4th Miraculous and Healing Mystery: Jesus awakens the small girl from death's repose.
Pray A Decade A Day.
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Tales of Healing at Christmastide.
DAYS OF CHRISTMAS http://stellarmuse.com/days-of-christmas.html
SOUTHPAWS http://stellarscholars.net/Cum_Laude-3.html
RETURN TO FINE ARTS http://stellarmuse.com/return-to-fine-arts.html
COFFEE SHOP HEARTS http://stellarmuse.com/coffee-shop-hearts-christmas.html
CARAMELS http://stellarmuse.com/caramels.html
STELLAR SCHOLARS: Believers are Achievers.
Watch the Skies. http://stellarscholars.net/Home9.html
The Whisper and the Roar. http://stellarscholars.net/Home7.html
Wilderness Sports. http://wxsports.net
Watch the Skies. http://stellarscholars.net/Home9.html
The Whisper and the Roar. http://stellarscholars.net/Home7.html
Wilderness Sports. http://wxsports.net
ODE TO LOVE Lord,
Just when I think Love
has forgotten me,
You stop by to spend
some time in this
lonely life of mine,
so that I may be sure
Someone loves and
watches over me
every waking day,
more than I
can ever know
or hope to repay.
Amen.
Just when I think Love
has forgotten me,
You stop by to spend
some time in this
lonely life of mine,
so that I may be sure
Someone loves and
watches over me
every waking day,
more than I
can ever know
or hope to repay.
Amen.
A Saints and Scholars Premiere:
THE DAY THE AVANTI DIDN'T START
by Robert Conover
Merrick Hughes stood beside his metallic-turquoise Avanti and watched the compact delivery van that read Rod Hod's Auto Parts
make its way up the packed-earth trail to his woodland lodging of interlocking logs and undersized flagstones.. He watched even more
intently as Jessie Hodham emerged from the van carrying a small corrugated carton. There was something about Jesse's build that
reminded him of Ellen. Her figure had solidity to it, yet all the requisite womanly curves were there.
"Hello," he greeted her. "First time the Avanti didn't start. My father replaced the starter once, but I never had the pleasure.
Sorry to make you come out."
Jessie smiled but it was nothing like Ellen's. There was warmth to it that Ellen's had not featured for her last five years here.
"Good to see you, Merr." She ripped open the carton, removed the rebuilt starter.
"What are you doing?" he objected.
"I'm putting in your new starter," she answered him. "Pop the hood. You're a science writer, not an auto mechanic."
He reached inside the Avanti and pulled the hood release.
"I miss Rod to hell but I thank high heaven he taught me everything a widow flying solo had to know before the Sullivan Brothers Funeral
Home got him." She started removing tools from the pockets of her denim overalls. Everything she needed was on her person.
"When you going to sell me this sleek buggy for little Rod? That boy needs his first car before he needs his first girl. Hah! Who am
I fooling?"
"That boy of yours needs what my Dad used to call a jalopy, not a classic sports job like this one."
"Ain't a classic unless it starts, Merr," she chortled as she began tinkering underneath the hood. He continued to survey her from this new
angle with increasing interest. She paid no mind. "I'm going to have to take this old starter in trade for rebuilding, you know."
"I understand," he said, finally looking away, before: "How much older was Rod than you, Jessie, if I can ask?"
"Go ahead, ask. Rod was eighteen years my senior, as they say."
"Did you like him like a father?"
She looked up from her work, said: "I loved him like a big brother. After cars, he was as helpless as-- well-- as you are replacing this starter."
He continued looking away while listening. "Why do you ask? How much older were you than Ellen when she flew the land of the lonesome
pines."
"'Lonesome pine', that's me all right," he laughed. "I was fifteen, no, fourteen and a half years older. But it was different with us. We couldn't
have kids. We didn't know which one of us was to blame for that, because neither of us wanted to ask the medicos." He added: "She's had two
babies since then, so I guess that mystery was solved."
"I'm sorry." She was back under, the old starter removed, the new one going in.
"Nothing to be sorry about," he continued. "At her age, I couldn't blame Ellen. The cozy cocoon only could last so long. I mean, how many
nights of star-gazing could I expect her to endure. Ellen was a great girl-- she just got stuck with a-- a jalopy, that's all."
Jessie's head popped up angrily: "What in hell are you talking about? You're the sleek classic you talked about so don't go belittling yourself."
His reply seemed to ignore her rant completely. "Ever look up at the night sky, Jessie?"
She was back underneath, installing the new part. "Sure, Rod and I used to watch those spectacular meteor showers all the time. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, nothing. There isn't going to be one tonight-- last month was the big one-- but I was going to get the old tripod telescope out tonight and
do some constellation charting."
She was silent while she tinkered, grunting lady-like twice, before raising her red-head up triumphantly: "She's in! Start 'er up."
He jumped behind the wheel, switched on the ignition. The Avanti fired into life.
"What did you expect?" He was surprised to see her next to him in the open driver's door. "You think you're playing with kids?"
"Jessie, you-- you are wonderful," Merrick stammered with genuine admiration.
"Don't I know it," she threw her head back and laughed. "God's gift to auto-kind."
"What do I owe you?"
"What say we settle up over dinner tonight. Little Rod's going to be on the prowl tonight with his buddies. You can pick me up at the shop at
eight in this raving beauty of a car."
"Can-- Can we do some stargazing after?" he managed through the blind joy of it all.
"We can do some before, too," Jessie said, toweling the grease off her strong, slender fingers.
by Robert Conover
Merrick Hughes stood beside his metallic-turquoise Avanti and watched the compact delivery van that read Rod Hod's Auto Parts
make its way up the packed-earth trail to his woodland lodging of interlocking logs and undersized flagstones.. He watched even more
intently as Jessie Hodham emerged from the van carrying a small corrugated carton. There was something about Jesse's build that
reminded him of Ellen. Her figure had solidity to it, yet all the requisite womanly curves were there.
"Hello," he greeted her. "First time the Avanti didn't start. My father replaced the starter once, but I never had the pleasure.
Sorry to make you come out."
Jessie smiled but it was nothing like Ellen's. There was warmth to it that Ellen's had not featured for her last five years here.
"Good to see you, Merr." She ripped open the carton, removed the rebuilt starter.
"What are you doing?" he objected.
"I'm putting in your new starter," she answered him. "Pop the hood. You're a science writer, not an auto mechanic."
He reached inside the Avanti and pulled the hood release.
"I miss Rod to hell but I thank high heaven he taught me everything a widow flying solo had to know before the Sullivan Brothers Funeral
Home got him." She started removing tools from the pockets of her denim overalls. Everything she needed was on her person.
"When you going to sell me this sleek buggy for little Rod? That boy needs his first car before he needs his first girl. Hah! Who am
I fooling?"
"That boy of yours needs what my Dad used to call a jalopy, not a classic sports job like this one."
"Ain't a classic unless it starts, Merr," she chortled as she began tinkering underneath the hood. He continued to survey her from this new
angle with increasing interest. She paid no mind. "I'm going to have to take this old starter in trade for rebuilding, you know."
"I understand," he said, finally looking away, before: "How much older was Rod than you, Jessie, if I can ask?"
"Go ahead, ask. Rod was eighteen years my senior, as they say."
"Did you like him like a father?"
She looked up from her work, said: "I loved him like a big brother. After cars, he was as helpless as-- well-- as you are replacing this starter."
He continued looking away while listening. "Why do you ask? How much older were you than Ellen when she flew the land of the lonesome
pines."
"'Lonesome pine', that's me all right," he laughed. "I was fifteen, no, fourteen and a half years older. But it was different with us. We couldn't
have kids. We didn't know which one of us was to blame for that, because neither of us wanted to ask the medicos." He added: "She's had two
babies since then, so I guess that mystery was solved."
"I'm sorry." She was back under, the old starter removed, the new one going in.
"Nothing to be sorry about," he continued. "At her age, I couldn't blame Ellen. The cozy cocoon only could last so long. I mean, how many
nights of star-gazing could I expect her to endure. Ellen was a great girl-- she just got stuck with a-- a jalopy, that's all."
Jessie's head popped up angrily: "What in hell are you talking about? You're the sleek classic you talked about so don't go belittling yourself."
His reply seemed to ignore her rant completely. "Ever look up at the night sky, Jessie?"
She was back underneath, installing the new part. "Sure, Rod and I used to watch those spectacular meteor showers all the time. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, nothing. There isn't going to be one tonight-- last month was the big one-- but I was going to get the old tripod telescope out tonight and
do some constellation charting."
She was silent while she tinkered, grunting lady-like twice, before raising her red-head up triumphantly: "She's in! Start 'er up."
He jumped behind the wheel, switched on the ignition. The Avanti fired into life.
"What did you expect?" He was surprised to see her next to him in the open driver's door. "You think you're playing with kids?"
"Jessie, you-- you are wonderful," Merrick stammered with genuine admiration.
"Don't I know it," she threw her head back and laughed. "God's gift to auto-kind."
"What do I owe you?"
"What say we settle up over dinner tonight. Little Rod's going to be on the prowl tonight with his buddies. You can pick me up at the shop at
eight in this raving beauty of a car."
"Can-- Can we do some stargazing after?" he managed through the blind joy of it all.
"We can do some before, too," Jessie said, toweling the grease off her strong, slender fingers.
Photographer's awakening of joyful feelings upon arrival into the country (1st movement of Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony).
