Friday, August 14, 2020

What Shall I Wear? (3rd place short story)


Line up guys. You know the routine.  

Toes meet toes in my full-length mirror, turned horizontally and angled for best viewing. At least fifteen pairs of designer dress shoes are arranged from lightest pair to darkest. Heavy on the Christian Louboutin with a handful of Jimmy Choos and a dash of Chanel. Judging me by my collection, anyone might think I’m a rich snob, a superficial diva. Anyone would be wrong. I’m not rich. But I do have impeccable taste and know the value of optimal footwear. 

I admit to having a smidgen of a purchasing addiction, but these guys are my first step toward getting a job as a fashion designer’s assistant. Everyone knows the sayings: "best foot forward” and “no second chances at first impressions.” I spend a tad extra for quality. But if you could smell that strong leather scent I’m enjoying right now, you would understand my obsession. Brand new Louboutins smell of importance. 

Lord, please, please help me pick the right ones. Okay, shoes, do your thing. And no, I’m not crazy. I’m single and have the right to talk to my shoes out loud. Only God can hear me unless I forget to close the windows. 

I pull out classy yet stylish black pumps with striped three-inch heels. When Ms. Rolen-something catches sight of these babies, I’ll get the job. Good thing no one heard me say this on my first ten interviews. But those managers had good reason not to hire me after I faulted with amateur mistakes. I should never have picked the fancy glittered pair with flowers for a tailored suit designer or wore the cute Mary-Jane style patent leathers to a sportswear company. The worst choice was rain galoshes to a couture dress designer, but the sky dumped ponds in the street that day. Ms. Dubois shook her head and arched one eyebrow when she heard them squeak across her office. I could barely answer her questions since I knew my fate. 

I slip into my classic fit and flare black dress with chiffon sleeves and a silk scarf. A safe choice. I spin around singing my favorite Mandisa song. “Cause if He started this work in your life, He will be faithful to complete it, if only you believe it…this is gonna make you stronger.” Got my shoes, song, and resume. I’m ready. 

My heels tap, tap, tap with my heartbeat as I navigate my way through the gleaming hallways around marble tiles, indoor waterfalls, and tropical plants to the elevator. Interview number eleven, here we go. Jesus, I could use a few more seeds of faith. Help me make a good impression. The old lady in the jogging suit is looking at me. I have got to stop talking to myself.  

The elevator dings and slides its doors open. The lady steps out first and falls on her face. 

I crouch to the ground. “Are you okay? Can you get up?” She doesn’t answer, so I yell, “Help, someone!” I call 911 and wrap my scarf around her bleeding forehead. Within seconds, a group gathers around us. 

Someone asks, “Mrs. Bee, can you hear me?” She finally sits up and holds her head. 

“Look at this pretty scarf someone gave me.” She rubs the fringes with her fingertips and drapes the blood-stained fabric across her shoulders. 

When the paramedics arrive, I rush off to my interview. Instead of fifteen minutes early, I’m three minutes late.  

Ms. Rolen-Beacon is stunning with long braided black hair and natural looking with pale pink lipstick. She shakes my hand. “You’re late. Trisha, is it?” 

“Tasha. I’m sorry. You see as I was coming out of the elevator…” 

She holds up her right hand like a crossing guard and stops me from explaining. “May I see your resume?” 

My hand leaves a sweat mark on the crisp paper. Lord, help me.  

“Did you say something?” 

My face must be a nice shade of strawberry. “No, I mean a little prayer slipped out.” 

She smiles. “I saw you helping Mrs. Bee. She comes here every month for clothes donations to bring to her church. Sweet lady. So, when can you start?” 

I click my heels together as I leave her office. Thank you, God. I knew this was the right pair. 



1 Timothy 4:12 “Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.”

Note: I wrote the first draft of this story for the Faithwriter's Weekly Contest for the theme "Put your best foot forward." It won third place, but I rushed to submit it on time. This is my edited version.

I encourage writers to check out this website. It's fun and easy to submit faith-based stories. 

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Friday, July 24, 2020

Children's Book Illustrator's Showcase

As a graduate of FIT for Illustration, I know how much illustrators need to show off their work to get work. I want to give children's book illustrators another place where they can display their artwork and have it shared. 

* On my children's book blog "Doodle Stories & Oodles of Art" illustrators can submit two example of their work for free. 

* From the gallery, I will share a different illustration on social media each day.

* It's easy. Subscribe for free exposure and you will also receive a monthly newsletter, sharing favorites, upcoming contests, and relevant links to encourage children's book authors and illustrators. 

Sunday, July 12, 2020

Book Review: Taste Your Words

Taste Your Words
Written by Bonnie Clark

A Delightful and Delicious Story

Taste Your Words is a delightful story with hilarious illustrations. After Amera and her friend argue and share some mean words, Amera’s mom suggests she tastes her words before letting them out of her mouth. From that moment, Amera tastes everything she says. Her mean words fill her mouth with yucky flavors like pickle juice and rotten eggs. But when she realizes nice words taste yummy like chocolate or sweet oranges, she is encouraged to be kinder and think before she speaks. 

What kid wouldn’t want to imagine words tasting like their favorite foods? This book delivers the perfect combination of a wonderful message shared with humor and imagery kids will remember. Everybody should read this!

Amazon / Taste Your Words

For more reviews, visit my children's book blog: Doodle Stories & Oodles of Art


Sunday, June 28, 2020

Introducing Doodle Stories (& oodles of art)

Against all odds, being computer technologically challenged, I created another website / blog. Welcome my latest: Doodle Stories (& oodles of art) to the World Wide Web. This site celebrates the art and stories of children's literature. I review mostly picture books and middle-grade novels and will try to post at least one new review each week. (We'll see how that goes.) 

Each month I will showcase the books I think are best illustrated. In addition to checking out the books, parents can submit their children's artwork to go in the monthly gallery. Each month has a new theme to inspire young artists. I hope to get enough submissions to provide contests, so kids can win prizes for entering. I would love this to become a fun, favorite place for parents and children. 

Please check it out and let me know what you think. 

Sunday, April 26, 2020

Passing Through the Waters

Someone says:
It’s beginning to drizzle.
Is drizzle past the point of beginning
after one minute or five?
After how many raindrops
is rain past the point of beginning?
Pearls of water
trickle down a window;
It’s raining.

 Like everyone, we blinked, and our plans were changed. We went from telling our son he could take the train home for spring break to texting him we were on our way to pick him up. New York colleges had closed for the rest of the semester. 

When Gene and I drove upstate to New Paltz University, we had no idea Elijah was sick until we called him to tell him we were there.  

“He-ll-o.” Elijah’s voice sounded stuffy and sleepy as if he just woke up. 

“Are you sick? You sound sick.” We expected him to say no, he just fell asleep for a while. Blame it on dorm life. 

 His answer couldn’t have been worse. “Nah, just a little achy. All my suite mates have the same thing.” 

I looked at Gene wearing the same shocked expression, his mouth wide open like mine. “Seriously?” 

We were doing everything we could to not catch the COVID 19 virus, to not bring it into our home and give it to Gene’s mom who had pneumonia a few months ago. We all but panicked thinking we were about to drive home for two and a half hours with Elijah coughing the coronavirus all over us. We hated seeing Elijah sick, but come on…some warning would have been nice.  

He did mention celebrating with friends the night before, and this could be a hangover. I have never wished or prayed one of my sons drank enough to have a hangover, so this was a first. “Please God—a hangover and not the virus.” 

When we got home, Elijah went straight to his room so I could take his temperature. He had a fever close to 101 degrees, so this day, March 14, 2020, began our quarantine. Elijah was only allowed to leave his room to use the bathroom if he wore a mask and gloves. We put a sign on Gene’s mother’s door to remind her to stay there since Elijah was sick.

Because we weren’t sure if he had it or if we had been exposed to the virus, we stayed home from work, and had our other sons and daughter stay home too. We were a week ahead of the stay-at-home order for New York. And we are grateful. Elijah tested positive for the flu and negative for the Corona virus. And we had a head start at staying safe. 

What we thought was horrible at first, may have saved us. Maybe God used Elijah’s sickness to protect us from something worse. At the time, we didn’t know what we were fighting—COVID 19, the flu, or just our own fears. We worried and imagined the worst scenarios. My husband and I are pros at bouncing worries back and forth like a sport. It takes us a while to listen to God’s word and let Him in on our game.  

Since staying home, my daily emotions and mood cartwheel up and down hills. Mornings begin optimistic, motivated, and busy with writing and plans for the day. By midday—what am I rushing for with nothing to do and nowhere to go? Time to pour a few cups of worry about the future. Evenings end frustrated and depressed that I haven’t accomplished my morning goals. I forget to be thankful that we are healthy and have food even if I can’t get my favorite Trader Joes yogurt. I forget to be thankful that God loves us and doesn’t give up on us even when our faith wilts. I need to reread my favorite comforting verses. 

Many of you are suffering in different ways and my heart aches for you as I pray God meets your needs. I hope these verses bring you comfort and peace in whatever you are going through. 

  • “Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.” 1Peter 5:7  

  • When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. Isaiah 43:2   

  • “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” Matthew 6:27 

  •  “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” Romans 8:18  

  •  “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 35:18    
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Wednesday, December 25, 2019

Christmas 2019


by Frances Judge

So simple to love

The swaddled infant in my arms with his baby breath,

a whisper of wind, warming my skin; the echo of angels’ praise

Beating my heart in the stillness of the night.

So simple to love

The toddler teetering on wobbly toes, falling into my embrace,

I could hold forever. A divine gift, the joy of my soul, to be shared.

Golden leaves release their grip; a determined breeze lays the pile

on prickly grass at His feet, prepared for sacrificial love.

So simple to love the one we named Jesus.

I try to shield my young son from the rain

but cannot. It is persistent, planned. And he grows;

Angels breathed the Father’s blessing long ago;

Hidden behind hazel eyes, my son’s mind holds

the universe; in time to be revealed, a promise

from the first birth, my womb was blessed to carry.

So simple to love the one who is love

Bare branches point bony fingers, catching snowflakes, 
the branches bent with burden;

Bitter skies bring time for sleeping, clenching dreams;

Prayers lie dormant until the promise is pierced with tears of grief

Yet risen in glory!

As lilies open to the warm sun, my palms hold a white dove,

Resting until released to the sky; leaving His Spirit of love.

So simple to love the one who cares for me as His child,

So simple to love the one who is love.

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end. 
Isaiah 9:6-7

Monday, June 24, 2019

Book Review: Breaking Vases by Dima Ghawi

A stunning and inspiring biography

Have you ever read a biography and felt the author became a friend you’d like to meet in person? Dima Ghawi is the author I’d like to meet. 

In Breaking Vases, Dima writes about her life growing up in the Middle East in an upper middle-class home under continuous oppression as a female in her country. Reading about her life was an eye-opening experience, transporting me to a place I have only seen in movies. The vivid details she weaves throughout her book are captivating, painting a clear picture of the culture she lived. 

Her writing is both poetic and honest, including her worst experiences and her happiest memories. Dima does not attack her family and culture. She suffered, and doesn’t hide what she felt, but she also remembers and shares what she did love. She persevered and overcame horrendous challenges while remaining kind and optimistic. She inspires the reader to hope and follow dreams for a better life. 

Dima Ghawi was the winner of the 2018 Writer’s Digest Self Published Book Contest and fully deserves the prize. Not only would I like to meet this amazing, accomplished woman, I would love to read her future works.


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