That is WRONG

Of Knights and Fair Maidens I’ll be honest. I planned to write a post about the Medieval Faire I attended in October, but couldn’t think of a creative angle. I wanted to leave you with more than the memory of dazzling pictures. I almost passed up writing this, but one thing kept replaying in my mind. The phrase, “That is wrong.” Ah, yes. I think we have something here.

In October, I was privileged once again to attend the Medieval Faire put together by my dear friend, Rebekah Ray. Amid the elegant, and mostly authentic, medieval ware we learned more of the true history surrounding the time of the crusades.

But before that, we experienced some genuine medieval entertainment in the form of mock battles demonstrated by members of the Fellowship of Christian Swordsmen. 

They also treated us to an inside look at the process of bringing a battle to life. Their spokesperson, Kevin Karaki, cautioned kids to “not try this at home.” Sorry, parents, I don’t believe it did much good.

A Dose of Truth

After the feasts and fights, we settled in for Kevin’s oratory on the crusades. He’s majoring in history, but still asked if anyone present had been to the Holy Land. When no hands went up, Kevin said, “Good, then no one can dispute what I’m about to say.”

 With humor and audience interaction, he simplified the stark time in history. His goal was to dispel the misconceptions about what started the crusades and the fueled conflict that spanned generations. After stating a common belief, he requested that if any of us heard someone say it, we should walk up to them and say, “That is wrong.” And proceed to give the facts. We practiced this throughout Kevin’s talk, always on queue with, “That is wrong.”

I benefitted from the laughs and the history lesson, then went about enjoying the day, which included archery. I joined in this year, and actually sank one of my three arrows into the target.

Before we started though, there was an issue with finding the arrows we were to use. As we waited, Rebekah’s dad made a good humored joke using one of those misconceptions. We laughed, and someone said, “That is wrong!”

Nice.

Sometimes it’s just the thing we need to do. Take a stand.

In a loving spirit: “Come now, and let us reason together,” says the Lord. Isa 1:18

Imagine. What would our world be like if all who knew the truth—simply said it?

For Him,

Sarah Elisabeth

NaNoWriMo...Say What?

 

NaNoWriMo is the acronym for one of the most insane things I do annually. (Simply because I don’t indulge in many insane things.) Translated, it means:

NATIONAL NOVEL WRITING MONTH

Oh yes. You can write a novel in a month. I read an interview not long ago and the author mentioned Karen Kingsbury had once written a novel in a weekend. I wonder what her keyboard looked like afterwards.

If you want to be technical, though, succeeding at this event does not produce a novel. The challenge is to write 50,000 words, and as I covered in my post Novella, Short Story, and What’s Flash Fiction? 50,000 words doesn’t qualify as a novel (unless the genre allows, such as with sci-fi).

But all that is beside the point. The goal this November is to join in literary abandon with tens of thousands of writers from around the world. For me, this means joining my Faithwriters.com family on our special thread in the Forums on the NaNoWriMo website and keeping track of everyone’s progress (aka procrastinating on writing my next scene).

So there you have it. If I seem a bit preoccupied when I bump into you on Facebook or face-to-face, you have my disclaimer.

It’s going to be a blast, and I’ll post my word count on an irregular basis.

Are you doing NaNoWriMo?

For Him,

Sarah Elisabeth

An Old, Old Story—Baby's Recitation

  I LOVE old books. I recently acquired one in excellent condition with a copyright by D. Lothrop and Company, 1884. It’s a collection of short stories for Christian youth. What are the odds?

The stories are so sweet and full of meaning that I’d like to share some. I’m pretty sure the copyright has expired, or at least no one will sue me for posting. Of course, it’s not near as charming as reading it from the yellowed pages, but it’s the best I can do.

For Him,

Sarah Elisabeth

Baby’s Recitation

(Author not noted. How sad.)

They called her the baby, though she was two years old. Of course she was the “cunningest little thing that ever lived.” And among her other accomplishments, she could recite little cunning verses in the prettiest manner!

Behold her now, perched on the mantel, her favorite place to practise, rehearsing her new “piece,” so as to be ready when papa comes home.

“May God bless my two little feet,

May they never go astray,

But swiftly and joyfully tread—”

Now baby is puzzled. What is the next line? She can’t think. She twists and untwists her little clasped hands, and finally puts them behind her, in a way she has when she is troubled. “In the straight and narrow way.” Those are the words which have slipped away from her little brain just as her tongue was going to speak them. She thinks and thinks, but they will not come. At last, with bright eyes and smiling lips, she lisps out her next line, repeating the preceding one, that mamma may see just how it fits:

“But swiftly and joyfully tread

After Katie, evway day!”

Katie is the ten year old sister, and if there is any thing in the world that baby likes to do, it is trot after her from morning till night. If the verse really doesn’t finish that way—and baby has her doubts about it—she thinks it is a very nice finish indeed.

“Oh, you little rogue!” says mamma, and lifts her down to half smother her with kisses.

“Katie!” said the mamma, that same evening when the baby was sleeping, “how do you think baby said her new verse this afternoon? She forgot the last line, and this is the way she put it:

“May God bless my two little feet,

May they never go astray,

But swiftly and joyfully tread

After Katie, every day!”

Do you know I have been praying ever since, that Katie’s feet might be kept from going into places that it would not be safe for baby to follow.”

What made Katie so quiet for the next half hour? Her lips had been parted, all ready to ask permission to go to Jennie Blake’s for the next afternoon, when her mother spoke.

“But,” said Katie, “let me see. If baby has really prayed about following me, I must be careful. Jennie Blake is real funny, but she doesn’t always tell the truth; and she says hateful things to her little sister Carrie, and Carrie is afraid of her and hides, and makes believe she doesn’t hear Jennie sometimes when she calls; and baby might learn to do that ; and oh dear! she might learn from Jennie not to speak the truth. I don’t believe I ought to go to Jennies Blake’s tomorrow.”

And Katie worked away on her tidy, and said never a word to her mother about Saturday afternoon and Jennie Blake’s home.

***

My First eBook Cover!

Okay, I suddenly realized I hadn’t even posted this creation on my blog. What’s up with that? Without further ado, here’s my first ebook cover, designed by my mama, Lynda Kay Sawyer. What do you think?

For Him,

Sarah Elisabeth

Facebook Works—Five Tribes Story Conference

The Graceful Entrance

My mom and I arrived in Muskogee too late for checking into the hotel before the reception started, so we drove straight to the Five Civilized Tribes Museum. Please note: I was in my comfy four hour driving clothes and hadn’t put on make-up yet. Or plucked that one pesky chin hair.

As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, who else had just arrived? Tim Tingle, international Choctaw author and storyteller, and event co-coordinator. He waves and comes over to the car. I hold the tweezers inconspicuously. He insists we make him feel better for being casual and waits by the car to walk inside with us. So much for slapping on some make-up.

Recognition

But how did this man, who we’ve not seen since last year, recognize and call us by name? Facebook, of course. We connected with him and several others after meeting at the conference last year. Not a lot of conversation between us on there, but he’s been keeping up with my writing/storytelling and my mom’s filmmaking.

Once inside, Tim (he insists we just call him Tim) starts engaging in other conversations. I slip back out to fix up a bit. My mom and I then ascended the stairs to the reception area with the elegant white table clothes covering a dozen tables with chairs. I was in denim shorts and too frazzled to take any pictures.

We drop our keys-n-such on one of the half occupied tables as we head to dip up plates of refreshments. Upon returning to the table, before I could set my plate down, the lady across from me asked, “Aren’t you Elisabeth?”

Uh, okay. “Yes, well, Sarah Elisabeth.”

She shook her finger knowingly. “I thought it was you. We met last year, I’m Francine.”

I instantly recognized the name. “Francine Bray? With the Choctaw pony conservation thing?”

Facebook at work again.

Next to join our table is Greg Rodgers, who mentored under Tim Tingle for four years and is now quite an accomplished author and storyteller himself. Hadn’t seen him in a year either outside of, you guessed it, Facebook.

“Hey Lynda and Sarah. How are y’all doing? Saw the picture of your first storytelling. Congratulations!”

The next day, as he moderated the first panel discussion, Greg did special recognition of three or four authors, storytellers and professors in the audience. I was shocked when he included me.

It Works

Greg was after me all through the conference, trying to get me to the mic to tell a story. I wish I had had one prepared.

Facebook. It keeps your face in front of those you want to remember you. So choose a good profile pic.

For Him,

Sarah Elisabeth