They sat by the fire for a long time in contented silence. He could believe in miracles after this night. His experience in church, witnessing the birth of a baby, and the discovery of just how intensely he loved her, wanted to protect and care for her, were all miraculous. Every hour with her seemed to change him, lead him forward to a new sense of himself. He tried to recall the pastor's words at the close of the service tonight. Words like strengthen and support, honor and serve; words which gave direction, pointing to a better life. Peace and love, and courage. He had begun to believe he might be capable of much more than he'd ever attempted. With inspiration in the form of this girl now nestled so warmly at his side, he might learn to be the kind of man she deserved.
I'm most recently a writer. In the six plus decades of my life, I've been a wife, mother, grandmother, Jill of all trades though mistress of but a few, and most of the time pretty content with my lot. As a much younger person, I believed I was called to write, but life and living distracted me for most of those decades. An unwilling transplant from the South, twenty years ago I unintentionally landed in the geographical center of the US. Writing came about in part due to the unwillingness, I expect. When caring for family, gardening, and renovating a century-old house failed to provide sufficient creative outlets, I turned to the one thing I always intended to do. Eight titles later, I'm grateful I found myself while Lost in the Plains!