Craving...

Do you know what I'm craving? That moment, that short, but sweet period of time when my brain lights up, comes alive, and transports me to the place where I am living the life of my own character, and the words flow from my fingertips like a flood I have difficulty containing.  Words spill all over the page, in great splashes of what to me, what feels like genius - because it comes so easily.  The craving doesn't stop there.  I crave that childlike happiness, how my children reach out and are eager to accept me as a part of their world, where everything is bright and colorful and full of laughter.  I could eat it up, soak in it, the laughter and delight in simple things.  I crave the quiet, romantic intimacy, security and joy my husband brings.  His gifts are logic and perspective, mine are dreams and passion.  I crave relationship with the God of the Angel Armies, an understanding of who I am, and what he has for me. I crave, I burn, I desire. But, I am a quiet sort and to look at me, you wouldn't know. 

Afraid of the Dark?

"My husband is having an affair." I could see the tears in her eyes and her face was etched in the pain of this horrible, heart-wrenching discovery.  My heart broke just looking at her, standing in her doorway, and me, a wordsmith at heart, incapable of offering any kind of words that would act as a salve for her pain.  I wanted to hug her, to cry with her, but I held back, unsure of what to do or say, or how to really process what she was saying to me - of all things, I didn't want to react in the wrong way. The compassion I felt was so overwhelming, I cried, standing there, myself. I have this naive idea that everyone's life somehow plays out like mine.  That everyone is as blessed as I am to be surrounded by a loving husband and home, and that the people out there aren't really hurting.  It's an easy mask to hide behind.

Of course, my thoughts turn inward toward myself, and in the same instant, the imagination that I hold as a blessing, acts as a curse.  All I see is how her pain might affect me, and my life.  It's this gut instinct, an automatic response that seems to kick in, as I rush to put up defenses around my own territories, lest a pain like hers, that I can only catch in distanced waves, crosses into my life.  I even find myself asking, will this disrupt me, in my happy little world, where everything is running smoothly, and is under my control?  

What is it about me, that makes what other people experience about me? I don't want my imagination to run my reactions to people.  Instead, I want to help people heal from these hurts, the pain that envelopes their life - but can I do that, if I am so afraid that the hurts of others will eventually touch me? Does God work in tragedy? Of course, I think that he does - but that's always an abstract thought.  It's one I have difficulty reconciling with events in my own life.  I don't think that God sends tragedy our way, particularly in the form of a 'test', but I am at a loss to explain why these sad events happen to good, honest people.  

I hate not knowing how to fix the problems that people have.  I hate not being able to offer them the stroke-of-genius advice filled with heartfelt compassion and care, that will perk them up for the day.  I guess that the only thing I can offer is my hand, in friendship.  A promise to care when someone feels brave enough to tell me what they're going through.  To love the way that Christ would love, in the small way that I can.  

So here I am...at 30

Ok, so I've been thirty for a few months now.  It's not like it was something that JUST happened, and I am getting over the trauma of it all.  Age doesn't really bother me, I don't think - but the mediocrity of life does tend to get to me.  Now, don't get me wrong, I am a wife and mother and I love that, I wouldn't trade it for all of the blessings in the world, but sometimes I sit back and wonder, what on earth made me choose the job that I chose?

I'm a teacher, and sometimes I think - I don't even like kids.  But, that could be only on the days where I felt like I sat for forty-five minutes in the middle of a cyclone I was trying to subdue into control with my magical powers, of which I have none - or I've forgotten how to use them.  I spend several hours a week dutifully typing notes for my Social Studies class, and just last week, one of the kids took the photocopied package from me and said, "You know we don't actually use these after you're done filling in all the blanks." Want to know something sad? That comment actually made me stop, and think, you don't?? Of course the rational, teacher replied, and said, "I know that, I LIKE writing notes about Japan in the Meiji period."  But, it made me stop and think, something akin to, What am I doing here, and how did I get here?

Maybe it's a mistake to take high school students with levels of self confidence in their own abilities so low, they'd become a tree if you told them it was the right job for them. The passion is sometimes hard to find, and sometimes easy to forget.  Maybe I'm just fickle, when I am teaching and into something, and the kids are getting it and at least pretending to be interested, I love it.  But, there are days that I look around the room and think, I'm the only one listening, and I don't even care. What would I have done? What job would I have been good at? Some days, I think, lots of things. Like an x-ray tech, or a secretary, or someone who doesn't start their year in September.  Of course I would miss the eight weeks of vacation in the summer, but sure could do without the uncertainty, the politics, and the demand to be everything to everyone. God blessed me with this job, he really did.  I've learned so much and I am forever grateful to have come in contact with the people who are at the school.  But, I was feeling pretty disjointed about things this afternoon, when I felt my world was spiraling out of control.  

When along came...a friend from an unexpected place, and in talking with her, and listening to her about her day, taught me something about mine. A little laughter, a little encouragement goes a long way. Thank you, my friend.

The Lady Or the Tiger

When I look back to English class in high school, a couple stories stick out to me. I don't know why, and interestingly, it didn't happen for say...math class. But, one of my favorites was Frank Stockton's The Lady or the Tiger. I absolutely love it.   It has beautiful, compelling language and imagery.  I love the moral dilemma created by the story and the fact that it takes a great deal of thought to work out a "happy" ending. Another reason I love it, is because the story doesn't end, which inevitably makes students fume, but it's an excellent way to have students work on an assignment that I think challenges creativity. I usually get a wide variance of answers, ranging from blood and death, to happiness and weddings. Anyway, I just recently gave this assignment to my grade 10/11 class, and they demanded that I too, answer the question posed by the story, Which is it, the Lady or the Tiger? 

THE LADY OR THE TIGER - by Frank Stockton is avaliable to be read online.  The following, is MY ending to the story. 

Without delay, the Princess raised her hand and indicated the door to the right.  Just as the knowledge of which door held the tiger and which held the lady, had given the Princess the key to her future, further thought and self-discussion had indicated to her what she needed to do.  Though the Princess’ father was semi-barbaric, her mother had been as sweet as a flower, budding in warm sunshine.  For the favor of her Father, the Princess had often been told that in spirit as well as looks she favored her father, but as she grew older the Princess knew deep down that she favored her Mother in sweetness but also in cunning.  For what other kind of woman would be strongly matched to a Semi-barbaric King, and able to win his heart? The Princess watched as her lover, showing his full trust in her, that if she willed it, he would be torn apart at the claws of a wild beast with forgiveness in his eyes, and reached for the door on the right.  

The crowd gasped in one collective breath as the door slowly, steadily opened. It was then that her lover laid eyes on his new bride.  As the crowd around her burst into cheering and celebratory applause, the Princess shrank back, hiding the real tears in her eyes from the satisfaction of her Father.  She would be again, his sweet but broken-hearted daughter, contrite to his every wish and command. Before she could race away from the arena, from the image of her pleasantly surprised lover, being wedded to his new bride, her father caught her hand.  With one look she understood his heart. It said, You are mine forever, I did this because I love you. It occurred to the Princess that such love was not really love, but it was the only way that the King understood love to be. The Princess squeezed his hand, and raised her face to kiss his cheek.  She knew that her Father believed that true love was not true, for her own Mother had vanished one day, leaving her small daughter all alone.  That was unfathomable, even for a man of his own semi-barbaric nature.

So, it happened that time passed, and though the Princess thought often of her lover, and wondered if he still loved her with the same fervency as she loved him.  Her broken heart began to mend, and heal, and her mind and heart push the young lover aside.  She did marry, and blessed the kingdom with a fine son, to follow her in the paths of royalty.  

By and by, as it happens with all of us who draw mortal breath, her father died and was laid to rest in the arms of his ancestors.  Soon after, the now dear King was followed by the Princess’ husband to the underworld.   Though the Princess missed him, her heart was awakened again for her lover.  Messages were sent throughout the kingdom, in search of the man who’s life she had loved and saved.  Eventually he was found, not as far off as she would have thought, and brought before the throne of the once Princess and now Queen.  

           He removed his hat as a sign of respect, and as he bowed his head.  She could see the lines of silver tracing up to his temples, as he pressed his hat to his chest.  Holding his hand, timidly and to one side, a pretty little girl, the picture of her Father.  He explained to her that not long after his wedding, his wife had left this world to bring him his daughter, and he had been living in view of the palace, and the Princess ever since.  The Princess welcomed him again into her heart, and home and eventually they were married.  It was said, by all the people of the kingdom, that barbarism no longer resided in the heart of the royalty.  For, the Princess had learned that love, faced by the greatest sacrifice, was always returned, and time made right.  One day, on a walk in the garden, he told her,

"Love kept me near to you, kept me living and breathing for you, sacrificing for you, waiting for you." And the Princess knew it was true.

The Dark Corners

It's the quiet things.  The things that I don't like to talk about, about myself. The fears that creep in when I let my guard down, or even when I keep it up, expecting...always expecting, being afraid that when things are going well, out of nowhere I'll have to face trauma, or chaos or disaster.

So, what is the answer? I can't control life - I can shut myself away where no one can find me, I can saturate myself with fear, and spread it all over every place I touch by building up defenses, and work to protect my family, my children. I can close myself off from others, and pretend that I don't feel what they feel by focusing on myself.

Or...I can meditate. "Meditate on the Word." What does that mean? It brings to mind sitting in front of the Bible with my eyes closed...but that seems counter productive. I can, however, chew on the small pieces, words of wisdom. "For God has not given us a spirit of timidity (of cowardice, craven and cringing and fawning fear), but [He has given us a spirit] of power, and of love and of calm and well balanced mind and discipline and self control." 2 Timothy 1:7 AMP. 

So, chew on those words God, power, love, calm, well-balanced mind, discipline, self control. I can't say that I could peg God down with words, but I know that God is love.  I know love, love runs deep and still, like a river.  Not the kind you wade through, but the kind that you rent a boat to ride, weaving and turning, and breaks on rocks, sweeps around boulders and rushes over edges with abandon, the roar of a cascading waterfall.  I know what power is, it is the torrential river of a flash flood. It is the quiet strength, the steady dripping of small drops of water that eventually put cracks in the solid ground beneath our feet. It is the ability to recognize the difference, and use each when they are needed. What is calm? A well-balanced mind? Self control? I see calm as the close of a day, just when the sun sinks over the distant tree topped hills, when there is still light in the sky, a blue pale twilight, the sound of a campfire crackling in the air, and the smell of smoke in the cool of the day. Feeling the heat of the fire on your legs, and the brisk cold of the night on the tip of your nose. Discipline and self control are the contentment that comes with feeling safe, and warm and loved and surrounded by family. The way we all should be.  A well balanced mind can weigh the good against the bad, and not be over-run.  Like a lake after all the boats have gone to bed, and the whisper of wind in the air doesn't touch the water of the lake, so that it looks like glass, a perfect reflection of the beauty that surrounds it. 

I want to see this scripture in pictures...it's what my mind makes almost without me trying. This is the place where I need to be, that will change the way I think about myself, if I can get it down tucked deep into my heart.

Epilogue

I don't really know how to write an Epilogue. I've never written one before.  I certainly haven't read one in which the author's voice was so prevalent, but this is the way it is in my mind.  I've spent so much time with the characters, getting to know them and telling their story, there's a sense that I would know everything about them, in some kind of contrived future.  But, I don't really see it that way.  What happens to them...merely happens.  I can't change it, just as much as I can't reach back in time and alter the course of history.

I guess it's a good thing my subconscious likes happy endings.

Nicolai and Atlantis married not long after their reunion in the gardens of Malbrandor Palace.  It was a beautiful wedding, attended by dignitaries from all over the galaxy.  Much to the delight of both Atlantis' council and her people, she became pregnant within the year and had twin boys followed several years later by a baby girl, and in a surprise few expected a year or so later, another boy. As far as the ascension of their sons to the throne of Khal Manar, it was the younger of the twins who eventually took his Mother's place as Emperor - but that is another story. Atlantis and Nicolai lived out their lives happily together, most often at the palace, but every so often the royal couple would go missing for a few days and be lost together amongst the stars.

Marria stayed faithfully by Atlantis' side for many years. She and Drey had their own children, two daughters, one who would eventually belong to the Royal Family of Khal Manar, and the other who aspired to become a master at her Father's craft.

Dawniria never returned to full time work at the Palace.  She advised Atlantis for many years, and was often seen in Khal Manar, or in audience with the Empress, but she made her home in the countryside.  She brought Kale's baby, a daughter, healthy and strong into the world, and Dawniria was devoted to her.  Every year, a very wealthy man visited the small country estate, and would spend his time doting on the little girl - who loved him. Several years later, Dawniria and Galen married.

I wish I knew more about Kale Farharad, but other than his secret visits, he wasn't much thought of in Khal Manar. I imagine that he married, he was intent on loving someone, after all.  If I know him, deep down, he probably would have chosen a girl from his court.  Not even necessarily one of high rank or standing, because deep down Kale Farharad wanted to live a quiet, happy life. It's a hope that change would stop him from drinking so much - then he really could be happy. I just don't know how long it would have taken him to realize it himself.

And that is all I know, of quiet lives and happy endings.

Chapter 8 - Part B: The End

The sun was shining across Atlantis' face.  It made her feel warm and comfortable, relaxed.  She actually couldn't remember the last time she felt so relaxed.  Come to think of it she couldn't remember what had happened for the last several hours.  She could remember putting on her wedding dress, and walking with Andoran to the great hall, she could remember the guests, and then it got fuzzy.  Really really fuzzy, in fact, she could remember taking a ceremonial drink from the priest, and that was when things got fuzzy.  She opened her eyes languidly, and looked around.  She was in her own chambers, and a fresh breeze was coming in through the open window, it was cool, like it had been raining.  Strange sounds were floating through the window, there was of course the regular commotion she could hear of traffic in the city, and the sound of the waves on the shore, but they were interrupted by the crash of a hammer, and the scream of an electric saw.  Atlantis pulled herself up into a sitting position.  The door nearest to her bed opened quietly, by the hand of someone who seemed to know every creak, every groan, avoiding them in order to allow the Empress a few more moments of peace.  Am I still the Empress?  Marria closed the door quietly behind her, and Atlantis' heart leaped in her throat.

    "Marria." Her voice cracked, her throat dry.  She smiled.
    "Good you're awake.  The doctors will be able to stop pacing outside your door." Marria said, her tone light and matter-of-fact.
    "You're alive." Atlantis was filled with relief and pleasure all in the same moment, as if she had just awakened from a bad dream.  Marria sat on the edge of her bed, and reached for her hand.
    "I am." She said, "How are you feeling?"
    "A bit dizzy, forgetful..."Atlantis mused tiredly.
    "I would expect that.  The doctors weren't exactly sure if he'd given you a sedative, or a poison.  They'll be happy to hear if it was poison, it didn’t work."
    "The priest?" Atlantis questioned.
    "Yes, he's been arrested.  He still claims that Andoran is the true Emperor, and you are an imposter."
    "I see." Atlantis paused, considering her words. "And what does Andoran say?" She asked.  Marria paused, narrowed her eyes for a moment, and looked down.  She bit her lip, falling into a moment of ponderous silence. 
    "He's dead, Atlantis." Silence echoed around the room.
    "How?"
    "When Andoran attacked the Ryderron Prince, he had no choice but to defend himself." Marria assured her.
    "He was behind it all, Marria." Atlantis agreed. "He planned the whole thing."  Her face betrayed what she was thinking.  It hurt her, that a man she had loved and trusted could turn against her so completely.
    “There are several documents confirming that, and once we arrested Lord Tryst, he corroborated the plan.” Marria said, shaking her head.
    “I hear I’m betrothed.”
    “You are.” Marria said softly, her gaze shifting out the window.
    “Have you met him?” Atlantis asked, trying to be conversational instead of nervous.  She wanted to ask a million questions, but a fresh ache of her shattered feelings for Nicolai held her back.
    “I have.”
    “What is he like?”
    “I think you need to meet him.”
     "I'm just trying to find out a little bit about him." Atlantis studied her hands.  They seemed cold, dry for the warm weather, she could feel her stomach turning over. 
    "He's a good man, Atlantis.  He’s already asked me to let him introduce himself to you.  I can't refuse him that.  Besides you need to hear about him without my biased opinion." Marria smiled.
    "Have you seen Nicolai? I mean, Captain Ryder?" The question was practically burning at the edge of her lips.  She assumed he'd been a part of her rescue, but she hadn't seen him.  Part of her was afraid of what he would say to her, but part of her wanted to see him again, badly.  Maybe it was just to remember that what they had wasn't a figment of her imagination.  A happening so long ago, it almost amounted to ancient history.  The pause on Marria's face dropped Atlantis' stomach to her toes. 
    "He's gone, Atlantis."
    "I...know, I mean... I understand."
    "When you're feeling ready get up, get moving again.  Being stuck in that bed can't be good for anyone." Marria encouraged with a smile pulling at her lips.  Atlantis nodded slowly, unsure if she would ever want to get out of bed.  The world she was facing was now, was so different.
    Eventually getting out of bed became a necessity.  She hated it when doctors fussed over her, and with the amount of their fussing, it was the only thing that she could do to prove to them that she was more than healthy enough to take care of herself.  When they finally believed her, they left her alone and she relished it, even if it was only momentary.  Marria bustled in.

“Prince Horatio is wondering if you’re feeling up to sharing dinner with him.” Marria requested.  Atlantis’ face fell.  She sighed.

“Perhaps not today, Marria....I...” She started, but was stopped by the look on Marria’s face.  ”What?”

“It’s not going to be easier tomorrow, Atlantis.” Marria advised, going into Atlantis’ closet.

“I’m not ready for this, Marria.  I’ve never been ready for this.” She buried her face in her hands, and rubbed her tired eyes.

“You’re the Empress, Atlantis. You were born ready.” Marria emerged with a simple gown.

“I feel like I’ve been gutted, Marria, and now I’m supposed to jump right into marriage again? It’s...it’s not fair.” She protested.

“I know you feel that way, Atlantis. I know that. But just because the past has been bad, doesn’t mean the future will be.”

Atlantis wasn't sure if she could eat, but as she chose a simple gown, and had Anya brush her hair she forced herself to relax, to try her very best to be calm and collected.  It wasn't easy.  This was the man she was expected to marry, had been expected to marry since the time she was an infant.  It was a marriage arranged and approved by her father, and grandfather, and she only hoped that she could live up to their expectations.  Marria came and got her precisely on time, and Atlantis nearly cursed her punctuality.  She tried stalling for a few minutes, but it seemed a fruitless pursuit.  Marria smiled at her, reassuringly.

    "This isn't an execution." She reminded Atlantis gently.
    "No, executions are easier." Atlantis muttered, but out of earshot of Marria.  A lecture wasn't worth it.  The sun was just sinking behind the distant hills, and it almost reminded Atlantis that this was her favourite time of day.  More than anything else she wanted the chance to clear the air, to get everything off of her chest, if she was going to marry this man he was going to hear about everything - then he could decide whether or not she was marriage material. He wasn't there when she arrived, and she was drawn to the balcony, the sun was sinking low over the water, the oranges and reds of the fading sun stretched their long fingers down into the rippling water.  She lost herself in it, for a minute, maybe longer.  She was thinking about Nicolai.  She wasn’t sure if she was ready to put Nicolai behind her, to start something with someone new.  Starting again was overwhelming. It was all happening quickly, so quickly, she sucked in a deep breath. 
    “My lady.” Atlantis turned.  A servant stood with a small white envelope on a silver tray. “For you, Lady, from Prince Horatio.”
    “Thank you.” Atlantis reached for the note.  The script was familiar.
Empress Talerian,
    It’s strange, this relationship of ours. If it would have been as my Grandfather wished, then I would know you by now. We would have been friends as children, and perhaps as we grew we would have eventually fallen in love with one another.  It would have been a respectful kind of love that comes with familiarity, and perhaps romance would be difficult between us, as our duty to each other and our families would have taken precedence. But, the truth of it is, that falling in love with you was as easy as breathing, because you are everything I ever wanted. I love you, Laina - Atlantis Talerian.

The note floated to the floor. 
 “Nicolai.” Atlantis whispered to herself, trying to understand. Her head jerked up, noticing a person, waiting just at the corner of her vision.  
    “Hi.” The drawl was familiar, gentle. Atlantis turned to look at him fully, her brows pulled together.  Her eyes glanced over him, her heart pounded as she drank him in.

“You...you look different.” She said, softly.

“Yeah,” Nicolai gave a small, half-laugh, as he brushed his hands over the dark navy of his new, perfectly tailored suit, adorned with Ryderron insignia. “To me too.”  

“It’s nice.” Atlantis smiled, encouragingly.

“I suppose I could get used to it, if it means you’ll have me.” He tucked his hands in the pockets of his pants, and and smiled at her.

“Will you have me?”

“I’m a little intimidated.” Nicolai shrugged, he smiled again.

“I guess we’ll have to work on things, just like everyone else.” Atlantis agreed, letting him take her hand. Her stomach did a happy little flip, as he eased his arm around her waist, and drew her close.

“I’m ok with that.  I love you.” His free hand traced her jaw, tucking a long tendril of hair behind her ear, twining his hand into her hair. Butterflies tickled over her skin, as he bent to kiss her, long and deep.

    “I love you, Nicolai Ryderron.” Atlantis whispered, and floated away.

And so it goes,

The Princess and her Prince

Live Happily Ever After

With Laughter

And

Love

They never expected.