NaNo check calendar

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This is an update of Dave Sean's design.  DaveSean.com It was the most helpful printout I found.  This update is my own creation based on Dave's 2013 design.

Our Camping Trip

It’s a new day, a Thursday and we slept in our own beds last night and ate our evening meal in the living room watching a movie together. It was late when we finally went to bed. I didn’t clean the dishes but left them on the counter. There weren’t many, it was one of those kind of meals. We were both exhausted from a lot of extra work. Wednesday morning I got up at my usual time and sat at my keyboard, after a time of prayer and typed my morning pages out. Then I worked on my book for my usual amount of time and dealt with messages on my computer. Then I went to let the chickens out. I did my yoga and walked, put laundry in the washer and began to gather all the items we would need for a camping trip because yesterday was to be our camping trip. Our last one for the year. I had made a list and was going down the list crossing things off. I watered the herb planters on the deck and hung the clothes out to dry. It was a warm sunny day with a little breeze. Perfect for the plans. When all was ready I took a shower and Mark packed it all into the truck along with an adequate supply of firewood. We pulled out and headed for the lake. On the way we stopped at the gas station and the grocery store for only a few needed things. The drive was beautiful. We picked our favorite spot, making sure that it was not reserved. We made coffee and set up our table and Mark made a fire and we set up the tent. It was the first time we had a separate air mattress for Chloe. Shelby wanted to start sleeping in the tent right away. She loves camping and sleeping in the tent. We had everything pretty much set up and I was getting ready to make up the beds when I noticed a camper passing us for the second time. He had stopped the first time but had pulled away and now he was back, stopping again. They were in this big white truck with a huge camping trailer attached to it. They looked like serious people. Youngish. I thought, “This is not good.” “I think they want our spot” I said to Mark. Sure enough the guy got out of the big white truck and was walking over to us, he had a paper in his hand. I got out of the tent and stood there while Mark talked to the dude. The dude says he reserved this spot and he’s sorry there is no sticker on the pole but he needs to get set up and this is his spot. He showed Mark the paper and waved it around. We look around and wonder if he will think of a way we could carry on with what we are doing and not have to tear up our camp so that they could have their camp. I asked if they could camp in the next spot for the night. He said it was a lot of work to move that huge camper. We knew what was going to happen. Mark said he’s not going to set the tent up again. I said we already burned some of our wood. But we knew. The dude got back in his truck and they sat in it waiting. Well it takes time to break camp even if you haven’t actually camped in it yet. Well Chloe did have a sandwich and a glass of milk, if that counts as camping. We set about tearing down our campsite which we had taken all day getting ready for. We worked hard even though we were ready to sit and enjoy the campfire. We put everything back into the truck. Every piece of wood except the burned ones and we came home. On the way home it was quiet. I tried to find the silver lining. I said that I didn’t know exactly what it was but it’s there. You just have to look for it. Chloe said she felt like crying but she wasn’t because, lucky for us, she isn’t a crybaby. Dad said he was beyond a little disturbed by it. So we sat there each dealing with our disappointment differently. I said that maybe something was going to happen at the camp grounds that God didn’t want us there for it. I also noted that we had managed to set up camp and get through the whole thing without upsetting each other and that was an A+ I would say. Perhaps the whole thing was a big fat test. We also got an A+ for handling the whole exhausting disappointment with dignity. At home we got everything put away and had hamburgers instead of hot dogs. We watched Cats & Dogs. It’s a movie. But while we were getting ready to eat my son called. I love hearing his voice. He needed to let some steam off because his day had been very difficult and when he is having trouble, no one better and more comforting to talk to than mamma. I’m so glad I was here for him and that I didn’t miss his voice and that he didn’t get an answering machine on his very bad day. Perhaps God knew that I needed to be here for him and was caring for my son by letting us get kicked off our campsite. So there really is a silver lining although I’m not really broadcasting it around here because it was a lot of work yesterday.

The Pendulum Swing

In one day the pendulum swings.

It swings far and wide. 

It has a long arm and takes all day

but far and wide it swings.

As happy encouraged and inspired I am in the morning

so opposite by night.

My fingers race eagerly to wake from sleep

and pound out the awesome words.

But by night I am ready to burn the lot

and hibernate in the woods.

How is it so wide and precise an arc

of freedom to shame in a day.

Depending how far and how true the swing

the next day must swing again.

I fear the shame and loathing.

I fear the embarrassment.

So dark is the night I’d reject the light

and bury my gift in the morn.

Yet a buried gift gives one no rest

and the gift cries out in pain. 

I’ll welcome the swing of the pendulum

to cherish my gift in the morn.

This poem describes my fate.

The fate of one with a gift.

It is the loathing which must go.

Must go on and on.

The loathing which strengthens resolve

and gives one a bone in the back.

This dark side of the pendulum

is what writers don't lack.

One continues in the face of fear and circumstance.

Continues to carry the task

of writing the truth in what ever form

against whatever tide.

So here I am in the morning

writing poetry at my desk.

I don’t know what will happen

to all these words I write.

I don’t know where they will end up

and which weary soul ignite.

I only must write them down

like a crazy worn out clown

and use the arc of the morning 

before the arm swings back

down and rises again in horrible mockery 

to show me what I lack.

2015 © Hanna Elizabeth Williams McCown

Gardening with Chloe

Gardening with Chloe is a wonderful experience. She works hard and we talk about all sorts of things. She is telling me about weeding and how it is a lot like life. How we need to always pull up our weeds and get them out. She breaks suddenly into another personality and stands up. She is tired of the row she is weeding in and asks in a southern drawl. "Ma’am, do you have a job for me to do?"  We talk about which weeds might be more fun for her to pull right now and she barters for the job. I tell her I can’t pay her in money, but I’ll let her eat at my house for as long as she wants. She accepts the deal. Then she sets in again weeding a spot closer to me.

I tell her about an amazing lady who came and helped me in the garden this morning and how she was really good at getting weeds. I tell her how nice it was to have the lady’s company and what a great gardening companion she was. She wants to know more about the lady. She asks me what her name is. I tell her it is Chloe. Her voice becomes bolder and more confident in the conversation and she really wants to meet this wonderful Chloe lady. I look over at her and she is beaming with pride.

On The Lake

On the Lake

That first summer,

I sat in the boat looking over the water,

out towards the shoreline,

over the space between.

I was numb, almost trance-like.

The moments blended together

as the fish were reeled in.

The pain congealed over the water

in all the colors of the rainbow

between the sky and the shimmering lake.

It was a time away

from all that was ordinary.

A time to let my eyes wander

and feast on natures bounty

lining every shore.

As I gazed into the colors of the rainbow

I saw your spirit floating

kissing the water

gently caressing with your hands

moving gracefully around.

I basked in the peace,

the beauty, the quiet, the connection.

All that was awkward,

unfitting, dark,

melted away

on the lake.

by Hanna McCown 5/5/15
also on SheWrites.

A Song of Pain and Triumph

Lamentations 3:52-58

52. My enemies without cause

Hunted me down like a bird

I’m reading this passage and I’m thinking, “Wow, I’ve been there, and not that long ago.” I think we read this stuff and think about the enemies as being people. But they aren’t always people.

I can’t think what I did wrong but everything seems to be falling apart. Nothing is working out. One thing after another. One child, moving away. Another, floundering far away. Another, dealing with every kind of evil and yet another lies in a hospital fighting for her life. My little one, still needing me very much and at a tender age delicate, with teeth decaying as they emerge. My life, an exhausting whirlwind. My husband works and works and works. He doesn’t look at me anymore. I have more troubles than time. I drive here and I drive there. I drive and drive and drive. I drive to visit grandchildren living in rubble and filth. I drive to visit a child in need of uplifting. I drive to sit hours beside one so young and so afraid. To sit and hold her hand through the night. I try to find something interesting to draw me away from my troubles. I try one thing and another but nothing helps. Troubles surround me.

53. They silenced my life in the pit

And threw stones at me.

I felt the judgments of all the years drowning my dignity, my rights. I felt those who could be comfort, turn their heads away. I felt the struggle of others, not enemies, but others connected to my troubles, fighting against their own tides. Pushing against me as they struggle to understand the long terrifying battle of death by disease. Everyone struggling to hold up their heads. To believe in life and healing. To believe a lie that isn’t happening. Everyone stumbling over themselves on top of me pressing me lower and lower. Grinding me into oblivion. Yet I remembered one thing. “Don’t leave me Momma, stay with me to the end, you promise.” I remember these words. This plea and I stay. I stay to the end. I stay.

54. The waters flowed over my head;

I said, “I am cut off!”

My little one and my husband look at me in my pit, as water covers my head. They have fear and pity and confusion in their gaze. I sink lower and lower. There is a gulf between us. They try to be understanding but they are grieving too. The children have left and gone to their own worlds again and I am left alone in the pit. I try to talk but the words mix up. I try to write but it hurts too much. I try to enjoy life but I’m in a warp and it twists my view and my grasp. I have become twisted, angry, bitter, scorned, lonely, useless, base.

55. I called on Your name, O Lord,

From the lowest pit

So I called Your name, Lord. I called Your name. Others gave me other names and places and groups to reach out to. Classes and medicines, activities. But I called Your name and only Your name. I called on Your name day and night from the bottom of the pit I was drowning in.

56. You have heard my voice:

“Do not hide Your ear

From my sighing, from my cry for help.”

And you heard me. You heard everything. You knew I would survive and be ok. You knew. But you still listened to me. You heard my complaints and my anger and my hatred. You listened to my frustrations and confusion. You heard my every whisper and every mournful cry. It was as one long groan towards you. My groans were twisted. My pleas for help distorted. My language pitiful, despicable. I bossed you and begged you and pleaded you and charged you. I reminded you that you used to let me hear the angels sing and now I hear devils moan.

57. You drew near on the day I called on You,

And said, “Do not fear!”

You held me and rocked me and comforted me. “There, there,” you said gently, softly, “you will be all right.” You reached your hand to me and came down into the pit and wept with me. You lay on my bed and held my head as I cried until no more tears would come. You comforted me. You stayed with me. You walked for me and stood for me and held me up when I could no longer stand. You whispered in my ear that courage would come again.

58. O Lord, You have pleaded the case for my soul;

You have redeemed my life.

I didn’t drown. I didn’t stay in the pit. You took my life to the Father and my soul is restored.

Psalms 23:3 He restores my soul;

He leads me in the paths of righteousness

For His name’s sake.

You set me in a church among people who are just like you, with whom I worship you. You rescue the little ones and place them in the church and give them meaning. Each one is baptized and dedicated. They love your house.

Psalm 111:1 Praise the Lord!

I will praise the Lord with my whole heart,

In the assembly of the upright and in the congregation.

The China Doll Blessing

As I drove down the road, the puzzled feeling remained. I was mentally going over the math. Over and over again. Always the same answer. I knew I would have to go back. I didn’t want to. We were finally on our way home. I was tired. The children were tired. You know what happens to tired children. I don’t really have to explain that here do I? But I knew them well. Hadn’t I been their closest companion since birth. They would realize that this was important. Sure they would. I explained that something wasn’t right and that we need to go back. I explained that we weren’t charged the whole sum for the dolls. I turned the car around. The man in Krogers at the register asked me to wait a minute. It was actually his fault. He was embarrassed. Soon the manager was standing before me. Tall, very tall, looking down his thin face at me. Me, disheveled and obviously poor. I was intimidated immediately. I handed him the receipt. He looked at it. I showed him the doll on the list. I told him that I want to be charged for three dolls, that I had bought three dolls. He assured me that he knew I had three dolls because he had been watching me. He had probably seen me looking at those dolls every time I came in with my children to buy groceries with our paper government money. He had probably thought he better watch that lady. Imagine that. A small frame like myself, barely scraping 125 lbs trying to hide three 18 inch china dolls in my jacket. He better watch me. I was alarmed at his statement. But I wasn’t offended by his watchful eye, I felt safe under his eye. That was my true feeling when he used that watching word with me. How can anything go wrong with a poor tiny lady of many children while under the watchful eye of a very tall and somber store manager. He still intimidated me though. I wanted to cry. I was exhausted from this day and it would have been so much easier to just go home and count my blessings. Accepting as a gift the extra dolls. Three for the price of one. Why hadn’t I just done that? But these were not my thoughts, these were the words of the man staring down at me and making me want to burst into tears. The man who had been watching me.

“God is watching me too.” I ventured. “And someday He will ask me about this, and I so need His blessing. I saved for these dolls and I want to pay for them because I don’t want to give something for Christmas which isn’t mine to give. Please, can I pay for them?” He looked down at me even more seriously than before. “I wish more people were like you.” He said. Meaning that he appreciated my wanting to pay for the dolls. “I will let you pay for them.” He beckoned me to a register which was not in use and took my money.

I left the store with less money and a happy heart. I’ve always been proud of that decision. The decision I made that day to turn around and face the manager and boast about my God and how I need Him to bless me.

I’ve made many decisions like this one. Decisions which cost me something but gained me blessings. Blessings don’t always look like dollars and cents. Sometimes blessings are no more than the rich feeling one has on the inside of not being a slave to money. The wonder in your heart when each of your children have a present under the Christmas tree. And you knowing how much it cost you to put that present there. And that feeling you have knowing that it was worth it, every bit of it.

Debbie with her China Doll set, Christmas morning.

The first piece of armor the writer of Ephesians lists in chapter 6 is to have the belt of truth and the second is the breastplate of righteousness.