Let There Be Light

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, ... it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it..."

How many of you remember these famed opening lines to A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens? So fitting when written, fitting, it seemed, when first I read them, and fitting today as the state of our world moves me to write once again.

In so many ways, for me, this is the best of times.  My husband and I are retired and enjoying our hobbies and travel. We have two precious grandchildren that live nearby and brighten our days beyond anything we could have imagined. We have a community of friends that we enjoy.  And our health is still good. It's more than we asked for and far more than we deserve. Yet, there is a dark side, and I know you feel it too.

This logically would be the paragraph where, having just listed the good things in my life, I would now list the bad ones. I can't put you through that. We each have our own, and mine are so minor compared to others'. Even so, darkness does seep into the events of our days.

I often struggle with worry and fear. The kind that wakes you up at 3:00 in the morning and grows and grows until sun-up. My defense has always been my faith, His word, and prayer. And though at times I have found myself caught in despair and waiting for answers, even briefly doubting my faith, He always came through.

The following poem was written a few years ago when I was struggling with depression. My prayer is that it speaks to someone today.

I know that you walk with me, Lord,

Each and every day,

But sometimes I can't feel you,

And I hate to feel that way.

I bow my head and try to pray,

And still I feel alone.

What bars the way?

What must I say?

For what sins must I atone?

I want to feel your presence

As I've felt it in the past.

What caused this separation, Lord,

And how long must it last?

Is there a lesson I must learn?

I'm searching for the one?

Are there still sins I must confess?

Expose them, every one.

By faith I will continue, Lord,

And hold my memories near

Of times when you revealed yourself

And made my pathways clear.

I'll march into tomorrow,

And I'll lean upon your word.

I'll trust, because I know you,

That my cries have all been heard.

I'll count my blessings daily,

 And I'll praise you all my days;

And humbly I'll remind myself

You're not the one who strays.

This poem itself's a journey,

For I started in despair,

But somewhere in the writing,

It became a heartfelt prayer.

I've found comfort in your presence, Lord,

Direction in your word,

And again I am rejoicing,

Knowing every prayer is heard.

Where Do You Go to Church?

“Where Do You Go to Church?”

This past week end we had the opportunity to visit with some beloved college friends. They live in southern Alabama, known for its hot humid weather this time of year. We were lucky to arrive during a blessed reprieve of low humidity, gentle breezes, and mild temperatures. On Sunday morning we awoke early, grabbed our coffees and headed for the patio. Our plan was to relax a bit before heading to church. So, we sat beneath the cloudless blue sky and the swaying pines and reminisced. We shared stories about grandchildren and chuckled (sort of) as we shared anecdotes of aging. Conversation flowed, and the desire to dress and leave for church was definitely waning. Our hostess felt our hesitancy and asked, “What would you like to do?” Feeling the need to defer to our hosts, we said, “We’re happy to do whatever you like.” She responded, “Well, we can go, or we can spend the morning here if you like.” Not wanting to be the decision maker I replied, “We would love to visit your church, but you don’t get a morning like this very often.”  Agreement resounded, and second cups of coffee were poured.

Nature alone had provided an exquisite view from the patio, but my friend had enhanced it with large pots of colorful, butterfly attracting flowers and various bird feeders. We now had entertainment. Huge, colorful butterflies fluttered over her zinnias (I’m planting some tomorrow.) and a glorious variety of birds-cardinals, finches, blue jays, hummingbirds, and a woodpecker- fed at the troughs.

Eventually, conversation went to the trees. Our hillside was quiet, and you could actually hear the pines swish as they swayed with each gentle breeze. Their sway was hypnotizing and calming, and at that moment, I felt in communion with God. My friend began to speak of each tree as if she knew each one. There were hundreds. “The woodpecker always sits in that one... See that stump, year before last that tree had no leaves, and the next year it was dead. We had to take it down… See that weeping willow at the edge of the pond. It was hidden until the other tree came down…Those are sycamores over there next to my crepe myrtles. They haven’t been looking well…” 

 As she spoke of each one, I felt God speaking to me. His word was in my head.

Luke 12:7
And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

I’d heard it my whole life, but suddenly I understood how that could be. And, I didn’t feel so bad about missing church.

Get on Board

Did you feel that?  I think the earth may have moved.  I mean I retired 3 years ago, and I intended to write.  I really did.  I joined SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators) and a critique group.  I bought new software to help me manage my writing. (It was going to be prolific.)  And then, I went stupid.  I couldn't formulate a sentence in my head.  I didn't have a thought worth sharing.  I tried hard, and then I didn't.  It was no use.  I finally had time to write and nothing to write about.  Adjusting to retirement can be hard.

But recently, I realized I had a story I wanted to tell.  And today, the house was quiet.  George was having breakfast with a friend.  I had cleaned house yesterday, so nothing was pressing there.  I was tired of Good Morning America, and I don't have a walking routine, so I was free to try and write.

Now, I know a blog is meant to be a daily thing.  Mine probably won't ever be that.  But I'm posting today, and we will see about tomorrow.  If anyone is there, thanks for listening.

        Get on Board!

Everywhere you look these days, people are snapping pictures; attempting to hold onto memories and special moments.  I, too, have an abundance of photos threatening to use up all the storage on my phone.  And yet, the truly life changing moments of my life couldn’t be captured on film. I bet you have them, too. And I’m hoping you would like to share them.

The moments to which I refer are the spiritual ones, and to my mind’s eye, they lie like stepping stones throughout my life. They are moments when the Holy Spirit spoke to me after a season of specific prayer, or in the midst of difficult circumstances, and even during periods of great joy.

I had already been thinking about the power of testimonies when God once again spoke to me in a most surprising way. Let me share my moment with you.

My husband and I are recent retirees; and as such, we had planned to do some traveling.  While on a beach trip with old college friends, we rather spontaneously booked a river cruise through France. How exciting!  Well, not for me.  While I have made several trips abroad, I have always fought the fear of flying.  Add the circumstances of our world today,  and I was headed down a path to panic as the trip grew near.  Each time the trip came up in conversation I would (half joking, half serious), remind my husband and anyone listening that, “I might back out”.

“I know, I know,” my husband would respond each time, but I knew he wasn’t taking me seriously.  As the fear grew, so did my lack of sleep, and the intensity of my prayers.  Friends would attempt to comfort and encourage me with, “God’s in control,”  “When it’s your time to go, it’s your time to go.”  However, I believed you could tempt fate, and God also allows us to make choices which most definitely have consequences.

Still, a week away from departure, I began to pack.  I carefully placed my chosen items on the guest bed and finally pulled the suitcases from the storage closet.  But inside my head, I was becoming more certain that I would not be able to board that plane.  Still I prayed.

Finally, after an especially sleepless night, and three days before our departure I asked my husband to sit down and talk.

“George,” I said, “I really need to talk to you about this trip.  I know I’ve been telling you I might back out.  You act like you understand, but I feel like you really don’t believe me.  I honestly don’t think I can go.  I know we stand to lose a lot of money, but that really doesn’t matter to me.”

“I hear what you’re saying,” he replied in his most I took Psychology 101 voice.  “I think you are over-reacting (not from Psychology 101) and will enjoy yourself once you get there.”

The psychology worked. I felt heard and agreed to continue packing, with the understanding that he didn’t take that as a signal that I was definitely going. With only two nights left, George began to pack. (I had to throw that in.) Needless to say, we wanted a day with our grandbaby before we left.  So, the next day Cooper arrived. Cooper was two and a half years old and, of course, pure delight.  After playing with his Thomas trains all morning, we placed him in his highchair for lunch.  I sat across from him and chatted with him as he ate.  Conversation revolved around the steam engines and the Island of Sodor. (You have to know Thomas the Train to understand that last sentence.)  Suddenly, out of the blue, Cooper said, “Do not be afraid, for the Lord Your God will be with you wherever you go.  Joshua 1:9.”  Yes, he said it and sited the verse. I turned to George.

“Did you hear what he just said?” I asked.

George nodded.

“Can you say it again, Cooper?” I asked.

“Do not be afraid, for the Lord Your God will be with you wherever you go.  Joshua 1:9,” he repeated.

          Stunned, George and I glanced at each other.

“Well, I guess…I’m going,” I said.

“I think you are,” George replied.

In no time, our conversation was back to Diesel, Victor, and Rosie-all friends of Thomas the train, but the memory of that moment did not leave me.  It spoke to me on so many levels.  I was strengthened in my belief that God hears our prayers, and I was humbled to be reminded that God can use every one of us, including this precious child.

I did question though.  Can you believe that!  Why had God waited so long to respond to my cries?  Packing would have been so much more fun if I had been excited instead of afraid.  You see, I was going, but I was still afraid.  I watched the news daily and it wasn’t the least bit comforting.  But I knew I was going.

I woke up on our departure day with mixed feelings.  God had told me not to be afraid, and I was trying.  We loaded the car and returned to the house for a final check.  Coffee pot off.  Timers set.  We were ready to go.

As we pulled away from the house, I looked back to make sure the garage door had shut.  And then we were off.  We were on our way to France.  And, I was excited!  My fears were replaced with joyful anticipation.

The trip was wonderful.  It was everything we could have hoped for.  And now, looking back, I think I know why God waited to free me of my fears.  I had to commit.  Once I truly gave my fears to Him, he took them.

Sadly, I must admit, I will probably need a refresher course.  One would think that moment would settle it once and for all, but I am a fearful person and will continue to ask: Should I go on that mission trip?  Should I volunteer at that shelter in the inner city?  Should I invite that person to church?  Should I put this piece on my blog?  The difference now is that I have Joshua 1:9 emblazoned on my heart and in my mind.  God (and Cooper) did that!

9 Have I not commanded you?  Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”  Joshua 1:9

What Have You Got to Lose?

About a month before I retired I decided I needed to get a physical.  I expected the doctor to mention my weight gain and knew that I would address that as soon as school was out.  I was pretty sure "stress eating" was my main problem . . . that along with the fact that students love to bring KrispyKreme doughnuts for everyone on their birthdays, and as their teacher, I felt it necessary to "celebrate" with each and every one.  Oh, and then there was the teacher's lounge. Try passing through there without nabbing a slice of yesterday's cake celebrating . . .celebrating . . .  whatever!
There was always a decorated cake on a big sheet of cardboard (sounds tempting, right?) on the counter.  So I was sure that once I was retired I could get rid of the weight.  However, that was before I got my results back from the doctor.  My sugar levels were high.  I couldn't wait for summer.  I had to get busy right away.  Circumstances took me out of town for two weeks, and with my sister as a partner I started watching what I ate.  I didn't step on a scale for over a week, but when I did, I had lost 5 pounds.  That was great motivation  to keep doing what I was doing.  When I returned home, my husband jumped on board and together we stayed the course.  Like a man, he soon caught up and surpassed my weight loss; however, I continued to lose.  There have been few cheats on this "lifestyle change."  For our 39th anniversary we did each have double scoops (If you are going to cheat, you might as well cheat big.) of our favorite ice cream, but we were immediately back on track the next day.  I have always heard people say if you stop eating sweets you won't crave them.  I didn't believe it, but it was true.  Yes, I am sorry to the employees of BlueBell Ice Cream who may have been laid off.  I'm sure production is down, but I'm glad to have taken some giant steps toward better health. 

I've traded in my waffles, along with bagels, and muffins, and juice
It seems my body has had enough,  and it's time to call a truce.
Those extra pounds were bothering me, but it took a doctor's warning;
So now I'm having whole wheat toast and Greek yogurt in the morning.
I used to drink my coffee with a vanilla flavored hit;
At first I used a tiny splash, but later I admit
That the coffee in my coffee had become the lesser part.
(Did you know that high cholesterol causes damage to your heart?)
So, I changed my morning habits, but lunch still needed revision,
And I soon learned that starvation mode can lead to a bad decision.
So I planned my meals ahead of time, made salads for the week
(Pinterest has so many ideas, you really should take a peek.)
Mid afternoons had always been a reason for a snack
It always seemed that 3 o'clock was the time "the munchies" attacked
And the choices were always endless in the bottom left cabinet drawer
Somehow I never seemed to miss the snack isle at the store
Oh, I purchased broccoli and carrots to place on the conveyor belt
And covered up my M & M's with a magazine entitled "Health"
I never started munching until inside my car
Amazing that in a five minute drive a person can devour
A Payday and a bag of chips and if you pass a Sonic
You have to have a milkshake, Lord, the cravings are demonic
But alas, I've given all that up; I eat almonds now instead
And did I mention, best of all, I've completely given up bread?
The rolls are certainly hard to pass up, but I have found I'm able
If I request right up front not to bring them to the table. 
You can see it's time for dinner and I've cut back my calories there
And I've found that I really like salmon and can buy it most everywhere
I don't eat butter on potatoes, and I avoid other foods that are white
I'm finished eating by 7:00 which makes me sleep better at night
I bet you are having some doubts now. "She can't keep this up for long."
But it's been almost 3 months, I'm down 23 pounds, and I promise I'm still going strong.

Retired? I Think Not!

     For those of you who don't know me well, or perhaps live outside the continental United States and didn't hear my feral cry of exultation last Friday at 3:00P.M., let me bring you up to date.  I AM RETIRED!  Really.  On Friday I cleaned out my room, turned in my keys, and walked out the door.  My colleagues were sure I would cry, but I was unable to squeeze out a tear.  "That means you are ready," I was told, and so I am.

     Please don't get me wrong.  I loved teaching, but I am tired.  In fact, having stated that more than once, I began to think about the word "retirement."  (I have time now to ponder and ruminate.)  You see, I have taught reading and phonics for most of my life.  We've studied prefixes, suffixes, base words, and Greek and Latin roots.  So upon close examination of the word "retirement" something just didn't seem right. 

     Let's look at the base word tire.  It means to grow weary.  I looked it up to be sure.  I even did a search of Latin roots, just to be sure there wasn't one for tir- or perhaps tira- that had something to do with relaxation, or joy, or euphoria.  I found nothing along those lines.  So I moved on.  Next I looked at the prefix re-.  This is one of the first prefixes taught and I was certain it meant  again.  I researched that just to be sure.  So putting the two meanings together (It's not rocket science) I deduced that retire means to grow weary again.  Determined to see this through to the end I identified the suffix -ment.  The meaning of which is the act or process of.  Adding this to what I already knew, I concluded that retirement is the act of growing weary again. 

     "Well, that's a bummer,"  I thought.  Half the reason I'm retiring is because I am exhausted, and now you tell me this idyllic status I've worked years to achieve is simply about getting tired again.  Is there no justice in the world!


     And so I decided, and I'm proclaiming it now.  I am not retired, I am "untired."  I won't be getting up at 5:30 A.M. any more.  (Well, I might if I have a 6:00 flight to Tahiti.)  I won't be staying up late writing lesson plans or grading papers.  I won't teach all day and then have parent-teacher conferences through dinner time.  No matter how I look at it, that sounds like "untired" to me.  And beyond that, if I should find myself a little weary of reading, gardening, playing bridge, writing, sewing, painting, sitting at the beach, or whatever; I can always take a nap and wake up "untired."

Marinara Mayhem

Don’t even think about asking me to prepare dinner on Friday night! After a long week in the classroom, I am worn out. A few years ago, I might have managed dinner and a movie. A change of pace, even when you are bone tired can do you good . . . but not these days. My more recent response has become, “I’m too tired to go out. Let’s just order in.” And so we did.



Jett’s pizza has a divinely, decadent bacon bread that George and I recently discovered. It comes with marinara sauce for dipping. We usually request an extra sauce as it comes in a very small container and we never like to run out. And this is where I should have listened to Mother.


Growing up, we were never allowed to eat in any room other than the kitchen. Don’t dare walk in the living room with a cookie in your hand. No food in the bedrooms. All food was kept in the kitchen. I even raised Jamie that way. It was the rule. However, after Jamie went off to college George and I began to carry our snacks and occasionally dinners to our upstairs TV room. That was the case on Friday night.


The doorbell rang; food was delivered and promptly carried upstairs. We ate and enjoyed a show from our Tivoed queue. Relaxed and sated, I began to clean up “the mess.” Napkins, pizza box, paper plates, and condiment containers were stacked. Down the stairs, the carpeted stairs, I went. And then it happened. The tiny little container of leftover marinara sauce slipped, perhaps jumped, from my hands and apparently leapt from stair . . . to stair . . . to stair. (Little known fact: Marinara sauce reproduces and multiplies as it flies through the air and makes contact with a woolen surface.) My pant leg, the stairs, the spindles, and the hardwood floor of the entry-way were covered in red. “Oh, pooh,” I said. “What a mess.” Or something like that.


A rag would not do. It was going to take water, and lots of it. I filled a bucket and began to clean. Each time I thought I was through, another splatter of red would appear. The front door, even the living room carpet hadn’t escaped. (Did I mention I had already had a hard week?) The worst spots were in the cracks, between the carpet and the wall. You may still see a hint of red there the next time you visit.


George, conveniently, had been taking a shower while I “cleaned up” from dinner. As I emptied the bucket of blood red water he made his way downstairs.


“Why are the stairs soaking wet?” he asked.


“You don’t want to know.” I replied.


I actually tried to describe the full extent of the mess to him, but I could tell he didn’t get it. You probably don’t either. I should have taken a picture, but I didn’t. George kept saying how small the container was. How it couldn’t have held that much. He thinks I’m prone to exaggeration anyway. Humphf! We sloshed back up the stairs and managed to enjoy the rest of the evening.


Saturday morning, I walked down the still damp stairs. The nap had a new appearance, but there were no remnants of red . . . until I looked up. The ceiling had large splatters of red, the woodwork around the dining room arch was spotted, and yes, the dining room carpet was freckled too. Never in the course of human history had so much been done by so little. Had the Brentwood Police been called in, I would have been cuffed and carted away. Surely a massacre had taken place. Undoubtedly, I will become a suspect in any future crimes. They’ll bring in that infra-red light that causes red to glow in the dark, and I won’t stand a chance defending myself.


I have a tough week ahead. Students begin taking the state standardized tests. It’s stressful, and come Friday night, I’ll be faced with a choice. I think just maybe, we’ll go out to eat.

The Katie Chronicles Final Installment

Chapter 23 - Operation Afghanistan

     Saturday mornings were the one slow day at camp. All the usual activities were available, or the girls could just relax and hang out in their cabins. Tired from the camp-out and anxious to get back to work on the keychain project, the Cabin D girls, plus a few from other cabins, had gathered in the front room. Ivy had jumped into the fray as soon as she heard about the project.

     “Of course,” she had said flashing the peace sign, “I wish there weren’t any wars, but if our soldiers are putting themselves on the line, we need to support them.”

     So there she was, in the midst of the girls, weaving red, white, and blue laces into key chains, and humming Joni Mitchell songs.  Libby became quite the organizer. She had commandeered a plastic crate from Ivy to place on the porch where girls from other cabins could drop off their completed key chains. Each day during quiet time, she would empty the bin and count all of the key chains that had been deposited. On a small whiteboard above the crate, she would record the new total for everyone to see. Already, the girls had made 146 key chains.

     Katie, the project cheerleader, stood in the middle of the room and asked for everyone’s attention.

     “Gosh, you guys, I’m really excited with the progress we’re making. 146 key chains . . .”

     “Make that 147,” blurted Erin. “I just finished another one.”

     “Correction, 147 key chains,” announced Katie, “is great. Parents’ Day is exactly one week away. Like I said, you’re all doing great; however, I think a little friendly competition might help us reach new heights. Libby, do you think you could find a crate for each cabin? “

     “Sure,” said Libby eyeing Ivy. “I know just where to go.”

     “Great, continued Katie. “Let’s label one crate for each cabin. For the next week, everyone will drop finished key chains into individual cabin crates. We’ll have a whiteboard for each crate, and report each day’s progress. There won’t be any prizes, but the more we make and sell, the more soldiers we can help.”

     “Speaking of soldiers,” asked Alicia, “where in Iraq are we going to send our care packages?”

     “I’m glad you asked that question,” Katie began. “Recently . . . last night to be exact, Caroline and I found ourselves with some extra time on our hands. Just the two of us . . . you know, sitting around . . . lost in the woods . . . chatting.”

     The girls all giggled while Katie and Caroline covered their faces and feigned humiliation and shame. Their story had spread through camp quite rapidly and Katie figured it was best to face it head on.

     “Anyway,” she began again, sending a questioning glance in Caroline’s direction and receiving a nervous nod of agreement in return. “Caroline shared some information with me that I think you all should know. Caroline?”

     The curious girls glued their eyes on Caroline as she hesitantly came and stood next to Katie. The two girls joined hands as Caroline began to speak.

     “Well,” she began. “I think the idea of sending care packages to the troops is a really great idea. I couldn’t believe how many of you got involved. And well, the reason I think it’s such a great idea is because . . . well, my dad is a soldier . . . and . . . right now, he’s serving in Afghanistan.”

     “Wow,” gasped Ava. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

     “How long has he been gone?” asked Libby.

     “When’s he coming home?” questioned Rachel.

     “He left two days before I came to camp, and I’m not sure when he’s coming home,” replied Caroline as her eyes welled with tears.

     The girls all jumped up and surrounded her. Sad faces were exchanged between them as they all hugged and sympathized with Caroline.

     “OK, you guys,” interrupted Katie. “We all know how “touchy-feely” Caroline is, but we need to get back to business. Unless someone else has a parent serving in the Military that we don’t know about, I’d like to suggest that we rename our project ‘Operation Afghanistan’.

     With an enthusiastic chorus of agreement, the girls returned to work. By lunchtime, they had completed 18 additional key chains.

Chapter 24 - The Secret Weapon

     By Monday morning, the cabin competition for Operation Afghanistan was in full swing. The evening game of German Spotlight had been abandoned. Instead, the campers spent that time weaving key chains. As promised, Libby had located crates and labeled one for each cabin. Rumor had it that Cabin B’s counselor had allowed her girls to work by flashlight after lights out on Saturday night. The latest keychain count had them ahead by twenty-three.

     “That’s just not right,” complained Erin as she wrote the new totals above each crate. “Cabin D needs to pick up the pace. Sunday was a good day for us. We made a lot of progress, but we’re still six behind Cabin B.”

     “Pick up the pace?” moaned Caroline, “I don’t think I can go any faster. I’m pretty good at weaving the laces, but adding those tiny, little beads is a real pain. I can weave two chains in the time it takes me to add one bead.”

     “Not me,” said Ava.” I get my unders and overs confused with the laces, but I can put a bead on with no problem.”

      Katie listened intently and then grew very quiet. Erin recognized the look on her face.

     “I know that look, Katie. You’ve got a plan. So spit it out,” insisted Erin.

     “Well,” began Katie, “I was just listening to what you guys were saying and it reminded me about something we learned in social studies last year.”

     “Gosh, Katie,” said Libby, “D’you actually remember all that stuff you learn in social studies?”

     “Not all of it,” replied Katie, “but there was this thing called an assembly line.”

     “Oh, yeah,” said Alicia. “We studied that, too. Some guy named Henry Ford invented it.”

     “Yeah,” continued Katie. “On an assembly line each person has a job that they repeat over and over again. Because they only do that one thing, they get really good at it. So for example, since Caroline is already really good at weaving the laces, that could be her job. When she finishes that part of the keychain, she can pass it to Ava so she can add the beads. Maybe someone else is really good at tying the final knot, so that could be their job. We can produce a lot more key chains in a shorter length of time if each person has a specific job to do.”

     “Fanatastic!” said Erin. “Operation Afghanistan has a secret weapon. We’re bound to win now.”

     That evening the girls put their plan into motion. Rachel was in charge of cutting the laces, Katie would attach the laces to the keychain, both Erin and Alicia would weave, Ava added the beads, and Libby tied the final knot. They were amazed to see how many key chains they were able to complete. By lights out, they had made nineteen.

     “I’m really sorry girls,” said Lou, “But the rules say all campers have to be in bed with the lights out at 10:00. We must comply. However,” she added as she rolled over , pulled her covers up under her chin, and faced the wall, “if I were to fall quickly into a deep, deep sleep . . . so deep that I didn’t notice flashlights on under sheets . . . well, then I couldn’t be held responsible. After all, even counselors are allowed to sleep.”

     Knowing grins passed among the girls.
     “Good night, Lou,” they all sang sweetly.

     “AHHHHHH,” yawned Lou. “I’m gonna sleep good tonight.”

     After a few seconds, a rather fake sounding snore was heard coming from Lou’s bunk. The girls quickly whipped out their flashlights, dove under their sheets, and set the assembly line back in motion. Six key chains later, the assembly line began to lose its momentum.

     “AHHHHH,” yawned Katie. “Is anybody else sleepy?”

     “I thought you’d never ask,” replied Erin.

     “ish-kee-bobble-mursh-kee-boom,” mumbled Rachel as the flashlights were turned off and the girls closed their eyes.

     The girls in Cabin B stood on the porch after quiet time the next day, anxious to see the new totals. Their previous lead of 23 made them pretty confident what today’s numbers would show. They hadn’t slowed down at all, adding another 15 key chains to their crate. Libby, taking her cue from Ryan Seacrest, slowly wrote each new total on the boards. When she added 15 to Cabin B’s previous total, everyone gasped in amazement while the Cabin B girls celebrated what they were sure would be their
victory. Anxious to prolong the suspense and aware of the surprise that lay ahead, Libby saved Cabin D for last. The nineteen key chains made before lights out, plus the six completed by flashlight put Cabin D in the lead by four. The Cabin B girls fell silent as their jaws fell open.

     “That’s not possible,” shouted an outraged Cabin B girl. “You were six behind us yesterday. Nobody can work that fast.”

     “We did,” said Erin. “Nimble fingers, I guess.”

     “Hey guys,” interrupted Katie, “Let’s keep our eyes on the prize. We’re doing a great job for a great cause.”

     The girls mumbled agreement as they dispersed and headed toward their afternoon activities.

     “Can you believe it?” asked Erin as she and Katie and Caroline walked to class. “Did you see the looks on their faces when Libby wrote up our total? They were so sure they would win.”

     “I kind of wish they had,” said Caroline. “I felt like they were mad at us when they left.”

     “You guys,” wailed Erin, “We’re winning. Cabin D rocks!” she added as she fisted her hands and danced the Cabbage Patch dance. She suddenly stopped when she noticed Katie and Caroline weren’t joining in. “Oh, no,” she groaned, “Not again, Katie. You’re biting your bottom lip and staring into space. I know that look. I’ll probably regret this, but tell me. What are you thinking?”

     “I don’t know. It’s just . . . I was thinking about the day we came up with the plan. Do you remember how excited everyone got? Some of us couldn’t even weave the laces yet, but we were all helping each other. We were a team. One team.”

     “I’m pretty sure that isn’t all you were thinking. What’s the rest?” asked Erin.

     “I know,” said Caroline. “The assembly line. We could teach all of the other cabins how to use it. Then we would all be producing more.”

     “Our secret weapon? You want to share our secret weapon?” cried Erin. “Is that it, Katie? Is that what you want, too?”

     “It does make sense to me,” answered Katie. “This project was never about us. It’s always been about the soldiers.”

     Erin hung her head and sighed in surrender. “When do we tell them,” she asked.

    “I’ll ask Ms. Vanden Bosch if I can speak to the group after sing-along,” said Katie. “Now let’s get to arts and crafts. We’ve got work to do.”

* * * * *

     After the other cabins began using the assembly line method, the number of key chains completed each day mushroomed. Although the cabin competition had seemed like a good idea, it had never really been needed. The girls were committed to the project and determined to do their very best.

     Katie and Erin were given permission to use the computer in the camp office to search the Internet for a list of items to include in their care packages. It didn’t take long for them to find the information they needed; travel size personal hygiene products like wet wipes and eye drops, gum and mints, and hand held games. Ivy had volunteered to do the necessary shopping on Sunday after Parents’ Day.

Chapter 25 - Parent’s Day

     The campers didn’t need Reveille to wake them on Saturday morning. Most of the girls were up and dressed by the time the speaker system crackled to life. They had all agreed to wear red, white, and blue to draw attention to Operation Afghanistan. Ms. Vanden Bosch had given them permission to set up a table outside the canteen where key chains would be sold throughout the day. Ivy had covered the table in white butcher paper, and the girls had painted Operation Afghanistan in large letters on the front. Twisted crepe paper fell in swags around the table, and red and blue foil stars held them in place. The girls signed up in two-man teams to staff the table. Libby, always the organizer, had set up a schedule of 30-minute shifts.

     As the girls ate breakfast, they began to hear the crunch of tires on gravel signaling the arrival of parents. Cabin A girls had a clear view of the parking lot from their table by the window.

     A freckle-faced girl knelt in her chair and craned her neck to identify each car as it pulled in.

     “Black Escalade with Missouri license plate,” she announced.

     “That’s me! That’s my mom and dad,” shouted Rachel.

     “Whoa there, girlie,” said Lou. “I know you’re excited, but we have to finish breakfast. You guys will meet your parents in the Twin Pines Pavilion when we dismiss.”

     “White PT Cruiser with Tennessee plate,” continued the Cabin A girl.

     An excited squeal came from the far corner of the mess hall.
     “I can’t wait to see my mom and dad,” exclaimed Libby. “You guys will want to meet them too. Mom promised to bring some of her famous chocolate, chunky-monkey cookies. They’re to die for.”

     “My parents are bringing my best friend from home,” shared Katie. “She wanted to come to camp, too, but her mom is preggo and she had to stay home and help out.”

     “Is she the one that writes you letters all the time?” asked Erin.

     “That’s her,” replied Katie.

     “Hey, Caroline,” asked Ava, “Is your mom coming?”

     “Are you kidding? After she heard about Operation Afghanistan she couldn’t wait to meet you guys.”

     Their chatter continued as more and more cars arrived. Finally, when the girls were about to burst with excitement, Ms. Vanden Bosch called for their attention.

     “Ladies,” she began, “I know you are anxious to see your parents. We have a full day of activities planned for you to enjoy. If there are no further announcements, you may . . .”

     The last words were lost in the movement of chairs and the crush of campers crowding the door. As quickly as possible, they made their way to the pavilion. Caroline was the first to spot her mom.

     “I’ll catch up with you guys later,” she shouted over her shoulder as she ran to greet her.

     Katie and Erin wiggled their way through the crowd hoping to spot their parents.

     “Daddy,” squealed Erin as she ran and jumped into his arms. He spun her around and placed her on the ground as she spied her mom talking to another parent.

     Grabbing her dad by the hand, she pulled him in the direction of the two women just as Katie ran up behind the other lady. Katie placed her hands over her mother’s eyes and said, “Guess who?”

     “Katie-bug,” her mom squealed as she turned and embraced her.

     “Where’s Dad? Where’s Mazie? Did you bring her?” grilled Katie.

     “Hold your horses, Katie,” said her mom. “First, there’s someone here I think you’d like to meet.”

     “Mom,” cried Erin, “I’ve missed you!”

     “Those are words a mother loves to hear,” replied Erin’s mom as she ran her hand through Erin’s hair. “Did you see who I’ve been talking to? This is Katie’s mom.”

     “Really? Hi,” said Erin, “It’s nice to meet you.”

     “Katie has mentioned you in every letter. I’m so glad she has made such a good friend here at camp. And Katie, this is Erin’s mom and I assume, her dad.”

     “That’s right, “he said as he walked up and shook her hand.

     “Hi,” said Katie. “Mom, where’s dad? And what about Mazie?”

     “What about me?” asked Mazie, suddenly appearing out of the crowd. “Your dad and I got lost coming back from the restrooms.”

     “Whoa,” said Erin. “You and Katie should never go camping together.”

     Katie’s parent gave her a quizzical look.

     “I’ll explain it all later,” said Katie as she tossed Erin an “I’ll get you look.”

     While Katie and Erin’s parents chit-chatted, Katie introduced her two friends to each other.

     “So,” whispered Mazie. “When do I meet her?”

     “Meet who?” asked Erin.

     “Duffel Bag Girl,” mouthed Mazie.

     “You mean Caroline?” asked Erin. “She was just here a minute ago.”

     “She’s probably at the Operation Afghanistan table. She and Libby had the first shift. We can catch up with her there, after we grab a snack at the hospitality table.”

     Sipping punch and munching on shortbread cookies, the two families headed toward Operation Afghanistan’s table.

     “Well, Pumpkin,” said Katie’s dad. “I hope you have plenty of key chains, because I brought plenty of money. My office staff and the guys at the Rotary Club all got involved. Your mom’s Bunco group and book club jumped on board, too.”

     “Way to go, Dad. I don’t think there will be a shortage of key chains, but if there is, we can always make more.”

     “How about you, Daddy? Did you have any luck with keychain orders?” asked Erin hopefully.

     “You betcha,” her dad replied. “Last Saturday was our annual company picnic. Mom and I made the rounds. It seems like everybody wants to help a soldier.”

     “Really,” said Mazie. “I have an uncle who’s a soldier, so my whole family bought key chains. I even sold some at my swim meet last week.”

     Erin and Katie grinned and gave each other a fist bump.

     Reaching the table, Katie noticed that Caroline and Libby weren’t there. They had been replaced with two girls from Cabin C.

     “I thought Caroline and Libby were supposed to be here,” commented Katie.

     “You just missed them,” the girls replied. “Their shift ended five minutes ago.”

     “Did they say where they were headed next?” asked Erin.

     “Libby and her parents were going to the cabin, I think, and Caroline and her mom were going to the hospitality table.”

     “I’m starting to wonder if there really is a Duffel Bag Girl,” teased Mazie.

     “Oh, there’s a Duffel Bag Girl alright,” moaned Erin. “I could tell you stories.”

     Katie, Erin, and Mazie waited while the parents purchased key chains. The Cabin A girls tried to act nonchalant and businesslike while handling the transaction, but as soon as the adults turned from the table, they dropped their jaws and stared bug-eyed at the fist full of dollar bills.

     Katie leaned over and asked how the key chain supply was holding up.

     “See for yourself,” Gabby said as she motioned toward the nearly empty crate.

     The girls were elated.

     “Well,” said Katie, “When you run out just keep taking orders. We have three more weeks of camp left after today.”

     The girls led their parents and Mazie down the path to the stables. Both Katie and Erin had become quite attached to their daily mounts and wanted everyone to see them. The paint Katie always rode whinnied and sauntered to the fence as the group approached. As usual, Katie had grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl at breakfast and held it out for the horse as she stroked his mane. Erin’s horse joined the group, knowing that Erin would have a little treat also. Katie’s dad directed the three girls to stand by the fence with the horses as he snapped pictures from several angles.

     “It’s going to be lunchtime before long,” said Erin’s mom as she glanced down at her watch. “Is there anything else you want us to see?”

     “We have to go back to the cabin. I want Dad to take some pictures of all the girls, and Mazie has to meet Caroline. I bet she and her mom are there by now.”

     Walking back toward the cabin, Katie and Erin told Mazie one story after another.

     “You should have seen her,” Erin said, “Flailing her arms and legs and swinging through the air . . .”

     “. . . and then she closed the window and locked Katie out.”

     “Yeah,” said Katie, “But that was all before we got lost together. I learned some things that really helped me to understand where she was coming from. I didn’t tell you in my letter, Mazie, but . . .”

     “Katie, you girls come stand on the bridge while I take a picture,” said her dad as they arrived at the cabin. The girls posed and then escorted their parents inside. Rachel and Libby were both there with their parents, as well as Libby’s two little brothers, identical twins named Walter and Wesley, who were chasing each other over and under the bunks while Libby’s mom tried to catch them. Introductions were made and the parents began to chat.

     “Gee, Libby, I didn’t know you had two little brothers,” said Erin. No offense, but they look like a handful.”

     “No offense taken,” replied Libby, “and they are.”

     No sooner were the words out of her mouth that one of them was pulling on her T-shirt.

     “Wibby,” said Walter, “I wike your cabin, but I don’t want you to wiv here anymore. I want you to come home wif us.”

     Libby scooped him up and nuzzled his neck.

     “My friend Mazie is going to have a new baby brother or sister soon,” Katie said. “Which is it, Katie? You never told me in your letters. Is it a brother or a sister?”

     “I was waiting to tell you in person,” Mazie said. “Remember when I said Mom was doing really, Really, REALLY well?”

     “Yeah,” said Katie. “That letter left me a little confused. Did I miss something?”

     “You might say that,” answered Mazie. “I said she’s doing really . . . really . . . really well.”

     Erin grinned and her eyes got big. “I think I know,” she suddenly blurted out. “You said really three times.”

      Suddenly Katie’s eyes grew big too.

     “OH m’gosh,” they cried in unison. “Your mom’s having triplets!”

     “AHHHHHHH!” the girls screamed, while Libby sent a sympathetic look Mazie’s way.

     “So that’s why your aunt and cousin are coming to live with you. Your aunt is coming to help your mom with the babies,” said Katie.

     “That’s part of it,” said Mazie. “And my uncle’s in the army and she hates being alone.”

     “So,” asked Libby. “Are they boys, girls, or a combination?

     With a look of pain on her face, Mazie grimaced and replied, “Boys. Three little boys.”

     “Wibby,” crooned Wesley. “I wuv you. Will you wift me up so I can kith you on the wips?”

     The girls hearts melted as they took turns receiving “kithes” from Wesley.

* * * * *

     The campers and their parents began to stroll toward the dining hall. Everyone was surprised at how quickly the morning had passed.

     “I’m not leaving here until I meet her,” insisted Mazie.

     “I can’t believe we didn’t run into her all morning,” replied Katie.

     “Count your blessings,” advised Erin. “Did I say that? I’ve actually grown quite fond of her. In fact, a day without Caroline would be like a day without sunshine.”

     “Don’t get too carried away, Erin,” warned Katie.

     As she looked up the path, Katie saw a crate with a familiar pair of legs headed in their direction. A toe, on a foot, of one of those legs suddenly caught itself in a tree-root that crossed the path.

     “Mazie!” yelled Katie. “Look out!”

     Suddenly the crate was in the air, and Mazie found herself entangled in a heap with the other girl at the base of a tree. Stunned, but basically unhurt, the girls began to brush themselves off. Caroline stood up, both hands on her hips. Katie watched and waited for the explosion that was bound to occur.

     “Mazie?” said Caroline as a look of startled recognition crossed her face.

     “CeeCee?” came Mazie’s shocked reply.

     “Caroline, baby,” cooed her mom as she arrived on the scene. “That was a nasty tumble you . . .”

     “Aunt Jillian?” said Mazie .

     “Did I miss something?” Katie murmured to Erin.

     “Uh, Mazie,” cautioned Katie’s dad as he caught up with the group. “You and your friend there need to step very carefully back onto the trail. I’m afraid that’s poi . . . “

     “Don’t,” groaned Caroline. “Don’t even tell me. “

Chapter 26 - So Long, But Not Good-Bye

     Operation Afghanistan was a huge success. All the key chains were sold and there were orders for many more. Ivy, true to her word shopped the next day for all the items needed to supply the care packages. The girls had mastered the assembly line process, and used it again as they packed the items for the soldiers.

     “I checked with Libby this morning and she said we have enough key chains to fill all of the remaining orders,” said Katie.

     “It’s a good thing.” Erin placed some sunflower seeds and Beef Jerky into a box and continued. “My bunk is right next to Rachel’s, and the last few nights she hasn’t been saying ‘ish-kee-bobble-mursh-kee-boom'. Her fingers are moving in her sleep and she keeps saying, ‘strand one across strand two under strand four double-cross.’ I think she’s operating on keychain overload.”

     The girls laughed and nodded their heads in agreement. “I was tying my shoelaces this morning, and the next thing I knew I had a box-stitch goin’ on. How does it look?” asked Caroline as she held up her sneakered foot for them to see.”

     “You’re crazy, Caroline,” teased Katie. “But, you’ll probably start a new fad.”

     “Crazy Caroline! That’s it! That’s where the nickname CeeCee came from. It all makes sense now,” said Erin.

     “Whatever,” replied Caroline as she smirked and rolled her eyes.

     “Gee,” said Katie. “Can you believe tomorrow is the last day?”

     “Don’t talk about it,” said Erin. “At least you and Caroline will still see each other. I can’t believe she’s Mazie’s cousin.”

     “You can’t believe it,” exclaimed Katie. “Mazie and I have been best friends since kindergarten and I didn’t even know it.”

     “Promise you’ll text me when the triplets are born,” pleaded Erin.

     “We promise,” said the girls as they closed the lid on the final care package.

* * * * *

     The familiar crunch of tires on gravel began at 6:30 A.M. on the last day of camp as parents arrived to take the campers home. Cabin D girls were quieter than usual at breakfast. Alicia had been the first to leave and her empty chair was a reminder that soon they would all go their separate ways. One last time, they made the walk from the mess hall to Cabin D. There was no laughter on this trek. Lou sat in a rocker on the front porch chatting with Ava’s parents who had just arrived. The screen door opened and out came Ava dragging her duffel bag behind her. With somber faces, Katie, Erin, and Caroline met her at the bottom of the steps and exchanged farewell hugs.

     “Cabin D forever,” they yelled as Ava rolled down her window and waved good-bye. “See you next summer.”

     Sadly, the three girls entered the cabin to finish packing. The bunks looked pitiful, stripped of their bedding. Saggy blue-striped mattresses and empty dresser drawers seemed to say, “Summer is over.”

     “Erin,” Lou called from the porch. “Your parents are here.”

     Erin gulped and fought back tears. “I guess this is it,” she said as the tears began to flow in earnest.

Both Caroline and Katie threw their arms around her. Never had saying good-bye been so hard.

     “Enough,” barked Lou in her fake mean voice as she entered the room. “You’re making a slobbery mess out of my cabin, and I won’t stand for it.”

     The girls released each other and gave Lou a final hug.

     Erin dragged her bag out the front door and down the steps. Katie and Caroline zipped their bags and followed. Katie’s dad pulled up as the screen door slammed behind them.

     “You’ll be riding with us, Caroline,” he said as he reached out to take her bags. “Let’s stow your gear and hit the road.”

     As the two cars headed out, the girls rolled down their windows and leaned out. With fists raised in the air, Erin, Katie, and Caroline shouted,
                                                               “Best Friends Forever!”