CORDELL

CORDELL

Armed with a simple slingshot, he was barefoot and wore britches patched over patches and short enough to reveal hairy ankles. Frayed cuffs of a once-white shirt peeked from the too-short sleeves of a tattered suit coat. A limp bowtie that seemed to be anchored in place by the boy's Adam's apple completed his attire. While his apparel attested to a life of too little, his gaze was that of one who'd witnessed too much…too much beyond the death and poverty that were normal occurrences in these hills. War, perhaps.

Aunt Nell's eyes misted. "Cordell is everybody's son and nobody's son. Cordell is just Cordell and he's God's child. It don't matter more'n that." 

 

A Shelter in a Weary Land

WIP rewrite by Julane Hiebert

 

Aunt Nell

 

This is Aunt Nell. 

Plump as a feather tick.

Wears men's boots too large for her.

Eyes big as marbles behind wire-rimmed spectacles

Frilly bonnet tied under a ruffle of chins

She carries a Henry Repeater rifle

AND

She smokes a pipe--although it's never lit and is void of tobacco

You will meet her in the rewrite of A Shelter in a Weary Land.

 EVERYONE NEEDS AN AUNT NELL 💕 

Can yours?

 

My Father can frost trees! 

Can yours? 

FINISH WELL

 Since 2015, I've had 7 full novels and 5 novellas published. It still amazes me because I didn't start young...I was 75 at that first book signing. You can do the math.

In a few short days, 6 of those novels and all of the novellas will be taken out of print. I have full rights to all of them and can do with them what I please. And I do have plans.

But right now, at this writing, I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed...like there are hurdles of age and time in front of me and blurred faces of doubt, and fear pushing me toward a finish line I can't see. 

I thought I would know if and when it was time for me to quit writing.  I envisioned huge flags waving like, perhaps, no more stories swirling around in my head, characters no longer talking to me in the middle of the night, or fingers too stiff and slow to continue punching in words. But the truth is: I have three unfinished stories that have pitched their tents in this make-believe world of mine. And 11 stories clamoring to be retold. However, I do not want to go one written word ahead of God's plans for me, nor one letter behind. 

This is not a plea for comments, but I do covet your prayers. 

I want my very faithful readers to know that my desire is that I finish well, however that might look. 

 

Peace Be Still

 

*****

 My Jesus is more than a fair weather friend.

He orders my days from beginning to end.

And when my days grow stormy, I know that He will

Rebuke the winds.

Peace Be Still.

He says Peace! Peace!

Be still my child.

You're safe here in my arms though the storms grow wild.

Come! Lay your head upon My breast and trust me.

I will

Rebuke the winds.

Peace Be Still.

PERSPECTIVE

 

IN MY OWN LITTLE CORNER IN MY OWN LITTLE CHAIR

The Heart of the Lowly

DO YOU SEE IT?

 We often seek beauty in the high places when its heart is already present in the lowly.