Write about a song and the memories or feelings it envokes in you.

Adiemus

Soft as velvet. Light as a shift in energy. Simple in pattern. Sweet taste. Enticing on the skin. Come. Follow me.
A single woman's voice. A solo that inspires rain to fall. The clouds to let down their worries. The heavens to reach toward the earth. She's singing to nature. To humanity. Pleading for reflection and discovery. Rebirth.
A symphony of strings. Lifting off the earth, into the sky. You really can fly.  Soar higher than a bird. Look from the outside in. This world is much larger than you. Nothing is impossible.
Beats on a hand drum. Depth of ground beneath your feet. Character to be seen. Perception beyond your imagination. Remembrance of the life before this one.
Another voice. An alto. Braid the song into a mythic hymn. A hymn that praises who you are now. A hymn that opens your eyes to the possibilities right in front of you. If only you open your eyes. And see.
Simplicity. Uncomplicated. Life. Breath.
A chant rises up from the ashes of a choir. Voices from the earth to heaven. Pleading for your enlightenment. For your eyes to see what the heavens would have you see. Would have you remember.
The Piccolo. Here's a story. A legend. One to live by.
The water is as clear as the mind. The mist of fog will lift. The air is crisp. Cool. Refreshing. The earth is solid. Warm. Firm. Living. Giving life. The warmth of the fire lights your skin. Pulling you with a gravity even the earth cannot regain. Rise up from below. There is more than you know. 
Don't forget where you came from. Where you're going. Life is a tiny journey in the midst of eternity. Learn. Grow. Dig deeper. There's more than you'll ever know, right there inside of you. You have all the potential. Go. Make a difference. Change the world. Be the better.
Share your story. Open your heart. Make life worth living.
Another chant. Pleading to be lifted. Directed. Voices audible in every sphere. Voices to your ancestors. Your descendants. Your Deity. Help. Guide. Lead.
Single instructions twine with a second. Reminding where you came from. Telling you what you need to know. That you already are everything you need to be. Act on it.
The chant. Where you are. You're lost. Afraid. Help. What can you do? What can you accomplish? What is there out there? What are you missing? Help you find it! Open your eyes! Please!
Working together. The voices make an intricate design. A design of rough hewn texture. It is not easy. It will be hard. Endure to the end. Ask. Listen. Answers will come.
A drum commands attention. All must listen to learn.
The leading voices teach how to live. How to unlock the secrets of this world.
Learn. Apply. Report. Advance. Repeat.
Keep an open mind. Open heart. Respect. Love. Teach. Work together. Nothing is impossible. Rely on your instincts. Your intuition. Your heart.
The music fades, leaving a peace beyond human understanding. A remembrance of who you are. Where you came from. What you can accomplish. Nothing is too far. Reach for the stars. Capture your dreams. Go. Now.


To listen and be enlightened, click the link below. I encourage you to follow along with the song and the feelings I wrote. Tell me if I captured some of the same feelings you have. Or add what feelings you experienced. Join me on the journey.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aL8kZ-iVk90

Do you or a character have any dreams that recur? Why do you think you continue to have that dream?

Blackness turns to gray. Until the shade lightens into shapes. Then colors emerge. Vibrant golds. Sunshine yellow, so bright it's blinding. Grassy green. Sky blue. White, the purest of all light.
A dark haired infant is cradled in my arms. He's at my breast. Nestled close. Bonding in that special way a mother connects to her child.
The white blanket glows in the sunlight. My son's dark hair stands out in stark contrast. His cheeks are slightly pinked. His eyes half closed. He'll be asleep again once I put him in the car seat.
Unconditional love washes over me. Love for my boys. They are my everything.
 My blond haired four year old plays a few feet away, in the playground sand. He's as happy as me to be out of the car. A big hole sits next to him, he's filling it with his bare hands.
It's just us. In this sleepy town. A stop along the road. We all needed the air. And Rawlings provided the exit.
I glance back at our car parked in the lot. Our trusty steed. It's gotten us from one destination to the next. As a mom, that's a priceless gift. It glistens under the summer sun. I wish it looked as good on the inside as it does on the outside.
Something catches my eye and I glance back at my four year old. A carnival has erupted from the grassy field next door. It's no longer sleepy. People mill around in groups, scanning the next adventure they'd like to take. Kids run with ice cream in hand.
My four year old is by my side, begging to go on rides. His lips are turned into a pleading smile, the gap between his front two teeth on display. I reach down and tussle his hair. His smile widens. He knows I'm about to give in.
I glance down at the baby boy in my arms. His dark lashes caress his pinked cheeks. He's asleep.
We head toward the crowd, toddler pulling on one hand, and baby tucked into my other side. A new adventure is about to begin.

You have one child. You have written one piece of advice that will be carried in his/her pocket for life. What is that advice?

Love
Such a simple word. Four letters. Two vowels. Harmless. But is it?
Love can be displayed, shared, in many different ways. The types of love are endless. But the most important kind of love is Unconditional. The kind of love that God has for each one of His children. We are His children. He loves us. If we can achieve that great love, which we have in rich abundance in embryo, because we are His children, then we can withstand all the trials of life.
Love life. Love your circumstances. Love your blessings. Love the people around you, whether they treat you good or bad. Love your children. Love the sky, sun, moon, and stars. Love the earth, the stable ground beneath your feet and the life it provides. Love the water. Love the air, wind, rain, and snow. Love the simple things, the ones we take for granted.
I once had a dear friend ask me if I loved her. I wondered what I had done wrong. Had I not treated her with respect? Love? Kindness? Stood up for her, when others didn't? She went on to say that I treat everyone the same, and so she couldn't tell if I really loved her.
This was/is really hard for me. I love everyone. I do treat people very similarly. But if you really take the time to get to know me, you will see the subtle differences. I only open up to people I trust. Trust and love are two very different things. Yes, they go hand in hand, but they also can be separated. But I love without constraint. Because I think of Christ, and how He lived His life. Since He was the perfect example of love, and reached out to everyone, especially the down trodden, then how should I live my life? Should I not be loving and kind to everyone? Or should I just be loving to the select few? What would Christ and my Heavenly Father have me do? What would Satan have me do? The choice is simple. Make it today. Will you love? And if not, what is the opposite of love?
By loving others, we see them through different eyes. We see potential. We see goodness. We see who they really are, a child of God. Yes, people do make bad decisions. Yes, people do hurt others with those decisions. Who are we to judge? Are we perfect? Then love.
Yes, I understand that love can be hard, because it makes us vulnerable. But through the vulnerability, we are able to make deep connections, follow in the steps of Christ, and make this life a little better for all those around us. When we love, we are able to see the purpose of life.
And when we fall to our knees, know that Christ and Heavenly Father will always be there to pick us up. Because of love. Love is the answer, not the question.

You have two hours to do something relaxing, and a budget of $100 dollars. What will you do?

My fingers tap out a tune on the steering wheel. I have two hours. Two hours for just me. The options are limitless. I used to think that two hours was no time at all, but after being a mom, there is a lot I can shove into two free hours.
My first stop: The Brew.
With Caramel Apple Cider, topped with whipped cream, and a pumpkin spice slice, I make my way back to the car.
My second stop: The Mall.
My cider and bread slice are nestled into both hands. I lean back into the massage chair and sigh. I don't know which is better, the back massage or the foot scrub. Pedicure equals heaven. Truly. Having someone rub your feet and paint your nails for a whole hour... Can you think of anything more relaxing?
I still have a half hour. What do I do with my time?
My last stop: West River Community Center.
The indoor track, my pandora Enya station, some headphones, and walking. It's almost as good as the pedicure. Not only am I doing something healthy for myself, my body is filled with endorphins, which makes me smile.
I drive home quickly. It's been nice to have a break. But I'm ready to get back to my Loves. Both of them. After the reset, I'm more than happy to be a wife and mommy. The free time allows me to recharge my battery that I am constantly pulling from. And, the best news: I still have left over cash.
Thank you for joining me!

If you could have one talent that you do not normally have, what would it be?

My fingers ache from holding onto the podium's edge. But it is my anchor. An anchor I can't live without.
The microphone makes a funny sound as I accidently get too close and spit air into it.
A couple people startle, glancing up to make sure I'm okay, then return their gazes to their laps. I've lost them. All of them. Well, maybe not all of them, but most of them. They'd rather be playing on their phones, or drawing pictures in their notebooks than listening to me. I can feel it.
A roaring fills my ears as I continue. I'm in a daze, not quite hearing what I'm say, but my mouth keeps on moving. It must know what to say, even though my brain doesn't. Auto pilot isn't good for where I stand.
My right knee bounces forward and back. I keep it moving so I know I'm alive. My body is still functioning. But my left leg is stuck in position, trying to keep me upright as my world tilts to the side.
This can't be happening. I've listened to several other speakers today. All of them held my attention. How can I be the one failure among a sea of winners.
I continue with my speech, adding emphasis, and really digging deep to mix up my voice tone with my stories. I pry my hands away from the stand and start using the hand gestures I'd practiced while in front of my mirror at home.
Sweat is gathering at my temples, between my finger tips, and across my back. The stage lights feel much too hot. My cheeks flush with warmth as I take a breath and swallow.
I thought I'd chosen my lecture well. My stories dynamic. My topic interesting, inspiring, even. How did I go so wrong?
I scan the crowd and search for an upturned face. There is one. Clear in the back. But he looks like he's contemplating another universe, too deep in thought to consider what I'm saying.
As my talk wraps to a close, I summarize my points. A few heads pop up, like they're glad I'm coming to a close. A few others shuffle pages. 
Clapping is discouraged until the very end of this class, so my footsteps sound like a herd of wild zebras as I exit the stage. I concentrate on the wooden stairs as I clamber down them. Falling would be the highlight of my talk, but I refuse to give the audience another reason to mark me as a failure.
The rest of the presentations go by like squeezing honey through a too small hole. I can't stop thinking about all the things I could've improved upon. I should've said this word instead of that one. I should've raised this hand and made this gesture instead of the one I did. I should've chosen a more relatable topic. I should've done this or that or this or that, until there are no more pieces of my talk that I can rehash.
When the instructor gets back on stage, a deep sigh settles over the audience.
The instructor gives us praise, allowing us to finally clap. The sudden burst of sound surprises me. Everyone else must be as happy as I am that this is over.
As the class settles, the instructor tells us grades and comments will be posted by seven pm tonight.
By the time seven rolls around, I feel like I've been walking in manure up to me knees, just waiting to get my results.
The page pulls up on my computer and I'm amazed to see such a high score. In fact, it's one of the highest scores I've gotten all year. Maybe this class is paying off, really helping me to develop my non-existent talent of public speaking.
I smile to myself as I close my laptop. Today wasn't such a bad day after all.

Write about an item you (or a character) own that is not worth much money, but has great value to you.

My lips are chapped. Dried from the winter humidity. I grab my chap stick from my pocket and apply it with one hand before I dig into my pocket for my keys. 
The clothing boutique welcomes me with the scent of cinnamon and fresh citrus. It's the perfect aroma to soothe the shoppers into relaxing and wanting to stay, especially when it's cold out.
I run my hand across the crocheted scarf that drapes around the neck of one of my favorite displays, standing next to the door. It's so soft, I want to smother my face in the material. But I know someone will want to buy it, and I have no right putting my nose in their things.
The door closes behind me with a whoosh. The click of the lock resounds through the empty store as I re lock it. Don't want anyone wandering in unnoticed until I open in a half hour.
I scan the hangers as I enter, noticing my employee who closed up last night did an excellent job at making sure they are all evenly spaced. And the folded shirts are in a stacked pile even I couldn't try to remake. She's worth her weight in gold.
My clutch and cell phone tumble onto the antique counter top. I rub my hands together, trying to rewarm them before I start up the computer. There's a sticky note at the top of the computer screen. I recognize the print right away.
Last night's sales, it reads, followed by an amount. It's not bad, but not nearly as much as I dream of making someday. I have faith in this little store. My investment, not only of money, but also of time, will pay off.
The computer roars to life and I boot it up to do some quick sales reports before I do a store run through, making sure everything is in place. An email blinks in my inbox. It's from my son's school. I hope I haven't forgotten something.
My breath hitches as I read through it. He has a special presentation today, and I forgot to send him with his stuff.
I glance at the clock on the computer. I have twenty five minutes before opening. Biting my lip, I make a plan. If I hurry, I can make it home, get his project, then drop it off at the school, and rush back to the store. I will be a few minutes late, but who shops early on a frigid, Friday morning anyway?
 I lock the door behind me as I rush back outside. My lips scream against the wind. I've licked all my chap stick off, and now I'm paying for it. My chap stick is where I left it, in my pocket. I reapply as I jog down the block to the community parking lot.
The project is on the kitchen counter, right where I left and forgot it. I snatch it up, making sure I have all the pieces and papers that explain what it is.
The roads are slippery as I drive, and I have to take it slower than normal. I lick my lips in concentration. The clock on the dash keeps taunting my foot to push harder on the pedal to get us there faster. My grip tightens on the wheel as I lean forward in anticipation, but I keep a safe speed. Better late than never.
The school's secretary welcomes me with a huge smile. As I explain my crisis, she intercoms my son without hesitation and instructs me just to leave the project with her. I glance at it once, running my tongue across the front of my teeth. All those hours of research, painting, and making sure everything was perfect sits at my fingertips. Can I really trust her to make sure it doesn't get lost or taken by the wrong person? She reassures me with a warm smile. I'm out of time. And as much as I want to see my son and wish him luck, the clock keeps marching towards the next minute.
I decide to stay and wait. Even though I will be late for opening, I realize that my son is much more important that any sale I could make. The secretary takes my response in stride and points toward some chairs against the wall.
I shuffle to them and sit down. My leg keeps bouncing up and down with the tick of the clock. It's like I'm playing the trumpet in a band, keeping tempo as my heel touches the floor.
A few minutes later, my son rounds the corner. The relief on his face is worth the wait. He practically sprints the last few steps, collapsing into my arms.
"Thank you so much for bringing this, mom. I completely forgot it." His cheeks are flushed.
I run my fingers through his curls. "I forgot too. But it's here now. And you'll do great, just like we practiced."
He gives me a lopsided grin that brings out his dimples. "Thanks, mom."
I watch as he disappears down the hallway. Time to go.
I suck in my lips and bite down hard as I approach the storefront. There's two customers waiting. They appear to know each other by the easy conversation they're having. I rein in the urge to run towards them and worry my lips instead.
"Thank you for waiting." I apologize as I approach. They turn at my voice. "Forgot my son's project at home and had to go back to get it."
One lady waves my excuse away. "No worries. Been there. Done that. I'm just glad my kids are old enough to drive now so I don't have to take them every where."
The other lady laughs. "Agreed."
Their laughter warms the store. The lights reveal hard work. But nothing is as rewarding as the peace I feel in my chest. Peace that everything is going to be okay.
I smile at the customer's conversation as I get the music turned on. The gesture is painful. My bottom lip splits down the middle. I've done it again.
Grabbing my chap stick, I gloss on a generous coat. What would I do without it?

Real Life

My fingers hoover over the receive text button. It's a text from my hubby. I've had a weird feeling all day, like things are changing. And the change may be coming much faster than I want to admit.
The text it short. To the point.
He will only be employed for another 30 to 60 days before the work runs out.
I take a deep breath. Let this sink in.
Fear. Faith. Doubt. Hope. Vulnerability. Growth. Love. Triumph.
Conflicting feelings battle for my attention. I have a choice. What will I allow rule my life?
I've felt change lingering in the air. But I didn't know what it was. Maybe the new baby on the way. Maybe a change of calling in church. And maybe even a change that's so small I wouldn't have noticed it. This is a change that I notice. A change that will be extremely hard to go through.
Ted loves his job. It is custom cut for him. He loves what he does. He loves who he works for. He loves who he works with. I mean, his boss is the best mentor he could ask for. The variety. The challenge. The learning. The knowledge. The problem solving. The help he can offer. Teaching. Saving lives. Changing lives. Working with people on the front lines. It fits his personality to a "T".
I don't know what to say to help ease the pain this change will bring. I will always be supportive, and have faith in him. I mean, I've witnessed great achievements he's made, excelling past expectations. So I know he can, and will be okay. That he will get through this. But I still want to be there to show my love and support. No matter what, I will always be by his side. Because I think that losing a job is a huge blow, especially when it's a dream job.
And that's when it really hits me. That life is full of change. But with that change, we have choices. Choices on how we will handle the change.
Over the past 10 years we've been married, we've experienced lots of change. Some changes have been deliberate. Others have been life's circumstances. But the best thing is: we've made it through all of them. We've come out alive on the other side.
This isn't the first time we've lost a job, or failed at something we've tried. I mean, we've had several failures. At one point in time, it was like running into a perpetual wall. But that's just because we weren't headed in the direction we needed to be headed. And when we finally figured out where God wanted us to go, the doors opened. More doors than we could ever imagine. And looking at where we're at today. At what Ted has achieved in his life, and for our family, how can I have doubt? Fear? I can't. I know that if we pray, the Lord will guide and direct us to where we need to go, and what we need to be doing. It might not come in the time table we have for ourselves, or the way we want, but it will come. I've seen it time and time again. I will keep faith, hope, and love in our lives. And with God's help, we will grow and triumph.