“Please, sir, I want some more.” —Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist

You know that moment when someone poses the question you’ve always wanted to ask, but never had the nerve? I remember the collective gasp of the roomful of orphans in this scene in Oliver Twist. No one had ever dared ask for a second helping. So, they waited with bated breath for what they all knew would come next.

coffee, cup, laptop, memeHello, Thursday Morning readers!

Are you wondering where I’m headed with that opening? Me too! It all started with my need to finish a project for my publisher. When I wrote “The End,” and declared it “a wrap,” I hoped to put writing aside for a few weeks and get busy on some household chores. A little spring cleaning, painting, organizing. All those things waiting in the wings for me to tackle.

But sometimes work takes precedence. Already, the marketing needs to be done. Which means I have to continue writing things to get ready for the release of the book I so recently finished, while it’s fresh in my mind, and also because time has a way of sneaking up on you.

So, I’ve gone back to the land of Annabelle’s Ruth. Not that I mind. You know, I was already missing Annabelle, Connie, Alton, Tom, and Miss Lillian. They are like old friends. Or maybe like my cousins who live where Annabelle lives. Whenever I have time to visit, it’s like I never left.

Back to Oliver’s question, it was my publisher who asked for more. I was like the roomful of orphans, staring back at her, waiting for the inevitable explosion. But of course, it didn’t come. Not out loud, anyway. After a bit of thought, I realized, in this case, a little more was just the thing.  I’ll scrape the bottom of the pot and see what I can come up with. Sometimes, that’s the yummiest part.

Click to Tweet: You know that moment when someone poses the question you’ve always wanted to ask, but never had the nerve? #amwriting More

I trust you’re having a wonderful spring. If you’re a mom, I hope this Mother’s Day holds many blessings. I look forward to spending time with some of my family this weekend. And then, it’s back to the writing board. Maybe a dash more adventure is what is needed, rather than washing walls and scrubbing baseboards. Oh, and don’t be afraid to ask for More!

And I tell you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. —Luke 11:9 ESV

Here’s Looking at You, Mom

coffee, cup, laptop, memeHello, it’s another Thursday morning, but not only that, it’s only 2 more days till Mother’s Day. Are you ready for it?

As a daughter, a mom, and a grandma, I tend to look forward to the day. Growing up, I had many strong women in my life. Women who weren’t afraid to roll up their sleeves and get dirty. They wrestled livestock, plowed fields, chopped cotton, picked cotton, shucked corn, and canned their produce in 100-degree weather with no AC.

Friends, those were some stalwart individuals. They’re my heroines in life.

My mom is no less my heroine, though she wasn’t required to live off the land. She was a city girl, transplanted to the country. She didn’t much care for all that hard work, but she never shied away from it. We moved a lot. She counted about forty-two moves, in a recent conversation.

We usually lived in town, where she worked all day at a job, kept a clean house and three mostly well-behaved kids. I was thirteen when Dad finally found a job he liked, and could do well. He started as an insurance salesman and moved up to management. We were transferred from one city to another, because he was a good manager and could build up a lagging office like nobody’s business.

Mom adapted well. She would pretty much go anywhere for her man. He’d found her in Seattle, working the candy counter at a downtown movie theater. She was only seventeen, and he was nineteen when he talked her into marrying him. Still in the Navy, and about to head overseas to Japan, he took her home to his family. Mom ended up in West Tennessee with virtual strangers, waiting for his return.

That was either crazy stupid, or crazy in love. Either way, I’m glad she did it. The fact that she stayed with that man for so many years makes her a heroine in my book. I loved my Daddy. In fact, most everyone loved him. He was a true friend and a good ole boy. We all miss him like crazy.

Now, she shows her bravery in other ways. At eighty-four, she lives alone in a small apartment, an hour away from me, two hours away from big brother, but just a few minutes away from her baby boy, who takes good care of her. She keeps her little space clean as a whistle. Her favorite pastime is reading, and she reads a lot. She says it keeps her mind healthy.

She doesn’t get out a lot, as she’s very hard of hearing, even with a hearing aid. But this woman stays in pretty constant touch with several of her friends from childhood and a couple of family members. She sends out birthday cards and encouraging letters to some who are unable to leave their homes. And they love her letters.

My birthday cards come with lines added beneath the really meaningful parts, along with a few exclamation points. There was a time when this introverted woman never touched me, never told me that she loved me, but I always knew she was there for me. We didn’t always get along, but then I moved out, and we became the best of friends.

Since Dad died, she never lets an opportunity pass to tell me she loves me, or gather me in a bony hug (she’s quite thin). And this is how she is with everyone.

So, Happy Mothers Day, not only to my mom, but to all of you who are reading this, whether you have children of your body, or children of your heart.

And if your mom is still around, don’t forget to call and tell her you love her.