Archive by Author
13 Jan

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Animal, Butterfly, Insect, Animal World, Macro, Wing

Photo Credit Pixabay

My Windows 10 had a nervous breakdown last week and it was impossible to use the email system. I come to my computer several times each day because I like to keep in touch with friends, write blogs, go to sites such as Fantastic Fiction and from there to the library site. But this new thing…no one in the family had the time to fix it, though our dear daughter tried. She got me a work-around, but I wasn’t up to using it correctly. 

At last I decided that I would take it to the shop. We do have a reliable business that we frequent, but hopefully not too frequently. The best thing that could happen was that the dear men there would know how to put everything back together perfectly and clean up all the mistakes I’d made and things I’d clicked on that I didn’t need and just make the whole thing work as it did when it was pristine and new and just set up to meet all my needs. I loved the thought of that.  

Bill took the cpu, in case you don’t know that’s the black box where all the real mischief goes on and he was going to the town where our heroes who could fix things lived. They said they would call when it was all over. I looked forward to it every day, but meanwhile I seemed to have more time to read and paint and to tend to the grass I’m growing for my cat Thea, who loves a bite of freshly cut wheat grass whenever she can get it. 

 I painted one side of our  cement brick mailbox stand because Bill had just installed a new mailbox and I had to put on a new lighthouse. Even though I had a little fall out into the street I was able to pick myself up and dust myself off, though there is a bit more work to do on it.  I’ll paint the other sides when I get a chance, please don’t let my computer go back to the shop to prompt me. 

After several phone calls which drove me to my stress gummies (really Rescue Pastilles which are all natural and WORK!) time finally came to go to the next town and pick up the computer. We got it, got home, and I crawled around on the floor trying to match all the plug-ins. Bill has had too many surgeries to be a floor crawler. Anyhow I got them all plugged in and went to town on the computer. But before I’d been at it five minutes, things began to show up that I wasn’t familiar with.  It was like a brand-new computer, but one that hadn’t been personalized for me. It wasn’t the shop’s fault. They are good at what they do, but it was just that things were different from what I had grown used to. That evening I was getting error messages galore. I decided to put the whole thing in God’s hands and go watch, “Out of Africa.” Lo and behold when I turned on the computer today all that mush was gone and my email at least was working fine. I’m writing this in email mode right now. Because I don’t know the ins and outs of using the writing program they left me with after my Office Suite left town. They do that when you remove everything. There was a SIMILAR program that would do most of the same things.  I wouldn’t have to bother with paying every month for something I had once owned. If you own yours you will not have to go to the new constraints as long as you don’t lose it. You own it.  

Well, I suppose after a year, I could probably get familiar with Open Office.  I’ve become familiar with two others and used lots of stress gummies and prayer along the way. It took YEARS! I don’t want to learn new programs, I want to write.

  But no, I’m just not going to be able to live with it. I got Pandora back, thank the good Lord, and lots of things are working well, but there are new kids on the block and they seem like horrid bugs. Now don’t get me wrong I like almost all kinds of bugs and once had my own private shelf full in empty plastic candy boxes. I think it will take a while until I can learn things properly. I hope I’ll still have time to give Thea her grass treats, paint a bit, read a lot.

But I’m definitely going to get the Office thingy back even if I have to fork out the dough to do it. Oh, and I can’t get the free Grammerly in Open Office either. You can probably tell. 

Thanks for hanging in there with me.

Author, Poet and Artist

DiVoran has been writing for most of her life. Her first attempt at a story was when she was seven years old and her mother got a new typewriter. DiVoran got to use it and when her dad saw her writing he asked what she was writing about. DiVoran answered that she was writing the story of her life. Her dad’s only comment was, “Well, it’s going to be a very short story.” After most of a lifetime of writing and helping other writers, DiVoran finally launched her own dream which was to write a novel of her own. She now has her Florida Springs trilogy and her novel, a Christian Western Romance, Go West available on Amazon. When speaking about her road to publication, she gives thanks to the Lord for all the people who helped her grow and learn.  She says, “I could never have done it by myself, but when I got going everything fell beautifully into place, and I was glad I had started on my dream.”

10 Jan

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Reblogged 1/10/2020

1

Come Home It’s Supper Time

 

Seeking:
Father God, Lord Jesus, Holy Spirit, I hunger and thirst for familiarity with you.

Finding:
My Beloved Child,
Come home. I smooth your path by removing the rocks, grading the gravel, and filling the ruts. I take down gates that block your way to Me. I open trails so that you may experience the good things I have laid out for you along the way.
I give you peace. I fulfil all my promises. I never give up on you. I support you so that you will never give up on Me.
Stay on the path I created for you. Check directional signs and walk at a steady pace. Do not rush and hurry, instead let me give you my rhythm and keep you steady.
I bless the generations coming after you so they will know Me in ways I’ve never been known before.
You are my own people. My arms are open to you and to any friends you want to bring along. I provide light, fresh air, food and water. I have a place of rest for you. I will save them and preserve you forever.

 

Waiting for the Library to Open

7 Jan

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Nerds of the World Unite.

At eight fifty in the morning

Before the Library Opens

People gather silently, one by one,

 To stand and wait:

Man in tee-shirt, woman in pony tail,

Care giver in scrubs,

 Grandfather and child.

Let us ring around the rosy and be merry, 

“Here we stand like birds in the wilderness,

Waiting for our food.”

A Great Light

3 Jan

Meditation Musings

DiVoran Lites

Reblogged from Rebekah Lyn Books

Painting by DiVoran Lites
Painting by DiVoran Lites

Beloved,

Look what is happening! A great delight has come into your life. Once you lived in a shadowed land. Now you have a light to guide you. You have a right to ask for help. You have the amazing counselor, the one and only God, the loving Father, the Prince of Peace, the host of wholeness living inside of you. Angel armies hover all around taking care of you. You no longer have any need to worry. I have made my home in your life. From here, we go along together, forever.

Your heavenly Father,

Isaiah 9:6-7

His Banner Over Me is Love

A Florida Christmas

30 Dec

My Take

DiVoran Lites

According to legend the explorer Ponce de Leon discovered the Fountain of Youth as a spring near what is now DeLand, Florida. Each day a million gallons of water surge from deep caverns, fill the pool and make a wide stream that runs into the St. Johns River. DeLeon believed that if you swam in the spring you would live forever. It may be true, although DeLeon only lived to age 45, Bill and I are still kickin’ and my mother, who swam in it when she was eighty lived to be ninety. She took great joy in believing, even though she didn’t particularly want to live forever, which is probably wise. 

I’m so fond of that place that I decided to use it for the setting of my first novel, “Sacred Spring.” It is a place which is full of history.

This year we decided to go to the Old Mill Pancake house for our special Christmas. We customers sit at long tables. Each table has a griddle in the middle upon which to cook pancakes and eggs. The waitress brings crisp bacon and savory sausage. It’s hard to choose from the half dozen syrups. Everything tastes as delicious as ever. 

We have six members of the immediate family and sorely miss the other two of our immediate family of eight. We talk and laugh about things that had happened over the decades and told family stories that our 27-year-old grandson has never heard. He and his uncle had a brief discussion about computers since both are involved in them at work. Too soon we feel we should give up our table for the many people who are crowding in at the door. 

What should we do now? Our son’s choice is a four-mile hike. That will be puny for him and overwhelming for me. Fortunately, it is still cold and a light rain falls.  Outside, we stand under an eave and talk about trying to find a place where we can sit and talk…maybe a mall with tables somewhere. We couldn’t come up with anything so we get in our cars and head south. We are an hour and fifteen minutes away from our home and a bit more for our daughter and her husband. Our son’s house is half an hour from where we were. As we tootle along I have a serendipitous thought. Why not go there? I call him and he says, “Yes, do come to my house.” I call the car behind us, and our daughter said they could come too. 

When we walk in it is sad to realize once again that those two are not with us as they have been for so many years. Somebody wants coffee and the coffee choices appear. Some want hot chocolate which is hard to find ingredients for. Finally, they appear tiny-mini chocolate chips, milk, cardamom and cinnamon and leftover syrup from Cracker-Barrel. I tend the increasingly chocolate milk spoon a sample and sigh. Just right! 

Our host asks if we’d like to have a fire in the fire-place…lovely thing for a sharp-aired, rainy day. The flicker of the fire and the smell of the burning wood remind us of camping trips of old. The ancient red dog of our grandchildren’s childhood follows us wherever we go. No-one turns on a TV or sits down to hide behind their phones. The daughter fiddles with getting the best picture with the finest background possible.

And now it is time to call the away ones…our grand-daughter and her mother who complete our circle. Both work currently in what to us are far away places. Son made the conference call and all eight of us had time together as we have for so many years. It was wonderful to talk with them. Finally, it was time to get in our cars and head on down south.

Author, Poet and Artist

DiVoran has been writing for most of her life. Her first attempt at a story was when she was seven years old and her mother got a new typewriter. DiVoran got to use it and when her dad saw her writing he asked what she was writing about. DiVoran answered that she was writing the story of her life. Her dad’s only comment was, “Well, it’s going to be a very short story.” After most of a lifetime of writing and helping other writers, DiVoran finally launched her own dream which was to write a novel of her own. She now has her Florida Springs trilogy and her novel, a Christian Western Romance, Go West available on Amazon. When speaking about her road to publication, she gives thanks to the Lord for all the people who helped her grow and learn.  She says, “I could never have done it by myself, but when I got going everything fell beautifully into place, and I was glad I had started on my dream.”

Homecoming

16 Dec

My Take

DiVoran Lites

As told to DiVoran by Dora

In 1945 after fighting in the Battle of the Bulge and when the horror of liberating several concentration camps with their piles of emaciated corpses was over, Ivan came home. He was so glad to see his family. He said that throughout the fighting, most soldiers thought for sure they’d die on the front and never make it home at all. But though many, many of them did die, quite a few came back. Jobs were scarce. We had to look around for a way to make a living; so when the opportunity to buy Min’s Café in Westcliffe came up, we bought it. 

We worked hard in that restaurant. Dave and DiVoran learned to work too. We all did some table waiting, and the kids washed tons of dishes as did everybody else. Dave was in charge of carrying wooden pop cases. He brought in the full ones from the garage where they’d been unloaded and brought them back out empty for the delivery truck from Canon City or Pueblo to bring back full again, and we always told him it was a good way to build muscles. 

One day, Ivan took the kids to buy a puppy from a farmer. They paid thirty-five cents for him, which was all they had kept from their small wages. They named him Brownie. He was a mixed breed, mostly sheep-herder. He was a good dog. When it came to looking after the kids, he took his shepherd duties seriously.

Shepard Brownie

The kid’s Dad also bought them a Shetland pony who was already 23 years old. His name was Yankee and he was wise in the way of children. When Dave was learning to ride, he fell off a few times, but as soon as Yankee felt him leave the saddle, he stopped and waited for him to get back on. DiVoran was treated differently. The minute she settled in the saddle, Yankee took off running full tilt for his feedlot with DiVoran hanging onto the saddle horn and screaming all the way. Her Dad soon put a stop to that by instructing her in the fine art of being the boss with a horse.

Yankee and the boss

When the kids got older and better at riding, we got two bigger horses—Dixie and Derby. These two were used for hunting and fishing trips into the mountains with Ivan as guide, but the kids rode them for fun too. They liked to play rodeo out at the rodeo grounds on the horses. Dixie taught Dave how to fly by throwing him 27 times. He spent so much time in the air that when he grew up he felt right at home as an airline pilot. 

Besides being a lot of work, Westcliffe was fun for all of us. It was a town of about 320 people and the kids were favorites with the other storekeepers on the one block main street. They liked to pop into the drugstore and see if the pharmacist, Cope had any comic books with the covers torn off. He did that to get a refund of the ones that hadn’t sold. Other children in the town got stacks of them too. 

We were finally home. 

Author, Poet and Artist

DiVoran has been writing for most of her life. Her first attempt at a story was when she was seven years old and her mother got a new typewriter. DiVoran got to use it and when her dad saw her writing he asked what she was writing about. DiVoran answered that she was writing the story of her life. Her dad’s only comment was, “Well, it’s going to be a very short story.” After most of a lifetime of writing and helping other writers, DiVoran finally launched her own dream which was to write a novel of her own. She now has her Florida Springs trilogy and her novel, a Christian Western Romance, Go West available on Amazon. When speaking about her road to publication, she gives thanks to the Lord for all the people who helped her grow and learn.  She says, “I could never have done it by myself, but when I got going everything fell beautifully into place, and I was glad I had started on my dream.”

Home Front 2

9 Dec

My Take

DiVoran Lites

By Dora as told to DiVoran

WW2 wives of Canon City

Dora is the second person standing far left. The first woman on the left standing at the back is my sister-in-law Geneva from Kentucky. 

During World War Two while our men were overseas, we had to use ration stamps for food. Sugar was scarce and pineapple was totally unavailable. That’s why no matter where my kitchen is I keep a can of pineapple in the cupboard. Whenever I open a new can I serve pineapple and cottage cheese on a lettuce leaf. Delicious…and available!

When we got our army allotment, we stuck $3.00 in the piggy bank for our pleasures for the month. Sunday morning we walked to church and on Sunday afternoon, we walked downtown to the show, which is now called a movie theater 

On summer Sundays we went to the park across from the prison for band concerts by the prisoners. When the “Star-Spangled Banner” began, DiVoran trained Dave in patriotism by snatching him up by the seat of his pants and instructing: “Tand up, Tar Pangle!!” Stand up it’s the Star-Spangled Banner.

In the winter we put on heavy coats and went downtown to see a movie. We didn’t watch what DiVoran called myrtle mysteries because I didn’t want my children to grow up scared by crime stories. As we walked home, Dave’s two-year-old legs got tired so he held his arms up and said, “Me carry you.” He was quite the bundle swathed in his homemade winter jacket. 

Because everything was rationed, Grandmother Marie and I got out the clothes that had been put away in the garage attic and cut them up to make clothes for the children. DiVoran got tired of standing for us to pin up hems so one day she grabbed the neck of the dress I was pinning and tore it all the way to the waist. That fabric had apparently been in the attic a bit too long. She turned and ran up the stairs because she knew from my shocked expression that she was in trouble. 

The children’s feet grew so fast they needed shoes every two months, so Grandmother, Granddad, and Dora limited themselves to one pair of shoes each for the duration of the war in order to have the ration stamps for the children’s’ shoes. 

Ivan wrote to me from basic training in Texas and I wrote back almost every day. Letters home were free for the men. Ivan always wrote FREE in the place where the stamps belonged so everyone would know he wasn’t trying to get away with anything. My stamps cost 3 cents each. It added up. We also had the option of buying War Bonds which were an investment that would someday pay off. 

Most of my friends were women whose men were in the military. There were many rules about sending letters, the most obvious one was to not mention anything that would give the enemy an advantage such as telling where the letters were posted from. Censors made sure by either blocking or cutting out anything they thought spies might use against us. 

Ivan and camera in Germany

I saved Ivan’s letters in the shoebox they sent his clothes home in. By the end of the war, the box was jam-packed full. He, on the other hand, couldn’t save any of my letters because he had no place to put them. He even sent me his small government-issued New Testament with Psalms Bible because he didn’t have any place to carry it. I wore that Bible out. I don’t know what I would have done without it. I knew it was the place to go for comfort. When I was six years old my Grandmother, Florenda Jane Bedell came to visit us in Canon City. She knelt by my bed every night and prayed for me to believe in Jesus and his atonement for my sins. I did that then and He was my savior and hope from then on.

Author, Poet and Artist

DiVoran has been writing for most of her life. Her first attempt at a story was when she was seven years old and her mother got a new typewriter. DiVoran got to use it and when her dad saw her writing he asked what she was writing about. DiVoran answered that she was writing the story of her life. Her dad’s only comment was, “Well, it’s going to be a very short story.” After most of a lifetime of writing and helping other writers, DiVoran finally launched her own dream which was to write a novel of her own. She now has her Florida Springs trilogy and her novel, a Christian Western Romance, Go West available on Amazon. When speaking about her road to publication, she gives thanks to the Lord for all the people who helped her grow and learn.  She says, “I could never have done it by myself, but when I got going everything fell beautifully into place, and I was glad I had started on my dream.”

My Take on Reclaiming the Lost Art of Biblical Meditation By Robert J. Morgan

2 Dec

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Description: C:\Users\DiVoran\Pictures\My Take Pictures\Thea Porch Rug (2).JPG

Reclaiming the Lost Art of Biblical Meditation by Robert J. Morgan is wonderful as it leads me through the Bible and shows me how to get the most out of pondering, personalizing, and practicing what I read. This morning I started on a down-loadable study guide. After a while,  I took a break to go see if my cat, Thea wanted to come in off the porch. I looked everywhere on the small porch but couldn’t find her. I went into prayer mode.  

Lord, I can’t find my beautiful cat, Thea. I let her out on the porch about six o’clock this morning. I went back later and called to her, but she didn’t come, so I thought she didn’t want to come in. Lord, I can’t find her anywhere. I’ve shaken the treats bag so that she could hear it and be enticed, but she didn’t come. I’ve looked in about every nook and cranny, and she’s nowhere to be found. It’s almost as if someone quietly slipped onto the screened porch and kidnapped her. 

Maybe someone did that with the golden cat that used to greet me and ask to be petted when I took my walk. He has been gone for a couple of weeks now. There’s a man our son’s age who lives up the street who misses the golden cat too. What a sweet and beautiful animal. The thought occurs…perhaps someone is stealing the prettiest cats in the neighborhood to sell.  

Oh, was that a cat I just heard? I put on my hoodie and hurried outside through the porch door. I walked around the house, but saw no cat of any kind. But when I came back in Thea must have heard me because she flashed out of hiding. Apparently, she had been sleeping soundly in a chair pushed under the tablecloth. I didn’t think to look there. When I came in she thought I had some greens for her to chew on so she woke up and came out of her cozy, warm place. I had no greens, but I’ve planted some for her. Thea means a lot to both of us. If she had indeed been gone, I would have missed her terribly. 

As I go back to the verses I am reading, pondering and writing down. I sense that God speaking to me through His word and through the Holy Spirit.  

Beloved, you did well in your scare with Thea’s disappearance.

You eventually started to bring your mind away from anxiety and panic and into my presence.

Just think how quickly Thea appeared when you thanked Me for the situation.

Lord, are you telling me that the manifestation of an answer comes more quickly when we thank you than when we are anxious?

Don’t be pulled in different directions or worried about a thing. Be     saturated in prayer throughout each day, offering faith-filled    requests and sharing the details of your life with me. 

This is the way to peace and peace is the state of mind and heart that brings the answers to prayer.

It’s a process. Learn to make your way through it so that you may live a life that is: 

  • Authentic
  • Real
  • Honorable
  • Admirable
  • Beautiful
  • Respectful
  • Pure
  • Holy
  • Merciful
  • Kind

Philippians 4, Paraphrase, The Passion Translation

Author, Poet and Artist

DiVoran has been writing for most of her life. Her first attempt at a story was when she was seven years old and her mother got a new typewriter. DiVoran got to use it and when her dad saw her writing he asked what she was writing about. DiVoran answered that she was writing the story of her life. Her dad’s only comment was, “Well, it’s going to be a very short story.” After most of a lifetime of writing and helping other writers, DiVoran finally launched her own dream which was to write a novel of her own. She now has her Florida Springs trilogy and her novel, a Christian Western Romance, Go West available on Amazon. When speaking about her road to publication, she gives thanks to the Lord for all the people who helped her grow and learn.  She says, “I could never have done it by myself, but when I got going everything fell beautifully into place, and I was glad I had started on my dream.”

Times

23 Nov

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Animal Parade

18 Nov

My Take

DiVoran Lites

By Dora Bowers as told to DiVoran Lites

Crowley, Colorado 1942-43

Description: Goats, Mom And Child, Kid, Small, Cute, Young, Fur
Pixabay

Around the time that David learned to walk well, we had a Mama goat named Petaluma and a baby goat named Billy. We also had a dog named ginger and a black cat. Sometimes in the afternoon between washing and drying dinner dishes and starting supper, we all walked along beside the irrigation ditch to the factory to see Ivan. For some reason, we always fell into a line, maybe according to whose legs were longest. First came Dode (which was me) then Doo Doo (which was the only way David could say DiVoran’s name) then David who we called Dab because of the letters of his name: David Allen Bowers. 

Description: Dog, Toller, Pet, Retriever
Pixabay
Description: Kitten, Cat, Black Cat, Domestic Cat, Pets, Animal
Pixabay

Then came Billy the little goat. Billy liked to detour, his divided hooves clicking over the glass which covered the new tomato plants. He stepped so daintily, he never cracked a single pane. After Billy-goat came Ginger the Heinz 57 dog with short forays to check out rabbit smells, and then the cat, always alert for field mice. Momma goat, Petaluma never went along and she wouldn’t tell me why. I suspected it was because she wanted some time to herself, or maybe I thought that because I was in tune with mamas needing just that. 

Description: Bantam, Rooster, Chickens, Farm, Domestic
Pixabay

Chanticleer the banty rooster was another member of the family that didn’t go along on the walk. He was a cocky and colorful little character, but he had a bad sense of timing. Day and night trains carrying troops and equipment for the war came down the railroad tracks behind our house. At night, when it was dark, Chanticleer couldn’t tell the difference between light from the streamliner and light from the rising sun. Whenever Chanticleer saw the light, he crowed, even if it was only 3:00 a. m. The noise would wake us and all the hard-working neighbors out of a well-earned night’s sleep. Chanticleer had to go.

He ended up in the pot, but no matter how long we stewed him (and we even served noodles with him) he turned out to be awfully hard to chew and for a while, we lost our taste for chicken. DiVoran’s tears when she guessed what we were trying to eat.

There in Crowley, we had young friends with children the age of ours, so Dave and DiVoran had playmates. We wives cleaned our houses on Friday then raced to see who could get to the other’s house first so their own would not be messed up with the children’s play. 

In 1943, when Dave was two and DiVoran 5, more and more countries became involved with the war. In the United States, some men were being drafted and others volunteered for service. Although deferments were usually given to men with small children; as well as to men who produced and preserved food, Ivan felt he must at least go down to the draft office and see if they needed him. They needed him—even though he worked in a canning factory, had small children and even flat feet. “By that time in the war all they required was a man with warm blood.”

Author, Poet and Artist

DiVoran has been writing for most of her life. Her first attempt at a story was when she was seven years old and her mother got a new typewriter. DiVoran got to use it and when her dad saw her writing he asked what she was writing about. DiVoran answered that she was writing the story of her life. Her dad’s only comment was, “Well, it’s going to be a very short story.” After most of a lifetime of writing and helping other writers, DiVoran finally launched her own dream which was to write a novel of her own. She now has her Florida Springs trilogy and her novel, a Christian Western Romance, Go West available on Amazon. When speaking about her road to publication, she gives thanks to the Lord for all the people who helped her grow and learn.  She says, “I could never have done it by myself, but when I got going everything fell beautifully into place, and I was glad I had started on my dream.”

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