3 X-Factor Stories

1. Answering the Phone: If you were to call our home phone, there is now about a 9 in 10 chance that X-factor will be the one answering it. She rushes to answer when the phone rings. It has been great for discouraging telemarketers.
2. The 5 Little Girls: As regular readers of this blog know, X-factor is very sociable. She values having lots of friends. So, naturally, moving to a new city creates some difficulties. Fortunately, one of my college friends has been blessed with 5 daughters and is planning a visit this weekend. X-factor is so excited. She has been counting down the days for when "the 5 little girls" are coming to visit. I think she's as excited about the gender as the quantity.
   
3. The Artist Known as X-Factor: X-factor has now decided that she wants to be an artist (when she's not competing in the Olympics). When I asked her to help me pick up stuff on the floor so I could vacuum, her reply was, "but, I'm an artist!"

Silver and Gold

There's a little camp song with the words "Make new friends, keep the old. One is silver and the other gold."

A few days before we moved from South Carolina, I had the opportunity to catch up with my dear friend Megan and her husband Jay, while the X-Factor and Z-Man befriended Megan and Jay's three kids, Morgan, Parker, and Addison. Ironically, Megan and her family do not live in South Carolina. They live in Florida and had a family vacation in the Palmetto State.

My friendship with "Megs" spans more than fifteen years after we met during our Freshman year at Houghton College. During our Senior year, Megan shared a room in a house with me and five other friends. When I mentioned being undecided about future career plans, she suggested that I give Orlando a try. She was moving there and her twin sister Danika already lived in O'Town. I'm sure I've written before how moving to Orlando was one of the best decisions of my life time and I'll be forever grateful to Megan and Danika for helping me make that giant step.

Megan and I met our husbands in the "land of the mouse." Want some more irony? The first time the two men met, they curiously looked each other over and said, "Wait....I know you!" They attended the same high school.

Although Dr. N and I have lived in four different states since we moved from Florida, Megan and I stayed in touch. We don't call each other or e-mail on a regular basis. However, we have one of those beautiful friendships that stands the test of time and distance.
Meeting at Chick-Fil-A a few weeks ago felt almost as if no time had past, even though at least six years had gone by since our last face-to-face conversation.

Even better, our children bonded instantly. The X-Factor loved playing with both Morgan and Parker. And let me just say...if I was a believer in arranged marriages, I would be talking to Megs and Jay about Parker's hand for the X-Factor. He is one sweet, smart, and handsome little guy. Z-man and Addison were the youngest members of the crew, but they also had fun in the playing.

I left the meeting a bit sad that the time was so short and that our families aren't neighbors. But, joy accompanied that sadness. That joy stemmed from knowing the blessing of true friendship.

Top 5: Best Things About Moving

Moving stinks. I hate it. There are, however, some benefits. This is my attempt to look at the silver lining as I sit here with a terribly sore back, surrounded by unpacked boxes.

1. I get to drive the truck. I'm one of the guys who likes to watch those shows on the Discovery Channel about real masculine jobs, where they get to operate heavy machinery. I may never get to work on an oil rig, but at least I can drive a moving truck every once and a while.
2. I appreciate good friends more. I've moved 8 times since 1999. In all these moves, we've had incredible friends who helped out in amazing, selfless ways. This move was no exception.
3. I get rid of a lot of useless stuff. Since I want to move as little stuff as possible, I always end up getting rid of stuff that hasn't seen the light of day since, well, the last move. So, looking at it this way, moving is a very cleansing experience.
   
4. I clean parts of furniture that normally don't get cleaned. Moving is an excellent opportunity to clean behind desks, the tops of bookshelves, and such.
5. I get to eat out more. Since I don't have access to cooking facilities for at least several days during the move, it's a convenient excuse to try some dining establishments that I otherwise would not be able to justify because of the cost.

Whew! That was tough. Mostly, moving just plain stinks. I wasn't sure if I would be able to come up with 5. Can you think of any others?

A New Blog I Already Love

My dear friend and fellow aspiring writer, Julie, has started her first blog Tales from the Eurovan.

Please check it out and if you wouldn't mind, leave her a nice bloggy welcome message.

Friday's Fabulous Find and a Familiar Face

Last week, as I was blog surfing, I happened upon a book review for a children's Christian fantasy novel. As I scanned the review I thought, boy the author looks familiar. Familiar indeed! We once worked together at the Christian financial planning firm Ronald Blue & Company when I lived in Orlando, Fl. The author is Eric Reinhold and his first book, which looks incredible, is called Ryann Watters and the King's Sword.
The book is illustrated by Corey Wolfe.

Please click on the link above to read more about the book and Eric. The book is currently in limited release and more than 2,000 copies have been sold. This would make a fabulous gift for children ages 9-14 . I found myself really enjoying the excerpts and cannot wait to order and read the entire thing, so I think adults would like it as well. It's well-written and Biblically-based. Copies can be purchased on the Web site and next month will be available in book stores.

If you are someone who ministers to youth, it would make a great purchase for a youth book club. But don't just take my word for it. Here's a review from a ten-year-old. Below is an excerpt.

chapter 1

The angel's visitation

It first appeared as a gentle glow, almost like a child’s night-light. Heavy shadows filled the room as the boy lay face up, covers tucked neatly under his arms. A slight smile on his face hinted that he was in the midst of a pleasant dream.

Ryann Watters, who had just celebrated his twelfth birthday, rolled lazily onto his side, his blond hair matted into the pillow, unaware of the glow as it began to intensify. Shadows searched for hiding places throughout the room as the glow transformed from a pale yellow hue to brilliant white.

Ryann’s eyelids fluttered briefly and then flickered at the glare reflecting off his pale blue bedroom walls. Drowsily, he turned toward the light expecting to see one of his parents coming in to check on him. “What’s going on?” his voice cracked as he reached up to rub the crusty sleep from his eyes. more...

Under a pale half-moon, Drake Dunfellow’s house looked just like any other. A closer inspection, however, would reveal its failing condition. Water oaks lining the side of the curved driveway hunched over haggardly, like old men struggling on canes. The lawn, which should have been a lively green for early spring, was withered and sandy. A few patches of grass were sprinkled here and there. Rust lines streaked down the one jagged peak atop the tin-roof house. The flimsy clapboard sides were outlined by fading white trim speckled with dried paint curls. Hanging baskets containing a variety of plants and weeds all struggling to stay alive shared the crowded front porch with two mildew-covered rocking chairs. Inside, magazines and newspaper clippings both old and new were carelessly strewn about. Encrusted dishes from the previous day’s meals battled each other for space in the bulging kitchen sink. In the garage, away from the usual living areas, was a boy’s room. Dull paneling outlined the bedroom, while equally dreary brown linoleum covered the floor. The bedroom must have been an afterthought because not much consideration had been given to the details. A bookcase cut from rough planks sat atop an old garage sale dresser.

Moonlight pressing through the dust-covered metal blinds tried to provide a sense of peacefulness. Instead it revealed bristly red hair atop a young boy’s head poking out from beneath a mushy feather pillow. His heavy breathing provided the only movement in the quiet room. Tiny droplets of perspiration lined his brow as he began jerking about under the thin cotton sheets.

Starting at the edge of the window, the blackness spread downward, transforming all traces of light to an oily dinginess. Drake was slowly surrounded and remained the only thing not saturated in the darkness. Bolting upright to a stiff-seated attention, Drake’s bloodshot eyes darted back and forth. He stared into the black nothingness shuddering and aware that the only thing visible in the room was his bed.

“Who . . . who’s there?” Drake cried out, puzzled by the hollow sound that didn’t seem to travel beyond the edge of his mattress. Beads of sweat trickled down his neck, connecting his numerous freckled dots. He strained, slightly tilting his head, ears perked. There was no reply.