I have always believed in the symbolism of ‘The Light’ with my faith. In my research to validate my viewpoint, I’ve found in the Bible multiple references to ‘The Light’ or ‘The Light of the World.’ The first chapter and first verses of Geneses are the initial sources.
“In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light” and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was the morning of the first day.”
Biblical scholars have varied interpretations of these five verses. I understand that the usage here of ‘The Light’ and its opposition to ‘The Darkness’ is symbolic of good and evil. Since God created the light, perhaps it means the ‘Spirit of God.’
Psalms 27:1, “The Lord is my light and my salvation – whom shall I fear.
Isaiah 60:1 “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.”
During the few years that I have studied the art of writing, one prominent piece of advice for novice writers is to “write what you know.” Following this guideline makes it easier to select a genre. You already have a foundation on which to build.
The first three books I wrote were memoirs, with each about a different period of my life. By being a familiar subject, the minimal research made it easier for me to focus on the skills of writing the narrative.
Currently, I’m working on my first attempt at fiction. When I started, I again took a life experience as my subject. In 1970, I attended mortuary school, and until 1981 worked as a licensed funeral director and embalmer. It seemed a natural and easy choice to use my mortuary profession as the primary subject of my plot. I followed famous writers such as Hemmingway, John Grissom, and Anne Rice, who utilized this technique.
I know I’m not alone when I state, 2020 has been a difficult year.Last spring, my grief for the loss of my late husband was somewhat under control. I was prepared to move forward, do some traveling, and seek out new adventures. The pandemic put a screeching halt to those plans.
This year I have gone through extended periods of depression, and my writing paid the price. My last blog was back in August. I’ve wanted to return to creative writing, but the motivation wasn’t there. I have also been neglectful in reading posts of those writers I follow or who have followed me in the past.
I didn’t totally abandon my writing. I completed and self-published the second edition of my book One Month, Twenty Days, and a Wake Up. But, I have been remiss about marketing strategies, and sales are flat. I continue attending my writing critique group, but we had to meet remotely using Zoom. I am working on the fourth book, but like everything else, I often ignored it.
This post is an attempt to motivate myself to return to writing. I’m challenging myself to put out blogs regularly and move forward on my next book project. Even with the numbers from the Covid crisis going up, there is a glitter of hope with the vaccines’ release. I pray for the rapid control of the pandemic and stop the deaths from around the world.
I don’t have an original Christmas Story, but I will repost one from a previous year. With this, I do wish those that follow my writing and those who might stumble onto it a Blessed Christmas. Have a safe and healthy New Year.
Several weeks ago, Hugh Roberts, the blogger of Hugh’s Views and News, invited me to write a guest post for his blog site. As a novice writer, anytime I’m featured on someone else’s post, I jump at the chance. When someone as renown as Hugh Roberts with all his following, it’s an honor to be asked.
Ever since I began my blog site, I’ve done my best to avoid writing about national politics. But, with the recent article in the Atlantic September 2, 2020 publication, I can’t remain silent. With Donald Trump rants on the men and women who are or have served in the military, he crossed the line for me. This is not something new or a one-time occurrence. These are a series of comments he has repeatedly made beginning before he became President.
The article states, “… When President Donald Trump canceled a visit to the Aisne-Marne American Cemetery near Paris in 2018, he blamed rain for the last-minute decision, saying that “the helicopter couldn’t fly” and that the Secret Service wouldn’t drive him there. Neither claim was true.
Trump rejected the idea of the visit because he feared his hair would become disheveled in the rain, and because he did not believe it important to honor American war dead, according to four people with firsthand knowledge of the discussion that day. In a conversation with senior staff members on the morning of the scheduled visit, Trump said, “Why should I go to that cemetery? It’s filled with losers.” In a separate conversation on the same trip, Trump referred to the more than 1,800 marines who lost their lives at Belleau Wood as “suckers” for getting killed…”
It’s now been fifteen months since I lost my husband. There were so many times I didn’t know how I would overcome my grief. What I learned was I have an instinct to survive and more inner strength than I realized. What I quickly learned was to use my friends when things got tough.
I’ve said it, you might have too, “If you need anything, let me know.” Or, “Call me if I can help.” When people said these things to me, I didn’t take them seriously. Oh yeah, they’re saying this to be polite. When after having a series of dark days, I picked up the phone and called one of my friends. I learned they were serious and gladly came to my rescue.
Sometimes all I needed was to have a conversation with someone other than my cat. Other times I needed companionship to get out of the house. I learned friends delight in helping. They didn’t know what to say or how to help. All they needed was for me to ask.
I got through that period of helplessness and indecisiveness. I learned grief wasn’t something I got over; I learned to live with it. I learned that grief brought meaning to my life and the ability to smile at the memories.
If when that someday comes you lose that special person in your life, remember me. Remember when everything seems out-of-balance, your emotional strength will put the world back into perspective. Life as you knew it changes, but you can accept it. Rely on your inner instinct and don’t forget your friends. This is a life journey we all make, but you will learn things about yourself you didn’t know before.
One the bloggers I follow is doing a series on “How to…” This weeks post is encouraging WordPress user to use Gutenberg editor system. Take you thumb out of your mouth and give it a try. It is way more powerful and once you start using it regularily it is easier than the classic editor WordPress used before.
Follow the link to Hugh Roberts post and then give Gutenberg a try.
It’s now five weeks since I lost my husband, Anthony. He was the love of my life and the center of my world. For me, the world stopped that day, yet life all around me continued. I couldn’t understand why; didn’t the world see my pain?
With help from friends and especially individuals at our church, I am looking at our changing world knowing I need to join it. I love the expression, God doesn’t put something in your life if He doesn’t think you are strong enough to get through it. If he brings you to it, He will bring you through it.
I fill my days with the many personal details one must do when you lose a spouse. It keeps me distracted, and I don’t dwell on the loss. Yet it is at night when all is quiet the pain is at its worse. It is those times I turn to prayer and God gives me the strength to cope.
For those that follow me on social media, you have seen my announcement. Those who follow me here, it is with a broken heart that I share with you the loss of my husband, my soul mate, and the love of my life. Anthony and I had been together for over thirty-five years. We had become so conjoined in our lives it was difficult to see where mine ended, and he began. Now I search for my own identity with the dependent part missing.
Anthony was the type person we all have met at one time in our life. Everywhere we went, when he entered, the room lite up with smiles, fun, and laughter. He was the entertainer and the central focus where ever he went. Not in a selfish way, but he felt it was his role to bring happiness. When we attended church, it took ten minutes for him to make it to our pew. He stopped, greeted everyone, and gave his hugs. He would say, “Many of our congregation members live alone, and the only hug they receive is the hugs they got when they came to church. I’m going to make sure everyone gets their hug.”
Anthony was an organist at a professional level. His forte was Theater Organ although he also played at our church. In our home is a large theater organ and I had the joy of listening to him play daily. He played with passion and emotion and made his music resonate throughout our home. Anthony was at his happiest when he played his show tunes.
My life was so enriched from the day I met him. Life does move on, but at this time I don’t understand how. I take each hour and each day attempting to absorb and accept my loss. What does bring me comfort are the stories my friends share how he brought happiness into their lives. God blessed me with a man who was full of love, and he unselfishly gave it to all he met.
My weekly post on sharing my book will take a sabbatical. I will pop in periodically to view and make comments. I thank you for your support, and I ask for your prayers.
If you like murder mysteries, and who doesn’t, then you need to read Mae Clair’s new release End of Day, Hoed’s Hill Series.This book is Mae’s second in these mystery tales. Follow the link below to read details about both books. From the Pen of Mae Clair
