By popular demand, I am writing MicroStories to go with Adelaide, my paperdoll! I will try to write a MicroStory for each outfit set. (More outfits coming soon! I have to color them still.)
So, without further adieu, here is the MicroStory for Adelaide, Brave Ballerina!
Adelaide, Brave Balleria MicroStory
By popular demand, I am writing MicroStories to go with Adelaide, my paperdoll! I will try to write a MicroStory for each outfit set. (More outfits coming soon! I have to color them still.)
So, without further adieu, here is the MicroStory for Wild Adelaide!
Five year old eyes, wet with tears peered up into my face. “B-but why, Mommy?” The solemnity and earnestness on her face made me wish that I could delay this explanation, but I knew I couldn’t. As an only child, my daughter was quite precocious and spent more time with adults, than children her own age.
She had just learned that her aunt was getting a divorce and was heartbroken at the thought of losing her beloved uncle.
I took a deep breath and racked my brain for the simplest and gentlest words I could find. “Sweety, sometimes adults get married and find out later on that they just can’t be with each other. If two people are very unhappy together and they just can’t work out their problems, sometimes one of them has to go away.”
“For how long, Mommy? When can Uncle Benny come back? In two nights?” She sniffed and wiped at her eyes with the back of her chubby hand.
I reached out and pulled my daughter’s tiny body against me. “No, Honey-Girl. He won’t be coming back. Maybe we will see him on a visit sometimes, by himself, but he and Auntie June won’t ever be together again.”
A fresh storm burst hit full force. “Mommy! It just isn’t fair! I love Auntie June and Uncle Benny! I want it to be the same as always! Who will give me horsey rides, when I go to their house? And who will make Auntie June do her funny laugh? I want both of them, together!”
Suddenly, her little frame stiffened and she drew back. “Is it my fault? Did I make them mad, Mommy?”
“No! Don’t ever think that. You haven’t done anything wrong. Auntie June and Uncle Benny had grownup problems that have absolutely nothing to do with you. They both love you and think you are a very special girl.”
She visibly relaxed at my reassurance, but still looked troubled.
“Mommy? Can I make it better?” Hopefully, she smiled through her tears, salty drops glistening on her cheeks.
“Baby, sometimes nobody but God can fix some things.”
“Can I pray for them, Mommy? I’ll pray every night, before I go to sleep. I’ll pray extra hard. I know he won’t leave, if I do!”
“Sweetie-pie, you can pray, that’s a good thing to do, but I don’t want you to be disappointed, if Uncle Benny still leaves.”
A frown creased her young brow. “But why? Why would he still leave, even if I pray? You always say that God can do anything! He must be big enough to keep Uncle Benny here.”
I sighed, praying inwardly for wisdom. “Honey, God IS big enough. But, the thing is, even though God offers to help us, he lets us choose. If we don’t choose to let Him help us, then He won’t force us. Remember this morning? You were trying to tie your shoes and you couldn’t get the bow right? But, when I offered to help you, you didn’t want me to. You wanted to do it all by yourself.”
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “But Mommy, in the end, I did ask you to show me how again and I was able to tie them!”
I affectionately tousled her curly hair with my hand. “That’s right, Sweetie. You sure did.”
“Mommy? I think I should tell Uncle Benny my story. Maybe it will help him.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but thought better of it.
“You know what? I think I have a very smart girl.”
********************This story is completely fictional. I wrote it as a writing exercise, while eating some very yummy Christmas pizza. I hope you enjoyed it! Merry Christmas to you all!************************
I’m so excited! Over the past few years, I’ve gotten less shy, putting my scribblings here on this blog for the world to see. But, I was still afraid to submit anything to be published. Secretly, I was terrified of being rejected. Finally, a few months ago, I gathered up my courage and sent a story and two poems out to a local paper. Weeks went by and I didn’t hear a word. I gloomily accepted the fact that they must have rejected my story.
Then, the last Wednesday in October, I came home from work and found an envelope waiting for me on the kitchen counter. It contained a check for $45 and a letter of acceptance! Click here to view a PDF of my story, as seen in the Green Mountain Trading Post.
asked the question, “When you think of your life ten years from today, what’s different?”
I found myself thinking, dreaming, imagining…
In the early morning stillness, I sit cross-legged beside my husband in a patch of sunlight, a cup of steaming coffee balanced on my knee. Lance looks up from his studies and leans over to kiss my forehead softly. Content in our morning routine, we sit in silence. I close my eyes to pray, setting my well-worn Bible to one side. As I search my heart, I find my mind wandering back over the past 34 years of my life and our 14 years of marriage together.
Abruptly, my reverie is broken by the sound of pattering little feet. The door creaks open and two very large brown eyes peek around the corner, followed by a loud childish whisper.
“Mommy? Zavey snuck downstairs to play with some of the other kids even though I told him he needed to get dressed first and now he lost that teddy of his. He can’t find it anywhere and he won’t do anything but hunt for it.”
The jumble of words flows from our oldest daughter’s mouth without a pause. She plants a hand on her skinny 8 year old hip, wearing an exasperated mother hen expression on her face with impish precociousness.
Lance sets aside his book and holds his arms out towards the door. “No hug from my Princess?” He makes a comically sad face and pretends to whimper pathetically. Chaya bounces across the floor to tackle her father in a hug. “Dad! Of COURSE you get a hug! she giggles.”
Sounds filter up from the lower floor of the orphanage. Quick scampering noises are punctuated by bursts of muffled laughter.
Standing, I place a hand on Chaya’s head, ruffling her fine brown-black hair. “Okay, Sweety. Let’s get those rascals ready for breakfast and find Teddy. That bear is probably under the covers of one of the beds again. Run down and tell the boys to quiet down a little, so they don’t interrupt Daddy’s study time, okay? I’ll be there in one second. We still have two hours before chapel. You are all up early this morning!”
“’I know. Zavy has been wiggling in his bed since 4 am! He just couldn’t sleep, I guess. He’s so excited about doing VBS this week. Anyway, Mom. I’ll tell ‘em.” Drawing herself up straight, she flashes me a grin and skips out of the room.
The other kids tend to flock around Chaya, following her natural leadership like ever so many puppies. Xavier, her five year old brother loves mischief almost as much as Chaya loves being in charge. Despite his spunky independence and love of fun, Zavey also has a tender heart.
I take a deep breath and let it out in a happy sigh. Another day has dawned, here at Hope Center. What will the next 24 hours hold? I don’t know, but I’m glad to have this moment in time.
The Wisdom of Gavroche 