Twenty-three books in and I’m almost right on schedule. Last year things got dicey toward the end of the year, and I wasn’t certain that I would be able to reach my goal of 100 books. In an effort to avoid that this year, I’ve determined that I need to finish just over eight books per month. So I’m only a little behind! Finish #23 is War of the Wives by Tamar Cohen.
The plot of this book centers on the death of Simon Busfield, a greedy multiple-wives having jerk, and the TWO wives he left behind. Drama, and lots of it, ensues as the women sort out what about their lives is real, what was all a farce, and the new family dynamic that arises. I wouldn’t quite say that I enjoyed it…”enjoyed” just isn’t the right word when you’re reading a story about a jerk with multiple wives, his son who just seems a little off, and sad, destroyed women. It was good, though. I’d recommend it.
This week I also finished that pillow behind the book in the picture. I knew I had one star block left over from a quilt I made a few years ago. I thought I could come up with a pillow cover using that one block as the center. I was shocked when I unearthed three! I whipped up a fourth from leftover scraps, pieced together a back using more scraps, and sewed it up last night. It was a red-letter day for finishing projects. I also completed a new dog bed for Luna, who was, unfortunately, the victim of a hate crime. (One of the four kitties left a piddle puddle on her bed last week…a very strange occurrence indeed and one that better not be repeated! I will be forced to install a surveillance camera if it occurs again! They have been warned.) So a new bed was needed. I also finished sewing the binding on a small wall-hanging.
So, this afternoon while reading my devotions, I came across a side note saying that we should create something new to honor God. Suggestions included writing a song or a play, writing a psalm, creating a simple work of art or a drawing…I’m not much of an artist, so here’s my attempt at writing something new:
There exists winter and spring.
One a time of rest,
Trees appear dead,
Plants lie dormant under ice and snow.
The other a time of rebirth.
Buds burst into bloom,
But in that edge of time between,
Tiny buds appear,
A promise of new life to come.
There exists this world and the next.
One a place of war and famine,
Poor and needy,
The other a time and place of rejoicing,
The drying of tears,
Relief from pain.
But in that edge of time and space between,
Between this earthly world and the heavenly,
There exists love
And the promise of new life to come.