Late Father's Day Refections

 As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him Psalm 103:13 (New International Version)

   Mother’s Day always seems like a big deal – everyone goes to see their mom and takes her flowers and then out to eat. Fathers sometimes seem to get the raw end of the deal on Father’s Day. No one goes out to eat; it’s summer, so they grill out instead and Dad might be doing most of the work.

It also seems that, at least in the past generations, we shower more affection on our mothers. They always get a hug. Dear ol’ dad? Maybe a handshake or a nod of the head.

I never considered myself a hugger. As kids, it wasn’t something we did as our parents didn’t initiate it. As we got older, though, Mom would hug us hello or good-bye. Dad? The nod of the head. I only remember hugging Dad twice in my lifetime.

The first time, I had been living in Colorado and flew home in February or March for a long weekend because he had been in the hospital with chest pain. I was worried about him and Mom too, how they were both coping. I called the airline (because there was no internet then), booked a flight, asked my boss if she could take me to the airport as well as pick me up, and called my sister Pat to pick me up at the airport. I think she spilled it to Mom that I was coming home, but Dad didn’t have a clue. I remember walking in the kitchen door and him meeting me with a genuine smile on his face. I threw my arms around his neck and he returned the hug.  

The second time, Mom and Dad were driving out with the fifth wheel to see me in Colorado. They called from Sterling one evening to say they wouldn’t be able to make it all the way to Castle Rock that night, but would see me in the morning. When my boyfriend at the time got off work sometime after nine that night, I asked if we could jump in his car and drive out to meet them. It was well after midnight when we pulled into their campground, and everyone for miles around was fast asleep. We hunkered down in Dan’s car and slept as best we could until daylight. I woke with the sun and spied Dad out walking the dog. I ran over to him and threw myself into his arms. Again, he was so surprised to see me. (I blogged about that adventure once before.)

I know that there is a wide range of relationships we have with our fathers. I had been blessed with a dad who I could always count on.

One last memory. When I broke my leg in eighth grade, it was Dad who picked me up and took me to the hospital, who held me down when the doctor set my leg without any drugs. I remember the doctor saying, “Hold her down, Paul, this is going to hurt.”

Thanks, Dad. You’ve been gone twenty-seven years, but I still miss you and love you. 

My most prized possession - the keychain my dad gave me when I moved to Colorado. 

The Truth Beyond My Most Recent Crisis

   On my two most recent blog posts, I overdramatically shared a tale of woe concerning my laptop. I felt I should explain what has happened to it.

Last Saturday afternoon, while working on it at my daughter’s kitchen counter, I spilled some grape juice next to it. (Honest, it was grape juice and nothing more!) I didn’t think any of the spillage landed on the laptop, and we washed up the counter and didn’t think much of it.

A while later, I noticed the battery on the device had quickly gone down to 6%. I plugged it in and again didn’t think much of it. When it looked like it wasn’t charging, I blamed it on the outlet in my daughter’s living room, turned it off, unplugged it and put it away.

When I got home a few hours later, I plugged it in again. It still didn’t seem to be charging, but I thought I would just ignore it and it would be fine come morning.

Sunday morning, I turned on my laptop, it said it was fully charged and I thought it had all been a fluke and all was well. Within twenty minutes, the battery once again registered at 6%.

What is going on? I asked.

Upon further inspection, the port for plugging in the charging cable was sticky. Apparently that spilled grape juice (I repeat – grape juice and not wine!) had indeed infiltrated my laptop.

Despair ensued!

I eventually settled down and accepted that whatever was going to happen to my laptop was God’s will. It appears to be working all right now, it just has no battery life. As long as it is plugged in, it’s functioning at an acceptable capacity, except that the internet is dial-up slow. I’ve been backing everything up on a new jump drive and will have my son try to fix the problem next weekend.

In the meantime, as I’ve also mentioned in the past few posts, I am trying to get my latest novel published. “The Truth Beyond the River” takes place in 1974 and revolves around a Vietnam vet fighting a new war, a young reporter looking for her big break, and an aging monk trying to keep the peace. Quite the eclectic group of characters, huh?

The setting is an abandoned monastery along a northern Wisconsin River, a place I’ve blogged about before. A friend of mine from high school painted an amazing picture of this place. A week ago, I shared some tentative book covers on my Facebook author’s page. Expect more soon! I appreciate all your feedback!

Also, expect to hear more about the book!

(As I just typed the title of this post, I recalled that I named the jump drive I am using "Crisis Drive".)

Return to Peace

   I’ve got a lot going on right now. So much so that I wasn’t going to put up a blog post today. I’m exhausted and have too much on my plate.

If you read my Sunday post, you may remember that my laptop isn’t working right, which has me majorly stressed. I've been transferring all my files to an external drive so that I don't lose everything, but I'm still hoping my son can fix it this weekend or next. Meanwhile, I’m able to use the desktop computer in our living room, but  - God bless him – that is my husband's terrain and not my quiet, inspiring office.

Then there’s work, which I cannot get into. And even if I could, it is just too long a story, there is just too much. Much, much, too much.

But the biggest thing is that I set myself a deadline for publishing my latest novel on Amazon on July 1. I thought the book was polished and ready to go. Well, it is, but there is still more to get it from polished in my file to perfected for print. I can’t wait to tell you all about it. I really, really cannot wait to share it with the world. But all things happen in their right and proper time. Hopefully for “The Truth Beyond the River”, that time will be in one week.

In the meantime, let’s return to my travels up north the weekend before last. Return to peace. 

God Will Establish Your Plans.

1 To humans belong the plans of the heart, but from the Lord comes the proper answer of the tongue. 2 All a person’s ways seem pure to them, but motives are weighed by the Lord. 3 Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and he will establish your plans. 4 The Lord works out everything to its proper end— even the wicked for a day of disaster.

Proverbs 16 (New International Version)

Three years ago, I finished writing my latest novel. I’ve worked on it, off and on, since then, going over it with a fine-tooth comb, sending it to agents and publishers, having it professionally edited. The book is as good as it’s going to get – not that it is ever going to be the “Great American Novel” – but the story is what it is.

I decided a few months ago that I would just self-publish it myself on Amazon. There are so many pros and cons to that, but you don’t want to read about that. Just know that for anyone who considers themselves a writer, self-publishing is not the first - or second or third - path to take.

Once I came to this decision, I continued to drag my feet, until it dawned on me that the story begins on the Fourth of July, so wouldn’t it make sense for me to release it to my readership (all ten of you) around that time. Which means, I need to get it together.

I spent many hours the last two days working on formatting it, as well as designing the cover. Then, late yesterday afternoon, my laptop took a dump. And no, I hadn’t backed up any of the work I had been putting into this novel.

It’s another whole story of how I came to read the verses from Proverbs 16, but there they are. God’s clear message to me.  

I went to church last night and then out to eat. I was going to put my novel and my ailing laptop out of my mind. Things were going to turn out for the glory of God.

5 The Lord detests all the proud of heart. Be sure of this: They will not go unpunished. 6 Through love and faithfulness sin is atoned for; through the fear of the Lord evil is avoided.

7 When the Lord takes pleasure in anyone’s way, he causes their enemies to make peace with them.

I got up this morning, and slowly began my day, avoiding the temptation to jump right on my computer to see if it was working.

When I finally bravely turned it on, it powered right up and worked fine. Joy and happiness. Praise God.

Then the warning signs began. I grabbed a brand-new thumb drive that I had laying around and slapped my novel with its revisions plus cover concepts into it. Turned my laptop off once again and walked away.

9 In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.

God has got this taken care of. One way or another – well, I know which way. His.

(Oh, and also, thank You, God, for the desk top computer we have at our house.)

Flashback Friday and Gangsters

   For whatever reason, many of us are fascinated by gangsters. I don’t know why. They were truly horrible criminals, only out for themselves, making a lot of money in whatever why they could, breaking just about every law ever made, holding no regard for human life.

My only connection to the gangsters of the twenties and thirties, is that my dad was living in Chicago in 1934 when John Dillinger was shot in front of the Biograph theater. My nineteen-year-old dad was living just a few blocks away. He always told us that he, along with everyone else in the neighborhood, ran down to the scene as soon as they heard. All they saw was Dillinger’s blood on the sidewalk.

Northern Wisconsin is filled with gangster stories. I’ve been to Little Bohemia in Manitowish Waters, the location of a botched attempt to capture Dillinger. I’ve also visited the Hideout in Couderay, reportedly the retreat of Al Capone, complete with guard towers and an eight-stall garage which had been turned into a restaurant and ice cream parlor when I was there.

Two weeks ago, when I was staying at the resort with a similar name, The Hideaway, I heard the story of that place also having once been frequented by famous gangsters, including Capone.

I can’t vouch for the validity of any of these stories. Maybe that’s why we are fascinated by gangsters – the aura of tall tales. All I know is I was more fascinated by the architecture.

The original lodge. 

 

 It certainly looks old and certainly needs some work.

 But the bar upstairs is beautiful. 

  All that stunning wood. 

 Then our tour guide asked if we wanted to see the brothel. I was like, “what?” 

 The bed frame might be original, but not the mattress and surely not the fan. 

 There were two doors in the room. One probably led to a closet and the other to a room with a sink.

 This really kind of freaked me out. Our guide said this was where the prostitute would wash up between customers. Well, how very hygienic of her! Yikes! 

 Nope, give me the view out the window. It’s the wide open spacings of the great outdoors for me, not some tavern and surely not a house of ill-repute.

(Upon further research, I’m pretty sure that Al Capone himself was never at this resort. Their website says it was built in 1938, but Capone was in prison from 1931 to 1939. Upon release from prison, he was hospitalized in Baltimore for a while, and then moved to his estate in Florida where he died in 1947. Just wanted to clarify.)

Tale of Two Weekends

   It has been such a long winter for all of us. I have hardly been able to stand not getting away for a weekend. The last time was in February, shortly after my husband had surgery on his arm and just before COVID19 hit. We went down to our son’s for a quick overnight visit.

But now that the weather is nice, I’m going to get out and go bumming when I can. 

 As I mentioned last week, I went away for a long weekend the first weekend in June to Hideaway Resort in Harshaw.  

 The original lodge building has a colorful history, which I will share another time. If you know me at all, you know that there is always a long story, but I have other things to write tonight, such as some of the things I do when I get away. 

 Like photographing the lodge from the Muskie Lake.

 In a kayak. So much fun. 

 I also took a lot of walks, around the grounds. 

 And down neighboring side roads. But what did I do this past weekend? 

 I couldn't have all the fun by myself, so . . .

 . . . I went camping with Hubby and the dog at Lake of Falls County Park near Mercer. 

 Adorable little campground, where my two sisters and I had camped once twenty-four years ago. 

 I took several walks and way too many pictures. 

 Three hundred and six of them! We took a drive on Saturday, so I took a lot of shots then. 

 But still, one hundred and five of my pictures were taken just at the county park. 

Luckily only a few of them were as dumb as the one 

that I had to get of the pay shower.

Unwinding

 

   Because the Lord is my Shepherd, I have everything I need! He lets me rest in the meadow grass and leads me beside the quiet streams. He gives me new strength. He helps me do what honors him the most. (Psalm 23:1-3, Living Bible)

I’m sorry that I am posting this so late in the day. Hubby and I were camping this weekend, and I didn’t have internet. Which is a sorry excuse, as I had plenty of time to still write this and then post it as soon as I got home this morning.

Instead, when we got home, around eleven, there was all the hub-hub of getting the camper unpacked, putting stuff away, washing clothes, airing out the bedding that didn’t need to be washed. It always makes me wonder if going camping for a weekend is worth it.

But then I look back at the pictures I took and think of all of the beauty I witnessed. I remember the quiet hours of relaxation, of just getting away. Of feeling my strength renewed, my faith rejuvenated.

Yes, it is worth it.

Thank You, Lord, for allowing me time to get away from it all and to unwind. Amen.

Wonderful Wildlife

   As promised on Wednesday’s blog post, here are more of the pictures I took while staying at Hideaway Resort last weekend. I thought I’d start with the plethora of wildlife I saw. 

 You can make out the osprey in the lower right side above. He's a little bit better focused there than below.

 I couldn't get a good picture of the female mallard because of the light.

 The light being the setting sun.

 We actually had chosen this particular resort because of the resident pair of loons.

 The male was quite the character.

 But I had to wait until evening for him to come close enough to shore to get a better shot.

 As if I have never seen a Canadian goose before, I took probably 20 pictures of this pair. I didn't, however, get pictures of the bald eagle or the heron. Or the black garter snake which slithered through the grass way too fast for me to get a shot of.

 It's that time of year when the fawns are out. And oh, how I hoped to see one. But I was pretty excited just to see one's delicate tracks. Mom's on the left, baby's on the right.

 But during that walk that evening I did see one whitetail.

 And a second one.

 But this beauty has to be my favorite. This was near her den a few hundred yards behind my cabin. One morning I heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet and looked out the window to see a kit pop out from under my cabin.

 Before I knew it, though, it was time to leave. This little friend parked himself under my car, apparently not wanting me to go.

 The time had come, however, for me to head on down the road.