Where did Amberwing Come From?

The best green room gang ever. I was the costume mistress for a play where the lead actor happened to be a Dungeon Master. Oh yes, that game. He’s the same Tim I wrote about previously, and one day, as we slept/ate/studied/goofed in the green room between classes, he convinced us to start a campaign with him. I only knew how to play a cleric, and since others seemed to know much more than I, you can image how happy I was when my wisdom score roll was 18. Her charisma was 17 and dexterity a 12, but her strength was down in the low single digits. She seemed as fragile as a feather. And because I’m a huge dinosaur fan and had just finished reading about amber, those two things clicked together - Amberwing. She and I spent the next several years enjoying weekends of adventure, falling in love, and finding the person I was becoming. She was there, inspiring the little seeds of creativity that are still yielding fruit today. And friends? I’ve lost a few to the ravages of time, but most are still around and part of this amazing adventure we call life. She’s been a blessing, and for that, I cornered the .com version years ago knowing that the day would come when I’d be ready to let my stories fly.

The Least of These

My husband and I felt called to bring foster children into our home. It was one of the most powerful, exhausting, and rewarding times of my life. I realized, though, how sheltered I had been. These had experienced so much cruelty, and just because they were in my home, they were still not protected no matter how much we did to make them safe. The system is broken - it simply is. We watched children fall through the cracks with no ability to stop it.

But my own eldest believed he held the power to make a difference, and now, as an adult, he is every day. It didn’t begin that way. His own struggles as a person with a disability were real and in this script, I portray just some of what he faced. I also portray his determination. He failed, or rather, adults failed him, so many times. Even my husband and I struggled to support him - either we did too much or too little. In the end, though, he found a way.

Jesus brought the children unto him. He praised their innocence, their ability to trust, to have faith. I’ve always thought growing up meant losing that innocence. When our little ones have trust betrayed, faith shattered, and their innocence ripped from them - there is no going back to being a child again. Instead, we have to be brave enough to trust again, to put the pieces of our faith back together. We need courage to fight through the tears and know.

Isaac is a boy fighting to be heard, not only for himself, but for others trapped in a different kind of cage. Grab some tissues. the-least-of-these

I’ve Got Time

No, actually, I don’t. None of us do. When I last saw him months ago, he was energetic and animated, healthy, funny. Today he is bald, unable to walk, and diminishing from a brain tumor. We had said months ago we’d go do stuff. We didn’t.

He is still full of hope, despite the dire prognosis. So am I. Yet I believe it is part of the human condition to see tomorrow as a given when it, in fact, is not. I’m not a procrastinator (my family will tell you I’m very much the opposite) but I am guilty of filling my life with things that perhaps aren’t all that important, while the things that are - I meticulously wait to do because it needs to be the right time. And here is where they are at risk of being lost.

He’s got a stack of books he intends to read and is thankful he now has time to do so. He’s made a good dent. He is one of the best storytellers I know, taking whatever book, comic, or movie he’s seen and using his words to place the images and characters in our heads. In the time that is left, I will learn all I can from him, his magic spark that fertilizes creativity.

Love you Tim.

Beach or Mountains?

Beach girl! Totally.

Married a mountain man.

Birthed boys that honestly would prefer neither - both are too much work to get to and then there’s nothing to do.

I prefer nothing to do. That is the point.

And why is it on any given day they’d prefer I leave them alone, but come our time to get away and I simply want to do nothing - do they suddenly want to spend every moment with me DOING something?

Just one of many mysteries of life that I ponder.

delphi

At the center of the Greek world was Delphi. Part religious sanctuary, part prophecy, and a place of both sport and music, Delphi was a place for the creative. Neutral ground, all Greek city-states put aside their differences to seek enlightenment.

Greece did not start storytelling. No, that goes back to the time of Neanderthals, at least that is the evidence we have to date. Cave paintings told a story, one that could be enjoyed over and over by word and picture. Greece did the same, as seen in vases and mosaics which told all manner of story, from romance to war to sport. But Greece can claim the first of providing a place where a large group of people could come together and experience a story performed live.

Having spent time in Delphi, I understand the power of inspiration that a place can provide - whether that place is a solitary refuge or a communal experience. I value the place. Here is my place for my work. I hope it quietly charges the imagination. And, I hope it may be the place that sparks a time when many may experience the same.