Category: ‘Books’

THE WHITE BIRD by Donna Swanson c.2011

01/13/2012 Posted by mindsinger

 

The morning sunlight made the white bird’s feathers shine and sparkle.  But the white bird’s thoughts did not shine or sparkle.  She was sad and worried.  Her master had tossed her up into the air several days ago and now she had forgotten what she was supposed to do or where she was supposed to go.

 

“I do not see anything that is familiar to me!” she cried.  “And I can’t even go home for I’ve forgotten that as well!”  A tear glistened on her cheek feathers as she looked once more at the meadow beneath her tree.  A little child was standing there looking at her.  A tear was on his cheek as well.

 

“Oh, beautiful white bird! Can you help me find my way home?” he called.

 

The white bird flew down to his shoulder.  “Which way did you come?” she asked.

 

The little boy pointed.  “Over there.  But I cannot see my house now!  I think it must be gone!”

 

“Oh, no, little one; I think it must be over the hill where you cannot see it.  But it is still there!  Let me fly to my tree branch and look.” The white bird flew back to the tree and looked in the direction the little boy had pointed.  Yes, there was a small cottage.  “Just turn around and walk back the way you came,” said the bird.  See, I will fly ahead of you!”

 

The little boy clapped his hands.  “Thank you, beautiful bird!”  And together they found the path that would take the little boy home.  He waved goodbye as he ran up the lane.

 

The white bird flew back to her tree.  Her heart was lighter now for helping someone; but she still did not know where she was or what she was supposed to do.  She did know she had been sitting in this tree too long.  “Perhaps if I fly farther I, too, will find my home.”  So off she flew over the meadow and over the next few hills.

 

But nothing familiar came into sight.  She did find a wheat field and ate a few grains for her breakfast.  As she pecked at the wheat she heard a sad sigh.  She looked up and saw an aged farmer cutting the wheat.  He looked very sad as he worked.  “Oh, my!” she heard him say, “The crop is so poor this year and the work remains just as hard! If only I could hope for a better day!”

 

The white bird fluttered up from the ground, “How sad you look, Grandfather!  Surely there is something good to think about!”

 

The farmer dropped his scythe and let the white bird sit on his hand.  “How beautiful you are!” he exclaimed.  “What a wonder my field has hidden within it!”  And the old man smiled at his guest.  “What are you doing way out here in the fields?  Surely you live in those fancy houses rich men keep on their rooftops in the city!”

~*~

White Bird is on a journey that will take her through time and over many lands.  Her destination is a mystery for she cannot remember where she is going or from where she has come.   She knows only that she must continue to fly West.  Journey with her and meet those who help her along her way.

If you are interested in learning more about THE WHITE BIRD and its use as a worship tool, contact Donna Swanson at swan2son@gmail.com

First pages of The Deceiver

12/28/2011 Posted by mindsinger

 

Lightning danced through billowing thunderheads above the volcano. A presence brooded in those clouds; its home destroyed in the fiery depths below, it looked for another. The presence would have gnashed its teeth as it boiled up into the blackness of chaos, but it had no form. Hatred blazed where its heart might have been and it held a face in its memory. The face of a thirteen-year-old named Zach.

A home. It must have a home: a thing of substance, an object with which to manipulate and control the puny minds of men. The presence left the cloud and floated above the earth—seeking, sensing, probing the minds below for weakness, for the skills it needed.

The woman sat at her workbench, her fingers playing idly with a ball of wax. On a shelf above her were a variety of figures—gargoyles, vampires, and wizards—all cast in pewter and all sculpted by her skilled hands. She was known for figures of medieval lore. Those who dabbled in the dark world of demons and witchcraft prized her work.

She seldom had a shape in mind as she began sculpting. The wax seemed to form of its own volition. Now, her fingers began shaping an animal. It was thin and hungry looking; it’s eyes curiously alive. Presently, a jackal stood on her worktable looking back at her. She could not look away. Her hands began to tremble as she reached out to touch her creation. “Cast me!” the jackal hissed. “Now!”

 

c.2011, from The Chronicles of Windfallow, volume I, Donna Swanson

(Follow link below to see book in Amazon Kindle)

http://bizy.be/0REUe

 

RACHEL’S DAUGHTERS: the other side of Christmas

12/14/2011 Posted by mindsinger

 


(Rachel is visiting her mother in Bethlehem. She is pregnant with her first child and unable to sleep.)
Rachel turned, pushing the coarse woolen cloak from her shoulder.  One bare foot stretched into the coolness of the night.  She couldn’t sleep.  She was thirsty.  She rose quietly from the bench, gathered her cloak and walked to the water jar by the door.

Dipping a cup of water from the stone container, she drank, then slipped on her sandals and stepped into the yard.   The air was chilly but her cloak was warm and she sat in the moonlight beneath the olive tree.  The fragrance of herbs and flowers filled the night air and the stars were a shining canopy above her.   Rachel’s thoughts turned to her mother.

“Oh, Jehovah, please heal her.  I need her so much.”  As if in response to her worry, the child she was carrying rolled and kicked reminding her of that need.  “How will I nourish and care for this little one without her wise counsel?”Tears stung her eyes and traced the soft curve of her cheek.  “Jehovah, mighty God of Father Abraham, hear my prayer.  Heal my mother with your mighty power.  You who named the stars, who made a nation from slaves!”  Her voice faltered.  Who was she to tell God his business?   “I leave her in your loving hands, Father.  Amen.”

Rachel sat quietly until, lifting her head and flexing her shoulders, she realized how chilly the air had become.  How long had she been sitting here?   She rose from the bench and walked to the grapevine, plucked a small stem of fruit and turned back to the house. As she turned, she saw a strange glow in the sky coming from the hills beyond Bethlehem.  The faintest stirring of music trembled on the air as her ears tensed to catch it.      Music?  How could there be music?  The light pulsed and flickered, so faint, yet so real.  She fell to her knees beside the bench. She could almost hear words in the music.

She strained to see, to hear the distant sound.  The low hills around the shepherds’ caves shone with a dancing light.   Mystery, a sense of awesome power, made her tremble with emotion.      Then, the glow faded.  The night was silent –a chilly Bethlehem night.  She looked around, feeling foolish for kneeling in a dark, empty yard.   Awkwardly she rose from the ground, pulled her cloak more closely around her shoulders and made her way back to bed.  A feeling of peace settled over her as warm as the cloak she drew over her body and, as sleep overtook her, she wondered if what she had experienced was an illusion.  Had she really heard music?

~*~

(Later, Rachel is telling her parents what she experienced but is interrupted.)
Rachel turned to answer him.  But before she could speak, Jacob burst into the house.  ”Rachel!  Simeon, it’s happened!  You’ve got to see Him!  Wait ’til I tell you what happened to us last night!”  His eyes danced and his hands trembled as he took Rachel’s face between them. “I’ve seen angels and I’ve seen the Messiah!  Oh, Rachel!  He’s come, He’s come!”

“Jacob, what are you saying?  Why aren’t you with the sheep?  What are you doing in Bethlehem?”      ”Let me sit down and catch my breath.”  Rachel’s husband pulled up the low stool, filling the room, as he always did, with his lively presence. “Forgive me, Naomi, how are you feeling?  Rachel left word you were ill.”

Naomi waved aside his query, “I’m feeling better, Jacob.  Tell us your news!”

“Yes. Let me start from the beginning.”  He grew still, collecting his thoughts. “We were to stand night watch for the flocks. David and Gideon took the dogs and settled the sheep while Dan and I gathered a quick supper.”  He turned to Rachel, who set a plate of food before him.  ”That’s when Rahab told me you’d come down here.”      The food remained untouched as he continued, “We had the flock settled for the night.  Gideon and I drew the first watch, and I was enjoying the peace and bright moonlight.”  In a voice filled with wonder, Jacob continued. “I was looking at the stars when, all of a sudden, the heavens became brighter than noonday.  The trees, the rocks, the sheep, everything was shining. And then I saw a man standing in the sky!  I know it sounds unbelievable, but he was.  And he wasn’t just a man.  He was dressed in robes brighter than the light, and his hair was like polished brass. I knew he must be an angel.  And then he began to glow even brighter.”

His audience listened with rapt attention.  ”The light seemed to come from him and from around him, too.  Gideon and I fell on our faces in fear.  The dogs began barking.  Dan and David woke up to all the light, and they were as terrified as we were.  Just when our fear was greatest, the angel spoke.”

“He spoke to you?!” Rachel’s eyes went wide with wonder.

“Yes!  He said, ‘Don’t be afraid, for I bring you good news of great joy.’  I’ll never forget those words!  ’Great joy to all people.’ He said, ‘Unto you is born this day in the City of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.’ And then he gave us a sign. He said we would find the babe in a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes.”

“And you found Him?”  Naomi touched the hand of her son-in-law.

“We did.  But before we left, the sky opened up and we saw thousands of angels!  They were praising God, and they promised us peace here on earth.”

“Then what, Jacob?” Simeon leaned toward the young shepherd.

“We set the dogs to watch the flocks and headed for Bethlehem.  I told the others that Eli would know where to find the baby if anyone did, so we went to the inn and woke him up.  He wasn’t happy to see us at that hour of the night, and he said no baby had been born there.     “But when we started telling him about the angels, he raised his hand to stop us.

He said he just remembered a young couple who had stopped there the night before.  ’I could see the woman was at the end of her strength, so I told the stable boy to put fresh straw in one of the stalls out in the stable.’

“That’s it! I told the others. The angel said a manger!’  We hurried to the cave where they kept the animals.  You know how big Eli’s cave is.  There were animals everywhere. But Eli had his lantern, and guided us to the back where one pen had been curtained off from the rest.  A young man met us there and asked us why we’d come.  I told him we’d come to worship the Savior.  And, you know, he didn’t seem at all surprised.  He just gave us a smile and motioned us in.     “A candle burned above the stall but we wouldn’t have been able to see without the lantern Eli carried.”  Jacob paused and looked tenderly at Rachel, “How pure and sweetly that little one slept, Rachel.  His mother lay resting on the straw, but her husband picked up the child so we could see better.  We fell to our knees as the words of the angel echoed in our hearts,  ’A Savior, who is Christ, the Lord.’  Oh, Rachel!  We saw the Messiah!”

“How did he look, Jacob?  How did you know it was Him?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Jacob answered. “He looked like any newborn baby, but we sensed a presence there. It was as though we could still feel the angels standing around us.  No, kneeling around us!  All of heaven was worshipping with us.  Shepherds, Rachel, the angels came to shepherds!”

~*~

(The Christ Child has come, but danger has come to Bethlehem and Rachel is hurrying back to her home, the shepherd’s cave in the hills.  Suddenly, a band of soldiers meets them on the road…)
The second soldier drew his sword and thrust it through thesmall body dangling from his captain’s hand.  Barak’s screamswere cut short and his lifeless body flung back at Rachel.Struggling to her feet as the body struck her chest, she fellwith Barak in her arms.A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning,Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted,because they are no more!

~*~
This is an excerpt from the book, RACHEL’S DAUGHTERS: The Other Side of Christmas.  It is available from Amazon.com.

http://www.amazon.com/RACHELS-DAUGHTERS-ebook/dp/B002TG4PAY/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1323891737&sr=1-2