Everyone agrees it came too soon

Uh, well, hello. *dusts off old blog* I am happy to say that I am alive, despite evidence to the contrary (as in, months of absolute inactivity). I'm not quite sure what this post should be about, though, as I'm not very creative anymore.

You see, much like my woeful predictions about two or three posts ago (weird, that, since it's practically been a lifetime since then), I have come down with cancer. Nobody that is already following this blog is surprised by that (yes, all two of you -- I really need to be more exciting). Since I've kind of had this diagnosis since, oh, February. That's one of the reasons I haven't posted lately.

I could always just post a bunch of random facts about myself. That could make a good blog post. (I'm really bad at these. Did you know?)

I'm now pretty good at opening pill bottles. I used to not be able to do it. But I've figured out the trick, and how to do it without injuring my wrists too much, so I'm pretty cool.

Still can't brush my teeth neatly, though. I always make a mess. You'd think an adult would be able to ... well, I can't.

...

Apparently, there are only two random facts about me that I feel inclined to tell. I mean, I do have the 25 Randoms posted over on Facebook. But I was trying to think of new things. New and exciting things that would make this blog worthwhile again.

Because if I'm not careful, this could be the very last post ever, and so far I'd call it less than stellar. In fact, that is what I call it. I'm lookin' at it and thinkin', you are so less than stellar. Too bad your author is so not smart or creative anymore. Then you could really shine or something.

One thing that I have noticed is that I'm a bit more random. First round of chemo when I was at about this point (recovery, but still kinda too sick to move) I messaged a girl named Celeste that I'd never talked to before in my life and pretty much spilled my entire guts on her. I mean, not exactly. I just really needed her help and preferred to talk to her, who I've at least seen in my life, than, hmm, other people I could think of that could assist me, but who would probably me more alarmed since I pretty much ... don't know them. And I wanted to remain on good terms with the girl I pestered... Back in the day when I still cared about the impression I was making on people.

Where was I? Nowhere good. Oh dear. This is just what I did not hope to see in my resurrection blog post. I think I'm going to edit a couple sentences in that last paragraph, maybe nix a name or two...

How would you like to see some writing of mine? Back from 2006, from my Bible fanfiction class. I mean, my Bible as Literature class that I just happened to create an assignment to write fanfiction for. Did that sentence make sense? I can't tell. So I wrote like 5 stories, and I would like to share with you a shortish one. Just to give this post some substance other than cancerous ramblings. Chemotherapical ramblings. Whatever.

I would remind you that I wrote this back in 2006 (and if you think this is bad, you should see my attempt at humor).

This story is entitled "A Mother's Smile" and takes place in the years before the story of Jael in Judges 4-5.

A Mother’s Smile

Sisera was very small when he found that he was in love with his mother’s smile.

It was a smile that she reserved just for him when, that first morning, he brought her a pretty stone.

“Oh, my son!” she exclaimed, and Sisera was amazed at how her face lit up. “What a pretty thing you have brought me! I shall wear it.”

He watched her face as she placed the green stone against her robe. The light in her eyes entranced him. He was devastated when she stopped smiling. Sisera wanted, somehow, more than anything, to bring that smile back.

Other stones and desert blooms soon found their way into his mother’s lap, and Sisera was rewarded in just the way he preferred, but as time went on his desire for that smile grew into an obsession; he wanted it there all the time.

One day young Sisera saw the most beautiful fragment of cloth wrapped round the head of one of those Israelite girls. He knew his mother would love it.

“Hey,” he said. “I want your headscarf.”

The girl just looked back at him with wide, firghtened eyes, backing away. Sisera wondered if she’d heard he was a favorite for the military. His mother liked to tell everyone how she dreamed he’d grow up to be commander of the king’s army. But that was beside the point. If she was scared of him, it was all the more reason to give him that green fabric.

“Give it to me!” Sisera said angrily, reaching out for the girl.

“No, it’s mine!” the girl cried, clearly terrified. She turned to run away, but Sisera tripped her and put his foot on her back so she couldn’t move.

He reached down and whipped off her headscarf, causing her long braid to flail limply. The vulnerability of the black rope strangely excited the boy. He pulled out his knife and roughly hacked off the end of the girl’s braid.

“Let that teach you to disobey me,” he said viciously, moving away so the girl could get up. “Be glad I didn’t chop off all your hair – or a finger!” he called as the girl stumbled away, sobbing.

Satisfied, Sisera pocketed the bit of hair and ran to show his mother his new present for her. She went into such ecstasies it was amazing and very pleasing to her son. Even when she tucked him in and got him some milk, the light in her eyes was still there.

“You have made me proud, my son,” she said, stroking his forehead. “What a man you’ll be.”

<*>

Years passed, and Sisera fulfilled his mother’s dream and became commander of King Jabin’s army. His lack of respect for Israelites – and his tendency to claim trophies from his victories – did not make him popular with them, and there had recently come word of a rebellion led by Barak and assisted by their “judge” Deborah.

“I’ll be back soon,” Sisera assured his mother, kissing her farewell. “It’s time to break these Israelites once and for all.”

“Well, make me proud, son,” his mother replied.

“You can count on it.”

...Yep. I was proud of that. I also did such a good job on my Alternate Universe story (what if meshach, shadrach, and abednego had bowed down to worship the gold statue? Or, you know, one of them) that my mom used it in a talk. But it's kinda long, and I'm not a huge fan of the writing style. It's the concept, I think.

I think that's enough from me for today. Happy Spring!

"Say Uncle" ~ Vienna Teng