Featuring the writing of Linnea Eileen Smith, © 2005-2008 All rights reserved

I’ve disabled the comments for now. I’ve been getting lot of yucky things submitted and for now, I’ll forgo the comments in order to preserve the PG rating for this site.

~Linnea Eileen

Besides fanfiction, I also dabble in original composition. This includes what you might categorize as “inspirational”. I recently wrote this meditation. If you are not one who wishes to read something that deals with spiritual issues, you might want to take a pass on this piece. Who knows, someday this might make its way into a devotional that I am being encouraged to write. We’ll see if I ever complete the project.

God’s Fingerprints

My family is addicted to those crime drama TV shows. You know the kind – the police chase after bad guys and use science and good old-fashioned police work to solve the mystery and put the criminals behind bars. It makes for interesting viewing, but it’s nothing more than a way to be entertained for an hour minus the commercial. But tonight the forensics got me thinking.

Several years ago we had some good friends go through cancer. It was a very dark time for them, as you can imagine. Out of their searching for God’s presence, they gave me a phrase, “In HIS Grip!”

I really like those three words. They say so much and evoke one of God’s greatest promises; nothing can take His children out of His hands.

Some days, that brings more comfort than others. There are those times when life’s troubles seem to squeeze us so hard. But when they squeeze us, they are really squeezing God’s hand that holds us protectively. His grip is sure, and it comes between His children and everything this world can throw in our way.

And yet, until tonight, I never stopped to think about feeling His fingers pressed against me. I thought of those silly dramas and then it hit me. God’s fingers hold us, yes, but they also leave HIS mark on our lives. Stop and think about that for a moment.

If some cosmic policeman were to dust my soul, he would find God’s fingerprints all over it! It’s the same for all His children. He marks us, even in his most tender and caring moments, as His own. Sometimes we sneeze when the powder is applied to make those marks become visible. I guess we could call those times the trials that reveal how great is our God.

Now please pass me a tissue.

Trust me to forget to post at my own site. You can now read chapter 19. You’ll need to scroll down the page to the beginning of the chapter. Many thanks to Charlene for a not only fixing some sentences but adding some great ones of her own. One more post to go!

Go to Chapter 19

I have added chapter 27 for A Mother’s Favorite Wish. It looks like my muse is returning at last!

Go to AMFW Chapter 27

I am a mother. If you didn’t know that, now you do. My son is a just-barely teenager. It is a wonderful, frightening, glorious time in his life - no longer a boy and yet not fully a man. He shaves once a month whether he needs it or not.

And he plays the trumpet.

He started two years ago and my husband and I quickly decided that he needed a teacher whose name was not “Dad”. We searched for the right person and eventually found someone my husband knew from college. Bill agreed to take him. The Progeny’s progress has been steady and strong since.

We gave my son a new (to him) trumpet for Christmas last year. He was nearly overcome with joy. It had belonged to a good friend of ours. Ken is too sick to play anymore and wanted to make sure the next owner of his instrument would appreciate what he had. We were honored he chose our son.

This afternoon I sat in my bedroom reading a story as I listened to him practice. Briefly, the hair on my arms stood up. The tone was so firm and clear. He is no longer a beginner. He has flown past that stage and now has enough technique and ability to play his trumpet the way it was meant to be played. He is a musician.

At the other end of the house is a young man brimming with hopes and dreams and youthful confidence. For a few extraordinary moments, I heard it all through his music. The unexpected experience has left me a little sad, and at the same time extremely proud – for I am a mother.