The Time Has Come to Move

This corner of the internet has been my blog for nearly three and a half years.  It's seen me travel many countries, welcome new babies into my family, see people get married, flounder about while trying to see what was next--and it's seen God faithfulness in my life.

But, I've decided to move to Wordpress for a variety of reasons.  Therefore, this is my last post on Blogger.

I hope if you enjoy keeping up with mylifetintedpink, you will check out my new (work in progress) blog at Wordpress.

Feel free to follow along as I continue to explore the world, learn life, and have adventures along the way!

It's been fun (and the fun will continue--just at a different web address)!

Sincerely,

Kirsten

A Trip to Oxford--A Special Encounter With Lewis

I had a very special encounter while visiting Oxford, England.
Below is my article as published in The Virginian Review.

Photo by K.L.R.

AUTHOR’S HOME — The Kilns, C.S. Lewis’ home outside of Oxford, England, is a three-mile walk from Magdalen College, where he was a Fellow for 29 years. The outside staircase was built to allow him access to his bedroom without having to disturb the housekeeper, whose room was a connector between his bedroom and the hallway. This is one example of Lewis’ kindness and selflessness toward people. (Kirsten Richardson Photo) 

Virginian Writer Taken Aback By English Author's Home

Editor's Note: C.S. Lewis was the noted author of "The Chronicles of Narnia," as well as "Mere Christianity" and "The Screwtape Letters." Virginian Review Staff Writer Kirsten Richardson visited the home of the famous author during a recent visit to England.

BY KIRSTEN
RICHARDSON
Staff Writer

OXFORD, England - It was as though my heart was kissed, and I never wanted to wash it again. Walking away, I began to skip and then run. Hurrying to catch the bus; the smile on my face never disappeared.

I felt I had met and talked with the man himself, only to remember he died many years ago. Instead, I sat in his living room, listening to stories from a student of his life and works.

My adventure began earlier in the afternoon. Sitting in Oxford at Magdalen College, I told myself that to visit the dreaming spires and not visit the home of the creator of Narnia was absurd.

Three miles later, I arrived at Lewis Close, my excitement and anticipation nearly bubbling over. As I walked up the road, I prayed for an adventurous and special experience.
The L-shaped house sat on the right side of the road, with shrubs and garden surrounding it. Two cars sat in the gravel driveway, evidence that The Kilns is a private residence.

Having learned that morning that arranging a visit in advance was necessary, I was not sure what to expect. A sign on the gate confirmed the information, causing disappointment to creep in

Snapping pictures from different angles, the thought of turning around and going back to town immediately after arriving was the last thing I wanted to do.

Beginning an internal conversation with myself, I suggested knocking on the door, explaining I did not know the tour information before that morning, and asking if they would mind my wandering around the garden.

The battle between fear of disturbing strangers in their home and seizing the opportunity to walk around the grounds after making the trip began.

Weighing the options, I realized that if I refrained from knocking, I was assuming a negative response and not allowing the opportunity for a yes. Also, if it was a situation in a book, the character would certainly knock and make the request.

That did it. I walked up to the door nearest me and knocked. No response. I knocked again, a little louder this time. Still nothing. After the third time, I decided if anyone was home, they were in the main part of the house.

Walking out to the road and around to the gate, I pushed it open. It scraped against the bushes. Standing in front of the door, I pushed the bell. A loud brrringgg sounded from within, and I quickly let go, startled by the noise.

Waiting anxiously, wondering who would open the door and rehearsing what to say, I heard someone approaching. A middle aged man with grey hair and a moustache opened the door.

I began, "I didn't know 'til this morning about needing to schedule a visit. I was wondering if you would mind if I wandered around the garden?"

To my surprise, he invited me in, offering to quickly show me around. Entering the house, I found myself standing in C.S. Lewis' kitchen, just as it was when he lived there.

Ushering me through a foyer, housing a narrow staircase that curved back to the second floor, he offered me a seat in the living room. Looking around, while trying to avoid gawking, I noticed shelves of books, several chairs, and a beautiful wooden desk placed in front of a large, inspiring window with simple detailing, overlooking the garden.

For the next hour, I enjoyed conversation about C.S. Lewis, faith, and Oxford with an admissions officer and marketing associate from Seattle, Washington.

A wealth of information, Kim Gilnett shared facts, tid bits, and stories with me, emphasizing the selfless character of the man loved by so many around the world.

Sitting on the sofa, it felt like I had merely stopped in for a visit, not like I was a tourist in Oxford for the day. Wanting to make sure I made my train, Kim walked me to the end of the road, telling me where to catch the bus.

As I walked, skipped, and then ran, I realized a cup of tea was the only thing missing from my beautiful visit to The Kilns.

Summertime

Today...

I had an emergency eye appointment that confirmed I am not crazy and I do, in fact, have a problem with my right eye.  The good news: it can be fixed.

Rebecca and I went to the river but did not go swimming due to high, swift water...and the overcast sky.

We had hot dogs, marshmallows, and s'mores.

Mmmm.  Yum!

We attended a Flag Day/238th Birthday of the U.S. Army celebration.

My account will be in the paper tomorrow (yes, I should be writing an article, not a blog post).

Tonight, I'm just being a girl.

Under the Tuscan Sun is such a great movie.

I'm eagerly anticipating Paris.

I just need to make sure I don't forget a teensy thing that I really want to do.

That would be tragic.

And now I've written and you've gotten to read the brief account of my day.

Don't you feel privileged? ;)

P.S. Losing the ability to see clearly is the worst.

When There Are No Words...There Are Words

Photo by K.L.R.

Sometimes there are no words.

But, when I wonder how to passionately express my emotions---I can only think of journaling.

Words.

I love words.

I love watching others play their music with deep fervor and passion--and often I wish I could.

But, that is not my gifting.

Words.

That is where I find solace.

Thoughts.

Over and over I am given a greater understanding of the circumstance on which I ponder.

Nature.

I am in awe of the Creator.

Life in a Snow Globe: Guns, Police, What?

I'm half-way living in a surreal world.
The feeling you get after finishing a book or a television series you've marathoned?
That's how I feel.

For two and a half hours today, I was in a snow globe.
I watched the jaws of life (at least I think they were the jaws of life) break a car door off.
I watched police carry out search tactics while they hunted a shooter.
A man-hunt happened around me, and I calmly walked in front of guns (ok, that was kind of weird since I've always been taught not to walk in front of guns--they were not loaded), took pictures, scribbled notes, and enjoyed being able to get close to the action, ask questions, observe, and not be told to leave.

It was like being in a crime television show...except I knew some of the people wearing the uniforms.

Plus, it's always fun to be someplace others aren't allowed (the park was closed for the day).

When I drove out this morning, I looked in my rear view mirror and saw an ambulance and rescue car.  I pulled over, let them pass, and wondered if it was real or part of the mock disaster.  All mock.

I feel like I lived an adventure.  But, when I think about it, it wasn't real.  I'm in a slight quandary over the whole thing.

But, it was informative, fascinating, and made for a fun article to write!

P.S. This was a mock disaster exercise.  I covered it for the paper.

Synonyms: Saturday, Pageants

As I prepare to cover my fourth pageant (yes, you heard correctly), I've been more excited.
There are things I would rather be doing than watching 20 girls walk across a stage, smile and look too hard at the judges, and not understand what too short means.

But, I'm thankful for a job, and I'm glad I am a pageant girl, so I can at least entertain myself critiquing outfits and trying to pick the winners.

Next week should come with normalcy.  I have several events to cover and at least one day subbing (hopefully more!).

This morning I awoke at 6:45, crawled out of the basement, and enjoyed a morning of movies with Lala.  We needed a day to lounge (not like we haven't had snow days all week).  But, today was Saturday.  It was nice to pop in a movie and not be at the mercy of a terrible television selection.  We enjoyed A Beautiful Mind...and I enjoyed most of The Dead Poets Society.  I need to finish it later (I have seen it before).

And, yes, I am keeping up my cute outfits for the pageants (sorry I am so terrible about posting them).

P.S. I was bummed when I realized I wouldn't be home tonight...just in case Duck Dynasty is on.  Oh, you didn't know I was a fan?  Mmm, more on that later.

Sometimes the Path is Hard

Snow is covering the ground.
School is out for the second day.
I don't want to make a post of pictures and share about any event.

I need to write about thoughts, processes, emotions.

The human mind is unique.
It allows individuals to take a concept or thought, mull over it (sometimes for hours), and move forward with it--often without processing to anyone else.

It should be no surprise to anyone who knows me (or has read my blog for a while), I am always thinking.  I've been processing a lot recently.  Sometimes my chest feels like it's being crushed.  Remember I said I am content?  It's still true.  But, with that comes a hesitancy about what is next.  I know I will be ready to move when the time comes, but right now, I am satisfied where I am.

If you are reading this and freaking out, wondering if I am going to skip out on England, don't worry.  England is in my future.  But, at this moment, I am happy.  I am looking forward to going to work tomorrow.  I am learning and growing up.  And sometimes I'm a wreck.

But, I'll look back and appreciate the lessons learned.

Dear Friday: My Students are the Best!

Dear Friday, it seems so odd you've arrived.  I had to keep remembering to wish my students a happy weekend, be safe, and study for their science test.

Dear Students, you all are amazing.  You are gems.  I am so looking forward to the laughs we will share next week.  Thank you for the encouragement you've given me.  Every time you say you've learned something, it makes my day.

Dear Articles, I've written a lot of you this week!  Sunday: pageant article, Tuesday: town council article, Thursday: town council article, this Sat/Sun: another pageant article.  You are keeping me busy!  It is great, but I'm glad to have nothing on my schedule tonight (other than celebrating Lala's birthday)!

Dear Abbie, thank you for being a friend who tells me the hard stuff.  You are an amazing friend.

Dear Shaver's, thanks for letting me live here.  I love it.

Dear God, thank you for friendships.  I'm thankful for the things that strengthen them.  I'm thankful for real friendships, the kind that overcome and survive.  Those are true.

Dear Saturday, bring on the baseball and pageants! WooHoo!

One Day of My Awesome Weekend!

Yesterday I received the nicest comment from a friend.
She noted the diversity in my life lately, shown through two albums I posted.

In one, I was having lunch and tea with a friend.
In the other, I was shooting a 12-Gauge and a 22 (post to come).

Both were fabulous.

Friday was a snow day.  Instead of subbing in the computer lab at the elementary school, Scarlet and I finally got together!  I tried a delicious Shepherd's Pie and she had the soup.  We sipped Earl Grey tea, and enjoyed catching up on life.

After we lunched, I drove up to the paper and enjoyed hanging out in the newsroom and doing my first editing of the Saturday paper.  Love being a reporter.  I think I need to watch an old reporter movie.  I'm feeling some Cary.

 

Dear Friday: A Busy and Fulfilling Week

I love the starkness of the winter in this photo.
Photo by K.L.R.

Dear Friday,  Thank you for arriving and bringing a snow day with you.
Dear Week, You've been awesome.  Subbing, reporting, hanging out with people...and, I'm blanking on the rest.  It's been busy, to say the least.
Dear Middle School and High School Students, never doubt that I think you all are awesome!
Dear Virginia, I like you.  Your mountains are beautiful.
Dear Elizabeth and Fam, Happy Moving Day tomorrow!!!  I can't wait to see your new house!
Dear Science, Prepare for an English Minor to be teaching you for two weeks...should be interesting!
Dear Feet, I'm sorry I stood on you in five inch heels for a little bit too long the other day.
Dear Pastor Steve and Roy, Thank you for taking care of me and making sure my car didn't explode in my face.  It's nice that some people know about cars so that those of us who don't....can still drive : )
Dear Shaver's, Thanks for letting me live with you part-time!
Dear Jobs, I love you.  Seriously.  Writing and hanging out with students.  How fun!!!
Dear Weekend, Let's have some fun!

P.S. Dear State Troopers, Please leave me alone.  I'm sure you are very nice, but pulling me over when I'm going the speed limit startles me.  Yes, my car is now properly inspected.  Thank you for checking.

The Not-So-Starving Starving Artist

I know I just used this photo, but it seems fitting.  And this is my blog

I want to share a little about my jobs.

I am a substitute teacher and a part-time newspaper reporter.

Both jobs are amazing.  I love being around students.  No, I don't anticipate becoming a teacher, but I love youth.  They are fun, full of life, and still so malleable.  It is refreshing to see a younger generation enjoying themselves, learning, and growing up.  My favorite age group is middle and high school.  But, I love all the ages.

Writing for a newspaper is something I didn't think I wanted to do.  Even before attending the World Journalism Institute, I said I would like to do magazine journalism but not newspaper journalism.  Where do I find myself?  Writing for a small town newspaper!  It is fantastic.  I've grown a lot, even in the few weeks I've been writing.  Creating an article is like putting together a puzzle without a picture to reference, and I'm creating the pieces as I go along.

Sometimes I become frustrated that I don't have a job to wake up for every day.  Other times, I fear people's opinions.  Are they thinking I'm a lazy bum?  But, then it dawns on me, I get to write for a living, I get to spend time with kids, and I'm not pinned down to one thing.  So many people envy the "starving artist" persona, and I, in a sense, get to be that for a time.  I'm certainly not starving, but I get to do two things I love...write and spend time with awesome teenagers, pre-teens, and kids (and participate in educating them).

Daddy once gave me a piece of advice.  He told me, "Do what you love, and find a way to get paid for it." (The quote may not be exact, but nonetheless, it's going in quotation marks)

I certainly didn't envision myself as a reporter...even a month and a half ago.  Yet, here I am.  But, as always, God has a plan.  Life is an adventure.  It's exciting, and I can't wait to see what happens next!  For now, I'm spending time with people I love, rebuilding friendships, and gaining a deep love for where I live.

Life, TV Moments, and That Darn Car

I thought the late nights, writing till the wee hours, ended with university.
Then, I took a job reporting for the newspaper.
Last night, after a particularly long meeting (2hr 1 min), I wrote till 2AM.
A couple of details and proofreading was all that remained for the morning.
I sat in my bed, too tired to get up, brush my teeth, and go back to bed.
Morning came quickly (waking up began at 6 and finished at 7:08).

With my article off to the newsroom, I scurried to get ready (in 35 minutes) to go see Elizabeth and the girls in Roanoke.  Oh my goodness.  Such a great time riding with Kae Lacy and Bella to ROA.  After they went to BSF, I drove see my cousins.  Isabelle and Amelie are so sweet, cuddly, precious, and complete characters!  Love them.  Dearly.  I'm thankful for even the shortest of visits with them.

Shocker of all shocks, I took a nap this afternoon.  Yep.  A rare occurrence in my life.

Do you remember that episode of Andy Griffith where the men all think women are the only sex that gossips?  Well, tonight I heard two men that were a prime example of how wrong Andy and the boys were.  Welcome to rural VA, where all the country stereotypes showcased on TV are REAL LIFE.

Recently cars have this radar called "Kirsten-is-coming-quick-turn-in-front-of-her-and-go-ten-miles-below-the-speed-limit."

Talk about a fast way to make me mad.  Cut in front of me and then drive like we're---oh wait, towns don't have 15mph speed limits.

Well, have a happy night!

Isabelle playing with her Dora dollhouse

Ami...ohmyword. The cuteness.

Being silly and cuddling under her princess blanket :)

Ami kissing her mommy < 3

Cute Attire: A Reporter Must

I've made it my goal to always dress well when covering a story.
None of my jobs have an office.
I don't get to wake up, dress up, and go out for the day.
So, when I get to socialize, I like to keep it classy ;)

Tonight I wanted to wear a skirt or dress (one of my favorite dresses has gone missing, as have my black tights--making me limited to my brown or bright blue tights).

It helps to feel nice while sitting through long meetings, wondering if you are writing down the info you need.

(Sorry, pictures are scarce from this outfit.  I was running short on time...and my camera died.)

 Dress: Bridesmaid from Hannah and Aaron's wedding; Jacket: Borrowed (and never returned) from Ginny; Tights: Gift; Shoes: Target

And, the Queen Is...

Heading into the pageant!
Slacks: J.Crew; Shoes: GUESS; Purse: J.Crew; Bracelets: NY&Co; Ring: Antique Store

Last night I had a new "beat" added to my list.
I covered a local pageant.
And, I will be covering upcoming pageants, as well!
It was slightly surreal, as I remembered competing on that same stage in a different pageant.
My mother pointed out that the purse I carried was my "Charger purse," just as the dress I wore was my "Charger dress." (Long story.  Short version: my high school's colors are black and orange.  Our team name, The Chargers.  My dress was such a vibrant tangerine/orange, we dubbed it the Charger Dress.)

Between growing up and the pageant being an older age group, it was an interesting experience.
I sat critiquing the outfits chosen.
The person I pegged to win, did not win (although, she won audience's choice...so, I don't know what the judges were thinking).

Attending a pageant in the rural south is an interesting experience.
Please, force any visions of Honey Boo Boo out of your mind.
Here, people cheer for the performers, regardless of talent.
Screams of adoring fans go longer than normal.
People's favorite things...are different.
And, chances are, you went to school with at least one person up there (if you aren't me, an outsider, you may have gone to school with half of them).

The Charger Dress.  Isn't it lovely?

Prom 2008

Someone Asked ME to Write?

Photo by: K.L.R.

Good Saturday Morning!

Recently, a friend from college invited me to guest blog for him.  I was excited and honored by his request (and a little overwhelmed, as you'll see when you read the topic).

Stephen is an awesome guy!  He is very funny (when I got lost going to visit, he told me to, "Look for the good looking CIU student."), a good conversationalist (evidenced in his writing), and a lover of truth.  He married Caroline a year and a half ago, and as far as I know, they are enjoying life together : )

Keep your eyes open, as he will be guest posting over here pretty soon!

But, for today, go check out my post on his blog!  Then, I recommend perusing his other posts.  He is a thoughtful and articulate writer.  He takes an intellectual and philosophical approach to life through his writing, but he doesn't miss the humanity.  I respect his frankness and the ways he expounds on thoughts.

In a Writing Rut

Writing is therapeutic.
It is my creative outlet...that leaves me satisfied.

Do you remember the line from Little Women where Jo talks about having so many stories in her head?

I don't...have 20 ideas in my head, that is.  I remember the line...hence bringing it up : )

But, I do have several.

My problem is completing them.  I was never good at writing conclusions to my papers in school.  It seems that same issue presents itself in my creative writing.

Sometimes, my beginning is so fantastic....it only goes downhill from there.
Other times, I have an incredible idea, story, something that I want to portray beautifully to the world.  How can I put it all to words?

I've tried brainstorming, outlining, etc.  It helps to an extent...but, I am still stumped.

Any thoughts or ideas you have to share would be appreciated!

Friday's Letters: SNOW DAY!

Snowy Day...but no sledding :(

Dear Friday, I was supposed to sub today....and then it snowed.  YAY SNOW DAY!

Dear February, Welcome.  It's crazy that we are already a month into 2013.

Dear Weather, You tantalized me with Spring and then snatched it away.  I don't mind too much...but a good foot of snow would be appreciated!

Dear Town Council Meetings, You provide some chuckles for me.

Dear Small Town Living, Seriously, you make me want to write a book.  Maybe one day.

Dear Me, Writing and editing have been fun this week.  Keep it up!

Dear Life, Let's work on some exciting additions.  Ok? =)

Dear Brain, I know, we need to get a giant chalk board or dry erase board to help keep us organized.

Happy Snow Day and Happy February!

Check out other Friday's Letters at:

Do You Have An Eleven Year Old Guest Posting?

Photo by Wendy Smith

Dear Friends, Bloggers, and Readers,

Today, I present you with the beginning of Miss Noelle S.'s book (that she has since edited; this is an earlier draft).  I edited two things, so minor that they don't change a thing.  Everything else is as it was sent.  I want you to see what a fantastic writer this ELEVEN year old is!  Noelle is an amazing girl.  She is sweet, well-read, funny, and stylish.  Oh, and her mom used to babysit me!  So, please, enjoy this lovely story, and take note of her name so when she is famous you can say, "I remember when..."

The Magical Story of Melissa Jones

By Noelle S.

Prologue - A mother of un-ordinary, Anna Jones... no we must not forget her, she bore a baby named Melissa.  Melissa was a special baby but her older brother was fierce.  He ran away and Melissa's parents died of what everyone thought was heartache.  Melissa forgot what happened and was left with her other relatives, and for what her relatives thought the magic of her parents was gone.

Chapter 1 - The Fairy

Melissa Jones stepped into her warm, big house from the bitter cold outside.  Melissa had just been sent on an errand to fetch a bag of potatoes from the market.  Melissa couldn't wait.  Tonight they were going to have Aunt Martha's famous potato soup for dinner.  Just thinking about it made her mouth water.  

Melissa's parents died when she was a young age.  She was sent to live in the "Big House of Relatives" they so called it.  She lived with her Uncle Watson, Aunt Pat, Uncle Charlie, Aunt Martha, Grandma Mary, Grandma Sherrie, (Melissa always loved how their names rhymed), Grandpa Mike, Grandpa Steve, Nelson, (whose parents were on a very long business trip), and her two cousins, twins Nick & Natalie.

Melissa crept into the kitchen quietly.  She wanted to sneak out of the house to see her best friend.  She quietly tiptoed to the counter and set the potatoes down.  She crept quietly back to the door and was almost out of the house when- "MELISSA JONES!"  Melissa, startled, turned around to meet the round, pinched face of Aunt Martha.  "What are you doing, child?" asked Aunt Martha, more kindly.

"Well, Well y-you see-"  Aunt Martha raised her eyebrows.  "I-I was just- Aunt Martha, don't be mad, I was just going to see Liv-I-I mean Olivia and I didn't want Nelson," Melissa's voice wandered off.  

"Well I suspect you should put on some winter gear.  It is almost Christmas."  Melissa nodded and slipped on her coat, hat, and mittens.

Melissa walked two miserable blocks in the freezing snow.  When she finally reached her friend Olivia's house she felt almost frozen to the bone.  She walked up the steps to the door and rang the doorbell.  "Come in!" said a cheery voice.  Melissa stepped in.  Olivia's house was an ordinary one, unlike hers.  Pictures of Olivia and her family were on the walls.  In Melissa's house paintings of old ancestors were on the walls.  A tiny chandelier hung over the tiny dinner table.  At the "Big House of Relatives" blue candles hung over the huge dinner table.  

"You must be Melissa," said the cheery voice.  Melissa, surprised, turned around to see a straight-figured woman.  She wore thin rimmed glasses and had auburn, curly hair.  She had a white dress with little roses on it that matched the color of her cheeks.  

"Um, yes," said Melissa quietly.

"Well, Olivia has wanted to see you."  The woman hesitated for a moment.  "She's been acting strange ever since last night.  You know where her room is, right?"  Melissa nodded.  Utterly confused, Melissa walked up the stairs.  

Strange acting?  Olivia?  Melissa thought.  Olivia was the most normal, kind, polite, un-strange person she knew.  Melissa politely knocked on the door labeled "Olivia."  Grandma Sherrie made it clear it was impolite not to knock.  The door cracked open and the curly blond head popped out.  "Good, it's you," whispered Olivia as she tugged Melissa by the arm inside her room.  

Olivia's room was colorful, with rainbow painted walls, bright pink bed sheets, green pillows, and light blue carpeting.  Then there was a little, yellow dollhouse that Olivia and Melissa used to play with.  But now they were tall twelve year-olds.  

"I think we need to talk," said Olivia, as they both sat down on her bed.  

"Your mother said you were acting strange ever since last night," questioned Melissa.

"Something weird happened last night," began Olivia.  "I was sleeping and - Lissy, a fairy came."

"Riggghhtttttttttt," said Melissa.  "Do you have a fever or have any medications or-"

"No, it's true, Lissy!"  

"Okay, then show me, um-"

"-Her," interrupted Olivia.  Olivia carefully made her way to the little dollhouse and put her hand out flat.  There was a faint voice which kept saying short sentences like,

"Move your giant hand forward!" or "Your big finger is on my foot!"  

Then Olivia carried in cupped hands a small three inch figure to the bed.

"Wow," was all Melissa could say.  The fairy was quite stunning.  She wore a blue, winter dress that looked like it was made from forget-me-not flowers.  She had brown, delicate braids that were piled neatly on her head and elf-looking shoes with a hint of glitter.  But what attracted Melissa the most was a glowing pouch that hung around her neck.

"You must be Melissa," said a cheery voice.  Melissa turned to the fairy.  Was that an imaginary voice? No, it was real.  It was the fairy!  

"How do you know my name?" asked Melissa.

Before the fairy could open her mouth, Olivia blurted out, "You can understand her!"

"Yeah, " said Melissa, "Can't you?"

"No, all I can hear is bells!" said Olivia, bluntly.

Melissa thought for a minute.  "I can translate what the fairy says and say it to you."  

"Okay," Olivia said.

"I have a name, you know, "said the fairy.

"Oh, sorry.  What is your name?"

"Zoey," said the fairy, "But you can call me Zoe.  Mawaka named me," continued Zoe.  "He found me when I was a very young fairy."

"What's she saying?" asked Olivia impatiently.

"Just a minute!" said Melissa.  "Who is Mawaka?"

"Well," began Zoe, "He is African and isn't magic-"

"Wait!" interrupted Melissa, "You're saying magic is real?"

Zoe sighed.  "My dear, what do you think I am?"  She has a point, thought Melissa.  "Shall I continue?" prodded Zoe.  Melissa nodded.  "He also lives on Gymth Road and-"

"Gymth Road!"

"Yes, my dear, Gymth Road."

"That place is h-haunted," Melissa stuttered.  At this, Zoe did what was quite unexpected.  She did what was perhaps a fairy laugh.  At first it was a little jingle of bells but then it got louder and louder until she got so pale that she had to stop.  Melissa cleared her throat awkwardly.  "Um, may I ask what is so funny about Gymth Road being haunted?"

The fairy smiled.  "That's because Gymth Road isn't haunted.  Haunted is really not the word."

Melissa looked puzzled.  "I don't understand."

"Well, you see 'haunted' is a word you humans use-"

"-No, about Gymth Road not being haunted," Melissa interrupted.

"Can you tell me what she's saying?"  Melissa looked up, startled.  She almost had forgotten about Olivia.  

Melissa looked at Olivia pleadingly.  "I'm sorry, just one more minute, Olivia?"  She nodded, disappointed.  

Zoe piped up to answer her question.  "Tell me dear," she started, "Who told you that Gymth Road was haunted?"

Melissa paused for a moment.  "Um, some kids in my school, I guess.  But-"

"-And have they ever been to Gymth Road?"

"No, because-"

"So how do they know that Gymth Road is haunted?"

"Because they heard stories about-"

"-Stories, you say," interrupted Zoe.  "Tales.  Lies.  do you really think this is true?"

Melissa pondered this.  Zoe did have a point.  "No, I guess I don't."

"You should know you don't."  Melissa's anger rose.  Zoe didn't have the authority to order her around.  But she kept her lips shut.  Zoe's expression turned to concern and then anxiety.  "You must go to Mawaka for even as I am talking we're in extreme danger," she said, looking cautiously around.  "Mawaka will tell you the rest."  

Melissa looked over at Olivia who was waiting impatiently.  Melissa told Olivia briefly what Zoe had said.  Olivia thought for a moment.  "I think you should go visit Mawaka.  These magic things might be in danger."

"Do you mean fairies?" asked Melissa.  

"Maybe," replied Olivia.

Melissa sighed.  This magic thing was so new to her.  "What do I bring, Zoe?"

Zoe's face brightened.  "Nothing.  Mawaka will have everything."

"When do I go?"

Zoe thought for a moment.  "To be safe, how about one o'clock in the morning?"

Melissa looked puzzled.  "Surely I don't need that much time to pick you up and call a taxi to drive us to Gymth Road?" she asked.

Zoe looked horrified.  "A taxi!  Do you know how dangerous that would be?!?"

Melisa looked even more horrified.  "W-w-walk to G-Gymth Road?"

Zoe sighed.  "If you think it's hard to walk to Gymth Road you are not the girl for the mission." 

Melissa shook her head.  "I will pick you up tomorrow at one and we will - walk."  And that's how Melissa Jones' adventure began.

Chapter 2 - The Entrance

Melissa walked briskly to Olivia's house.  It was twelve-thirty sharp and she was not aware of a figure in the distance, following her.  For no little girl would think that a soul would want to be up at this time, and especially not following her.  It was a very cold Saturday morning indeed.  But it was the feeling like hen you get up early in the morning and it's cold, but not as bitter as it could be.  Excitement is in the air and the birds are singing carols as you get ready for a new day.  That feeling.  But only little girls can understand.  Olivia was up too.  She was packing Zoe's stuff up which was kind of hard because Olivia had clumsy, big fingers, very unlike Zoe's.  By the time she was done there was a soft knock on the door.....

To be continued!!

Magnificent Is Only the Beginning

I was driving east on I-64.
The sun setting against the hazy sky showcased the Blue Ridge Mountains in all their glory.
Magnificent only begins to describe the beauty I beheld.
When I saw the next exit, I knew I had to get off and go up the mountain road to get a view from the top.
Little did I know how long it would take.
I saw the setting sun to the west, from one side of the road.
From the other side, I saw a chilly, winter haze basking the deadened mountains.
The valleys, lake, mountain ridges, and fields looked like Scotland in a film.
I wanted to stand and stare. Sit and stare. Write and stare.
However, the number of bear hunting trucks and being alone persuaded me to go on my way and do my thinking in the car.
It was a wonderful, 10-12 mile unexpected escape from life.

I thought of the sublime.
Wordsworth came to mind.
I'll be going back, but with a pen and a camera next time.

Sold for Sex

Human trafficking.
Sex trafficking.
Prostitution.
Rape.

The list could go on and on.

We've all heard about it.
We've seen the videos.
We've listened to the presentations.

But, in the comfort of my home, away from the horror that is some people's every day reality, I can forget it exists, until I remember the next time.

International Justice Mission, mission agencies, celebrities, Vogue, and so many others are speaking out about it, wanting to be a part of fighting this evil.

An acquaintance with whom I studied in NYC wrote an article for WORLD Magazine on this topic.  It is profound, yet written in a story-telling manner.  Please, take the time to read it in its entirety.

If you see something, say something
By Chelsea Kolz