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Divine Encounter 2

14 Jan

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

 

In Publix, I saw a woman with a little dog in a sling strapped to her chest. It was a long-hairedwiener dog with dangling ears full of natural wave. She wore a dog-sized visor and her legs hung from the sling. The dog’s name was Alice. Her eyes looked blank as though she was ignoring the noise and clamor around her. I’d seen that expression before and understood why it was there. I then noticed a SERVICE DOG badge attached to her vest. After admiring her, I asked what kind of service dog she was.

Her owner said, “I got her when she was six months old, named her Alice. One night after she’d been with me about a year, she started yapping and pushing at me to wake me. I said, ‘lie down, be quiet, go away,’ I wanted to sleep, but she kept it up. Feeling groggy, I took a reading on my glucose monitor. It read over 300, but after an injection, I used the monitor again and the reading was fine. When I told my doctor what Alice had done, he insisted that with that special talent Alice should be certified as my service dog. He wrote the letter himself and now she goes everywhere with me and wakes me if the blood sugar needs some help.”

I found out that many people stopped Alice and her owner in stores, and I recalled another famous dog that would not respond to strangers. We met him at an event at the Space Center. He was one of the dogs who played Lassie in the movies and on TV. Yes, male and female dogs played the part. Apparently,famous dogs just have to protect themselves from over-stimulation in order to do their jobs.

 

 

On New Year’s Day, 2019 Bill and I were in the hardware/lumber store. I walked around while Bill shopped.

This gentleman looked kind of sad and quite bored, so to cheer him a bit I said, “I like your hat.

“It came over from Christmas he said. His voice reminded me of Louis Armstrong’s.

“Do you sing?” I asked, on impulse.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“You’re wearing a jazz hat. Will you sing for me?’

“I will,” he said. Everyone else was busy in other parts of the store. He paused to think through his memory songbook. When started, it was an old sweet song sung so quietly that no one else could hear it. I was happy, but suddenly shy. I kept smiling, however,  knowing that to look away would surely make him feel embarrassed.

“That’s an Etta James song,” he said. “You made my day.” But really he had made mine.

We shook hands, and I said, “thank you,” and walked away as if nothing had happened. ”

I hope this whole year is like that. I’m not one for surprises, but I do dig divine encounters.

 

 

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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Divine Encounters

7 Jan

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

You just never know what might happen when you go out of the house.

 

 

This one day, I was up about two blocks walking in the neighborhood and I took a short-cut around the block. I had to walk past a UPS truck and because I say hello to everyone I meet on my walks I said it to the young man who was going up to the door with a package. Then the man standing inside the truck said, “Hi,” and I looked up at him and said hello. He said, “What are they telling you?”

Immediately, I thought about the life of a UPS man, especially in the Christmas/New Year’s holiday time, and this man’s probable life flashed into my brain and I jokingly said, “You work too hard, you don’t get enough sleep, and you don’t eat right.” Folks, I think that’s how fortune tellers do it. They see you, they’ve studied people, they guess. The young man turned slightly away and stood seemingly stunned for a couple of seconds. Looking at me then he said, “You really got me.”

“Well, Happy New Year.” I went on my way. It seems the older I get the more impulsive I am. Gotta watch that.

The next day I was in Publix and enjoying the many shoppers and the near buggy crashes. I started down an aisle and noticed a grandmother trying to read labels with a boy about five years old tugging on her hand. I realized it was my friend the preacher’s wife from my one time favorite church. She and her husband were now retired and helping to look after the grandchildren while still spreading their particular way of loving people in other churches and all around.

“Oh, hi,” I walked over to her and she reached out to hug me and the little fellow came right in and joined in the hug by putting his arms around our legs He never saw me before in his life. Half a century ago, our son stayed with these people while we went to a conference. When we got back he didn’t want to leave their house and come home with us. Love spreads, that’s all I have to say about that.

 

 
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.”

Thea Tells All

31 Dec

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

 

Purrow. It’s been a while since I wrote you.
I’m lying on Ma’s bed. (She lets me call her ma now)
And taking a rest from having company.
While I chat.

 

Lacey and Jacob and their Ma and Pa came over today
I had met the Pa, but not the Ma or the kittens.
They are really big kittens, but they play well
And are gentle.

 

Ma and Pa showed them my art work.
Every day, I bite cardboard off a me-sized
Cardboard box. I spit the pieces on the floor.
Ma admires the sculpture and cleans up later.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She hides treats in the folds of my soft red blanket.
After I eat them all, I knead the blanket
Ma sits on a stool to pet me
If I move away she pulls me close

 

Me and Ma play a mouse catching game.
We’ have a great mouse. It dances and flies.
So I dance and fly, too
Life is good. Happy New Year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your cat friend,
Thea

 

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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The Christmas Village

24 Dec

A Slice of Life

DiVoran Lites

 

 

 Every Christmas for years we set up a miniature village with lights shining from its windows. The buildings remind me of the seven years we lived in Westcliffe, Colorado a tiny town in the Wet Mountain Valley at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo mountain range.

The church in the set puts me in mind of the Lutheran Church established by German settlers in the 1800 hundreds.

 

 

The school was built in 1886. Now the historical society has turned it into a museum. Looking back I recall the pot-bellied stove that had to be fired up every school day from September to May when school let out. This was before consolidation so that only the children from town went there. We had first through sixth grade in the big room and seventh and eighth in an add-on at the back. Clinging to the bricks and shuffling to the end of the wall was a prime recess occupation along with swings and a merry-go-round. We also made up chase games we called cowboys and Indians. For a reward in school,we got to pull the bell rope so that the sound rang out over the whole valley.

I met my best friend Joan Piquette at school. She was a fine speller (it runs in her family), and the only child in the first grade. She sat in the first-grade row alone, but Mrs. Canda promoted her because Joanie already knew the first-grade work by osmosis. She seemed so small that in high winds my neighbor, Jeanine, and I held Joanie’s hands on the way home from school so she wouldn’t blow away.

 

 

From the box, I pull a ceramic train-station and small train and place it on the batting. We moved to Westcliffe to take over Min’s cafe, but after we lived there a while we also bought the old depot and turned it into a hotel/boarding house. We called it the White Cloud Motel. We moved into the upstairs but found the entire house yielded surprises: a large baggage room and a small cellar where you could breathe the scent of the earthen walls. In a first floor room, I found a hidden cash drawer. No cash. Off the kitchen, in the small bathroom ,my brother and I could climb out the window and slide down the metal roof. We’d climb back up and slide again to our heart’s content. Our parents were running the restaurant, so we had a great deal of freedom.

 

There was no crime in Westcliffe. This is my aunt and me in the remains of the old jail.

The mill in my lighted village puts me in mind of the Westcliffe Feed Store. What a looming mysterious place that was, a relic from days gone by. We weren’t allowed to go in it because of dangerous equipment, but we could peek through the dusty panes and wonder about the settlers who built it.

 

 

Our Christmas village contains two children riding a horse. My brother, David, is a natural-born horseman, but every time my bottom hit the saddle our oversized Shetland pony, Yankee, ran away to the corral. Dad advised me to hold the reins close to his neck with one hand. “That’s the way to show him who’s boss,” said Dad.

In the Christmas scene, children balance a snowman on a sled, reminding me of the one Dad bought and painted red. We sledded on every hill and ice-skated on a big pond outside of town. We built snowmen and on the way home from school some of us Westcliff kids soaked each other with snowballs.

One of the ceramic decorations is a small bridge which spans an imaginary stream. That becomes Grape Creek where Joanie and I stood and threw in the shells of the sunflower-seed we enjoyed, and watched them float on the current like tiny boats.

I never saw a real angel, but I placed one in the display because I like to think a guardian angel hovered over all of us. How else could I explain not falling off the roof when we slid down it, not falling off Yankee when he ran away, Dad and his friend Sweak Jeske walking down Pike’s Peak after Dad’s beloved Piper Cub crashed in a down-draft. And earlier Dad coming back from the Battle of the Bulge.

One day, when I was about eleven, I was reading Mother’s bible in my second story room, and looking up at the mountains through the window I came to this verse: “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Matthew 6:19-21. I made a decision then and there that I would seek treasures in heaven instead of earthly riches.

Bill and I pray that the child in you may find wonder and enjoyment in the coming year. We pray you will have peace from the Forgiver whose birthday we celebrate. We thank God for the angels that watch over us all. Merry Christmas and a joy-filled New Year.

 

 

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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It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

17 Dec

My Take
DiVoran Lites

 

 

 

We hardly ever have snow here in Florida,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But we do have mistletoe growing wild in our woods.

We don’t ski here, except for water-skiing on nice days.

We do have lots of citizens wearing themselves out

Decorating, cooking, visiting, shopping in stores and online.

Trying to “get ready.”

 

I wonder what your favorite thing is about Christmas.

Is it the music, the decorations, the food, or

Perhaps the get-togethers and visits?

We have a small family and of course the

Best earthly treasure is our time together.

I like the music next.

I put a Christmas station on Pandora and

Play it all day, every day until Bill is ready to hear

Something else.

 

No matter how we feel about the holiday itself,

We can never forget the young pregnant woman

Who bore the son of God

And dear Joseph the carpenter who helped

Rear Him.

But most of all,

Christ came to earth and spent his life

Reaching out and he spent his death atoning for sin.

We are charged to invite the Holy Spirit to bless others

Through us,so they may know Him and His Father.

We are invited to receive healing for our bodies

Our emotions, and our souls

Good cheer is available all year round

When each day includes relationship

With Jesus-Redeemer.

 

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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School Days Again, Seven

10 Dec

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

On my next Wednesday morning with second grade, I needed help finding the room. The vice principal was just leaving the office where I had stopped to get my sticky badge. I stepped over and asked if she might be going my way. She’s a young woman who keeps up with her job as the coordinator for the volunteersand a lot more. You can see her and the principal who is also a young woman all over the campus readily available when and where they are needed. We chatted as we walked outdoors on our way to the second-grade pod. I took in a few more details of where I was and where I was going and my day began.

 

 

My first client was the seven-year-old shiny ebony child I’d had the week before. He has a favorite book and clings to it as if it were the only book in the world. We discuss his others, but we return to the first one. We had a sort of breakthrough on the word frilly…the marigold in the story bragged to the pumpkin that she was frilly. I suggested that frilly rhymed with silly which got us started on the concept of rhyming and my little pal made a poem of his own.  We both enjoyed that.

Next customer was an adorable little blonde with big blue eyes. I discovered while working with her that she is an artist. We were together for about half an hour, I didn’t know why, but before leaving her with me, the teacher had told her, “Now sweetie, don’t play.” As we turned out to have so much fun together we both needed the warning. This child said she loved dancing and children’s chorus and when we got to the poem making stage she didn’t want to stop. We segued into taking a walk around the big empty computer lab which was our room for the time being. When we got settled again she insisted on drawing a portrait of me. I gave her my small pad of sticky notes and she began to concentrate in earnest.

 

 

When she finished, she showed me the pictures assuring me, “This is your headband, don’t worry, it’s just your headband.” Then she finished off the second figure which was my pet (I don’t know what kind of pet). When she reached for the pad again I had to hide it under my hand because we needed to get back to class. By that time, I knew why the teacher had reminded us not to play. I have the same propensity to flit around and have a good time as my student does. I may get fired too,because the principal walked quickly through the room when we were giggling. As she passed she did thank me for coming. I do hope she never has to thank me for going.

 

 

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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School Days Again- Six

3 Dec

My Take

DiVoran LItes

 

What a wonderful classroom MS Conner* has. It is full of positive energy. While I waited for my assignment, I read some of the art-lettered signs tacked to the walls. I was interested in the ones that gave the Florida Standards for Language Arts: Reading, Literature, and Writing. One sign said, Life Science, another was Math Standards.

 

Photo credit Pixabay

 

The room has several four-part desks that can be reassembled into whatever patterns are needed. If a child needs to be alone to concentrate on his work for a while his desk can be separated from others. At the four-part desks students sit facing each other as if they were at a kitchen table. Sometimes they are supposed to have discussions. Large tote bags full of library books wait where the children can reach them for reading occasions.

Although I am not a math person I did appreciate the way MS. Conner taught it. I wished I had a teacher like that. Maybe I wouldn’t have turned away from math and math teachers as I did. I may or may not have dysgraphia, I do often transpose numbers. We passed out foam numbers to use for addition. It was like counting money. My dad taught me how to do that when we had the restaurant and I needed to know how to make change.

Oh,and by the by, the computers the children have are wonderful. Each child has an 81/2x 11 lap-top they use for almost all classes. When not in use, the devices live in a row hooked up to chargers like piglets getting nourishment from their mamas. Each child has a sign-in, bar-coded card. They are learning to watch their batteries to see that they don’t get too low. One little girl is so proficient that she helps the others. Another was savvy enough to be able to help the volunteer…me.

Photo credit Pixabay

 

The teacher, instead of writing on a black, green, or whiteboard, projects videos from her computer on her desk. The biology video was lovely. Over the years our country has had questions and fears about sex education in schools. In this second-grade classroom it’s just a part of science, which most of the children seem to love. It explains the stages of life in ways they can understand. Some of the children are becoming aware of plants and the workings of nature by watching them. MS. Conner says one child is making progress faster because her mother selects nature videos at home. If there’s anything our country needs more than any other thing it is more scientists of all kinds.

 

Photo credit Pixabay

 

Conner is patient with the children. She only raises her voice when the children are not paying attention in class. She always calls them her friends and compliments them on the things they do right. A few of the children require extra patience and understanding. That has probably been true all through history, but perhaps a bit more so today. To quiet them,she says, “Catch a bubble,” and they puff out their cheeks. They can’t talk or yell with their cheeks puffed out. She explains quietly that her friends must not speak out of turn, whine, or fight. Over and over she calms them with her voice. She is so patient I wonder whether or not she ever loses it.

 

Photo credit Pixabay

 

When we went outside for recess, MS. Conner had a new toy. It was a parachute big enough for several children to get under. Two of them took hold of the handles and made it fly up and come back down over them.  They all loved it. One second-grader had on a tee shirt that said, “Be Happy, Be Brave, Be You.”

*not MS. Conner’s real name

 

 

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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School Days Again-Five

26 Nov

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

Another week passed and I found a note inmy email from a second-grade teacher who wanted to know if I would like to come and work with her class. Fortunately,the FBI had accepted me. A few more emails and I was promised to second grade.

 

Photo Credit  Pixabay

At the corner where you turn in at the school, a group of teens with all kinds of percussion instruments tapped out a lively beat. It felt like a personal welcome, but I soon learned that it was walk to school day and the young players had come from the High School to encourage children and parents as they arrived.

Inside, I got lost the minute I stepped into the room next to the office, but there was someone to escort me around the maze of octagonal buildings. Even then I ended up in the wrong second-grade classroom. When I walked into the roomful of children I met a pretty blond teacher in a red dress. She asked what I had volunteered for and when I told her reading, she said, “Oh couldn’t you come yet another day and help us too?” Suddenly, I had a strong urge to cry. It was a coming-home kind of crying because at last,I was where I needed to be. I told the teacher how I felt and she said, “I feel that way every day.” Later I wondered if she was being funny or serious. Either way, I enjoyed the interchange.

Photo Credit  Pixabay

At first, my assigned teacher failed to understand that I was there only to help the children learn to read. At any rate, my real goal was to read one-on-one with as many kids as I could from eight o’clock in the morning until their early lunchtime at eleven thirty.They gave me a large, empty room to work in.

Photo Credit  Pixabay

The first reader, a small ebony boy with shiny golden eyes wiggled in his chair like a puppy and we immediately became buddies. His favorite book was about planting seeds and growing things. I imagined that someday his old grandfather,if he had one, would teach him how to grow a garden. When he left, another child came, then another—three in all.

                               Photo Credit  Pixabay

 

 

 

Back in the classroom,  it was time for the science video and teaching session. After that we all went out on the playground for recess. When we got back at math-time I told the teacher quietly, “I don’t do math,” and she excused me.

I got lost halfway back to the office but there’s always someone to show you the way. As I started the car I counted my blessings. I can’t wait to go again.

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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Thea and the Porch Crisis

19 Nov

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

 

 

Dictated by Thea (two years old)

Typed by DiVoran

Florida, November, 2018

 

Thea says:

I spy a squirrel on the swaying branches

Of an African Daisy bush

Eating with tiny paws.

He chomps down on a yellow petal.

 

Photo by Pixabay

I must have dozed off, for suddenly

I hear a frightful pounding on the roof

It’s Squirrely 1, chasing Squirrely 2.

They squirrel-fly onto the tallow tree.

 

Photo by Pixabay

 

Photo by Pixabay

 

Floating leaves catch my eye.

Squirrel brothers tight-rope-circus-walk across the power line.

 

Today:

Something terrible…

I asked to be let out

WOMAN opens the door

It’s ssooo cold on the porch.

 

“I’m going to make my bed.” Woman says.

I try to find a warm place,

But when WOMAN comes back

I streak into the house.

 

WOMAN picks me up for a hug.

I hate to be picked up and hugged,

But WOMAN does feel warm.

I wiggle to be let down,

 

Purr-meow and prowl aroun’.

Rub my cheek on her shoe.

Murmur my song, “leettmee owt.”

WOMAN lets me out again

 

 

It’s still cold

WOMAN turns on heat in the house

Why can’t WOMAN heat the porch?

For mmee. Pleeze?

 

WOMAN lets me out once more.

Then I’m in again for a second

Then begging with

White paws on her knee.

 

Looking into her squinty eyes with

My round, yellow-green ones.

When I stare at her

WOMAN can read my mind.

 

But, she says no. I pout and purr,

But I know no and soon obey.

Find a rattle mouse to play.

And the next day:

 

MAN makes a box shelter and

WOMAN puts me inside and holds my tail until I

Feel the warmth of my furry body fill it up.

“Wait here,” Man says, “until God sends a spotlight

For you to bask in the rest of the day.

 

Photo by Pixabay

 

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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School Days Again 4

12 Nov

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

I waited two full weeks to hear about my acceptance as a certified school volunteer..

 

Photo by Charles Deluvio 🇵🇭🇨🇦 on Unsplash

 

At the beginning of the third week, I was thinking I should ask somebody. I called the School Board and they said, “Yep, you’re good to go.” You can go over to the school right now and start.”

I didn’t want to go over there, “right now.” I had no idea where to go or what to do. I wanted to know the next step. I called the school and the woman there connected me to the voice mail of the volunteer coordinator. I left a message, but she never got back to me, I believe it was because they have just made changes in the phone system there.

The next day the School Board left a message on our phone telling me my fingerprints had been rejected and we had to do them over, no expense to me. So I wasn’t good to go after all.

Before that day came, I talked with a friend from our church’s Book Chat. She is a volunteer at the library with the very impressive background of having been a research librarian herself. I asked about her fourth-grade grand-daughter who is brilliant. The last time we talked, the granddaughter was doing virtual school, but it wasn’t right for her she was way ahead. Next,they tried a charter school. The granddaughter got the only slot, and she began to succeed. She loved her teachers and they loved her. My friend, the grandmother, said she had volunteered to work in the media center where her granddaughter attended, but they didn’t need any more help, not even from a certified research librarian.

Today I went back to have my fingerprints done again. When I told the receptionist I was back for the second time she got everybody hustling to tend to me. I’d been told not to use hand sanitizer but to wear lotion on my finger-tips. I had done that, but when I got to the computer every one of my prints were labeled, poor quality again. The finger-print taker said she would send them to the FBI and if they were rejected again, she would ask for a name check. I guess that meant an FBI background check. I was feeling more and more important, not discouraged at all. Hmm, certififed and approved by the FBI. I was coming up in the world.

 

Photo by Corinne Kutz on Unsplash

 

 

 

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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