spring

Life, Death, and Posterity...

2012-01-01T13:57:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

As a Christian, I believe this life is just a brief prelude to the glorious eternity I will share with my heavenly Father, my Lord, and my loved ones. But that's not what this post is about. Today, New Year's Day, 2012, I'm thinking more about what my legacy will be here on earth for the generations that will come after me -- for my children's children and beyond. As I sit here listening to Dan Fogelberg sing "Sketches," and thinking about his early demise and his musical legacy, I can't help but wonder what I'd leave behind if, like him, my passing came earlier than expected.

I've been writing children's picture books, midgrade novels, and one long, arduous Young Adult novel for the past decade or so. None of them are published yet, but I keep plugging along. Suppose those book manuscripts never make it into the hands of children the world over. Would my legacy still be acceptable?

I've written a few songs and poems over the years. Those are unpublished, too. I've written for fashion magazines, for nonprofits, for television. Will any of that last? Probably not.

I love home design and decorating. I seem to have a knack for it, too. When I designed my own dream home, it turned out great! But the extra expenses involved when we had to switch contractors twice left us destitute. Was home design my legacy? Probably not.

I love to cook! Every year at Christmas and Easter, I whip up a magnificent feast a la the Frugal Gourmet and Nancy Glass (my mother). The oohs and ahhs feed my soul as I watch my family feed their stomachs with satisfaction. Is that my legacy? Making memories with my family around my table is sweet. But I doubt it will reach past the next few generations. I mean, I don't have any of my great grandmother's recipes. Do you? No, cooking is probably not going to leave a lasting legacy.

There are two things left circling in my mind. And neither of them involve accomplishments. First, I look into the eyes of my children and see smoky visions of myself staring back, glimpses and snippets of beautiful times we've had together. My daughters remember dancing through a field of wildflowers with me, singing a Jars of Clay song (Love Song for a Savior) at the top of our lungs as we drove to church each Sunday. "I WANT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU! I WANT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU! I WANT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU! I WANT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU!"

I think I've found my lasting legacy.

My calling all along was to spend myself on behalf of my children, to teach them to know and love their Savior, to gently guide them with loving, firm hands that will gradually shift from fresh and pink to wrinkled and chapped to arthritic and marred before returning to their Maker. My greatest joy is to bring glory and honor to God. And my highest calling is to share His love with a suffering world. But my everyday legacy will undoubtedly be wrapped up in thousands of tiny moments shared with my family -- moments of pure joy and bliss and seasons of tragedy where all I had to offer was a shoulder to cry on and tears to shed in unity with the hurting.

I am 48 years young. There's still time for that great novel of mine to get published or maybe a work of nonfiction I'll be wrapping up soon. Until then, my hope is that my soul will nourish the souls of those most precious to me.

Yours, with feet firmly planted in nutrient-rich soil and heart pierced and broken for the humble and needy,

Megan Elizabeth

A New Day

2011-12-30T06:36:00.000-08:00

My husband works at The Inspiration Network. He's a television executive in charge of selecting programming to air, previewing it, researching what their audience wants and what is inspirational. This network used to air primarily religious programming -- preaching shows, teaching shows, Gospel music shows, that sort of thing. The shift toward entertainment programming that enriches is, I think, going to be a great one. There is so much trash tv available and so little that is inspiring. The "theme" of the shift in programming is "It's a New Day." I like that. It's invigorating to think that we can wake up one day and say, "Today is going to be different. Instead of ____________, I am going to _______________." We don't have to accept the way things are, the things life has thrown us that are unsavory, unappealing, or downright horrible. We can fall back and regroup. Or we can at least try to.

How would you fill in those blanks? Here's what I think...

Instead of suffering silently, I am going to call a friend and ask for help.
Instead of wishing I had a book published, I am going to finish the ones I have only partially completed and start submitting them to publishers.
Instead of worrying about money, I am going to trust God to provide for all of our needs.
Instead of judging people when they treat me poorly, I am going to pray for them.
Instead of sitting on the sidelines, I am going to get back in the game.

Yours, with trembling hands and fluttery heart, stumbling feet and blinded eyes,

Megan Elizabeth

Back to the blog...

2011-12-29T13:30:00.000-08:00

I took quite a long hiatus from blogging due to unforeseen personal circumstances that just made me change my priorities, circle the wagons, get back to basics and get over some pretty huge wounds inflicted by people who should have known better but somehow, inexplicably, didn't.

So I was thinking about what I'd like to say after a year away, and it occurred to me that the shift in my priorities ought to be the focus. So here's the thing. After being ripped off by unscrupulous remodelers, losing over $100,000 in the process, facing four kids' college tuition with no money and no retirement money, dealing with bitterness, loss of faith in God, and severe emotional pain that left me on the outside of an organization I thought I'd see through until the day I died, I came to the conclusion that we walk through this life alone -- not completely alone but nothing is secure here beyond our own personal walk with God and our own interactions with other human beings. I trusted the wrong people, probably through some inner fault of mine that kept me from holding them accountable because I was insecure and underconfident. The thing is, if God has given us free will, and He says He has, that means other people have free will, too, and their decisions affect our lives. But ultimately, God is there in the midst of it all.

Learning the hard lessons -- always the hard way, it seems -- has left me vulnerable in some areas and hardened in others. I tend not to trust people as easily now and when bad things happen I tend to mistrust God as well. The important lesson I learned is that God can take that. He knows our frailties, fears, and concerns. He knows the deepest longings of our hearts, and already knows how we're going to react. The truth is He loves us in spite of our sin and sent His son because of our frailties. It's comforting to know that He has our backs when we're wrongly accused and is ever present -- ready to comfort us.

Hilary in La Boheme with Opera Carolina!

2010-02-06T08:42:00.000-08:00

Congratulations, Hilary! You did an absolutely amazing job performing in La Boheme. We're so proud of you for heading up there in the middle of a snowstorm. What dedication and grit you have! And what a great dad to drive you up there... LOL!

You made a beautiful marching band member. We love you!

2010-02-06T08:38:00.000-08:00

Hannah has been accepted to Berklee College of Music, so she's headed to Boston in the fall. We drove her down to Atlanta for an audition and interview a few months ago. She didn't want to tell anyone in the opera she was audi- tioning just in case she didn't get in... But she DID get in! And we just found out they only accepted around 16% of all their applicants this year.

Way to go, Hannah-Bella!

The ferocious beasts we love...

2009-12-04T16:39:00.001-08:00

Musings...

2009-12-04T08:29:00.000-08:00

It's been some time since I've posted anything on this blog. It seems I have no words left. Life has been quite a train wreck lately. But, you know, God has faithfully whispered in my ear, every step of the way, "this is the way, walk in it!" As we walk, we sometimes stumble, sometimes scurry too fast and miss a blessing, other times wallow for too long in the moat instead of walking the bridge above it. It's all a part of the journey. And meanwhile, feather touches of joy pierce through if we stop long enough to feel the dusty brush of them.

Here's to the new co-op, our new addition, the future sale of our home, and all else God has planned in the coming months...

Yours when walking mountain crags and breathing in pure bliss and when sludging through muck and mush and wishing life would cease to be unpleasant,

Megan Elizabeth

Hannah and Tim dressed in 19th century garb...

2009-12-04T08:28:00.001-08:00

Reptilian event... Jesse!

2009-12-04T08:27:00.000-08:00

Snake belt... Good on ya, Jesse!

Reptilian event...

2009-12-04T08:17:00.000-08:00

Drew wearing a snake scarf... You had to be there!

What's the world coming to???

2009-04-03T12:55:00.000-07:00

The latest in a string of crazy pro-choice quotes I've encountered. Why can't we talk sensibly about this subject? Sheesh!

If something is inside my body, I'm entitled to have it killed no matter what it is. If all the human beings on Planet Earth--innocent and guilty, unborn and already-born, great and small, young and old, rich and poor, smart and stupid--were assembled somewhere inside my body, along with Baby Jesus, Almighty God, and the Flying Spaghetti Monster, then I'd be entitled to holocaust 'em. That's part of the meaning of the word "my" in the phrase "my body".

Cleaning up the messes...

2009-02-04T14:01:00.000-08:00

I've been posting a lot at SGM Refuge lately. I attended a Sovereign Grace church for a few years in the nineties with troubling results. My walk of faith darkened as I was taught how truly sinful a person I was. My sweet love for Jesus my Savior, Shepherd, and friend disintegrated as I was taught he went to the cross obediently to satisfy the intense wrath of His father, God. Wrath which I deserved. Week after week, I endured these lectures on my sinfulness until one day something unusual happened. A revival broke out in Toronto at the Airport Vineyard Christian Fellowship and it spread southward to our church in Virginia. People began to worship with abandon, to weep tears of joy, to laugh uproariously at the goodness of God. The more people were freed from bondage to legalistic sin-seeking in both their own lives and the lives of others (through accountability groups and weekly confessional meetings), the more ferociously the pastors clung to their Reformed doctrine and rabid sin-seeking. It began to be quite puritanical.

SGM Refuge is a website where those who have been wounded, lost faith in God, lost their previous true, valid perception of God, were disfellowshipped, or otherwise harmed by a SG church can meet together, receive comfort and healing and provoke repentance on the part of those who injured them. It's tough to forgive people who harm you, but you know, a happier life awaits those who do. I almost think it has to be a divine work of God to forgive certain things -- child molestation or abuse, among others. But when these things happen within the church, it's a deeper work than forgiveness. You have to also warn others not to go to a place that will not only cause them harm but is labeled a place to find shelter. There's a certain obligation to the unknowing public on the part of those of us who have knowledge about the flaws within these churches. If we know, for example, that a 15-year-old boy has molested a preschooler and is still serving as an assistant in the three-year-old class at his church, there is an obligation to protect that I believe precludes that obligation not to talk about others (gossip). These are the sorts of things I've been sorting through at Refuge. I invite your insights and comments on the subject as I'm just now getting a real grasp on what it is that compels me to continue commenting over there. I have not attended one of these churches for ten years, yet I still feel earnestly compelled to warn people. Is this okay to do when I haven't heard for myself any of these pastors for a decade?

What do you think?

Time for the Great Christmas Wrap Up

2008-12-16T08:10:00.000-08:00

And by wrap up, I don't mean presents because there probably won't be too many. It's slim pickins this year! But we have each other. And what I mean by that is that we really, truly do have one another's best interest at heart. We pray together, sing together, laugh together. What more could a family need? Certainly not a bunch of wrapped packages tied up with string. My favorite things are much more substantial than that.

We have love.

So great a love that it's uncontainable and spills out into one another's lives on a daily, sometimes moment by moment basis.

We have peace.

That feeling of contentment that leaves you drifting off to sleep in one another's arms or all snuggled together under the Christmas quilt we nod off while watching White Christmas with a mug of wassail in our hands, which someone graciously grabs at the last minute and places securely on the table.

We have joy.

This is the biggie for me this year and hold onto your hats, your chairs, your wigs, your everything because God worked a miracle in my life this year that is gonna knock you right onto the floor when you hear it.

I struggled with clinical depression for at least 30 years. The initial trigger was a trauma that happened around age 13, followed by an even bigger one in early adulthood. I was crippled by it but learned over the years to just press on, keep plugging away at this thing called life. I didn't expect anything great out of life since my brain wouldn't allow it. I just basically hoped no one I loved would die before I did. Simple wish, eh? Well, after my favorite aunt, my grandfather, three uncles, my father, and my cousin all died (my cousin was murdered), I was virtually shell-shocked.

The depression deepened.

I tried several different medications with varying success. The drugs were most successful at adding weight to my hips. They're REALLY good at that! But the depression only got worse. Finally, I had reached the end. Thoughts of suicide filled my mind when I least expected them. Driving down the road. Trying to fall asleep at night. I had tried everything I knew how to do to get back to a healthy place with NO success whatsoever. There didn't seem to be much hope left, despite the fact that my husband and children needed me. I was only staying around for them, not me.

That must have been what God was waiting for. Either that, or He just decided to do something big to glorify Himself. I took my girls on a special girl trip to Virginia and we went to our old church (The Chesapeake Vineyard). Once there, a friend of mine, who coincidentally also suffers from depression, asked how I was doing. I said, "I should probably be medicated." She placed her hand on my forehead and said, "God, medicate her." Then someone tapped her on the shoulder and she walked away to answer a question. I left.

We went to a friend's house to visit. We went to the beach to get a suntan. We went back to my sister-in-law's house. Throughout the next day, I felt strange. My hands and feet kept feeling like they were floating upward. It was hard to walk. I felt so light I was afraid to drive. The girls told jokes that made me laugh uproariously. They stared. Finally, one of them said, "What's wrong with you? You keep laughing all the time!" That's when it hit me.

I WASN'T DEPRESSED ANYMORE!

This was big news. So I called my husband and told him about it (which is hard to do when you're sobbing happy tears into his ear). He did what any man whose wife has suffered from depression for as long as he's known her might do. He didn't believe me. When we got back home, I was able to cook and bake and laugh and let painful situations roll off me and counsel friends and love people and... live. He was shocked. Stunned. Amazed. We cried. I think I've cried more over the past few months out of happiness than I ever did when I was depressed!

I don't know why God chose to work a miracle in my life and why He doesn't do the same in other people's lives. It remains a mystery. God remains a mystery. I guess if He didn't, He'd become predictable and would more closely resemble Santa Claus than God. But boy, am I thankful! Every new day holds promise. Good things are expected instead of bad. When bad things happen -- and they constantly do -- I am better able to handle them.

Life is good again!

And you have NO idea how dramatic a change this is for me. Because I was the strong, silent type. But now you know.

So rejoice with me!!!

As you celebrate Christmas, opening presents, sipping cocoa, caroling, hanging out with family, remember that God is still in the miracle-working business. And that He loves you. And when you think of me, I hope you smile.

Merry Christmas!!

Hannah (alias Dorothy) with Cosette (alias Toto) and Ella-bella...

2008-12-07T11:24:00.000-08:00

Hannah, Grace, and Hilary and Hannah and Nik

2008-12-07T11:21:00.000-08:00

Check the SAT off the list...

2008-12-07T11:15:00.001-08:00

Hilary and Tosca and Hilary and Rachel R.

The girls took their SATs yesterday. Now the scores, whatever they may be and God help us all, will be sent to the colleges they're applying to. The next step is getting Hannah's audition cd made before Dec. 15. And all financial aid forms filled out. And Christmas? Oh yeah, we want to celebrate the birth of the Savior of the world, too!!

The reason for the season. The hope that is in us. The anchor of our souls.

Yes.

As we work through all the paperwork, let us remember to celebrate with friends and family the great and glorious gift! And while we're at it, a little chocolate, a bit of wassail, twinkling lights, caroling by candlelight, reading from Tasha Tudor's Take Joy, and acting out the Christmas story -- starring Steve as the donkey, as usual!

With all the joy that characterizes this magnificent season,

Megan

Creative, Talented Children...

2008-12-05T04:40:00.001-08:00

Revie and Hannah and our talented Mr. Bundles, Drew!

Overwhelmed, Overworked, and Underpaid... (with big dividends)

2008-12-03T06:27:00.000-08:00

Getting two girls into college at the same time is a strange and surreal thing. Doing it while seeking freelance writing gigs, gainful employment, finishing up a home remodel and preparing to sell a house, and homeschooling two boys is quite a daunting task. I am completely overwhelmed!

Hannah wants to go to Boston Conservatory and study to become an opera singer. A noble and exciting launch into the world of the arts. But this requires an audition cd complete with accompaniment. We found an accompanist who will make a cassette tape for us, but in this day and age it seems inappropriate to sing along with a cassette. We're looking for someone who can play the pieces onto tracks on garage band (I love my Mac!) and then Hannah can lay the vocal tracks on after that. But who can do this for us?

Meanwhile, our Hilary is pursuing acting. She has the highest IQ of any of our children and frankly it's undoubtedly higher than either mine or my husband's, but she wants to act. Ouch. So she has to audition, too. We can't just fill out applications and send them off on a wing and a prayer. Oh no! It can't be that easy!

Okay, I'm mouthing off about all this, but the truth is I'm as pleased as can be that we've homeschooled four children and made it through the entire way with two of them. That Hilary's SAT score is going to be through the roof is very gratifying. That Hannah has taken at least a full year of college already and possibly two is equally gratifying. And the time and effort it's taking to get them into college is more than worth it. I love these crazy kids!

Now I must run -- time to take three of them to fencing so they can defend their honor if anyone ever challenges them to a duel. And who knows? Maybe the boys can get fencing scholarships when they go off to college?

Yours -- when I'm so busy I don't have time to write a word and when all I do is sit and surf mindlessly,

Megan Elizabeth

Celebrate!

2008-11-04T04:42:00.000-08:00

Yeah, Baby!

2008-10-20T05:01:00.001-07:00

Sleepy Suzie...

2008-10-17T07:05:00.000-07:00

Well, my daughter has a boyfriend again. They broke up for a while. Long story. But now he's back in our lives, and he was over here again last night until around 11:30. Which, of course, means our daughter couldn't fall asleep until 1:30 am. Oh, the thrill of young romance, texting all your friends, and Facebooking how your evening went. Then, of course, she was hungry. So she clanked around in the kitchen for a while. Do all 16-year-olds stay up this late?

I went online, checked Facebook for a while, goofed around talking politics with my friends who I knew would not answer my emails until the morning because, unlike me, they were sensible people. I googled someone I knew seven years ago. Watched an old episode of Mad About You (they're all old episodes by now). Then, just as I was headed to bed, my son woke up and climbed in beside me. It's as if he can't sleep once all is quiet. A little noise must comfort him enough to stay in his own bed. Once that's over, he stumbles across the hall and into mine. It never fails!

After a fretful few hours of sleep, most of it coverless and squashed, I heard my husband's alarm go off. It was 6 am and I had hardly slept. So now I sit in a quiet house amid sleeping children. It's 10 am and I can't fall back to sleep again.

Not a creative post, nor an enthusiastic one. But share my pain, will ya?

Critique group is tonight... Looks like that coffee's gonna hafta be caffeinated!

Yours -- consciousness raised or not,

Megan Elizabeth

Savvy Samantha...

2008-10-15T04:34:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot lately. (some of you are saying, "It's about time!") But seriously, I've been thinking about the election coming up in November and about the many people I have spoken to who are voting for Obama because he's black or, sadly, for McCain because he's not. That conversation only happened once, but it gave me the heebie jeebies! Not a close friend -- someone I barely knew, but still...

It finally occurred to me that these people are just not savvy enough to be voting. This conversation came up because I took my daughter to see the movie, The Duchess, yesterday. Women didn't have the vote during that time period, of course. But not many men did, either. They were selective in who they extended the freedom to vote to. Now that's not good, old-fashioned American freedom. But when I meet people who are voting for their candidate because he can dance well with Ellen on her talk show or because they think he's more "presidential" that bugs me! Have real, solid reasons to elect your candidates, people!

As for me, I have become Savvy Samantha. A friend of mine included me in a thread on his Facebook page that has led to well over 300 messages among a group of five people -- two solid Republicans, a Democrat, and Miss Independence (me). I've learned that Barack Obama has some pretty scary connections to Socialism, bordering Communism. I've also learned that McCain has an anger management problem and his former army buddy and POW in Vietnam is worried about him having his finger on the nuke button. I've learned that Barack Obama has received millions of dollars in donations from the very people who got us into the real estate crisis. I've also learned that he refused to vote yea on the Born Alive Act in Illinois, effectively assuring that any child born alive after an abortion will be smothered. Some have called him complicit in infanticide. Others have suggested that the people who say that are insulting him the worst way because he loves children and would never favor infanticide. A woman named Gianna Jessen, who survived a saline abortion 31 years ago disagrees with them. Thankfully, a nurse called 911 and she was rushed to a hospital for prenatal care.

I want to be savvy when it comes to my writing, too. I want to research the market, target my submissions so I don't waste an editor's time, revise my work so that it stands a fighting chance before I ever submit it, and perhaps most important, never give up! Savvy Sam will rise to the top of the slush pile because her manuscript is not in a brightly colored envelope with jingle bells dangling from it. Her cover letter is businesslike but still friendly, informative yet personable. Her queries are succinct because editors are as swamped with queries as they are slush. And one day, hopefully very soon, the creative creature within Savvy Samantha will have wrought a magnificent masterpiece (enough alliteration -- that could sink her chances altogether!)

Yours -- throughout each and every stage of the process,

Megan Elizabeth

Pitiful Pearl...

2008-10-08T05:03:00.000-07:00

That's what my mother used to call me. And it suited me! I was determined to see the down side of every situation, to hide in shame when I did something embarrassing, to suffer when rejected.

And how many times will a writer be rejected before getting published?!?!?

Please don't answer that. My heart can't take it! But you see my point. I deleted a few posts below where I was either being Mopey Minnie or Pitiful Pearl. And now, I want to get down to it, write the right stories, send them to the right people, and if they're the stuff that dreams are made of, I'll get there.

I've been working on an article on John Quincy Adams this week. And now, it seems the Adams family is everywhere I look. (Ha! I saw you snap your fingers twice!) Our homeschool group had an essay on John Adams. John Adams will be the focus of an upcoming issue of Cobblestone Magazine (now don't you go and sub to them! It's my turn! My destiny, even!) I'm learning so much about this great man of dignity and courage that I'm really stoked about the possibility of getting this article published somewhere.

I think that's key to getting published, too. Being stoked about the subject you're writing about. How exciting would the article be if I didn't particularly find the subject interesting? And how much care would I take in writing it? Anything for money, right? Well, sadly, this biz generally doesn't pay big bucks. You'd better not be in it for the money, folks!

So I start my day with joyful anticipation... And a blank page before me -- the new leaf I've just turned over!

Yours -- when all you see is empty white space and when your page is filled with ink,

Megan Elizabeth

Because I love my husband soooo much...

2008-09-11T14:31:00.001-07:00

20 years of pure bliss!

Megan Elizabeth

Sufficiently recovered...

2008-07-22T07:49:00.001-07:00

I just received an email from Blue Mountain Arts asking for more poems for their greeting cards... They probably send these to everyone who's ever submitted to them, but I was tickled anyway. I'm going to write a few poems today and send them off. They snatched the first one I wrote right away for a test market, so maybe I stand a fighting chance of getting another one accepted!

And Mudskippers, I will get those critiques to you as soon as I can!

: )

Megan

Oy!

2008-07-19T16:28:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in every woman's life when she's forced to face the inevitable fact that she's growing older. Every day. It happens to the best of us, and it's something we simply can't escape. We can approach it grudgingly and with massive amounts of glycolic acid or we can approach it with a lacksadaisical attitude -- laissez-faire and aloof and unshakeable. I am of the glycolic variety. I prefer to color my hair obsessively, tear off the outer layer of my face with Retin-A compounds, and apply massive amounts of creams and lotions and, after that, makeup, until I resemble a still somewhat wrinkled circus clown. Or maybe a cross between Phyllis Diller (definitely showing my age now) and Tammy Faye Baker.

Why am I telling you about this now?

I went to the grocery store the other day and as I was checking out, the clerk -- a young girl of about TWELVE -- asked if I qualified for the senior citizen discount.

I know.

You're stunned.

How could this have happened? I am only a mere 45 years old! I feel wiser than those young thirtysomethings. (and I remember the television show, Thirtysomething, too!) I wasn't wearing makeup and had been sorting through stuff for Goodwill so I must have looked a bit tired and grungy, but that's no excuse. I am affronted, first of all, that the store required her to ask people if they're old. And I'm doubly affronted that she thought she had to ask ME!

I went home and immediately colored my hair, put on makeup, and went out to a cookout with my husband, convinced no one there would want to talk to me, an elderly woman in a vast sea of youngsters. I ended up having a great conversation with someone who looked like she was about as used up by her kids as I am. None of the twentysomethings -- or even the thirtysomethings -- said a word to me, but that's okay. They'll BE me one day. And when that day comes, I will be there to reassure them that life does, indeed, continue. At least I hope I will be. Better go apply more creams and lotions and take some vitamins just in case!

: )

Megan Elizabeth

This is how obsessive I am...

2008-06-26T05:43:00.000-07:00

As I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep last night, I kept thinking about the tense change in my post two blog entries down -- the one about the symphony. I knew about the tense shift as I was writing it, but I was in a hurry and didn't want to take the time to fix it. Plus, I thought the shift to present tense gave the story immediacy. But it began in past tense. So what was I thinking?

And the bigger question here is why do I have nothing better to do at night than ponder whether my friends are thinking poor tense thoughts about me as THEY fall asleep in their comfy, cozy beds? Now that's obsessive!

: )

Megan Elizabeth, who is soooooooooooo tense!

Dan Fogelberg on Regis and Kathy Lee

2008-06-25T14:10:00.000-07:00

Never a Dull Moment

2008-06-23T05:05:00.001-07:00

Last night, we went to Symphony in the Park for a lovely evening picnic on a hill, followed by the music of the Charlotte Symphony. We were particularly excited because it was going to be an evening of Broadway show tunes which we all love.

Despite the cloudy, overcast sky, we threw down our sleeping bags and ate our dinner in relative peace. We found ourselves seated beside a friend from my husband's job, which was delightful, and we were all set for a night to remember.

That's what it was, all right.

The thunderstorm started some time around the second song. But, undaunted, the symphony took cover and attempted to wait out the storm. Meanwhile, we opened our umbrella and began singing. Singing in the Rain, of course. My kids all know the song because it's from my favorite movie -- I'm a huge Gene Kelly fan. So, we sang it through once. Then our friends joined us. Then the tuba and trombone players joined in with the mezzo soprano who was supposed to sing later in the program.

So we're singing and swaying amid the darkening drizzle when all of a sudden my son Drew grabs the umbrella from my hand and walks out to the front sidewalk and begins to dance. Now remember, he has seen Singing in the Rain about seventy times in his short 14 years. He's not just dancing, he's twirling around like Gene Kelly. I have never seen this kid leap out of his shell like this, so I'm standing there in shocked disbelief when the song finishes and to our surprise, the entire crowd begins applauding him!

The symphony only managed one more song before a loud crack of thunder ended the concert, but we all were still so glad we came. It was definitely a night to remember!

Yours -- with all the dramatic flair of a childhood well-lived!

Megan Elizabeth

I feel the need for a Dan Fogelberg song...

2008-06-19T12:56:00.000-07:00

It's Maine, and it's Autumn, the birches have just begun turning
It's life and it's dying
The lobstermen's boats come returning with the catch of the day in their holds
And the young boy is cold and complaining
The fog meets the beaches and out on the Reach it is raining.

It's father and son, it's the way it's been done since the old days
It's hauling by hand ten miles out from the land where their chow waits
And the days are all lonely and long, and the seas grow so stormy and strong but...
The Reach will sing welcome as homeward they hurry along.

(Chorus)
And the morning will blow away as the waves crash and fall
And the Reach like a siren sings as she beckons and calls
As the coastline recedes from view and the seas swell and roll
I will take from the Reach all that she has to teach to the depths of my soul.

The wind brings a chill, there's a frost on the sill in the morning
It creeps through the door
On the edge of the shore ice is forming
Soon the northers will bluster and blow
And the woods will be whitened with snowfall
And the Reach will lie frozen for the lost and unchosen to row.

(from The Innocent Age)

Sigh. All better now...

Megan Elizabeth

Facebook is my friend...

2008-06-19T04:47:00.001-07:00

Okay, I know I've crossed the midline of life now, but I am enjoying Facebook immensely. I have found old friends and reconnected with people I haven't seen or spoken to in a while. It's great. And Donna, guess who friended me today? Angie, from the old Creativepowerhouse! Yea!

All writers should have a Facebook page, a website, and a blog. I'm convinced. And this was not a paid endorsement.

: )

Megan Elizabeth, frazzled and worn-to-a-crisp but hey, people like things crispy sometimes... There's Lay's potato chips, Chicken in a Biskit crackers, Orville Redenbacher popcorn, sweet tarts, jawbreakers, grape nuts cereal... Endless possibilities of fragile female crispyness!

Links for a Charlotte Mason Education

2008-06-17T09:13:00.000-07:00

For the sake of storage, I am placing links here that I have found useful and that today are helping me shape my children's education into something of an exotic, unforgettable journey which is exactly what I believe education should be...

Grammar

http://wonder.riverwillow.com.au/books/meiklejohn/meiklejohn_contents.htm

A Narrative explanation of what life was like in a PNEU school, written by a former student, Christine Verspaandonk:

http://wonder.riverwillow.com.au/home_education/PNEU_Education.htm

Read and enjoy...

Poised and ready...

2008-06-01T17:42:00.000-07:00

Today, I created a writing schedule for myself, worked out the second chapter of The Fairy Harp, wrote several poems to get the creative juices flowing, and went to church. Probably the most helpful thing I did was go to church. It was a new church -- new to me, anyway. City Church in Charlotte. We loved it. The people were friendly, kind, and understood when two of my children fell asleep during the service! We will definitely visit again, and hopefully I am now inspired enough to leave this blog and write, write, write!!!

Megan Elizabeth, the magnificent (procrastinator)

A fresh poem for my husband who is away

2008-05-29T04:39:00.000-07:00

Lily of the Valley

Tangled among sharp nettles, amid barley prickles and darkened, dry grass lay a long-forgotten lily -- soft, brilliant, pure, touched with dew, thirsty with hope, and stained with sorrow.

He shoved his sleeve above his elbow, thrust his bare hand through the mire of thorns, grasped the lily gently between hardened, calloused fingers, and tugged at its satin-soft petals until it was free.

Long forlorn and quite forgotten, the lily was torn and tinged with brown.
Laid in a crystal vase filled with sweetened water, she was drenched with anticipation, filled with nourishment, tinted creamy pale by the sun streaming through his windowpane.

Soon blossoms cascaded down her branches. Tears welled up in his eyes. Immersed in pure joy, innocent love, and touched with fresh clarity, a song was born of her distant sorrow. It traveled for miles, floating across the sea, over mountains, hills, and valleys until, gathering speed and power from the light above, the song reached the moistened clouds, the shimmering stars, the milky host of Heaven above.

He heard it and was enraptured. Adding angelic voices and thundering echoes of heavenly instruments, all sorrow was swept from the song, leaving only delight.

The lily burst forth into searing beauty. Pure, white, soft, delicate, fragile, her moment had come. Bursting with fragrance, dampened with dew, she leaped from the soil and landed in His arms, to rest forever in peaceful surrender.

She nestled snugly upon his breast and felt the comforting pounding of His strong heart, beating only for her as for the thousands who came before.

And she was forever changed.

Are you all still there?

2008-05-29T03:59:00.000-07:00

I didn't fall off the planet, contrary to popular belief and hideous rumor. That would require a break in the law of gravity, and gravity is one of those laws that we tend to break the least -- only astronauts, Houdini, and David Copperfield seem to have mastered that trick.

No, I have been working, scrounging for more work, and finishing the house. And yet, I have not finished The Fairy Harp! I have a solid first chapter, though. And several pages of gook after that to spruce up. It's tragic how little fiction I actually write these days. But oh well! Someone has to write all that direct mail we build our landfills on, right?

Tell me, people, what have you been writing? Doing? Praying for? Closing your eyes and wishing on a star about? Do tell!

Yours -- when all else fails and nobody passes, when nobody wins and everybody loses,

Megan Elizabeth

P.S. I miss Dan Fogelberg. So you will just have to tolerate reading more of his lyrics on my blog...

How many eyes will you sack in sorrow
Seeking to borrow some sight of your own
How many lies will you have to suffer
Until you discover there's nobody home
How many roads will you have to wander
How many dead end streets
How many dreams will you finally squander
Dodging your own defeats.
You're wishing on the moon tonight
There's not a lucky star in sight
Just wishing on the moon tonight.
[ Find more Lyrics at www.mp3lyrics.org/GZW ]
How many doors will you have to open
Desperately hoping each one's the last
How many more will you close behind you
Bitter and blind to the shadows you cast
How many fools will you have to follow
How many wayward winds
How many sins will you have to swallow
Until the truth sinks in
(That you've been)
Wishing on the moon tonight
There's not a lucky star in sight
Just wishing on the moon tonight

The Fairy Harp

2008-04-22T04:38:00.000-07:00

You all know I've been working on this novel for forever. And I found out there is actually fairy harp music out there. A woman named Elizabeth Jane Baldry has a webpage on it. She performs all over Europe and has a cd or two. It's evidently hauntingly beautiful. Now, isn't it about time I finish the dern thing? We could put a cd in with it...

Motivate me, people!

Megan

I won a poetry contest!!! Well, Donna won. But I got second place!!!

2008-04-16T09:31:00.001-07:00

I love Jody Mace. Her website is fun. Her kids are funny. She's just overall great. And I am not being paid for this advertisement!

________________________________________

Poetry contest results are in!!

Read all the entries here: http://www.jodymace.com/news/?p=165 Since the topic was “the internet” I chose as a judge my 13-year-old daughter who loves the internet more than me, her dad, and her little brother all combined.

She chose four favorites.

4th place: Donna Koppelman for her haiku:

Blogging has become
The Wailing Wall of our time
Problems on display.

3rd place: Angela for the haiku:

Far across the world
Someone else feels this way, too.
I am not alone.

2nd place: Megan Hoyt
Angela is not alone.

People staring,
stalking, swearing,
everywhere she goes.
Through the long night,
into the morning,
stalking,
talking,
silently creeping,
toward sweet, serene Angela.

Eyes droop,
head falls,
keyboard pillow leaves jkl
on Angela’s forehead.

Pistols cocked,
ready for action.

Angela sleeps,
spammer leaps!

She wakes,
disorder!
mailbox is full,
no one is there.
Robotic spammers
leave a trail
of techo-babble
in their wake.

Sudden silence!

Poised for action,
Angela strikes.
Delete all.
Peace.
Random.
Fragile.
Delicate.

Angela is finally alone.

And the winner of the grand prize…..
Donna Earnhardt for the free verse poem entitled “Virus”

I slink from site to site
sipping in and out
of blogs, journals and email
leaving a trail that is
seen only by SuperGeeks
with their x-ray vision and quarantine tactics
they catch me
and try to contain me
but I won’t be restrained
my clones continue to travel
the infomation highway
looking for unsecure rest-stops
and insecure travelers
who open emails from strangers
download “postcards” from long lost friends
and
visit sites they think no-one knows they visit
but I know
and I
wait,
hungry and crouched
ready to pounce
and devour
the weakest link

Donna Earnhardt and Megan Hoyt: I know where to find you! Donna Koppelman and Angela, can you please email me your mailing address? (to jody at jodymace.com)

Looking for a breakthrough here, ladies and gentlemen!

2008-04-15T11:37:00.000-07:00

It's always darkest before the dawn, right? Well, things have been looking pretty dim in the home remodeling department lately. We seem to have made an enemy or two along the way without meaning to. And bills are piling up sky high!

You know, when it gets right down to it, the only thing that bothers me about that is that I now can't send money to our friends who are serving in Lebanon and Uzbekistan. Or to our old church in Virginia Beach. I wanted to prosper financially so we could support them more. What can we do?

I don't know the answer, but I'd sure be open to suggestions. Any new markets I can tap into? Thanks, Donna, for the tip on greeting cards. Anyone else? Jody? Jean? Have I been lookin' for love in all the wrong places? What are the right places?

And even more than that, I'm increasingly worrying about how I can spend more time with my daughters who after next year will be in college and on their own. All these and other questions, I'm sure, will be answered in due time. (When is due time, anyway?)

Meanwhile...

Still clinging to the hope that saves men's souls...

Megan Elizabeth

Bloggin'

2008-04-06T18:58:00.000-07:00

I haven't had a whole lot of time lately to devote to blogging. As a writer, this is a problem for me. I want to blog a little here and there, when I have a spare moment, but I'm a perfectionist. I desperately dislike it when I don't write well, choose the wrong word, or something worse -- use it's instead of its or their instead of there. (Sacrilege for a former proofreader!)

The truth is, I am swamped at the moment. I'll try to put something together soon, but in the meantime, don't read my idiotic sentiment below about candy unless you sincerely want to waste three minutes of your life for no good reason at all...

Now to tackle all the things that are making me crazy!

Yours -- amid the dust and rubble, hay and stubble,

Megan Elizabeth

The Hard Bits...

2008-04-05T05:49:00.000-07:00

There are three main types of candy. Crunchy hard candy, chewy caramel candy, and soft, melt-in-your-mouth smooth candy. They're all sweet, but they hit you in different ways.

Life is sort of like that. A good, decent life filled with ups and downs, highs and lows, and lots of doldrum days in between. The hard bits you have to suck on for a while whether you want to or not. If you don't -- if you just haul off and bite into one -- you could break a tooth. It won't release all its goodness in a few seconds either. Sure, the sweetness swirls around in your mouth for a nice, long time, but you run the risk of getting tired of the flavor. And that big, hard chunk keeps you from talking or doing much of anything else.

Chewy caramels are a tough sell for me. Some like them, but I honestly can't tell you why. They gum up the insides of your teeth, you can't talk, and you make these awful faces while you're trying to get the stickiest bits out of the crevices. Yeah, it's sweet. But you get tired of all the hard work. Where's the payoff?

Now, my favorite kind of candy is chocolate truffles. They're strong, rich, smooth, creamy, and oh, so sweet. They're small and expensive, but well worth it. You don't have to work hard to crack them open or get the stickiness out of your teeth. Just sail through that sweeter than sweet, strong, rich flavor. Oh, baby. No worries. No hardships.

But it's over way too soon.

Yours, through early morning cravings and late night binges,

Megan Elizabeth

Dumping Depression

2008-04-03T05:36:00.000-07:00

Here is an excerpt from what I hope will soon be a book about living a fulfilled life under the shadow of depresson -- or maybe despite it. Or maybe TO spite it. Or spit at it. Something like that anyway...

I am usually silly. Quite silly, I mean. I guffaw and twitter and joke. I'm sarcastic and cynical and over the top.

But I discovered something serious today. Three simple words that finally explain why my perception of God was permanently altered at a very young age.

Absent when needed.

I was reading a book this morning called Finding Hope Again. I struggle with depression (I refuse to give it a capital letter even though it's a disease.) I am definitely not at ease. I have been dis -eased for a very long time -- by people, circumstances, situations beyond my control. And by people who were previously an integral part of my life being absent when I really needed them to be present, reliable, and loving.

In this book, Neil Anderson explains why some people don't believe God is there for them. It's because the people they counted on weren't there when they were really needed. We all probably already know this. You think God is like your earthly father, right? Everyone does. Especially every little girl. In my case, my father adored me, showered me with affection, encouragement, love, and laughter. Then, when I was 13, he had an affair with my mother's best friend and subsequently left. At first, I thought things could remain relatively the same for me. He was still my dad. A bit flawed in the morality department, but still the same guy who loved me, right? Then as time went on and visits became sporadic at best, I realized he was deserting me as well as Mom. It stung. I cried. But the pain didn't go away. Deep rejection like that sometimes doesn't. At least not without a lot of counseling.

I carried that rejection along with me wherever I went from that moment on. It was heavy. I lugged it into relationship after relationship, none lasting more than two months. Then I fell in love. I thought I had found someone I could trust. Someone who would never leave. The thrill of love had melted away my fear and I could breathe again, feel the breeze blow gently across my face, open my heart wide and live, love, laugh. Nine months later, the cheater left me. And on it went.

Absent when needed.

If only I was able to feel God was there to comfort me. If only I had realized that depression was keeping me from feeling He was there. If only I had been able to believe He loved me and was holding me in His arms even if I didn't feel it...

Instead, I believed He was absent.

I stuffed the emotions, the pain, the despair deep down. I never let on. I married, had four children, lived a life many only dream of. But the feeling that God was not going to be there for me when I really needed Him never went away.

I don't know where one goes from here. How do you get back the years you've lost to depression while trying to live in the present? I don't suppose you can. I was duped and damaged like many a young girl. But I developed a disease that kept me from recovering from it. God was absent -- or it felt like He was anyway. But what now?

Here is what I've decided to believe for, hope for, and wait for.

Summer.

I believe God -- who is there even though most of the time my brain won't allow me to feel it's true -- can take my winter and turn it into summer.

Listen to what John Donne said about it:

He brought light out of darkness, not out of lesser light;
He can bring your summer out of winter, though you
have no spring; though in the ways of fortune, or
understanding, or conscience, you have been benighted
until now, wintered and frozen, clouded and eclipsed,
damped and benumbed, smothered and stupefied till
now, now God comes to you, not as in the dawning of the
day, not as in the bud of the spring, but as the sun at noon.

I will wait for my sunshine. Even if it takes forever.

This just in... Can you guess who it is?

2008-04-01T06:49:00.001-07:00

Yep! If you read the fine print or guessed Dan Fogelberg, you were right!

April Fools!

2008-04-01T06:06:00.000-07:00

At our house, pretty much every day is April Fools day. But occasionally we outdo outselves. I remember one year my daughter took it upon herself to turn the entire house into one big April Fool. She put salt in the sugar bowl, filled the teakettle with juice, put confetti in the cereal box, and had a serious talk with us about running away from home. All in one day. And we still didn't catch on.

Then there was the time -- and this didn't even happen in April -- where she was tidying up the house for us and when it came time to go somewhere we couldn't find the car keys. After searching and searching, she conveniently found them... in the sugar bowl. "I swear I don't remember doing it!"

And another time, we were trying to go out for dinner and couldn't find my husband's wallet. After searching the entire house, I gave up on the idea and popped a few frozen dinners onto the counter to microwave. I opened the microwave and voila! The wallet.

They all wanted to lay claim to the wallet fiasco, but no one wanted to take credit for the time Drew got lost at the outlet mall in Williamsburg. He must have been less than two years old at the time. We were in a bookstore, and the girls were supposed to be watching him. They did. "He went that way, Mama," they told me as I frantically swept the store.

Now, it's a surreal feeling to lose a child in a crowded place. First you panic. Then you panic some more. Then time stands still. I'm not kidding! As I began to run through the center of the mall, it felt like I was jogging in slow motion. But it soon turned into a race, complete with people on either side urging me on. "He went past me just a few minutes ago!" some stranger would say. Then, "He's down around the corner!" from someone else. I could feel the pressure building inside my head, the tension mounting in every sinew, every muscle fighting and flighting at the same time.

I turned the corner to go down to the end of the mall where we had first come in. And there he was. The tricky little dude had noticed a merry-go-round by the front entrance and walked out of the bookstore and back around two corners through massive crowds of people to get to it. A woman was watching him and glancing nervously behind her, scanning the crowd for any sign of adult supervision, probably also looking for a policeman to lock the crazy mom up.

Have you ever gone from serious to hysterical crying in a single second? That was how it was when I saw Drew sitting there, happily patting the merry-go-round elephant.

"I ride, Mama?" he said, those innocent, long-lashed eyes batting syrupy sweetness at me.

"Sure, baby. You ride!" I said, hugging him to my pounding heart.

So now it's April Fools Day again. I don't know what to expect from my four critters, but I know something's coming. I already found legos in the dog biscuit box, and a large picture of one of the Super Mario brothers in my cereal.

If that's as far as it goes, we're good.

: )

Yours, when everyone's insane but me and when no one's insane but me,

Megan Elizabeth

Where's the padded cell when you really need it?

2008-03-27T04:27:00.000-07:00

It started out like any other morning. I slept through the alarm, leaped out of bed, threw on some fuzzy slippers and jumped into the car to take my daughter to school. It was 7:00 and school begins at 7:15. I did not want to have to go to the registrar's office and sign in my daughter late wearing fuzzy slippers, so you can just imagine what kind of driving I did to get her there.

Next up, my other daughter. She needed her college ID to take a test at school, but couldn't find it. In true motherly style, I located it immediately, just in time to get her in the car and drive her to the bus stop. We got there as the bus was pulling up. I was proud. I got back home just in time for her phone call from the fire station around the corner from the bus stop. "I forgot my bus pass and I didn't have any money, so I missed the bus." The fireman waved at me knowingly as we drove off and headed uptown toward the college. I asked if she ate breakfast. No, she hadn't. I reminded her she had class until 3:20 and asked when she expected to eat breakfast. I dunno. Now, this girl has never had a problem coming up with things to say. She's turned out to be a very dramatic and social young woman despite our best efforts at isolation. (We homeschooled her, but even that horrible undersocialization didn't work. Guess we'll have to try something new.)

I finally made it back home to find a note on my door from the water company. Our water was turned off because of nonpayment. Huh? A water bill came to my house and I didn't pay it? Where could that bill be? I searched and searched and came up empty. So I called and paid over the phone. Then I called the electric company, gas company, and Time Warner cable. Everything was paid up. So where was that skanky water bill hiding?!?!?

While I was on the phone with these creditors of mine, I noticed that someone had balanced the drawers of our brand new dresser precariously on top of my new nightstand. They tumbled down and the edge chipped off of one of the drawers. It's no longer new. It's now officially "scratch and dent" merchandise. And I'm getting miffed!

As I was searching for the water bill, I found my daughter's symphony pass. We could have gone to several free concerts, but we missed them since the pass was no longer on my desk. Hmmmm....

I am not the most organized person in the world. We have too many pets and too many children. I'm not particularly well suited to lots of commotion. I'm more the introspective type who longs for lush greenery, singing birds, long romantic walks amid rose gardens with my man. Instead, I've got bird poo on my carpet, toys and junk all over my house, workmen in my bedrooms, and wii-playing kids whooping and hollering in the living room. What is all this -- bad karma from a past life? (Just kidding!)

I called the water company three times. I obsess over things like this for some reason. I must be slightly neurotic or something. They assured me the water would be turned on within 48 hours. 48 HOURS!! Toilets cannot wait that long to be flushed. I draw the line. After the third phone call, they must have had mercy on me because an indistinguishable white truck pulled up in front of our house and a man slid out, kneeled down in our front yard and flipped a switch of some kind. The water was back on. How do I know all this? Because I had been sitting on the front steps waiting for him ever since the last phone call. Yup. Obsessive.

Happily yours amid the stinky stuff that happens to everyone -- at least I hope it does or I'm being singled out!!

Megan Elizabeth

I don't ask for much...

2008-03-25T10:41:00.000-07:00

It hit me this morning as I was sitting on the porcelain throne. He'd done it again.

Now, when I say I don't ask for much, I mean it. I have lived amid chaos for a very long time. We have four children, two dogs, a guinea pig who lost her companion a year ago and is now very needy, a rat who lost two companions recently (we're starting to think she's a vampire), a cat named Tosca, a turtle named Tyrant, a parrot named Sheenu, and a hermit crab whose name escapes me. The dogs aren't properly housebroken. The parrot shrieks early in the morning and giggles softly all night. My temper flares, as do flashes of humor on rare occasions.

We're talking chaos.

Add to that a large remodeling project and you have one sassy, middle-aged soul...

Who doesn't ask for much. Only Charmin Ultra.

But he did it again. He went and bought whatever toilet paper was on sale, and I am greatly chagrined.

Yours,

Megan Elizabeth, T.P. connoisseur supreme

Where does the time go?!?

2008-03-25T07:31:00.000-07:00

I took a month off work -- my freelance work, I mean. I told my clients I was going to work on my house which is still not completely remodeled. I'm fast running out of money and where has the time gone? My monthlong hiatus is at an end, and I have mounds of laundry, ceilings that are not painted, floors needing tile -- and the exterior of the house still isn't done either.

But if I don't start working again, we'll lose the blankety blank house and then what will it matter?!?!?

So here I sit amid the clutter, boxes, clothes, and yes, birdie doo-doo, waiting to be rescued by the flylady house cleaners and the remodelers who remodel for the sheer pleasure of it (they'd have to since we're out of cash).

And you know the worst part? I thought I would get one or two of my manuscripts completed this past month while I wasn't working on marketing or direct mail or magazine articles. I am thinking it's not going to happen in this stage of life. Between the piddling doggies and squawking bird, I'm pretty maxed out. Oh, and I have children, too. You'd think we would have figured out after twenty years of marriage and four children how to save a buck, raise a kid, and wrangle a couple of pets, but I am totally and completely without a clue at this point. I guess that's what puts spice into life! Spontaneity! Sudden anxiety! Loss of life! (We lost a rat over the Easter holiday -- poor thing died in my son's arms at which point blood came oozing out of her eyes. Not a pretty sight. And we were out of town at the time buying furniture and rugs.)

Never a dull moment, I tell ya!

Yours -- when all seems lost and time stands still (gee, I sure wish it would, so I could catch up!)

Megan Elizabeth

Happy Resurrection Day!

2008-03-23T09:34:00.001-07:00

The Lord is risen indeed.

: )

Megan Elizabeth

Blue Mountain Arts accepted my poem as a test market entry...

2008-03-21T14:52:00.000-07:00

Well, it looks like I have tentatively breached the previously locked door that marks the entrance to the greeting card market. Yea!

My dear friend Donna who is always so very supportive told me about this market, and I decided to try my hand at a Father's Day poem. A few short weeks later (wouldn't it be great if book publishers got back to you this fast?) I received an acceptance. They're placing it in a test market. If it sells well, I will get a quick $300 and a byline inside the greeting card. Then it will hit the stands across the country.

Cool, huh?!

Yours -- whether I'm accepted or rejected, sick or well, crazy or... nope, I'm always crazy!

Megan Elizabeth

Here's a link to Blue Mountain Arts submission info.

Hilary speaks to Barack Obama (No, not THAT Hillary!)

2008-03-19T16:39:00.000-07:00

Well, you just never know what each new day will bring, do you?

I picked my daughter up from school, then went to the Community College to pick up my other daughter. There was traffic. Lots of people milling around CPCC, waiting in line near the stadium. Barak Obama was in town.

The girls asked if they could go in and hear him speak, and I thought, "Yeah, why not?" We're conservatives politically and vehemently opposed to offering women the choice to abort their unborn children. We're also environmentalists who support gun control. There really isn't a party that can hold us. However, we have always voted according to conscience and when it comes to supporting life, be it the lives of sea fowl being killed as a result of oil slicks, endangered species struggling to survive in vanishing habitats, or, most importantly, unborn humans whose parents believe they have the right to stop their hearts from beating, their brains from functioning, or as Juno learned, their fingernails from growing, we choose life.

So we're basically Republicans.

But Hilary went to the rally anyway, got up out of her seat, walked over to the microphone, and asked Obama a question. She asked him what he would do to support young women with unplanned pregnancies. She was hoping he might say he'd offer government programs, funding for medical care, adoption assistance, the sort of thing a democratic candidate who believes in large, supportive government might say. Although he shaped his answer to address prevention and education, Hilary was still glad to have the opportunity to talk to him. We live in a country where that's possible. It was safe, free to the public, and as a sixteen-year-old American, she was able to ask these questions of a potential presidential candidate. That's a good thing.

Hilary is not bashful. She next called in to a conservative talk radio show to discuss her experience at the rally. And after the rally, she was interviewed by Fox News.

And where was I all this time? Standing out in the rain. I dropped the girls off, and while I went to park the car, the last person was admitted to the auditorium. So my two teens went in without me. Which I think is even better. What strong young women I have somehow managed to raise!

I only wish I had brought an umbrella...

Yours, amid life's twists and turns, hills and valleys,
(at least with us, it's always interesting!)

Megan Elizabeth

Wow. So interesting...

2008-03-13T12:11:00.000-07:00

I watched the CMS Charlotte Mecklenburg School Board meeting on our local access channel last night. I don't think too terribly many people watch this channel. It gripped me, though, because the school board was so clearly split between conservatives and liberals. I noticed the differentiation almost immediately. And it's really rather strange. They were talking about a bullying policy. Although I am an independent politically, I have to admit I usually stray to the side of less government. I mean, take a look at the local DMV if you want to see your tax dollars in action. Not the brightest bulbs in the bunch and the beaurocratic red tape is ridiculous. But I digress.

The conservatives were articulate. They had real reasons for questioning the validity of the new bullying policy. They had copies of emails from constituents. These were quickly dismissed. They requested that a definition of bullying be included so no one could get away with it based on the lack of clearly delineated guidelines as to what constitutes bullying. Their requests were denied. They warned that the "training materials" which were to be used were created by the state gay/lesbian task force and may become "indoctrination materials" if not immediately sometime in the future. Their warnings went unheeded and they were mocked for being concerned that a group with a political and sexual agenda was going to have direct access to our school children K-12. Now, I'm not anti-gay. I have a couple of dear friends who are gay. That's not the point. The point is that my children's sexuality and the formation of their values regarding sex are just that -- mine! These kiddos came out of my body. I care more for them (see last post) than anyone else in the world does. I want to be the one who talks to them about sex, be it with the opposite sex, same sex, before marriage or after. That's my job. And the school board's job is to honor my decision to keep that job for myself. Because last I checked this was still a free country. Freedom is ringing more quietly these days. I'm concerned...

I don't think any new bullying policies need to be discussed when there are still children falling through the cracks, graduating without the ability to get into a decent college from overcrowded schools filled with undereducated teachers. Why undereducated? If you put all your money into new "bullying policies" rather than teachers' salaries, you're not exactly going to get the cream of the crop. My daughter had a teacher one year who couldn't spell very well. That is not acceptable.

Okay, off soapbox now...

Enjoying the lovely weather?

Utopia -- when homeschooling is legal in every state and abortion is not, when citizens care for one another, even pregnant runaways with uncertain futures,

Megan Elizabeth

In California, you now have to be a certified teacher in order to homeschool your own children!!!

2008-03-10T08:41:00.000-07:00

The lazy, liberal supreme court of California has decided to virtually outlaw homeschooling because there would be “an unreasonable burden on the state to have to supervise each and every home in which a child was being educated.”

OUTRAGEOUS!!!

Who cares more about their children's welfare and well-being and academic progress and future success in this wickedly difficult world of ours? The California board of education or their mommies and daddies!?

I am so sick of people pigeonholing homeschoolers, deciding without meeting our children that they are unsocialized, undersocialized, undereducated, or even (gasp!) nerdy!!

My homeschooled daughter receives around 20 college letters each day. We had to start a filing system for them because she was getting overloaded. She recently entered the public high school easily and smoothly -- becoming the lead in the school play, getting asked out by about ten different hormonally charged boys almost immediately, making A's in her AP classes, and otherwise showing a tremendous aptitude for academic and social life. Her homeschooling enabled her to be confident in who she is, comfortable in her own skin, secure in her beliefs even when those around her are parroting the latest trendy political jargon. Here's a recent conversation she had with a boy at school.

Boy: You're pro-life? Weird. I thought everyone was pro-choice these days.

Hilary: Do you believe you have a soul?

Boy: Well, yeah, I guess I do.

Hilary: So when do you think your soul entered your body? When exactly is it that a baby has a soul?

Boy: I don't know. Nobody can know that.

Hilary: So you don't know when the baby has a soul, but you want to allow a girl to kill her baby anyway?

Boy: Oh, well I guess I never really thought about it.

Hilary: (eye roll...)

My other homeschooled daughter has performed in operas, children's theatre, on stage at the Charlotte Folk Society, etc. She is highly social and very comfortable ad libbing onstage before she begins playing.

I am so appalled at what is happening in our country. Haven't these legislators read Orwell's 1984? Do they really secretly want us to be a Communist nation? Didn't they see what happened to Fascist regimes in the 1940s? How can we allow our freedoms to be snatched from within our bosoms this way? Where has the conscience of America gone? As a nation, we have become so apathetic that this news in California rarely evoked a yawn from local news crews here on the east coast. Why?!?!?

I hope the good homeschoolers of California know that we support them wholeheartedly. And if lawmakers are listening, now would be the time to take back your power from the courts and draft legislation that will end this travesty of justice once and for all.

A final note...

Although I have homeschooled for 12 years now, I have met only one mother that I felt was unqualified to teach her children and that was because she had a learning disability, not because she was negligent in any way. 12 years and many hundreds of families later, I cannot say that I have EVER met a homeschooled child who was not fully prepared for college. Ordinarily, the homeschooled collegian is more studious, has better study skills, is more mature, has fewer problems with alcohol consumption and drug use, and in general is steady, stable, and ready to function in society. On the other hand, I have seen many a school kid dive headlong into trouble at college.

To penalize involved parents who have sacrificed a second income in order to provide their children with a better education than the public school could offer JUST BECAUSE IT WOULD BE DIFFICULT TO CHECK UP ON THEM is totally ridiculous. And deadly serious.

My sleeves are rolled up and I'm ready to duke this out. California, here I come!!!

Yours -- with steam coming out my ears!

Megan Elizabeth

Caedmon's Call

2008-03-02T04:58:00.000-08:00

I took my daughters to a Caedmon's Call concert in Hickory last night. It was a splurge in the middle of tight budgetary constraints for the Hoyt family, but wow, was it ever worth it. They grew up listening to this music -- large and loud in the living room, booming from beneath the bathroom door, streaming out from the car windows on every road trip, short or long. They heard me singing along to every cd, watched me serve as a street rep, pounding the pavement to get more people to come to Caedmon's concerts, and in general, learned about God, about life, and about how to be a REAL Christian from these great folks.

Well...

We drove up to Hickory and were first met by friendly people who provided free hot dogs, chips, and drinks. We sat in the fifth row for what was an amazing concert -- two and a half hours of beauty. And the best part was watching my girls and realizing that while I was trying (and primarily failing) to instill values in them and teach them about our faith, they were soaking it up through the song lyrics. They sang along to most of the music, and huge grins swept across their faces when they caught the eyes of one of the band members.

But the best was yet to come.

After the show, the band went to a local coffee house where Andy continued to sing several songs off his new solo album. The others were available for a quick chat over coffee, and my girls were moved by their humility and openness to meet and greet new people in each town. My sixteen-year-old has been a little jaded lately. She's seen Christians act in ways that were unbecoming and lie or cheat on tests or even (shudder) grab another girl's goods in the school hallway after attending a Christian gathering the day before. I didn't want her to be so disheartened. I realize we're all just muddling through here really. But her faith was growing slim and her light dim. What an honor it was to watch these seasoned musicians tug at her heartstrings with their cheerfulness, their gentleness, their welcoming attitudes and availability.

The highlights?

When we moved from Virginia Beach, I listened to one Caedmon's Call song over and over. Hearing Derek Webb sing it (he had left the band to pursue a solo career for the past six or seven years and was back with the gang for this tour) was really special:

"Hometown weather is on TV
I imagine the lives of the people living there
And I'm curious if they imagine me
Cause they just wanna leave; I wish that I could stay.

But if I must go
things I trust will be better off without me
but I don't want to know
cuz life is better off a mystery."

We were singing that song in the car on the way home, and Hilary was digging around for a tissue in the glove compartment at the same time. Well, for some strange reason, inside the glove compartment was a photo of our old house in Virginia. She pulled it out and showed it to me as I was singing. I about lost it.

Other highlights...

Watching the coffee dude make bong coffee (you had to be there) and hearing "This World" and "Lead of Love" performed live, talking to Derek about Burlap to Cashmere, and the opportunity to pass along my thanks to Cliff for years of support during my darkest times. What a blessing.

So anyway, thank you Caedmon's Call for being so accessible for my girls, for signing Drew's songbook since he couldn't be there himself, and for writing all those amazing, deep, thought-provoking songs, and for taking the time to tolerate people like us who can't get enough of your beautiful music and whose lives have been changed because of it. It's not just the Compassion International kids you are touching. We're everyday people eeking out a living, cleaning our toilets, raising our kids, going to church, listening for God's voice in the car -- aided and abetted by your music. You guys fill our emptiest days with life more abundant. Hey, I think that makes you Jesus with skin on. Anyway, thanks.

Yours -- blissfully belting Forget What You Know or quietly whispering "You're no more than just a piece of glass" into the lying mirror each morning,

Megan Elizabeth

Who are you that lies when you stare in my face
Telling me that I'm just a trace of the person I once was
Cause we're not the same, you're just a picture of me
You're gone as soon as I leave; you've lived my life for me
And you're no more than a piece of glass

The People God Sends...

2008-02-27T05:03:00.000-08:00

Sometimes one thing leads to another, to another, to another, and you don't remember how it all began, but it seems the bends in the road have twisted and turned and you are no longer the same person you once were. Times have changed. Circumstances have changed who you are. Your relationships have deepened. Changed. Or even ended. You experience deep loss and deeper regret. Life throws sucker punches at you and while you're able to duck many of them and marvel at how God has rescued you from a few more. There are those that hit you square in the face or knock the wind out of you. Those are the punches that send you reeling. And hopefully, they send you to your knees.

I have recently been on the receiving end of a few wild and hard punches. One or two of them were unforeseen and unavoidable. One wasn't. I created it myself. But the unavoidable ones are hardest. You can't walk away from the pain, and the swirling vortex of confusion that mounts as you attempt to avoid the inevitable grows stronger. We recently purchased a fixer-upper home with lots of possibilities. We knew nothing about flipping homes, although we'd seen it done on tv a few times. But now we have found ourselves at the helm of a sinking ship, paddling desperately in a sea of debt -- with no kitchen, no garage, and 2300 square feet of mostly unusable space.

We told our realtor we would be so busy this year with work and trying to get our daughters ready for college that we needed a turnkey situation. Any remodeling project would have to be the sole responsibility of our contractor. (Our realtor was our contractor.)With this in mind, he took on the project. Everything that could go wrong did. The project was 100% over budget when we finally said "no more."

I'm disappointed that our boundaries weren't heeded, even though we clearly delineated them up front. I'm disappointed that God, who knew there was going to be a mortgage crisis heading our way since He knows EVERYTHING, allowed us to go through the turmoil of losing all our money, then not being able to get a new mortgage for four months. I'm disappointed that despite many frantic phone calls, most of the subcontractors refused to call us back or return to finish the work they had begun. (I assume they were worried about getting paid, but why not phone us back to tell us that?)

I think in light of eternity this is all just a blink of an eye, flip of flirty hair, shrug of the shoulders type problem. I mean, no one is dying, right? But my two girls are spending their last year at home crammed into a tiny bedroom surrounded by boxes instead of in their new addition. I'm disappointed. (Did I mention that I was disappointed yet?)

But I titled this post "The People God Sends" for a reason. I have met the most wonderful people on this journey to completion. We found a modern furniture store where we could buy a piece that would be less expensive than a wall of cabinets for the kitchen space and will look even more cool and mod. The salesman there led me to a dear woman at Mediterranean Tile who gave me a cut rate on countertops once she heard my story. Her friend, a cabinetmaker, leveled all our already installed (incorrectly) cabinets for us and is going to help out wherever he can. He is a humble, kind, funny guy who is easy to have around and fabulous at what he does. An electrician I met at Home Depot is coming by today to fix the problems the former electrician caused.

These are Godsend people.

And I am grateful.

May I one day possess the humility and grace to forgive those who have wronged us -- even if it means my kids can't attend the colleges of their dreams and even if it means we lost money or will lose the house. May God be glorified.

Yours -- with hope and fear and struggles and pain and with joy in the journey and throughout the rain,

Megan Elizabeth

Find me...

2008-02-21T04:57:00.001-08:00

I was sitting at the computer watching an episode of my husband's tv show, Think It Thru, when a poem began drafting itself inside my head. I typed it in as it came to me, fast and fluid, like a waterfall tumbling over rocky crags with unseen force. I believe it was God trying to tell me who He really is, who His son, Messiah, is, and to urge me to show others who we, as living sacrifices left on earth to be a witness to future generations of the validity of Yeshua's messiahship, should be toward everyone we meet, Jewish or goyim, sinner and saint. For some reason, as the show was ending, I said the words, "Find me." I think maybe He did.

Here it is...

Amid the faint starlight and temporal glow of evening, lies a dim flicker, a dying ember, waiting to be fanned to glorious flame.
Nearby sits a still, quiet, thoughtful creature, a spotless lamb of unmentionable quality and astonishing vigor,
filled with laughter and joy, freedom and love, gentleness and peace.

The lost, the lonely, the longing, the grieving--they arrive as the sunrise deepens, transforming the shade of night into the brilliant color of a fresh, new day;
they come with fear and anguish written across their tear-stained faces, but they do come.

Washing over them with aromatic oil, fragrant and floral, the princely lamb lifts each chin, meets each eye, and says to every wandering heart, "Come."

I rush forward, leaping over rocks and skirting thorn-infested brambles, to meet this gentle lamb with His healing touch and knowing eyes.
I fall at His feet, wrestling with my inadequacies, wallowing in my guilt and shame, writhing in secret pain.

He does not curse and swear, He does not cringe in disgust, He does not stand in judgment.
He stoops to meet my gaze, holds me in His strong, loving arms, and rests my weary head across his sturdy shoulder.

Then He sings over me--sweet songs of forgiveness and peace, deliverance and rest, comfort and life.
I am humbled at His touch; I dirty his woolen white coat with my sin-stained skin.

Yet He doesn't walk away.
He stays.

I found them!!!!!

2008-02-21T03:33:00.000-08:00

The were hidden in a superdisk (what we used before CD-Rs. Can you believe we ever used these?). So now I need to tweak!

Megan

Why me?!?!?

2008-02-18T03:30:00.000-08:00

I cannot find three of my children's book manuscripts. The precise three that have been requested by someone. Is this not the most incredible, ironic, horrific thing? I am going to have to try and recreate them. Who knows? Maybe they'll be better than the originals. But why me?!?!?!?

Yours -- in confusion and bliss,

Megan Elizabeth (alias: Mr. Magoo!)

P.S. Mom is home from the hospital and doing much better. Still having trouble eating with her tiny stomach -- she gets full easily and has little appetite. But she's off the feeding tube. It was making her sick, so she logged her calories, showed the log to the doctor and begged. He removed it. She's quite a little fighter, that one! (I know what you're thinking. I get my hutzbah from her. But hutzbah by its very nature comes from the Jewish side -- my dad's! : ) )

What's your favorite Dan Fogelberg song?

2008-02-13T05:14:00.000-08:00

Mine was, is, and always will be...

Nether Lands.

No competition. It's my favorite song of all time.

Yours -- with heartfelt gratitude, deepest respect, great admiration, and much love for a man I never met whose music I will always treasure,

Megan Elizabeth

Nether Lands

High on this mountain
The clouds down below
I`m feeling so strong and alive
From this rocky perch
I`ll continue to search
For the wind
And the snow
And the sky
I want a lover
I want some friends
And I want to live in the sun
And I want to do all the things that I
never have done.

Sunny bright mornings
And pale moonlit nights
Keep me from feeling alone
Now, I`m learning to fly
And this freedom is like
Nothing that I`ve ever known
I`ve seen the bottom
And I`ve been on top
But mostly I`ve lived in between
And where do you go
When you get to the end of
your dream?

Off in the nether lands
I heard a sound
Like the beating of heavenly wings
And deep in my brain
I can hear a refrain
Of my soul as she rises and sings
Anthems to glory and
Anthems to love and
Hymns filled with early delight
Like the songs that the darkness
Composes to worship the light.

Once in a vision
I came on some woods
And stood at a fork in the road
My choices were clear
Yet I froze with the fear
Of not knowing which way to go
One road was simple
Acceptance of life
The other road offered sweet peace
When I made my decision
My vision became my release.

Nether Lands

Dan Fogelberg: 8/13/51-12/17/07

2008-02-13T04:17:00.000-08:00

Dear Friends,

I'm so grateful to all of you who wrote to Dan through The Living Legacy website with your stories of how his music touched your lives; with your uplifting words of encouragement; with your declarations of admiration and friendship.

Dan was a strong and private man, but even the mountain must tremble, and during the toughest times he gained solace and comfort from reading your letters and learning that his music had been a source of light in your lives. Greatest of all though, was the feeling you gave him that his time here had served a purpose. I hope you will find some peace in knowing that the joy and comfort you found in his music winged its way back to him through your words, prayers, and good wishes.

Thank you,

Jean Fogelberg

"There is no darkness in this place we're bound. Love is the only thing that matters.

*********************

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Dear Friends,

Dan left us this morning at 6:00 am. He fought a brave battle with cancer and died peacefully at home in Maine with his wife Jean at his side. His strength, dignity, and grace in the face of the daunting challenges of this disease were an inspiration to all who knew him.

In May of 2004, Dan was diagnosed with advanced prostate cancer.

A personal letter from D.F.

I cannot adequately express my gratitude to all of the thousands of wonderful people who have sent such incredibly moving and supportive e-mails via the Living Legacy web site. It is truly overwhelming and humbling to realize how many lives my music has touched so deeply all these years. Each one of you who have taken the time and effort to reach out to Jean and I have helped immeasurably to uplift our spirits and keep us looking strongly forward during some very rough moments. I thank you from the very depths of my heart.

I currently have no plans to return to the concert stage or the recording studio in the foreseeable future, but who knows? At least for now, I prefer to keep my options open.

Again, my deepest thanks and love to all,

Dan

What are the odds?

2008-02-12T04:35:00.000-08:00

I forgot about my last post (below). The last freelance assignment I took before my break was to interview children's book authors for a magazine. One of them showed her publisher my webpage and she requested three of my picture book manuscripts. I don't know if anything will come of it, but isn't it strange and God-like that this happened right after I made a commitment to put down my schedule and the busyness of life and start... well... living?

Yours -- with anticipation and trepidation, longing and laughter,

Megan Elizabeth

2008-02-06T07:12:00.000-08:00

I am sitting in my loft office with my fifth grade son at my feet. He's doing math, I think. I'm thinking about how my world has become a swirling vortex of freelance jobs with deadlines, checking on my mother who is recovering nicely after the removal of 80% of her stomach, trying to be my own remodeling contractor, driving my daughters around town, and teaching my sons.

Notably absent from the list are the following: working on my manuscripts, cooking, cleaning, and... well... living.

That's what I want to talk about today.

I spent a restless night going over and over why I seem to feel so miserable and nervous all the time. Jean, you already knew, but it took me a while to admit it, I think. I am overextended. When you stretch yourself so thin that you move from opaque to clear and then can even be seen straight through, something has to change. And for me, it is changing right now. I've decided to take a month off from freelancing so that I can get my book manuscripts back into shape and submit them. I am also going to cook gourmet meals for my family again. I LOVE doing that. My mother cooked for us each night, no matter what else was going on or where we needed to be -- football, music lessons, choir practice, whatever. There was still a family meal, and the absent child always, ALWAYS came home to a plate of food warming in the oven, a remnant of the spectacular meal everyone else shared together.

I plan to reconnect with my family over dinner. I remember clearly the night in 1974 when we solved the energy crisis around the dinner table. I also remember dragging the old black and white tv into the kitchen the night Jack Benny died so we could watch the tribute. There would be no repeats, so we had to do that! I remember being tricked out of the last portion of this or that by my scheming brothers and loud arguments about which political candidate deserved to win an election. I remember the somber night we walked into the house silently after dining out at a restaurant together. We had just heard Jim Croce's plane went down (Bad, Bad Leroy Brown, Time in a Bottle).

We talked about school. We talked about movies. We talked about sports. We talked about religion. The point is... We talked! Over chateaubriand and brussels sprouts. Over lamb roast and rosemary potatoes. Over Matzo ball soup and homebaked bread. (Never over hot dogs -- My Jewish father didn't permit us to eat them. Or to drink coke for some reason unknown to me. Now that we all know it leaches calcium from the bones, I'm thankful for dear ole dad and his idiosyncrasies!)

All that to say...

If there's a delay in my email answer to you, if I don't answer the phone and linger over a meal before returning your call, if I take my daughters to the opera instead of meeting that deadline, if I help my sons build a trebuchet when I could be racing around town to this meeting or that, please understand.

And please take my advice.

Life is short -- live it wisely.

Yours -- when I'm stupid and shallow and when I'm deep and thought-provoking,

Megan Elizabeth

"Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him" (James 1:12 NIV).

For the Mudskippers -- all of whom rock, by the way...

2008-01-30T11:41:00.000-08:00

Check this out -- and, of course, after that, you must check out this...

No, I don't have too much time on my hands. I'm practicing work avoidance -- and having a small midlife crisis, too, I'm thinking! You'll absolutely HAVE to agree once you see this!

: }

Megan, who is now definitely in her 40s. But these are the wisdom years, right?!?!? (I sense there are a few who might disagree with attaching that adjective to moi!)

Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore...

2008-01-30T03:27:00.000-08:00

At times, life can be trying. Horrifying. Unbelievable. And then, suddenly, fabulous again. So unpredictable, isn't it?

When I am unsure of the future or upset about the past -- or somewhere in the middle treading water -- I like to listen to this. Or better yet, this. And if things are really getting crazy, I listen to this.

And if you're ever tempted to try to go back in time and relive the past... THIS!

Enjoy!

Yours -- with a pounding heart and a rockin' soul,

Megan Elizabeth

What a difficult week...

2008-01-26T19:05:00.000-08:00

My mother had 80% of her stomach removed yesterday. I was disappointed that they weren't able to leave more, but my brother told me they had feared she would have no stomach at all and that her prognosis was very grim. It is looking like somehow the cancer was still localized and not metastacized as is the case with 80% of all stomach cancer victims -- because there are usually no symptoms until it's too late. Mom had no symptoms either, but a regular checkup revealed microscopic amounts of blood in her stool (sorry to be so graphic, but I have to pour my soul out somewhere!) When she had lung cancer several years ago, the same thing happened. A routine test revealed a large, agressive, fast-growing tumor wrapped around her windpipe. But they caught it in time to crush it with chemo. It seems (knock on wood and say a prayer) that they may have caught the stomach cancer early enough to cure it, too. But we aren't sure yet. There could still be lymph node involvement.

Cancer is ugly and cruel. I wish it didn't exist. But since it does, I am going to pray for a cure to be discovered. Wanna join me? Click comments and write down your prayer to eradicate cancer here on my blog, okay?

Yours -- when all else fails and your back's against the wall,

Megan Elizabeth

January 27 is Mozart's birthday... Let's celebrate!

2008-01-22T11:22:00.000-08:00

If you have children and you want to get them interested in classical music in general or Mozart in particular, click here and enjoy!

Megan

Life gets tedious... or Why I still haven't finished my midgrade novel (and other excuses)

2008-01-15T04:02:00.001-08:00

All I want to do is curl up on a comfy sofa with a cup of hot tea and a laptop and finish writing my midgrade. But what do I do each day instead? Hmmmmm...

Before I even get out of bed, I pray. You're about to find out why.

I get up at 5:30 with my high school-aged daughter, make her breakfast, pack her a lunch, see her off (her dad drives her to school which starts at an ungodly 7:15 am), then hit the computer.

Yes, sometimes I do LITERALLY hit the computer, but today, once I cement my hind quarters to the chair and start writing, I'm working on magazine articles, direct mail appeals, and brochures.

Not my midgrade.

After a few hours of this, I reward myself with a cup of hot chocolate (homemade with semi-sweet chocolate chips and whipped cream on top -- sometimes I stick a Hershey's Special Dark miniature in for extra richness. Ooooh, la, la!). This special chocolate moment is interrupted by a request for snuggles from a sleepy, homeschooled 11-year-old, hunger pains from a groggy 14-year-old, and a frantic "Where's a pencil? A pen? My makeup? My backpack? My cell phone?" from my 17-year-old who is attending college early and needs help finding everything but the kitchen sink, then a ride to the bus stop.

After said ride to bus stop, I return home to begin teaching my two homeschooled sons -- which I do, with many interruptions, work phone calls, and a frantic call from high school daughter who ate her lunch during second period and knows she'll be desperately hungry if I don't drive through somewhere and bring her more food at lunchtime, which -- since school started so danged early -- is seriously close to pick-up time.

I bring her lunch at 12:20, race home to serve lunch to two hungry boys, then pick her up at 2:15, come home to return work phone calls, make snacks (Gee, these kids eat a lot!), and finish homeschooling. By this time, the boys have been at Nintendo for at least an hour while I was away instead of doing the assignments I gave them to complete by the time I returned home. They avoid this independent book work DAILY despite the fact that I assign them chores as a disciplinary measure each time. What can I say? They must love cleaning toilets.

I finish teaching, then work a bit more on the articles that are almost overdue. And did I mention we're remodeling our house? About this time, the remodeling crew calls. Carpet is in, tile is not. Can't finish without the tile. Oh, wait! We don't have any more of that tile, not even at the factory in Brazil. Ahhh, never mind. We found some -- in The Bahamas -- but you'll have to pay extra for them to ship it here.

My mind swirling, I drive to the bus stop to pick up collegiate daughter while thinking about what to make for dinner. It occurs to me that I should have done this much sooner (the thinking part) because what we have in the fridge would have been perfect for a slow cooker meal. Too late for that, though.

I stop by the gas station to grab a Dasani because I suddenly realize I haven't had anything to drink all day. I try to remember if I ate lunch, but the answer escapes me. Collegiate daughter back at home, I race to the sandwich shop to buy subs for dinner, arriving home in time to get boys into scout uniforms for their dad to take them to Boy Scouts. I throw them a sub sandwich and usher them to the car where Dad is waiting. I then grab collegiate daughter and toss her back in the car, sub sandwich and violin in hand, to go to orchestra rehearsal.

High school daughter, home alone, calls my cell phone. It's dark outside and she's afraid to let the dogs out even though she knows they need to go out. I reassure her, advise turning on more lights, then realize she can't because the remodeling crew turned off the electricity in half the house. Instead of grabbing a coffee while collegiate daughter is at orchestra practice, I race home to comfort high school daughter, arriving just in time to watch poodle puppy make a puddle.

Dogs crated, daughter encouraged, I head back to orchestra rehearsal to pick up collegiate daughter who is, remember, still only in high school. She tells me she forgot to sell peanuts and must pay $50 to the orchestra instead. While driving home, husband calls to remind me I have web copy to write for him before day's end.

Home again, I toss my shoes in the closet, put on jammies and slippers, and get back on the computer to write that web copy. It's now 10 pm and I've been up since 5:30 am. I'm dazed and confused. The copy sounds pathetic. I type and retype. Stop and send 11-year-old back to bed three different times. I try again. I reword things. Eat chocolate. Start over.

Then I decide to stop and write on my blog instead...

So what keeps YOU from finishing your novel????

Wackiness and Weirdness...

2008-01-13T04:40:00.000-08:00

A fellow blogger in Charlotte found my blog and she's almost a carbon copy of me. (I think she's a few years younger, but only a few...) Check out her comments below.

I also added to my profile if you are inclined to find out more about moi!

Yours -- with parrot on shoulder and doggie in lap,

Megan Elizabeth

This is not good... Please pray.

2008-01-11T12:11:00.001-08:00

My mother was diagnosed with stomach cancer two days ago. I know an 80-year-old woman who has lived a long and healthy life could acquiesce to this condition and leave quietly for her future home. But my mother is a fighter and will probably kick this thing in the hind quarters as hard as she can. But please pray for her. I have a feeling the doctors are writing her off because of her age. But they haven't yet staged the cancer. It could be totally curable. Her name is Nancy, and we covet your prayers on her behalf.

Megan Elizabeth -- desperate in sorrow and triumphant in joy!

We closed on our loan!!!

2008-01-11T11:58:00.000-08:00

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the Hoyts finally got their money. We have so much to do to finish this house, though. I don't know how we're going to manage on the budget we have, but God does. I'll keep you all posted.

Meanwhile...

Check out my friend Jody's blog. She thought I was an Indian giver (native american giver? Oops, I'm not very politically correct. No harm intended!) Here's proof that I'm not!

Megan Elizabeth, queen of the monkeys

2008-01-05T14:51:00.000-08:00

I have been remiss!

But I'm back and blogging again. It's January fifth, the evening before Twelfth Night. We always have a twelfth night party at our house. We play old-fashioned parlor games, light candles instead of electric lights, and crown a king and queen of the twelfth night. There are two cakes. One for girls and one for boys. A tiny pea is placed somewhere in the boys' cake and whoever finds it is the king. Inside the girls' cake, there is a tiny bean. Whoever gets the bean is the queen of the twelfth night. They get to boss around everyone and make them bring things to them all evening. It's such fun.

I'm off to help decorate!

Megan Elizabeth -- alias, Queen of the Twelfth Night!

Merry Christmas!

2007-12-24T07:09:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas Eve day, and the cookie dough is waiting for children to make it into cutout cookies. The Wassail is steaming hot on the stove, and the prime rib roast is thawing in the fridge, awaiting tomorrow's dinner.

The children sing Christmas carols in perfect harmony and beg us to take them caroling later in the day by candlelight. I say we'll have to wait until at least 5 o'clock if we want to use candles. Their grins widen.

Jesse squeezes the hand of the chipmunk that dances and sings Kelly Clarkson's "Since You've Been Gone." It startles the dogs. Everyone giggles.

Cinnamon smells fill the air. Deer range in the back yard. An owl swoops down. The chilly winter air forms clouds around my breath as I take it all in.

Our Savior probably wasn't born in the winter, I think. Christians took over the pagan winter solstice holiday so that they could more easily convert the heathen masses. But it's okay. We can still enjoy the yuletide festivities even though most of them are not our own. As long as we remember that the birth of Jesus Christ, Yeshua, is why we feast at the banquet table tomorrow, share our riches with the poor, and sing His praises to the neighbors.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

God bless you!

Yours -- with tinsel and lights and calm, peaceful nights,

Megan Elizabeth

The long-awaited Christmas pudding recipe

2007-12-18T12:09:00.000-08:00

Steamed Date Pudding with Whiskey Sauce

serves 8

1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, at room temperature

1 cup honey

1 tablespoon grated lemon peel

1 teaspoon lemon juice

2 eggs

3/4 cup chopped pitted dates

1/2 cup chopped pecans

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

(1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg and 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves optional)

1 cup milk

With an electric mixer, beat the butter and honey together until smooth. Add the lemon peel and lemon juice and blend again. Beat in the eggs, one at a time. Mix the dates and pecans with 2 tablespoons of the flour and set aside.

Sift together the remaining flour with the other dry ingredients. Add the dry ingredients to the creamed mixture alternately with the milk. Stir in the dates and nuts.

Butter a 2-quart mold, including the lid. If the mold has no lid, butter some aluminum foil and tie it on the mold as a lid. Pour the batter into the mold and cover. (You could also use a 2-pound coffee can as a mold, or a juicy juice can.) Place the mold in a large pot and add water to come halfway up the sides of the mold. Bring the water to a boil, cover the pot, and simmer for 2 hours, or until the pudding pulls away from the sides of the mold. Let stand 10 minutes before unmolding. This may be done before dessert time. If necessary, simply reheat in a standard oven at about 325 degrees. Serve with Whiskey Sauce.

The Whiskey Sauce

1/2 cup (1 stick) butter

1 cup confectioners' sugar

1 egg, well beaten

2 tablespoons whiskey, or more to taste

In a double boiler, cook the butter and sugar until the sugar is completely dissolved and very hot. Remove from the heat. Add the beaten egg, using a whisk, so that it will not curdle. When very smooth, allow to cool. Add the whiskey to taste.

When the pudding is assembled, pour extra whiskey over the top and ignite. Enjoy!

This recipe is courtesy of The Frugal Gourmet Celebrates Christmas. Go out and buy this book, so you, too, can make soup for the shepherds, rose cakes for the Magi, and all the other wonderful recipes in the book. It's a treasure!

Almost done...

2007-12-13T17:16:00.000-08:00

I forgot about the voiceover I had to do up at Inspiration Networks! I raced down there through rush hour traffic and got there at 5:45. We finished at 6:00. Talk about miraculous... It's interesting that this particular show has my voice and my daughter's violin playing on the intro. Oh, and my son did some of the music, too, by messing around on garage band for his dad one day. How many Hoyts does it take to produce a television show for INSP? Four!

Gotta run, people -- I still have one more interview to do and the article to write by tomorrow. And Christmas shopping? What's that? I don't have time!

But aside from all this work-related talk, I want you all to know that we finally got our mortgage loan!!!!! At least we're preapproved. It still has to go through underwriting. We may finish this remodeling project yet!

Yours -- with gingerbread, cinnamon rolls, and date pudding with whiskey sauce on top!

Megan Elizabeth

Wow, wow, wow!

2007-12-12T02:52:00.000-08:00

I finished three of the articles in one day. Two of them I had already been working on, but that's still a record for me. I have kids buzzing around the house all day, asking me questions, wanting me to cook them something -- I'm the queen of homemade bread and cinnamon rolls and such. They're so spoiled! And I have got to get my 17-year-old to drive! She could be an enormous help, but she's afraid to take the driving test. And I don't blame her -- she isn't the least bit ready for it!

Anyway, I'm thankful these are almost done. Now if I could just get that web copy written! If you'd like to see samples of my work, I wrote everything on the Raising an Amazing Generation website. Take a look!

Sorry, people...

2007-12-11T14:25:00.000-08:00

I can't post much this week. I have four articles to write, one of which will require several interviews. I also have four shows to watch and write web copy for afterward. Thank you, God, for work coming in just when I need it. And may our mortgage refinance finally come through!

Seriously, we need massive help from above for this refi to go through. They've tightened all the parameters and we don't qualify to buy our own house anymore!!! It's crazy!

Megan

Anuna!

2007-12-04T03:22:00.000-08:00

Something wonderful happened.

My son and two daughters fell in love with Celtic music several years ago and have been charming the rest of us with their tin whistle, violin, and guitar -- and their singing -- ever since. No, not the lucky charms kind of charming. The "this kid could ask for the moon and I'd give it to him, he's so charming" kind.

They also fell in love with a couple of songs by Anuna/Celtic Origins. Ever heard of them?

It was my son's birthday. When we found out Anuna was coming to town, we knew we wanted to take him to see them. Then we found out they were doing a preview visit at our local Borders bookstore, so we went. And filled out our information for a drawing for four concert tickets.

And won!

We had the best seats in the house, and Anuna was spectacular. I highly recommend their music to all of you. So does my son. And my two daughters. We had such a wonderful time!

http://www.anuna.ie

Yours -- floating on the wings of the dawn,

Megan

2007-11-30T04:09:00.001-08:00

I don't mean to be fastidious or to compare myself to others -- the Bible says not to do that. But have you ever watched those makeover shows on tv? There's this show called 10 Years Younger and I was watching it the other day in my nonexistent free time when it hit me. These people don't really need a makeover.

Think about it.

They choose someone who is already relatively thin, has a few wrinkles here and there, needs an updated look because they haven't looked in the mirror since the mid-80s. Then they proceed to transform the person, man or woman, into a glam girl or guy with microdermabrasion, hair color, makeup (no, not the guys), and a new outfit.

Well, who wouldn't look better if they could afford to do all that!? But the average person can't pay for those things!

I always partake in the sin of covetousness after watching a show like that. I have acne scars on my face, an extraordinarily large Jewish nose (a little gift from my father -- how nice), and a size quadruple AAAA bust. I try to make up for these things with my sparkling personality, amazing wit, fashion sense -- I used to work for a fashion magazine, and passion for life. Sometimes these things don't work. Sometimes they do (see phat knees post below).

I challenge you "makeover show" people who only make over people who don't need making over, to take me on. Fix this nose, implant large fake body parts in all the proper places, scrape my face until the scars are gone, and while you're at it, buy ME expensive outfits and makeup and hairstyles.

The photo above was taken 10 years ago. So now everyone can see what I looked like when I was 10 years younger. There's actually an interesting story behind that photo. I did a glamour shots photo session, and when I got the proofs Steve didn't like any of them. He didn't like the hat I chose or the poses they put me in. So I went back and this time Mr. Television Producer went in with me. He chose the outfit, the poses, and basically produced the whole photo shoot. Then I went out while he was still talking to the photographer about f-stops or somesuch thing.

I opened the curtain and there before me were ten pairs of angry eyes. It was 8:45 pm and they had taken so long with me that ten people behind me who were all made up with hair done had to be sent home with rain checks for future makeover/photo sessions. The icy glares haunted me every time I looked at that photo for at least two years. It was terrible!!

And Steve just laughed about it!

There was only one other time I was tempted to strangle my husband and that was when I was in labor, waiting for the Petocin to kick in and he decided to go grab a snack down at the snack machines two floors down with the anesthesiologist. Hear me now. WITH THE ANESTHESIOLOGIST!

The medicine kicked in, and I had seven of the worst contractions of my life. By the time the nurse got the anesthesiologist back upstairs, snacks in hand and my husband in tow, it was too late. I can still see in slow motion the nurse leaving the room saying, "I'm sorry, it's tooooo laaaaaate!!!" and flying down the hall to get the doctor to come in and catch this baby that was popping out of me. I had a total of 13 contractions. Twenty minutes of labor. It felt like twenty hours. It hurt. I could have killed both Steve AND the anesthesiologist. Aren't they supposed to stay nearby? Isn't that what "on call" means?

I guess I don't care if I look 10 years younger. I just want to look like I got enough sleep last night -- which I didn't because every night for the past ten and a half years there has been a little boy in my bed. Yes, the same little boy who popped out so suddenly while his mother's burning flesh seared, her agony evident only to the discerning eye as witnessed by the redness of her face and the expression of seething anger toward two men who will never know what it's like to poop out a baby au naturelle.

Pardon the segue (that's "seg-way" for my non-collegiate friends who always tell me I use words they don't understand and for my daughter's friends who tell her the same thing. Don't get me started on public education...)

But why can't this boy sleep in his own bed for more than half the night? I remember doing the same thing when I was young. But he's a boy. What is it about a mother's cuddles that wakes him up in the middle of the night and draws him to my side? I'm not knocking it -- he's my youngest and one day he'll be ashamed that he even did this at all -- but why?

I am groggy all day, can't string two sentences together until massive amounts of caffeine have pried my eyelids open halfway, and all because of that little bugger lying next to me. Last night, he decided there wasn't enough room (well, yeah, he's TEN!) and crawled to the foot of the bed. By morning, he was totally upside down and I had feet in my face. Nice.

I guess I'll keep him, though. He's kinda cute.

So talk to me. You have to click on this little bitty button beside where it says how many comments there are at the end of this post to leave me a message. It's really sort of hard to find the little button. I think it is, anyway. Maybe I just need more sleep!

Yours,

Megan Elizabeth,
alias "The Princess" of The Princess and the Pea
or to my husband, his precious Jewish American Princess
(What is this preoccupation with royalty I've suddenly developed?)

2007-11-28T18:26:00.000-08:00

Okay, you have to go to Jody's blog and read about the contest I won to understand what this photo means to Jody... I am upping the challenge. Jody said she was so sure I did not already have this insane object that she bought at Goodwill for a prize for winning the contest that she would run naked through the mall or something like that. You have to read her blog to get the full story. Well, guess what? The prize was a carved coconut head. AND I ALREADY HAD ONE! I thought it was a lot different and smaller than Jody's prize, but my daughter found it the other day and... well... I find the two items rather similar. You decide!

Donna got me thinking about Christmas traditions... What are yours?

2007-11-28T04:33:00.000-08:00

I'd like to say we roast chestnuts, perform at nursing homes, and do all the right things at Christmastime, but we tend to get a little strange in December. For one thing, we don't just celebrate Christmas, we also celebrate Hanukkah. This keeps us hopping. We have eight nights of partying with dreidel games, cookies, listening to NPR's fantastic Hanukkah storytellers and music, and, of course, praying to Almighty G*d, the Creator of the Universe, the unspeakable, all powerful One. Everything blue and white goes up at our house, then comes back down eight days later and is replaced by red and green. It's really tricky! But loads of fun. Chocolate gelt for everyone!!!

These are the special moments -- the times we carve out for only our family. I know we should be reaching out to others during this season, but instead we always seem to pull in. And I can't wait to do it again...

We always bake the proverbial cutout cookies along with a special treat my mother calls a "puff." It's like a gigantic cream puff with yummy vanilla glaze on top. It's rich with egg yolks and out of this world. I'll post the recipe for it as it gets closer to Christmas. I also started making dishes and desserts out of The Frugal Gourmet's Christmas recipe cookbook. He has food for the magi, the shepherds, etc. We have so much fun with this! Well, I do, anyway. So every year, I make date pudding with whiskey sauce. It's intoxicating in more ways than one. And I don't even like those fruitcake sorts of desserts. But with finely ground walnuts and dates chopped very small, this one is out of this world rich and decadent. We sometimes make plum pudding and figgy pudding, but date pudding is my favorite. I'll post the recipe for that, too.

The evening before Christmas Eve day, we always go caroling around the neighborhood. Just our family. We take along a candle or two in brass candleholders that we only use for this occasion, and we take a plate of cookies to each neighbor. We can't do this any earlier or the neighbors will try to return the gift. If you go close to Christmas, they won't have time and you will have blessed them without getting anything in return which is, of course, ideal.

We like to read Dickens' A Christmas Carol every year, too. And we always read through a few stories in Tasha Tudor's Take Joy. This must be done beside a roaring fire with Wassail in hand or the spell will be broken. It's magical, I tell you!

About the Wassail. It is a Hoyt MUST! From Thanksgiving to Christmas, there is always a pot of steaming Wassail on the stove. The aroma of Wassail and evergreens means Christmas to us. To make our special Wassail, you must use a gallon jug of Apple Cider, a half gallon jug of pure Cranberry Juice -- not cocktail and no added sugar. Then you add a cup of brown sugar, about five cinnamon sticks broken in half, and top with ten slices of orange with cloves tucked into them (This keeps the cloves out of the drink but still adds their flavor). Sometimes we add apple slices, too. It's a simple recipe with fabulous results. And after the kiddies go to bed, you can add a little red wine for a lovely chill-out time with the adults in your life.

Every Christmas Eve, we act out the Christmas story. And Steve always plays the donkey. Now that the kids have gotten a little older, he begs for mercy! Each girl gets a chance to play Mary, so this can take a while. I am always the angel. Funny to some of you, I'll bet. This is a great way to help the kids memorize the story from Luke. At first, I recited it while they play acted. Now, I'm pretty sure we can all recite it word for word. I had to memorize the story in third grade for a Christmas play, and I have never forgotten it. Memory work is good for children. And this is one I would definitely recommend.

Also on Christmas Eve, we all snuggle up and watch White Christmas. It's a tradition for us because Steve and I watched it on our first date. We were the only ones in our group of friends who did not go home for Christmas when we were in graduate school. So we hung out together, did some Christmas shopping, went to Steve's work Christmas party together. And on Christmas Eve, it happened. No, not THAT it. We fell in love. So every year, without fail and no matter how tired we are from all the festivities adding up to Christmas Eve, we watch White Christmas. Then Steve and I stay up most of the night trying to bake, cook, and get everything else wrapped and set up for Christmas morning.

Christmas morning. We always have breakfast before anything else. Crazy of us to make the kids wait, right? But with full tummies, there is less negative emotion. That doesn't matter so much now that they're older, but when they were young, wooooo!

We open presents one at a time, taking turns. It's an obsession of my husband's. He's a television producer and he always wanted to make sure he got everything recorded on video. So we must TAKE TURNS! I am convinced my kids will be in therapy when they grow up. And they'll blame all their repressed emotions on the fact that their dad made them open presents one at a time! But again, now that they're older, they savor the time together, watching each person open a gift and rejoicing with each person as they see what they got.

We don't do Santa. We never have. I have taught the kids the story of St. Nicholas from a young age, and they understand the whole concept and don't spoil it for anyone else. But we prefer to focus on the Christ child, the meaning of it all, the Alpha and Omega, beginning and end. The reason for the season is Jesus and the salvation he bought for us all on the cross. I don't think Jesus would have celebrated a nativity. That was a pagan type thing to do. But since He is the promised Messiah, I hope he understands why we do.

God bless us, every one!

Megan Elizabeth -- with a little tiny Tim thrown in

Vaguely curious?

2007-11-25T04:47:00.001-08:00

I was reading this article about "Knowing God" when it hit me. I have been vaguely curious about God lately rather than aggressively pursuing a relationship with him. The busyness of each day prohibits me from carving out the time I should to pray, to sit in solitude and wait, to worship the Creator of the universe. Does he deserve to be worshipped? After all, look at the natural world around us. We see deer in our yard almost every day now. They are beautiful creatures -- fragile and fleeting. I want to cradle them in my arms and love on them. Their beauty is stunning, their gentleness overwhelming. I think it's like that with God sometimes. We want to put a collar around his neck and make him stay near us, to be petted and to inspire love and gentleness within our hearts. Instead, He darts to and fro -- brings His love close, then flits away again. We want -- even crave -- the security that comes from knowing He is always at our beck and call. But He's not. That's scary. But it's the truth.

I have digressed, but I wanted to share this article with you. It's by Dick Keyes, a friend of a friend of mine and someone we hope to bring to a ChildLight USA conference soon.

Knowing God

This you will not believe...

2007-11-23T06:50:00.000-08:00

I was shopping at the Salvation Army thrift store the other day, and I guess I was dressed fairly fashionably for a 44-year-old mama of four. I had on boots and a skirt and a leather jacket. Well, this man who worked there kept joking with me about how a "pretty girl like me needs this item or that item or this chair or book or sofa or dress." I was getting a little bit irritated, but just as I was about to say something about it to the manager, he finally gave up and walked away.

Then, another man who looked like he was about 30 -- an African-American gentleman (I have to tell you that for this to make sense -- I am in no way trying to poke fun at this culture or that culture. Just identifying the perpetrator in this hilarious scenario).

So this guy walks up to me and starts talking about my knees. I mean, he's going on and on about how fat my knees are and how much he loves fat knees! I do not know what to make of this situation because, frankly, I have never thought much about my knees being fat or thin or pretty or ugly or anything at all other than the joints by which my legs are still able to bend, thank the good Lord.

I finally got tired of this man pestering me, so I held up my left hand and pointed to the wedding ring on my finger. He says, "Oh now, baby, that's just too bad." I wish I could pass along the accent -- it was very hip. And the man wasn't bad-looking either. But why was he so interested in my fat knees?

I went home, and later on at the dinner table, I started talking to my family about the incident. To tell you the truth, I was befuddled and confused by the whole thing. Then, one by one, my teenaged girls and husband all started snickering and giggling.

"Meg, you just don't know the modern lingo," my husband said, still laughing. "He was trying to tell you he thinks your knees are sexy or good-looking. The word for that is 'phat! P-H-A-T!' "

Okay, well, what do I know about "phat?" So I looked it up at answers.com and it says: "Excellent, first rate; phat fashion; a phat rapper; sexy (said of a woman).

Ohhhh Baby!!!!

I guess I've still got it...

Yours -- with phat knees!

Megan

P.S. As I was leaving the store, I heard that same employee say, "A pretty girl like you should have this sofa." I looked over and saw that he was talking to a plump, elderly lady of about 80!

Life is funny that way...

2007-11-19T06:50:00.000-08:00

Just when you think you have things figured out -- when you think your life is cruising along nicely, everything in place, everyone present and accounted for -- something punches you hard in the stomach and you find out you were never in control at all.

We visited a new church on Sunday. At the end of the service, the pastor called for people to gather around a young woman named Kate and pray for her. Three and a half months pregnant, she just found out she has Leukemia for the second time. It's aggressive. And she is not willing to abort her baby in order to undergo the treatment to fight it.

I don't know Kate personally. But she looks like she is about 25 years old to me. Her countenance radiates the presence of God, so it's sort of hard to tell exactly how old she is. She is in a different place, on a different plane, perhaps, from where I am standing. Overwhelmed and premenopausal, surrounded by children, carpools, pets, and laundry, I think I can safely say that I have lost sight of the really important things in life. Things like integrity, devotion, and sacrifice. I daresay, most Americans have lost sight of these things. We're stumbling along, blind and depressed, hoping there is more to life than the mundane daily grind we're all experiencing. I think Kate knows about the "more." She's living each day totally dependent on the power of God to give her life, breath, and strength to grow a baby for the next six months. She doesn't even know if she will be able to hold out for that long. Her sacrifice may be all for nothing. Think about it. She is laying down her life for the sake of her child. We all say we would do that. But would we? Really? Even before we have a chance to know that child?

I am humbled.

Yours -- with every breath I breathe,

Megan

Gee, I left all sorts of people out of my "friends" list...

2007-11-16T11:41:00.000-08:00

It's always dangerous to blog thoughtlessly like this. I left out so many good friends from that last post! Jody, you always comment on my blogs and I didn't even include you. And you gave me a cocoanut head, too! What was I thinking leaving you out like that? It's not every day that one receives a cocoanut head from a friend.

Without Kathi, I would not have gotten my house packed up to move over the summer.

Without Joe D., Kathy P. and Steve E., I would not have been able to jumpstart my career a few years ago.

And Cecilia. She's a "through thick and thin" friend, too. What would I do without her? Who would I sing old Simon and Garfunkel songs to?!?!?

The list goes on...

Yours -- when procrastinating even though three articles are due on Monday,

Megan Elizabeth

What does a good friend look like?

2007-11-15T08:00:00.000-08:00

I have the best friends in the world.

Let's start with Bebe in Australia. We've been friends since 4th grade. I write her an email, detailing all my complaints -- even the ones that are my own fault -- and she always comes back with a "there, there, you couldn't have possibly known this would happen. Pour yourself a cup of tea, hop into a steamy bubble bath and pamper yourself. Life is hard. You deserve a break!" Bebe has not had an easy life herself. She's faced divorce with strength, courage, and dignity. And infertility with the same. She and her husband now have two adopted boys who are the joy of their lives. One of them has a little too much joy -- ADHD issues make life difficult for him. But Bebe faithfully cares for him -- and me!

Donna is lively and fun. She's full of great advice and tall tales. All true, of course. She keeps me young and happy.

I have some friends through work that are so supportive I sometimes think they're being sarcastic. Then I do a doubletake and say, "No, they really ARE that nice!" I get encouraging emails from them at just the right times. They even talk to one another behind my back and conspire to be encouraging to me! I'm tearing up just thinking about it. Thanks, John and Wendy -- and Valerie and Kathy and Karen and Carole and Jay and Chris and... and... Wow, the list is quite lengthy!

I was a lousy friend to Laura. I was her maid of honor, then promptly moved to another state and forgot about her. She kept calling and occasionally visited me, but I was preoccupied with my own life -- having babies and raising them. Years later, I discovered her husband had been brutally abusing her. Those calls and visits were pleas for help, but I didn't recognize them. I am ashamed that I took Laura's friendship for granted. She's now coping with her ex-husband's lack of consistency when it comes to child support and raising their two children alone as a working mom. And still, she calls to check on me and make sure I'm doing all right.

Jean, Jean, and Jeanne...

Where do I begin? The Lord has blessed me with three remarkable friends named Jean. Jean R. is my homeschool guru and a dear friend who always listens with a sympathetic ear. I'll never forget the time I griped and complained to her about what a terrible day I was having, ending with "And how are you?" to which she promptly replied, "I broke my foot." We both burst out laughing. I said, "Why didn't you stop me sooner?!" Then we laughed again. Jean R. keeps me sane. I just love her.

Jean from my writing group is like a mother to me. Seriously. She tells me to stop running around so much and to take care of myself so I'll be able to take care of my family. She reminds me not to sweat the small stuff. Jean's son was killed suddenly. Her husband is blind. She has not had an easy time of it, but she still calls to check on me if she hasn't heard from me in a while. I love Jean.

Jeanne... What can I say about this precious woman? My deepest spiritual issues are always safe within her trusted bosom of secrecy. And her advice is the best. She prays for me, listens for answers, then shares from her heart. I love Jeanne, too!

There are others. Some whose lives I emulate from afar like Elaine Cooper and Ranald Macaulay. They are heroes as well as friends. Jack, Bobby, Carroll, Lisa, and Amber all hold a special place in my heart. We are co-laborers on behalf of a better education for children across the world.

Stacy, Michelle, Lori, Barbara... All my church friends from Virginia... You are the best. Especially Stacy. I can say that because she was also my labor and delivery nurse for two of my four children. Stacy has seen more of me than I'd like to admit! I hope she counts me as one of her close friends, too!

My dearest friend, though, is my husband. I put that man through so much emotionally it is not even repeatable here. It would take up too much space to explain anyway! But Steven is my biggest fan, my most devoted, passionate love, and my closest, intimate friend. I don't deserve his love. I am sensitive, irritable, outrageous when I should be quiet, and I crumble to mush when someone hurts my feelings. But he is always there to pick up the pieces and put me back together -- even when he is already stressed himself. I recently had the opportunity to look at our relationship more closely while he was away on a business trip. That's when it hit me. Steven loves me the way God does. I am loved -- not because I'm pretty or smart or talented or successful or a good mother or a good housekeeper or a gourmet chef or a fantastic lover -- Steven loves me rather in spite of myself. When I am Lucy Ricardo, he forgives me. When I am Dharma Finkelstein Montgomery (which is OFTEN!) he is amused. When I am Audrey Hepburn as Holly go Lightly, he is compassionate. When I am Emma Peel from The Avengers, he is thrilled. When I am Ann Wilson from Heart, he laughs uproariously. When I am Mother Teresa, he weeps alongside me. He is my dearest friend.

Yours -- with sugar and spice and everything nice,

Megan Elizabeth

My son...

2007-11-13T04:30:00.000-08:00

Last night, as we were snuggling and talking before bed, my son leaned over and said, "Queen is from England, I think." Lest you assume my son is three years old and has just figured out that the UK still has a queen, let me assure you that is not the case. He's ten. And he's talking about Freddie Mercury and the gang.

Has this boy been googling behind my back?

And if he has, why is he googling my favorite old rock groups? And why is this what he is thinking about at the end of the day? A hero of mine once said a child should have something to love, something to do, and something to think about each day. I know Jesse loves his family. He loves to read, to do science experiments, to cook, to mess around outside making up new games and sports to play with his brother. He loves to play in the woods, to build things. Some of these things branch out into the something to do category. But what about something to think about?

I can easily sit around sipping tea and discussing world issues with my teenaged daughters for hours on end. But what am I giving my ten-year-old to think about? I don't know what I'm going to change, but I know I must do something to help him so that we don't end up talking about '70s rock groups at night before we go to bed!

Yours -- with snips and snails and puppy dogs' tails,

Megan Elizabeth

Honk if you are reading my blog!

2007-11-13T04:28:00.000-08:00

I have only heard from two people so far and I already knew they would read my blog. Thank you, Jody and Jean!!!

Where is everyone else? Come on, now, talk to me! Leave comments. Browse the archives. Argue with me. Enlighten me.

Megan

How awful of me...

2007-11-09T11:23:00.000-08:00

I just reread all of my blogging thus far and realized that nowhere in this vast amount of gobblety gook do I even mention God.

You see, I am a Christian.

Some people might be surprised to hear that after how I scourged them for breaking my heart 20 some odd years ago. (That was part of the lost loves post I have yet to gather the nerve to write!)

But it's true. I believe in God. I love God. And I believe He loves me.

I believe that He, with the vast knowledge that He has and that I DON'T have, decided the best way to handle our shortcomings, sin, and ruined thinking and acting -- the result of a fall from grace that occurred way before my time but that I would nonetheless have experienced had I been alive then -- was to offer his son as a sacrifice that would cover our sins, known and unknown, making us appear pure and holy before Him. You know, if I'm right about this whole "Jesus being real" thing and I believe I am, we will all one day come face to face with the Creator of the Universe. Do you want to do that as a pure, holy, blameless person or as the scum you really are? Yeah, I mean you! We ALL are, after all. Look how angry I got at Miss Colombia yesterday. Me! Holy, righteous Megan Elizabeth, God's little princess. I slammed this woman on the phone. Who did she think she was?

A child of God.

Oh.

Oops.

We all have sinned and fallen short. I for one am happy to believe that there is a solution. That I don't have to go around carrying all this shame. I'm not perfect -- I am walking this thing out with great difficulty and I have questions. LOTS OF QUESTIONS! Why are people being slaughtered, raped, brutalized? Why do young girls get sold as sex slaves? Why did my dear friend Wanda's precious nine-year-old daughter die of cancer? Why was my cousin murdered? And if he had to be murdered, why didn't You arrange it so someone found him? Why did the neighbor in the next apartment have to call the apartment manager because of the smell? My nephew has a heart defect, a brain defect, and mental retardation. Why does he also have to have scoliosis and acne? Why did my true love leave me without a word when I was 21? Why did I let him? Why does it still bother me?

I don't have all the answers. I don't even have a few. But what I do have is a relationship -- a friendship. No, it's more than that.

I love God. And He loves me.

Yours -- affectionately and "sheep"ishly,

Megan Elizabeth

P.S. For all my Jewish friends and relatives, check this out... http://www.inspiration.net/thinkitthru/ or just click on the link in this blog.

Okay, no. THIS post should have been entited "Have a heart."

2007-11-09T07:44:00.000-08:00

My daughter Hannah walked out of class at the local community college without realizing her phone had slipped out of her purse and onto the floor. She noticed immediately and within five minutes retraced her steps. When she got back to the classroom, the phone was gone.

About a week later, I received a text message on my phone. I never get text messages, so I did not realize it was there right away. But that is beside the point. I got this text message that said, "I have your daughter's phone. How do I get it back to you."

I called, texted the woman back, and called again -- about 10 times over the next month and a half. This woman was determined to hold my daughter's phone for ransom!

Finally, I decided to blitz her. I called her. An hour later, my husband called her. I called her again at dinnertime, then text messaged her at 11 pm.

She called.

In broken English, she told us when we didn't call her back she gave the phone to her friend Humberto who went back to his country. "What country is that?" I asked. "Colombia. And he can't be reached." "Could you please at least TRY to find him? I'll send him money for postage to send us back the phone." "No."

At this point, I'm seeing dollar signs because, as we all know, if you're in the middle of the contract period, you get no discount whatsoever when replacing a phone. Replacing Hannah's phone was going to cost me $330 -- and this woman just gave it away!

She said repeatedly, "Is not my fault. I sorry. But is not my fault." Okay, first of all, why apologize for something if it's not your fault? And second, if it wasn't your fault, whose fault was it?

So, I ask you, is this theft? Or a misunderstanding? Or a cultural mistake?

And in any case, why must we pay for her mistake? Now if it was stolen, snatched, or whatever, we would just file a police report, then go buy a new phone. The thief would try to use the phone or sell it, find out it's not activate-able because it's listed as stolen, then toss it in the trash. Bad for me, but oh well. In this case, I don't quite know what to do. Meanwhile, my daughter wanders a college campus alone with NO PHONE!

The Security Officer at the college told me (and I quote) "Your daughter should have kept her personal belongings with her at all times."

Ya think?

Hmmm. Well, thank you for that little bit of advice. Now go find this woman and get me back my phone!!!

Yours -- with high levels of aggravation and maybe a little radiation,

Megan Elizabeth

Have a heart...

2007-11-08T05:54:00.000-08:00

I am finding solace these days in an old rock favorite -- Heart. Find the near rhyme if you must, my dearest writing buddies, but listen for the passion. Nice visual elements, too!

My love is the evenin' breeze touchin' your skin,

The gentle, sweet singin' of leaves in the wind,

The whisper that calls after you in the night,

And kisses your ear in the early moonlight.

I was a willow last night in a dream,

I bent down over a clear running stream,

I sang you a song that I heard up above,

And you kept me alive with your sweet, flowing love.

Yours -- with Hootenanny from Heart and Hoopin' and Hollerin' from the Texas girl!

Megan Elizabeth

This is not fun...

2007-11-07T19:50:00.000-08:00

If I were to create a list of things I do not ever want to do again for as long as I live, two things would be right up there at the top: childbirth and remodeling a house.

Childbirth I can live without doing again -- I have four children already. And believe me, that's enough. But this neverending remodeling project is no picnic, I assure you. It's like labor all over again, complete with screaming and groaning and pleas for drugs!

So you know about this whole mortgage crisis, right? All those subprime mortgages that were doled out over the past several years and then all those poor families who lost their homes when the interest rates on their ARMS went up? WE ARE NOT ONE OF THEM! Can you all please say it again -- this time with feeling? THE HOYTS REALLY, HONESTLY DO QUALIFY FOR THIS RENOVATION LOAN!

So here's what happened. The mortgage lender told us our credit score needed to come up 22 points in order to get the loan amount we wanted. This is all because I'm a freelance writer and have no documented proof of income to provide. If I did, there would be no problem. As it stands, though, we have to be extra credit-worthy to squeeze into the loan. So he uses this automated software program from the Credit Bureaus (Don't even get me started on them. I used to work for Equifax, and oh, the tales I could tell!). It tells him we need to pay down a bill by $2000. So we do it. Then he repulls the credit and instead of pulling up our score 22 points it goes up 3.

Huh?

So he tells us we have to use a different software program to manipulate this credit score. Okay. What does this software program tell us to do? Pay down several different credit cards at a total cost of $2000. I'm sensing deja vu at this point and looking for the hidden camera. Is this some sort of joke?

Do I look like I have another $2000 laying around?

Maybe it's hidden under the mattress. I'll go check... Nope.

Maybe it's buried in the backyard... Found a dog bone (I hope it's a dog bone), but no cash.

I know -- Steve has a secret stash down at the office... Ahem. Absolutely out of the question.

Maybe... Maybe...

I hate to admit it, but I went crying home to mother. And she gave me the $2000. Now that mortgage lender better be telling us the truth about this magical manipulation. We need to finish remodeling this house!!!

End of rant.

Almost.

I do want to give credit where credit is due...

So where the heck is my good credit?

Yours -- with sighs and sadness, whimpers and wails,

Megan Elizabeth

Breathing in peace and joy

2007-11-02T05:50:00.000-07:00

I had been listening to a lecture by Susan Schaeffer Macaulay while shuttling my kids from here to there and back again in the car when it happened. I pulled into the driveway, kept the car running while I listened to the very end of the tape, then shut off the radio and turned off the car.

And there beside my driver's side door were three deer.

They looked at me through the glass, then pranced past the car and into my neighbor's back yard, pausing to graze for a while before taking off into the woods beyond.

I marveled at the wonders of God's creation for a few minutes after which I lost a fight (and a photo) with my cell phone camera and hustled and bustled back into the house with my groceries.

I forgot about this precious moment and later in the day left again to take yet another child to yet another function, class, play rehearsal, or what-have-you. When we pulled back into the driveway...

An owl swooped down in front of us and landed on a tree branch in our back yard.

Okay, by now, I have gotten the message from above that I am way too busy to stop and smell the roses, much less enjoy the life that is bursting with glory all around me.

I am changing this!

From now on, I am going to take nature breaks. Walks in the woods while reading Thoreau, picnics among the flowers while reading Wordsworth, breaths of fresh air when I only have a minute to spare.

When you think about how God created this world for our pleasure and that "He gives us all things richly to enjoy," it seems a shame not to enjoy it!!!!!

Yours -- with raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens,

with wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings,

with cream-colored ponies and crisp apple strudels,

with snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes,

with silver white winters that melt into springs,

These are a few of my favorite things!

Okay, maybe these are a few of Maria von Trapp's favorite things. I'll tell you about mine later.

What are your favorite things?

Megan Elizabeth

Procrastination...

2007-11-02T05:48:00.000-07:00

This blogging thing is so addictive. I keep meaning to work on my novel for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month -- November), but I always end up fiddling around here. Someone slap some sense into me!

Yours -- early in the morning

The juicy bits...

2007-11-01T10:54:00.001-07:00

Okay, I have a link to our children's films at youtube. Go ahead and take a peek if you'd like. The link is over to the right.

And now...

The long-awaited juicy bits!

Turning 40 is for some people a momentous event chock full of black balloons, cocktail parties, and lengthy stops in front of the bathroom mirror to check for gray hair, facial hair, heavy hips, and wrinkles. But not me! I chose to ignore the obvious and instead delve deep into my psyche for a spiraling dumpster dive into the past -- complete with lost loves, followed by late night rendezvous (I give up -- how do you pluralize rendezvous?) and midnight encounters in my own back yard.

I'm not in the mood to discuss lost loves at the moment, because, let's face it. If you really want to feel alive, you don't dumpster dive! (Words of wisdom from someone who KNOWS.)

On to the late night rendezvous -- Guaranteed to ignite the fires within. Ooh, la, la!!!

You take a picnic basket, fill it with candles, matches, homemade seafood crepes fresh from the oven, silverware, cloth napkins, two tiny bottles of champagne, flute glasses for the champagne, strawberries to plop into each glass, and a rich store-bought dessert -- chocolate mousse, preferably. You spread the picnic items on a blanket in a surprising place, like, say, the roof of a church in the densely-populated downtown area of a rather large city. Yep. The roof. You bring along an extension cord and a boombox with cds of the most romantic music around -- I believe Tuck and Patti rule all in this category. Sweet jazz. Smooth as silky satin on a brand new baby's bottom. But I digress. So you set all this up ahead of time. Then you take your honey bunny, blindfold him, drag him into the building, up the elevator, and onto the balcony. You remove the blindfold, walk him out onto the roof, and dine in moonlight (and candlelight) splendor, with rooftop views of the cityscape and a little smoochie-smoochie, hoochie-coochie after the crepes are gone and the fizzy lifting drinks have done their duty. Oh, yeah!!!

The midnight encounters in my own back yard will have to wait till next time...

Yours -- with sugar and spice and everything nice,

M.E.G.

Did you know my initials used to spell my name before I got married? Tiny trivia that may come in handy one day when you are locked out of my castle and don't have the password to get in...

Princess Megan Elizabeth, of Hoyt Castle in yonder Fair Valley

Oh, and a final P. S. Is anyone doing NaNoWriMo this year? Or are you all procrastinating like me by blogging instead?

2007-11-01T10:20:00.000-07:00

Okay, what do I know about uploading videos to Youtube or putting links to them on my blog... Not a gosh-darned thing, evidently!

Go to youtube.com and search for "Hey Bobby It's Reginald" to view the spectacular creation of two young gents with too much time on their hands and not enough school work to do!

Er...

Wait a minute. Don't try that...

I just did a search for the video at Youtube and came up with "Breasts, Beasts, and Bullets."

Ahem.

Yours -- with sugar and cream and a dash of cayenne,

Megan Elizabeth, Welsh Princess and Faerie Queen

(A girl can still daydream once she's all grown up, right?)

Halloween has come and gone (Yippee! The gone part, I mean...)

2007-11-01T07:24:00.001-07:00

It's tough. I mean, we went to the Children's Theatre of Charlotte costume sale and bought about $100 worth of costumes and wigs just for grins. So Halloween comes around, and my kids would kinda like to wear said costumes and go somewhere. And candy is involved. There's always the dreaded pull of sweets. So we had a little talk -- and the kids read my blog -- and we all decided to do the "Walk for Darfur" at Myers Park High School and that next year we just might go door to door asking if our credit scores and costumes might warrant an extra large serving of candy. But that trick or treat business? Still makes no sense to me.

I am planning on having another series of parties this year if I can just get this house remodeled. We like to celebrate Johann Strauss, Jr.'s birthday by dressing up in period costumes, waltzing, sipping Martinelli's, and acting all dignified. And we usually celebrate Mozart's birthday, too. And Hans Christian Anderson's. We'll come up with pretty much any excuse to have a party -- except Halloween!

Yours -- till death do us part "Muahaha!!!" (Okay, that's about as Halloween-y as I get...)

Megan

P.S. Be on the lookout for Drew and Jesse's latest movie. It will be posted to Youtube momentarily after which time I will post a link here.

2007-10-30T09:18:00.000-07:00

All right... Before we get to the good stuff, I just have to say how much I despise Halloween. I don't think I would hate it so much if Americans actually took other holidays as seriously as they do Halloween. But they don't. So why do we have to celebrate spookiness? Why give it the same space in stores as Christmas which represents the Savior of the world coming to "SAVE THE WORLD!" Or Yom Kippur, the day Jewish people turn from their sins and cleanse themselves for a new beginning. That's something to acknowledge. Thanksgiving? We give thanks to Almighty God for allowing us to have fellowship with the native Americans who could have just as easily killed us but instead allowed us to live in sweet harmony with freedom to worship. That's cool.

But ghosts and goblins?

Feel free to disagree with me -- because God gave us this great country in which we can disagree -- which is awesome!

But I still say it's a materialistic holiday. I would much rather go door to door collecting money for the men, women, and children who are being terrorized in Darfur.

Yours -- for better or for worse,

Megan Elizabeth

Ahhhh!

2007-10-30T09:15:00.000-07:00

I figured out how to edit and delete posts. So now for those juicy bits I spoke of earlier!

Hmmmm... This will require some thought. Catcha later...

The Elusive Yes...

2007-10-30T08:57:00.000-07:00

The problem with taking people's advice is that they are limited to their own personal experience when they give it. I mean, THEY think it's good advice because based on their limited life experience, it appears to them to be the best thing you should do. But someone else's life experience might lead them to advise me differently. Then what should I do? For example, I was told to move into this amazing fixer-upper home in a fantastic part of town. I was told that the house would be worth sooooo much more than we were paying that we could borrow against the equity to fix up the house. I said, "Our income doesn't support that high a payment." I was told, "That doesn't matter because they base it on the house's value, not your income." Two problems with that sentence -- both of them pronouns. "They" means the mortgage companies, those illustrious folks who just got their hands slapped for handing out too much money to people like us whose income didn't support their loans and who are now defaulting on said loans. "It" is more elusive to define. They base "it" on the house's value -- that must mean the loan, right? Or maybe they base your "qualifying" for the loan on the home's new value? Either way, the elusive "they" have based the elusive "it" on our elusive income, (Can someone please hear me say I told you so?), and we still don't have our loan. Our fixer-upper is not finished. But I think we may be!

So say a prayer for those crazy Hoyts who always leap before they look. This time the "Uh-oh!" may just do us in. Funny how my mind works. When I wrote "do us in," this vision of Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady trying to make small talk about her auntie who was "done in" by someone flew into my head. Much more pleasant to think of Audrey Hepburn at a time like this.

Yours -- for richer or for poorer,

Holly Go Lightly

(alias -- or alien or judging by how I feel today, maybe I'm that girl Sigourney Weaver found in the cave whose body was being used as an incubator by those many-tendriled creatures from outer space and who, when she finally was found by Sigourney Weaver could only manage to whisper, "kill me!" -- Megan Elizabeth)

Okay, seriously irritating...

2007-10-29T20:19:00.000-07:00

I forgot to put a question mark at the end of my first sentence in my last entry. And I can't figure out how to go back and edit it once it's been posted. I feel like that elderly woman in the old commercial. "I've fallen, and I can't get up!"

Wow, I am really loving this...

2007-10-29T19:58:00.000-07:00

So do I actually have to tell anyone this blog exists. I mean, I could totally expose my deepest longings onto the computer screen and be the only one to see them. Something about the idea of seeing my life in print is comforting to me. And yet, knowing that you all might eventually find it before I figure out how to edit the juicy bits is a scary thought.

Writing, writing, writing...

2007-10-29T15:39:00.000-07:00

I have started about ten manuscripts -- no, wait -- more than that. I have started 10 midgrade novels, one young adult novel that will probably never make it to print because I would blush every time I read excerpts from it, and a certain select group of people just might sue me, although they would never win because everything I said would be absolutely, 100% true, so help me God! I've written seven picture book manuscripts, several of which were so bad that I blush in shame (What is it with me and blushing!?) at the thought that I once submitted one of them to an editor in its present, deplorable condition and another to a writing friend from write4kids.com who has been published 50 times over and who very delicately and kindly rebuked me for ever thinking it was ready for submission (I do mean kindly. When I laid it aside for a few months and reread what I sent her... well, again... blushing!).

Embarrassment aside, I AM satisfied with my flourishing freelance career. It seems I am much better at writing marketing materials, web copy, direct mail appeals, and magazine articles than I am at writing children's books. So if you ever find yourself in need of a solid marketing campaign or something equally left-brained, I am your man (woman, child, puppy dog, martian... whatever!)

Now let's see if I can get a photo or two uploaded...

Yours -- in sickness and in health,

Megan Elizabeth