Liz's Front Porch

Shoes Under My Desk

Summertime. Hospital stays. No rain. Little sleep.

So many things take their toll. But, healing comes slowly, the heavens sprinkle moisture here and there, and sleep finally sneaks in.

In between, I write. Sometimes in the middle of the night. Sometimes when my patient sleeps. Sometimes when everyone is resting and the washing works its magig. My words have returned. Why? I don't ask, I just type, faster and faster.

Perhaps nobody reads the trials and tribulations, hopes and dreams, and fears and struggles of my fictional slave families (or my own) but their lives (and my own) are rushing forward. 

This is absolutely the final re-write of "the novel." I've decided. We're going to the finish line. I even took up the welcome mat and absolutely refuse to allow any new characters to get involved in the story. When a prospective character wakes me from my precious sleep, I shout, "NO," and return to sleep. Dear Heart understands.

When I wander about the house mumbling, "Where are my shoes?" or when I go to the porch with an unmatched shoe on each foot, Dear Heart and Daughter grin. "She didn't look under her desk."

Everytime I stop by the keyboard, my shoes come off. It's an uncontrollable thing. I can't help it. I simply can NOT think or type with shoes on. Honest.

Today we were ready to go to Thursday worship and sure enough. Three and a half pairs of shoes hiding way back under my desk. All are now in their own proper places. I can start over again.

For now, I'll put on the ones I just kicked off and go out on the porch with Dear Heart and Daughter and give thanks for people who love me even when I write.

Blessings,

Liz

Surprise !

Today is a hot, boring, summer Friday afternoon.

Everyone needs a surprise now and then.

On the right side where new pages are listed, you’ll see that Chapter 2 of Freedom Searchers is posted!! It is also posted at Liz's Front Porch Novel, http://www.lizhoyt-eberle-novel.yolasite.com

I hope the story touches your heart. Enjoy your weekend and may your worship be blessed.

Hugs and blessings,

         Liz

Freedom Searchers News

Okay. I really CAN do this. I think it will be okay at Yola Site. Maybe.

 

In case you don't know... that's my new "web site" where I'm posting chapters of my novel-in-progress Freedom Searchers.

SO. For the time being, I will post each new chapter  BOTH here on the original Front Porch as a new page... over to your right--AND at http://lizhoyt-eberle-novel.yolasite.com !

 

I refuse to feel old and dumb.

I admit to being not young and pretty tired.

I apologize for making it difficult for those of you who really want to read about slave life in Kentucky in 1820.

Hugs to all of you.

Liz

p.s. sometimes it just feels like all stuff cyber is bigger than all of us. ... maybe so.

Pithy Prayers Project Peace

My kitchen is clean for the umpteenth time today and while the washer fills again, I fold clothes as they come out of the dryer. Only two more regular loads of laundry, then sheets and towels and a day or so off—before starting again.

I stare hopelessly at my cluttered desk. During the past ten days, it  caught every envelope ripped open and waiting for a decision on the disposition of its contents, receipts for medications, a dozen scraps of paper with undecipherable scribbles that might be important if I ever figure out my shorthand, a few magazines, my camera with shots of my daughter Melinda’s 49^th birthday celebration that turned into a welcome home from the hospital party for her, my Bible, a box of thank you cards waiting for grateful words to be inscribed, and our address book. Those are just the things on top that I can see. I think I won’t dig deeper yet.

Dear Heart just returned from his daily pilgrimage to the grocery store. We haven’t had our acts together enough to know from one day to the next what we’ll need. He goes back and forth with sweet grace.

In between my hurried and constant pithy prayers and jotting down things on my to-do list that I must not forget, I check e-mail for that ncouraging message I know will be there from one friend or another. The phone jangles and it is music to our ears because we know it will not be a recorded message urging us to check our credit score; these days we hear the familiar voice of a family member or someone from church who is checking to see how things are with us.

Suddenly I know that I don’t have to clench my fist and tearfully ask my Heavenly Father, “What IS the next thing?”

• It is to give thanks.

• Then the next thing is to be grateful.

• The thing after that is to smile whether I feel like it or not.

• And then the next thing is to listen with a quiet heart. My Father always speaks—sometimes through you.

Blessings and love,

    Liz

Today's Tweet Prayers

 Just a few - - - - -

 

1. Thank U, Father, for sustaining me all day.

 

2. Help me keep forgiving where I see it happening.

 

3. Please send us rain. Wet, soaking water from heaven.

 

4. Thank U, for being my Lord God.

 

5. All the time.

 

6. I love You.

 

  Liz

Tweet, Twit, Twitter, Who???

I thought I’d reached the pinnacle of technology when I got on Face Book. Feeling smug, I soon discovered it boggles my mind. I refused to think about twittering. After all, I can’t ask Dear Heart what he wants for dinner in only 25 words.

Then my friend Sally referred our local writers to : http://msainfo.org/articles/twitter-as-a-spiritual-discipline

I waited over a week to even sneak a glance at the site.

I pray all day long, but I can’t imagine going to my Abba Father in only 25 words.

Then I began to listen to myself. Particularly while my daughter spent 10 days in the hospital. Soon, the thought of twitting prayers off and on all day became intriguing.

Can I actually type short prayers and let the entire world know what I’m praying at any given moment.

The more I listened to my conversations with my Savior, the more I wondered about sharing our prayers with my fellowship of believers. Lately, my prayers have been:

 “Father, have mercy.”

“Let the nurse see Jesus in me.”

“Lord, forgive her; I’ll try to.”

“Oh Holy Father, forgive me.”

“Comfort Ann.”

“Be glorified in all that I do.”

“Please.”

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading to the shower. I’ll be there awhile because I have much more than 25 words to talk over with my Father.

Be blessed,

        Liz

Cyber Space Granny, Reporting!

I just gotta tell somebody, so why not post it for my special friends who hang out in blog-land!!

At 72 years taking up space on this earth, I'm sitting at my computer with buds pluged into my ears listening to sweet music coming from my I-Pod Touch.

Such decadence! Such an amazing feat.

I'm truly blessed.

The amazing thing is that I've already figured out how to download music from my favorite Christian CDs and I've got podcast from Nancy Leigh DeMoss, Chuck Swindoll, and Allistair Begg set up. And to think, a  month ago I thought all pods had to do with seeds in the earth!

The funny thing is that when I went outside to work in the yard just before dark, I forgot to take my new toy with me, so I was stuck with my own thoughts and words and I even had to quietly listen to whispers from my Heavenly Father as I dug in the dirt and potted the last of my annuals to perk up our hot, dry summer days.

My college grandson just shook his head and grinned at me. My daughter e-mailed: "Mom! We never know what you'll do next!"

I think I'll leave the Pod in my purse when I shop for groceries, though. There is a world of friends out there and I don't want to get lost in my own world all the time!!! Some of my most fun conversations happen when I'm waiting my turn at the fist market!

Well. Just thought some of you would like to know.

 

Hugs and blessings,

 

 

        Liz

A Little of My All

 Just in case you didn’t understand my PLAN from the last post, I did not promise to DO anything—like going to the moon or writing or running a 26 K.

           I only said I would tackle the WHAT that I have left. I did not realize how much WHAT there is to do.

           So in preparation of what I’ll be doing, I have cleared out an easy-to-get-to shelf in our bedroom and have finally organized all our photographs, keepsakes, mementoes, cards, letters, and more photographs that tell our seven-year-love story. Everything, including the empty and expectant scrapbooks, is ready and waiting for me to get to work.

           Yesterday I grabbed onto a TODAY thing and made a birthday cake for Dear Heart. Today was dedicated to celebrating my amazing husband's special day and I concentrated my ALL into being in his today.

           Tomorrow I’m going to a writers’ conference. Sally will pick me up at 9 and we’ll have a whole day to think and talk about our written words. Our dreams, hopes, ideas, and hard work will get a fresh kick-start.

           But, I don’t know how much time I’ll have to accomplish those WHAT projects because the front porch has new summer cushions and the petunias and geraniums are blooming profusely. I have two pots of new lemon verbena, lots of basil, and the mint is thriving. Even though I’m still struggling to get the lemon balm to survive, I can make a huge batch of herb lemonade anytime company drops in. The back porch is cooler in the late afternoons and the humming birds are here in droves and I find it difficult to stay indoors.

           So, if I don’t finish my run-away slave novel or get all the photographs into albums or clean out the hall closets, Dear Heart and our humming birds are deliriously happy. And, as I go about my days, busily using all of my WHAT that is left—I’ll smile more and I’ll worship with a happy heart.

           I think that might be what rejoicing and being glad is about. I hope you are enjoying your time, also!

Hugs and blessings,

        Liz

A Plan

I don’t know about you. I know a little about me.

I scan. Skim. Rush through. Glance. Assume.

           Then I run off to the next thing believing I am SURE of what I read, what I think, what I believe, what I know.

One word can make a difference.

           Did you check the web references in yesterday’s Itzhak and Me? If so, did you see what I believed I thought to be true that wasn't?

           Okay. I’ll stop playing around and write.

           At one of those turning points in my life, I stumbled onto a quote attributed to Itzhak Perlman. I had thrown in my towel. I was done. The years had won the race. It was time to quit, give up, stop.

           At that moment I read the quote and I SAW the word: TIME !!

I needed to believe in time.

           I whined awhile then after a long sigh turned back to living and wrote a LOT. I persevered. That was some three or four years ago.

Last winter the years grabbed me unexpectedly. I felt really tired. I became very old.

So I wallowed in being old. A lot. As I’m sure my faithful readers noticed. I acknowledged all my aches, pains, troubles, and hurts. Woe WAS me.

          

            I just hate it when I have to give up one of my pity prizes. I work hard to win every one and I love  every single whine!

  

           No, there’s NO fountain of youth. Yes, I am still tired but I don't have time to be OLD. Believe me when I tell you: there IS a difference between living many years and BEING old.

           The story goes that in 1995 Itzhak Perlman labored onto the stage for a particularly grueling concert and during the last piece, two strings broke on his violin. With no hesitation, the maestro continued playing with only three strings, presenting a dazzling climax to the concert. Then he said,

“Sometimes it is the artist’s task to find out

how much music you can still make

with WHAT you have left.”

           So. After much prayer and a little sleep I guess I’ll tackle the WHAT that is left.

           I have no idea how it will show itself, but I suspect it will be easier to use all of my WHAT that is left. For however long it goes on. 

This is the day which the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it!

Psalm 118:23-25 NASB

Love,

   Liz

Itzhak and Me

I wonder what—if anything—my favorite quote has to do with the post I wrote yesterday.

“Sometimes it is the artist’s task to find out

how much music you can still make

with the time you have left.”

The quote, attributed to Itzhak Perlman, so touched me, I hung it above my desk.

           One would think such wisdom came from an ancient guru. Do you know Itzhak Perlman? If you want thrilling inspiration, read on.

           Mr. Perlman was born in Tel Aviv on August 31, 1945 just as World War II ended. Tradition has it that he uttered those amazing words around his 50^th birthday.

Still not impressed?

           Did you see Schindler’s List? John Williams wrote the score and Itzhak Perlman, an Israeli-American violin virtuoso, was the violin soloist for that 1993 film. Mr. Perlman’s performance won Williams an Academy Award for best score.

           Of course Mr. Perlman’s journey did not begin with success. Born a Jew long before Israel became a nation, he contracted polio at the age of four and learned to walk with the use of crutches. As a child, Itzhak fell in love with classical music listening to the radio and studied at the Academy of Music in Tel Aviv before moving to the United States to study at the Juilliard School with the great violin pedagogue, Ivan Galamian, and his assistant Dorothy DeLay. Today when he performs concerts, Itzhak walks onto the stage with crutches wearing heavy leg braces. Once settled into a chair, he creates magical music while seated.

           Itzhak and his wife Toby, a classically trained violinist, reside in New York City. They have five children, Noah, Navah, Leora, Rami (of the rock band, Something for Rockets), and Ariella. In 1995, the Perlmans founded the Perlman Music Program in Shelter Island, New York, offering gifted young string players a summer residential course in chamber music.

           Itzhak Perlman, known world-wide as a violin genius, conductor, and instructor, is considered one of the preeminent violin virtuosi of the 20^th century.

           IMHO, Mr. Perlman practices what he preaches. Only eight years younger than I am, Itzhak is STILL making beautiful music and leaving legacies with every step his crutches take him.

           Meanwhile, in my own office I stand, stretch, and turn to walk away from the words on my screen when the words from the heart of a gifted violinist look me in the eye. Stop back by my front porch tomorrow. I think I can explain the connection between Itzhak and his music and this very old grandmother and my words.

 Hugs and Blessings as we near the finish line of Spring!

    Liz

 

[facts on Itzhak Perlman gleaned from  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Itzhak_Perlman  and http://www.snopes.com/music/artists/perlman.asp ]