Valley Rise Christmas Blog--Day Four

Three years later, Emily is once again a permanent resident of her childhood home.  And once again, she prepares to celebrate Christmas Eve with her friends and neighbors.  For the first time, she has volunteered to direct the children's choir, her "Cherubs," as they participate in the service.

 Christmas Eve dawned gray and cold.  The forecast called for rain, not snow, and the low clouds held the promise of a gloomy day.  But Emily refused to be discouraged.  She made up her mind to be brutally cheerful, no matter how much the pain under her ribs reminded her of Stani's absence.  She had plenty to keep her busy, and the time would pass, whether she chose to be happy or sad.  As music blared through the speakers, filling the house, she hummed along, even danced a few steps across the kitchen floor, reminding herself of all she had to be happy about.  If everything else paled in comparison to the sight of his face, the touch of his hand, so be it.  Blessings were blessings weren't they, none of them to be counted as anything less.

At six she ate her supper and dressed for church.  She had been to Martha Jean's and, as a gift to herself, purchased a ridiculously expensive new blouse.  White silk, with an open collar and flowing sleeves caught at the wrist in lace cuffs, it was the perfect complement to the camel skirt and dark green vest she’d bought in the fall.  She loved the elegant length of the skirt, falling just above her ankles.  It would be appropriately graceful as she sat on the floor with her little ones during the service.  She wasn’t often overly concerned with her appearance, but tonight she took special pains.  In honor of the occasion, she wanted to look her best. 
Before she left, she moved Joseph and Mary into the stable, with the noble donkey grazing on the hearth nearby.  The shepherds she placed on a table not far away, where the heralding angel's message could reach them.  Finally, she set the angel directly beneath the star hanging above the mantel.  Leaving the lamp shining in the window, she started out for church just as rain began to fall in earnest.
The little stone church was packed, buzzing with excitement as families gathered and friends greeted one another as if they hadn’t been together in months, rather than days.  Her cherubs, with their shining clean faces and carefully brushed hair, seemed suitably impressed with the importance of their roles in the service, even a little subdued.  Emily could only hope that attitude lasted through the hour they spent in full view of the congregation.
But as the music began, and she led them to their places, all her anxiety melted away.  It was a sacred night and even if the children were restless or sang a little off key, nothing could cast a shadow over the beauty of this, her favorite night of the year.

Valley Rise Christmas Blog--Day Three

Continuing in Hearts Unfold, Emily returns to her home church on the arm of her godfather, Jack Deem, and is reminded of all she has missed since she left for college.  A chance conversation also reminds her of the possibility of miracles even in the most dire of circumstances.

 In the narthex, the smell of pine boughs and the glow of candlelight wrapped around her, drawing her in.  The sanctuary was already crowded.  Local families swelled with out-of-town guests, sleepy children in the arms of proud grandparents, several young men in uniform, their mothers or sweethearts clinging to their arms, all gathered in anticipation of the hour to come.  From her seat next to Jack, she searched the familiar faces.  Down front, Sara McConnell sat between sons Peter and James.  Peter had let his hair grow longer, now that he was at college, and the blonde mane was very becoming.  He was even better looking than the last time Emily had seen him, which must have been almost two years ago.  James, home on leave from Southeast Asia, was in uniform.  Thin and deeply tanned, he looked older, and there was a tense, haggard expression on his face as he gazed down at his mother.

They’d been close friends; Peter and Emily the same age and James four years older, they had played together as children.  She’d even dated Peter briefly during their sophomore year, ending the relationship with an uneasy truce after some awkward attempts at romance.  She smiled as she recalled telling a red-faced Peter he could keep his sweaty hands to himself if that was all he was interested in.  But they had put that aside during their senior year, when she'd been struggling to adjust to life alone and James had been preparing to go overseas.  The three of them had supported each other, finding comfort in the fact they were each moving into a future filled with uncertainty.

Slipping closer to Jack, she looked around in amazement.  This gathering looked like every other Christmas Eve service she'd attended through the years.  The same smiling faces, some looking a bit frail now with age; the same murmur of voices, using every moment to visit before the first notes sounded from the organ.  There were smiles of surprised recognition, and she knew the news of her presence would spread through the congregation by the end of the service.

Behind her, a man and woman were deep in soft-spoken conversation, commenting on the artificial trees with their tiny electric candles that stood grouped behind the crèche figures at the front of the church.  The man was saying what a pity about those cedar trees.  His wife whispered, “You did your best.”

“But it's still a shame not to have real trees.  I just couldn't get to 'em before the ice came.  Guess they're still stacked up on the side of the road by the springs.  Pity, wasting all those trees.”  The woman shushed him softly.

Emily gasped at the vision of a black clad figure, sailing through the darkness and coming to rest on a nest of soft cedar branches.  She looked at Jack's profile, but he seemed not to have heard.  Could that have been what happened?  If the trees intended to decorate the church had indeed cushioned his fall, how could anyone deny Stani had been saved by an act of God?

The organ came to life, and she saw Pastor Mike step to the pulpit, raising his hands for silence.  Over the soft music, Emily listened to his warm, strong voice as he called the people to worship.

“This is the night of our savior's birth.  Let us open our hearts in welcome as we come together to worship God, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit on this most miraculous of nights.”

Valley Rise Christmas Blog- Day Two

Last time, in Hearts Unfold we saw Emily Haynes preparing her house in anticipation of Christmas with family heirloom decorations, honoring traditions established through the years by her parents.  Today we meet Stani Moss, who has known little or nothing of tradition and yet recognizes the beauty and mystery of the Christmas Eve celebration without understanding its meaning.

Tuning out the conversation in the front seat, he turned his thoughts ahead to the rehearsal tomorrow afternoon.  Robert would drive him to the church where he was scheduled to play for midnight Mass, immediately following the radio broadcast on Christmas Eve.  The evening would be hectic, he knew, but he never turned down the opportunity to perform in a church.  He had played in cathedrals and synagogues, churches and chapels.  The same sense of intimacy, no matter the size of the building, lent a unique depth to his performance, which he had never been able to attain in a concert hall.

Stani especially looked forward to this event.  From that first Christmas Eve Mass at St. Patrick's, just after they'd moved to New York, he'd had a fascination with this particular celebration.  Jana had taken him, her one venture back to her childhood religion.  The pungent-sweet smell of cedar, and the glow of hundreds of candles, along with the glorious music, made a profound impression upon him.  He'd become curious for the first time as to what motivated so many people to come, year after year, to sing the same hymns and whisper the same prayers.  He hadn't pursued religion; it didn't fit into his already over-scheduled young life.  But he’d discovered performing in churches evoked the same emotions he’d experienced that night.  He found himself looking forward to the prospect of spending another Christmas Eve among people who came to greet a child they believed had forever altered the nature of man.  It would be a welcome change from the faceless crowds in dim, smoke-filled rooms, crowds which seemed to be drawing him farther and farther from his own humanity.

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Valley Rise Christmas Blog--Day One

 The holidays are upon us again. How many times have I heard and even said those words in my life? They seem to strike so many emotional chords in each of us. Excitement, dread, tearful memories and warm reassurance, all tied to holidays past. Last year I posted this series of scenes from the Valley Rise Series and such an amazing number of folks stopped by to read them, I decided to post them again this season. I hope they add a little something to your holiday preparations! 

It occurred to me that since there are so many Christmas-related scenes in the Miracle at Valley Rise books, I could share them with you here on the blog during December.

While I didn't set out to feature the holidays so prominently, it turned out that for Emily and Stani, Christmas took on very special significance from the beginning.  For all of us, there are certain memories attached to specific times of year, traditions we hold dear, and events we always revisit when the anniversaries roll around.  For the family at Valley Rise Farm, that seems to be especially true. 
So here we go.  I'll try to share some of these moments with you every few days, so I hope you'll tune in and enjoy the holiday season with the characters who live in the pages of my books.
In this scene from Hearts Unfold, Emily Haynes has secretly returned to her secluded farmhouse home in search of a way to retrieve what's left of the life she shared with her parents.  With her mother dead and her father in a nursing home, there doesn't appear to be much hope, until Emily decides to take control of her destiny.  Since it's almost Christmas, her first step is to bring a little holiday cheer to her home.

   

After some digging in the closet beneath the stairs, she retrieved the ornaments, garland and lights that had each year decorated a fresh evergreen.  At last she found the crèche, tucked in its own box, each china figurine wrapped in tissue paper.  She recalled packing it away, that first painful Christmas, when she and Pop had pretended not to notice the vast empty space where her mother should have been.  By the next year, they had given up pretending and barely allowed the holiday into the house.

Setting out on her mission to bring Christmas to the room, she eyed the mantel wall first.  The fireplace, flanked by glass-front cabinets and two high windows, would substitute for a tree, she decided.  Humming along with the music, adding a waltzing step every now and then as she worked, she spread silver garland and glowing colored lights across the mantel and the tops of the cabinets.  She added carefully spaced clusters of glass ornaments, shining spheres of red, green and gold, along with blown glass figurines of angels, stars and Father Christmas, all well-remembered from her childhood.  When she’d achieved just the desired effect, she hung the delicate gold star that had always topped the tree, in the center of the chimney.

Going to the other end of the room, she spread a shawl of fringed red velvet on the piano, just as her mother had done every year, and placed an open book of carols on the music rack.  Finally, she took her father's violin from its case and gently nestled it in the folds of the shawl, laying the bow carefully across the strings.  Stepping back, she let out a sigh of satisfaction.  She had paid tribute to the past, mindful of the obvious changes; but she’d also taken a step toward future Christmases.

Finally, she positioned the figurines facing the fireplace where the little wooden shed waited, well out of harm's way, on the hearth.  Mary and Joseph with the donkey near the front door, the shepherds and their flock of three sheep on the piano bench, and the wise men with their camel on the table next to Pop's chair.  The solitary ox rested in the stable, next to the tiny cross-legged manger filled with paper straw.  The figure of the newborn baby with his outstretched arms she tucked on the mantel near the heralding angel, hidden from sight for now.  Gazing back at the travelers journeying toward her, she laughed softly.  She was truly home for Christmas, as she had never expected to be again.

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http://www.amazon.com/Shannons-Daughter-Karen-Welch-ebook/dp/B00H3R7LKU/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1386201280&sr=1-1&keywords=Shannon%27s+Daughter

I Love Interviews!

I like the idea of interviews, but I have to admit knowing just how to answer those questions is tricky.  To say enough--cleverly, I hope--without saying too much is challenging.  But I love the idea of talking about my journey as a writer, not because I think it's particularly fascinating in itself, but because I'm still so amazed that I have a journey as a writer to talk about! 
I'm grateful to Peggy Browning for inviting me to put in an appearance on her blog Fifty Odd, showcasing women writers over 50. I more than qualify based on age, and after reading the interview, I'm struck once again by the fact that I really am a writer now! Just goes to show there's no sell-by date on dreams coming true! Please have a look and let me know what you think.

http://fiftyodd.com/2013/12/karen-welch-women-writers-50/