Lucille Joyner the Author

My mother has been gone a long time, and strangely enough, after all these years, I miss her from the dept of my soul.. I suddenly miss having someone care whether I ate or not. There is nothing like a mother's love and concern. We take her for grantd when we have her. The ime comes when you'ew old and alone in life and no one cares whether you're eating properly or getting enough rest. THO' I'm old enough to be a grandmother, I suddenly missed having a mother making a fuss over me. Maybe this is what happens when yoo're in your second childhood, but it sure feels read.

This computer has no sound.

I put a very short story on The Writers Market and I can't find it again. It disappeaared. Do you think it got deleted?

I put a very short story on The Writers Market (here)and can't find it again. Where did it go? Was it erased?

I came across a short piece I wrote over 10 yrs ago and thought I'd send it to you.
Blacky
It was already dark when I arrived home and found the note on my door: "We are sorry to have to tell you that your black cat was killed y a car in front of our house. You will find him by our curb"
With my pocket flashlight, I could see that they had placed his body on a wooden slab and adorned his head with flowers. Very thoughtful neighbors, but it didn't ease the blow of the tragedy.
My son came home to the bad news and together we wrapped the body for burial and found a suitable coffin. We dreaded breaking the news to my daughter as it was really HER cat.
She took it pretty hard and cried before, duringg, and after our mini-funeral that was held out back by the light of the silvery moon.
After the last bit of dirt was thrown on the grave, we trudged slowly back to the house single file, heads and shoulders bent, crushed by the blow of our pet's untimely death. We neded to be together to talk and share treasured moments with each other.
"He was so good."
"Best cat ever"'
"Yeah."
" Remember the way he used to hide in paper bags?"
"And nap in the bathroom sink

There was a faint stirring in my heart to visit the quaint white country-like church where my late husband had been elder and where I had enjoyed many memorable experiences. I felt a slight trepidation the Sunday I pulled into the church parking lot after so long an absence. I could feel the memories of the past welling up in me as I slipped through the ground floor side door. I wondered how many times I had ascended these stairs to the foyer in the ten years I attended this Church.
Entering the sanctuary was like stepping back in time. I sat in my old pew, center left, and looked around. Nothing had changed. It was the same bare windows and walls, the same bland industrial carpeting, the same worn oak pews, the same unadorned altar—more like a stage. Yet something was different, like visiting your old familiar neighborhood, but your old house was now filled by strangers.

Memories
In my three-year absence, major changes had occurred. The elderly Pastor, who was loved and respected by all, had retired after many years of unblemished service. He had sensed for a long time that with the influx of young families to the church, an old bachelor pastor like himself was not a suitable role model. I learned that he turned the pulpit over to his youth pastor who was married and the father of two small children, a picture perfect leadership. As always, the kindly old pastor had the interest of his growing congregation at heart.
Sitting there alone, I thought about my close friend, Karen, who invited me to this church thirteen years earlier. She wanted me to hear a charismatic evangelist with a message of Healing and Deliverance. I’m not sure what I believed at the time, but every time I saw my doctor, he would feel the swollen nodule on my thyroid and say, “You’d better get that thing out.” And my stock answer was, “You’d have to catch me first.” With sole support of two small children, no medical, and no savings, there was no way I could even get away to have this operation. At this point, it was the healing Evangelist or nothing. So I went, and after a dynamic sermon, he invited those who wanted healing to go through the door on the right. I went.
The Healing line was fairly long, so when I finally got to him, I kept it brief. He asked, “What seems to be the problem?” and I pointed to my neck and answered, “Thyroid.” With this, he lunged at my neck, cast the lump out, and sent it to the deepest sea. This deliverance was so loud and unexpected that there was no doubt in my mind that anything that didn’t belong in my neck would have no choice but to jump out to avoid another bombastic shout.
Strangely enough, all my tests from then on, right up to the present registered normal. After this, I began attending Karen’s church where she played organ. In time, I played piano across from her in front of the altar. Because the old Pastor was a high energy person who loved to sing, the music was upbeat and lively. I remember the beautiful worship, the miracles, and the answered prayers. It was a good time in my life, despite my personal hardships.

Karen

Karen was spiritually gifted. When we prayed, her faith transported us to the very throne of God. Never before had I experienced such a deep level of spirituality where you are no longer in the physical realm, but become pure spirit. At this level, she would prophesy things to come in my life. Her positive prophesies were what I needed to hear at the time. The financial struggle to support my children and keep from losing the house was more than I could bear. I often felt like I was on a flimsy raft in the middle of the ocean during a storm . . . always one step away from drowning. I needed something to get through life, and Karen brought me to this safe haven during my crisis.
A few years later, Karen was my Matron of Honor when I married an elder in that church. She and her husband were by my side seven years after that when my husband was killed by a drunk driver. I remembered that earlier that year, he said, “I don’t think I’m going to live very long.” This startled me, as he was only 48 and had no life-threatening disorder. There were other strange occurrences. That year four people told me that I would be a widow, including a relative who repeated what my own mother said, that my husband wouldn’t be around by the end of the year. Even Karen said that God would take him to be His own, but we did not interpret it as death at the time. We turned it around to mean a special ministry for him.
My husband always claimed that he never dreamed, but just before the accident, he had a dream that was so vivid, it woke him up and he wrote it down on a piece of junk mail. I still have it. It was an eerie description of the accident that was to come.

The Prophetic Land

It was at my husband’s wake that a group from the Little White Church came to pay their respects, and Karen, sitting to my left, pointed to an elderly couple in that group and said, “You will inherit their property within two years. When I heard the word “inherit” I immediately thought “death.” I was already overwhelmed to be at my husband’s wake and I couldn’t handle the thought of anyone else dying. I remember turning my head and asking her, “Why?” I couldn’t imagine why anyone, strangers, would give me their property.
When my husband died, we had been living four years in a 2-storey, 4-bedroom Colonial, with a large attached recreation room that led to a medical building that was basically a small ranch house where the doctor had his practice for many years. My children were now older and I no longer needed the big house. It was logical that I would move into the smaller building, and rent out the large house. My children were growing up and my piano business had expanded, but I felt alone.
When I decided to visit the Little White Church, I may have been reaching into the past for a future. Perhaps I was looking for another Karen, as she had moved to another state. I never dreamed that this innocent visit to the church would be so far-reaching and turn my life upside down. It showed me a strength that I never knew I had.
My reveries while sitting alone in the sanctuary were abruptly ended by shuffling feet as people began coming in and filling the pews around me. I didn’t recognize anyone with the exception of perhaps two of them, my friend Mary’s children. I later learned that when the retired pastor left the church, the older members encouraged him to start his own little church, so all the older members migrated to his new church, leaving this one for the young newcomers. In only three-short years, I was now a visiting stranger in a church that had, at one time, been my home away from home.

The New Pastor

This is the beginning of what I think has he makings of a book,
But I'll leave that opinion up to anyone who reads this. By the way,
this beginning sounds like it's a church story, but it isn't. IT's just that while in this church I met the Chief Elder who was to become the person who set out to destroy me, and many episodes and sub-stories happen that leads me to running for Mayor. I would be interested in hearing opinions of my writing and the intricate story. Oh, If anyone becomes interested in the story, I will send the rest.

The latest nuisance call is about insurance for your end time. your funeral & burial.The secret is that the cutoff age for this insurance is 85. So while they are deep into thei spiel, if you cut in and say loudly, "STOP Don't waste your time! I'm 90!" With no apology, they'll hang up in your face. As rude as they are, remember, they're doing you a favor hanging up. Just feel happy about it. You've won!

I got a scam call from a tel no. that I traced to Huntsville, Alabama. I called the Huntsville police and reported the scam. Why is someone in Alabama looking for older people to call in another state? Why don't these scammers get a job and maybe earn a living? I'm sure the police will do nothing about my call, but it made me feel better. ps he didn't get a cent from me. H wanted me to bring #1,300 to Walgreen or CVS & get a receipt. Then he planned to come to my house to pick up the receipt and hand me 5 million dollars. I DID NOT DO THIS, SO I DIDN'T LOSE ANY MONEY. THANKS TO THE PEOPLE WHO CARED ENOUGH TO WARN US ALL BEFOREHAND.

After I helped a neighbor with a complaint about his rabbits, I put

the following Letter To The Editor in the paper:
Dear Editor, A favorable decision was handed down by the judge
in regards to the rabbit issue. It marks the end of a long, HARE-
RAISING ordeal that I am sure TORTOISE all a lesson. However, from
the start I had a HUTCH that the rabbits would win the race.
I'm sure the complainers were HOPPING mad, but the rabbit
owners said that maybe they'll LETTUCE alone, now.
For some reaseon, a lawyer loved this letter and posted it
on the wall in his office. He was so proud to show me, but I
was a little embarrassed.

Thank God, my new car came and my old one is sold. The only issue left is getting a cat. When you're old and looking for a cat, Animal Rescue People are concerned with what will happen to the cat if you should die. Is anyone worrying about what happens to the old person should the cat die first?

At one time, I lived in a split level house andI had

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I, Lucille Joyner, am thinking of learning how to blog. What do you think about it?