His simple question hit me hard. The eight clues I’d written for Andrew’s little treasure hunt were the first words I’d actually written in months. I’d found every excuse imaginable to avoid real writing, the kind of writing that could help me earn an income.
I walked to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I was a single woman, flop artist. I’d gained fifteen pounds since I’d quit my job. I felt brain dead. I knew that writing silly little treasure hunt clues for my seventh-grader was not what the good Lord had in mind when He gave me the ability to write.
I knew I had to get back in shape physically, mentally, spiritually and professionally. On the white message board next to the front door, I wrote five lines in bold, black marker:
FIVE MILES, FIVE DAYS
FIVE GLASSES OF WATER
FIVE MINUTES OF SCRIPTURE
FIVE ARTICLES TO READ A DAY
FIVE ARTICLES MAILED EACH WEEK
It was my prescription for my new career and my new life. I would ride my exercise bike five miles a day, Monday through Friday. I would drink at least five glasses of water a day to flush out all the sugary foods I’d been eating and to help get my body back in shape. I would start each morning with five minutes of scripture or prayer. I’d been meaning to read the Psalms, one by one, for years. Now I would do it. If I kept the Bible on the kitchen counter, I knew I’d pick it up and start reading each morning.
I needed to catch up on reading and turn off the TV. Books, magazines and newspapers were stacked on my coffee table, abandoned in favor of those ridiculous TV talk shows. My new promises to myself included reading at least five articles or chapters each day, especially the ones in my professional writer’s magazines.
And finally, five manuscripts in the mail each week meant that I had to get busy in my writing room every single day. I had to write. I had to rewrite and rework articles, stories and essays that I’d written in previous years and get them in shape to send to editors. My goal was to rewrite old pieces or write new ones to the tune of at least five a week and then put them in the mail to editors.
By the end of the next week I’d put a dozen manuscripts in the mail, some newly written, some I was trying to sell as reprints. I started writing more and searching for new markets on a daily basis.
I even started dressing for work. My new routine consisted of breakfast, reading and finishing my second cup of tea by 9:00 a.m., riding my exercise bike at least five miles (and often seven or eight) a day, showering, getting dressed (no pajamas allowed at work!) and being on the job in my writing room by 10:00 a.m. each weekday morning.
I still had time for a treasure hunt with Andrew every once in a while, but my five-step plan taught me that I had a lot more to share with him when he came in the door at 4:00 p.m. than silly treasure hunt clues. My own treasure hunt for more structured, more successful, work-at-home writing so far has reaped six books, dozens of newly published articles and stories, a syndicated column and a speaking career to boot. But the best part of all is the knowledge that who I am is truly based on what I do with the talent God has given me. And what I do is write. Every day.
~Patricia Lorenz
A Match Made in Heaven
No friendship is an accident.
~O. Henry
When my copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul: A Tribute to Moms arrived in the mail I tore open the wrapper and hugged it tight as if it were my mother in the flesh. I knew it was as close as I was going to get. Mom was gone four years by 2008 when this particular Chicken Soup for the Soul book was published. Having one of my favorite stories about her, “The Autumn Leaves of Summer,” nestled between the front and back covers rated pretty high on my threshold for thrills.
That afternoon I settled down in a comfy chair with a pot of tea and a few ginger snaps at my side. Then I set about the delicious task of devouring every story. I’d hardly gotten started when I came across a tale entitled “Tea for Two,” by Terri Elders. At age six, a case of chicken pox prevented Terri from cavorting about the neighborhood with her siblings and other assorted ghosts and goblins on Halloween. The prospect of Terri having any Halloween fun at all seemed grim indeed. Terri’s lovely and kindhearted mother, who understood all too well the disappointment of a sick little girl on the second most popular kid holiday of the year, came to the rescue. With a few props and a little imagination, Terri’s mother turned a spoiled Halloween into an enchanting tea party for two, creating a treasured memory for Terri.
I related to Terri’s story in a big way. For me the culprit was a case of measles that left me banished to bed on my seventh birthday, and far away from my first grade classroom where cupcakes and schoolyard games had been planned to celebrate my big day. I passed the hours alternating between naps and intense bouts of disappointment. All the while my resourceful and sympathetic mother, using a few props and a little imagination, created the most astonishing hobbyhorse carousel birthday cake you could ever imagine. It was quite a delightful surprise for a feverish forlorn kid and to this day remains a cherished memory.
By the time I’d finished Terri’s story I felt compelled to contact her. The portrait of her mother that Terri had painted with words was exquisite and so vividly reminded me of my own sweet mother that I wanted to meet Terri, even if only via e-mail. So I flipped to the back of the book and found Terri’s biography notes, which included her e-mail address. And so it began.
I sent my first e-mail to Terri Elders in January 2008 explaining who I was and how much I appreciated her story. Terri responded the same day. We chatted about the similarities our mothers shared and how much we revered and missed them. I told Terri that even though her mother and mine had never met I suspected that somewhere in heaven they’d become good friends.
That was five years ago. We’ve been corresponding almost daily since. Though our shared passion for writing is a big part of our relationship, and brought us together from the start, it is not the core of our friendship. Somewhere along the way we found other common ground — the love of a tasty yet undeniably simple recipe, a properly made dry martini, a well written novel, a common dislike for household chores, all things penned by Lennon and McCartney, chocolate-covered . . . anything, and any project whatsoever that Johnny Depp has seen fit to make his own. The ties that bind Terri and I stretch across three thousand miles and almost twenty years difference between her age and mine.
It’s not all fun and games though. When Terri’s late husband was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer that progressed quickly, we communicated several times a day. I shared her anguish and sorrow at seeing Ken suffer and rapidly slip away. And likewise when my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago, Terri was there every day to listen to my fears, support me and share our joy when my sister emerged victorious over cancer.
Still we are not without our differences. Terri is outgoing and always on the move. I am a self-proclaimed recluse. Sometimes just reading her schedule exhausts me. Terri is a world traveler. I am always happiest in my own back yard. I am into crafts in a big way. Terri — well I’ve explained a hot glue gun to her three times now and she still doesn’t get it. Terri will be taking classes until she draws her last breath. I can’t even think of the word “school” without breaking out in a sweat. Yes, we differ to a great degree but that is part of what keeps things interesting between us.
Terri, a lifelong fan of Charles Dickens came east last year to Philadelphia where she celebrated the 200th anniversary of his birth with the Philadelphia chapter of the Charles Dickens Fellowship. After all the e-mails, greeting cards, and Christmas surprises that have crossed between us, Terri and I finally met in February of 2012. It was a grand event celebrated with good food, good wine and plenty of laughter.
The story “Tea for Two” has made a remarkable impact on my life because it led to a wonderful and lasting friendship. I’d like to think Terri’s mother and mine had a hand in drawing us together and who’s to say they didn’t? However it came about, I’m awfully g
lad I opened the book and found “Tea for Two,” the story that brought me my dear friend and writing companion Terri Elders. It is truly a match made in heaven.
~Annmarie B. Tait
Tea for Two
Every problem has a gift for you in its hands.
~Richard Bach
My sequined purple princess costume remained in its tissue paper wrappings on the top shelf of my bedroom closet, as I perched in my pink flannel pajamas on the window seat, peering out the bay window at the neighborhood witches, ghosts, and cowboys scurrying by.
On October 31, 1944, we didn’t expect any knocks at our front door, festooned not with the jack-o’-lantern cutout I had made in my first-grade classroom the week before, but with a stark black-and-white quarantine sign that shouted, “Contagious Disease, Chicken Pox!”
Daddy had taken my unaffected older sister and little brother to Grandma’s house for a party earlier that evening, leaving Mama and me home alone. I had finished reading all the stories in the newest edition of Children’s Activities, tired of cutting out paper dolls from the old Sears catalog, and longed to be outside. Mama had promised me a special treat, but I couldn’t imagine what could replace the thrill of joining the troops of children wandering door-to-door in the autumn twilight with their rapidly filling pillowcases. No Hershey bars, candied apples, or popcorn balls for me this year. I don’t care, I told myself, because though the itching had ceased, I had yet to regain my appetite anyway.
I heard Mama turn on the radio in the kitchen, and then heard her call to me, “Time to get dressed!”
Glancing down at my pajamas, I wondered what she could mean, but scooted off my seat and trudged to the kitchen. On the back of one of the chrome dinette chairs hung Mama’s fur chubby, a kind of short jacket that represented the essence of elegance to me those days. I used to love to watch Mama get dressed for special evenings, in her chiffon dresses always topped by the chubby.
“Put it on,” she said, pointing to the jacket. “We are going to play tea party, and I am going to be the hostess, while you will be my guest.” She draped a string of pearls around my neck, as I shrugged into the jacket. I noticed that the table had been set with her best Blue Willow cups and saucers, and that an empty platter had been placed next to the toaster.
Though I could not venture all the way out, Mama opened the door a crack so I could at least knock on the outside, right below the Quarantine sign. “Oh, Miss Terri, it’s so good of you to call this evening. It’s tea time,” she announced. “And even though you are my guest, I’m going to ask you to make the meal, since you have such a special touch with cinnamon toast.”
I’d seen the bakery truck make its delivery earlier, and had wondered what had been left on our doorstep. Now Mama opened the breadbox and pulled out a loaf of sliced raisin bread. She placed the sugar bowl, the butter dish, and the red tin of cinnamon on the counter, and lifted the chubby from my shoulders. Then she opened her Searchlight Recipe Book to page forty-four, handed me the yellow plastic measuring spoon set, and said, “Let’s see how you do reading that recipe.”
I was the best reader in my class, so I stumbled only on “substitute” and “proportion” as I read aloud the instructions.
“Cinnamon Toast: Spread freshly toasted bread with butter or butter substitute. Spread generously with sugar and cinnamon which have been blended in the proportion of one teaspoon cinnamon to a half of cup sugar.”
While I watched the raisin bread brown in our two-sided toaster, Mama put her tea kettle on to boil, and told me a story about the birds on the Blue Willow china. She said that an angry Chinese father had been trying to catch his daughter who was running away with a boyfriend. Before he could catch them, they had been transformed into birds and flew away together. I rubbed my finger across the birds on the saucer. “When you grow up, your father won’t chase away your boyfriends,” she said with a little laugh. “And now that you’re learning to cook, it won’t be too much longer before you are grown up for every day, not just for Halloween.” I smiled. It was true. I was learning to cook.
Though I hadn’t been hungry all day long, the smell of the cinnamon sugar seemed to reawaken my appetite, and I ate my entire slice and half of Mama’s, and even managed a swallow or two of my milk tea. When my sister returned later that evening with the candied apples that Grandma had sent, I accepted one, but insisted I wasn’t really hungry, since I had cooked and eaten a meal earlier.
Mama’s prediction came true, too, as I became engaged just a dozen years later. And at my wedding shower in 1955, she presented me with a black leatherette bound Searchlight Recipe Book. I turn the yellowed pages today to page forty-four, and again recall the delicious aroma of cinnamon toast as I remember the year that trick or treat became tea for two.
~Terri Elders
Meet Our Contributors
Debbie Acklin is a frequent contributor to the Chicken Soup for the Soul series. She loves to network with other authors and travel with her family. Wish her luck as she expands her writing career with an attempt at a first novel.
Kathleene S. Baker and husband Jerry reside in Plano, TX with three pooches: Hank, Samantha and Abby. She has contributed to many publications, anthologies and writes regularly for Southern Tour Magazine and Frank Talk magazine. And she is a co-creator of the Not Your Mother’s Book anthology series. Learn more at www.txyellowrose.com.
Teri Batts is a Christian published author and has been married for thirty-seven years with two sons, three beautiful granddaughters and another grandbaby on the way. Teri writes true-life short stories, poems, political opinion and blogs. Her writing style includes a sense of humor that will keep you coming back.
Carole A. Bell is a licensed professional counselor. Her ministry is helping families become what God wants them to be. She writes, speaks, and consults about parenting issues. Since 1999, she has written a weekly Christian parenting column for the Plainview Daily Herald. Read her blog at www.ParentingfromtheSource.com.
Valerie D. Benko is a Communications Specialist from western Pennsylvania. She is a frequent contributor to the Chicken Soup for the Soul series and other anthologies and journals, such as Not Your Mother’s Book and Recovering the Self: A Journal of Hope and Healing.
Rocky Bleier of Appleton, WI graduated from Notre Dame, was drafted by the Pittsburgh Steelers, was drafted again by Uncle Sam and sent to Vietnam. He was severely wounded in his legs and feet; overcame his injuries, rejoined the Steelers and played twelve seasons, winning four Super Bowls and rushing for a thousand yards in one season.
Ginny Dent Brant is an educator, counselor, writer, soloist, Christian speaker and Bible teacher who resides with her husband Alton in Clemson, SC. She is the author of Finding True Freedom: From the White House to the World, which was endorsed by Chuck Colson. For more info go to www.ginnybrant.com.
Sally Willard Burbank has practiced medicine for over twenty years in Nashville. She is the married mother of two college students. She is seeking publication for three completed novels and she has written a book and a blog about her humorous and touching experiences as a doctor: patientswewillneverforget.wordpress.com.
Jim C., Jr. LCSW’s sobriety date is 11-1-84. He has a master’s degree in social work from University of Maryland and has been in the addiction treatment field for twenty-seven years. Jim’s private practice includes working with impaired physicians, PA’s, pharmacists and professional athletes. He has two beautiful daughters, Katie and Emily!
Maisha C. is a high school student who immigrated to the USA at the age of eight. She hopes to someday become a successful writer. Some of her other favorite activities are ice-skating, painting, and reading. Maisha wants to inspire other girls (or women) to stand up for their rights.
Hana Haatainen Caye, speaker and writing instructor, is agency principal for Speechless, a copywriting and voice-over business in Pittsburgh. With over twenty-five children’s books published, she is an award-winning poet and author of short stories. Hana’s non-
fiction book, Vinegar Fridays, evolved from her blog, Green Grandma. Learn more at www.wordsinyourmouth.com.
Emily Parke Chase is the author of six books, including Help! My Family’s Messed Up (Kregel, 2008). When not writing, Emily speaks at writers’ conferences and women’s retreats. She has blogged extensively about her cousin’s woodworking skills at her website. Visit her at emilychase.com.
Jane McBride Choate has dreamed of being a writer since she was in grade school. After marrying, she started banging out stories on an ancient typewriter. She’s since upgraded to a laptop. Being published in the Chicken Soup for the Soul series is a dream come true.
Carol Commons-Brosowske is a native Texan. She has been married to the love of her life, Jim, for thirty-nine years. They have three children and four dogs. Carol would love to have more. Dogs, not children. Besides writing, she loves quilting. She writes a weekly column for a national magazine.
Michele Ivy Davis lives in Southern California where she is a freelance writer. Her stories and articles have appeared in a variety of magazines, newspapers, and law enforcement publications. Her debut young-adult novel, Evangeline Brown and the Cadillac Motel, won national and international awards. Visit her at www.MicheleIvyDavis.com.
Drema Sizemore Drudge is an MFA student at Spalding University and has been published in The Louisville Review, Chicken Soup for the Soul, ATG, Mother Earth News, Penumbra, and other publications. She is currently working on a novel inspired by a recent trip to Paris. Contact her at http://dremadrudge.wordpress.com.
Terri Elders, LCSW, lives near Colville, WA, with two inspirational dogs and three narcissistic cats. Seventy-five of her stories have appeared in anthology series, including several Chicken Soup for the Soul books. She can be friended on Facebook and contacted via e-mail at [email protected].
Sandy Ezrine died in 2002. Her bio as it appeared in 1996 listed her as an author, trainer and management consultant. For twenty years she had worked with foundations, universities, federal agencies and private corporations. Sandy specialized in organizational development, employee motivation and problem solving.
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