WRITE 2 THE HEART
             Stories that are aimed "Write 2 the Heart"
                             November 2, 2004
         Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator @ write2theheart.com


     Welcome to your latest issue of "Write 2 the Heart." All new
subscribers will receive a free downloadable copy of the e-
cookbook, "Write 2 the Heart of the Chocolate Lover." To join,
send an e-mail with subscribe written in the subject line to:
subscribe-me @ write2theheart.com.


     Take a moment to browse our new bookstore at:
http://www.write2theheart.com/html/book_store.html
You will find books written by, or that include stories by many of
our talented writers. You will also find books that aide the budding
writer. I highly recommend “Sally Stuart’s Christian Writers’
Guide,” It is a must have for all serious Christian writers. It’s a
great tool to find that perfect market for your writing. It would
make a great gift for the writer in your life.


     Remember that special place you had when you were a child?
To this day, the thought of it brings a smile to your face and a
longing to visit it once more.
 
                           The Secret Room
                         By Pamela Jenkins

     There was a special room in my grandparent's house. My
brother and I called it the Secret Room.

     Sundays at my grandparents' home offered my mother a chance
to keep in touch with her family.  My mother and her sisters
brought dishes of food and busied themselves in the kitchen,
talking and sharing as they cooked. My father and the rest of the
male members of the family would gather in the living room or on
the front porch in the shade of the elm trees. They talked of
fishing, camping and hunting, occasionally sneaking into the
kitchen to check on the progress of the food. 

     After listening to the adults talk for a while, I would wander
back through the house to my uncle Dave's room.  It was still very
much the way Dave left it when he moved out. His high school
yearbook sat on a nightstand, and a few of his clothes still hung in
the closet. Behind those carefully hung clothes was the most
fascinating room of the house.

     The closet was long and connected to the bedroom behind it.
Ducking under the hangers loaded with shirts and jeans, I would
kneel down on my hands and knees.  I would crawl through the
darkness, over old shoes and boxes, to the closet door at the other
end.

     That door opened into the furthest back room of the old house, a
forgotten bedroom used only for storage now that all the children
were grown. The bedroom door itself would no longer open all the
way because the room was so full of furniture and boxes of
discarded items. Whose room it had been originally, I never knew. 
Over the years, it had become a catchall for an assortment of items
no longer useful.

     The bed was a mountainous stack made from four mattresses. 
Clamoring to the top, I could peek unseen out the windows at my
cousins playing in the yard. I spent hours pouring through stacks
of old school books and magazines, reading the same pages my
mother and grandmother had read in years past. Small, round
boxes held pearl-encrusted hats complete with veils. I would
giggle as I tried them, pretending to model them in front of the
mirror above the dresser.

     I loved browsing through the shoebox full of photographs.
Was that pale little girl with the dark eyes really my aunt? And
which of my three uncles had once been the tiny boy in a pair of
cowboy boots and a diaper? Sometimes the faces in the photos and
the names written on the backs meant nothing to me.  I studied the
image of my great-grandmother. She seemed unfamiliar to me
dressed up, purse in hand, standing in front of a house. My only
memory of her was when I was not much more than a toddler, and
she offered me a lemon drop from a crystal bowl in her home.

     My favorite item in the room was a Prince Albert can. It was a
heavy can, full of marbles collected by my uncles when they were
children. Prying the lid off the can was difficult, but worth it when
the treasure inside was revealed. I would spill out the marbles on
the top mattress of the bed and sort through the beautiful aggies
and cat's-eyes, pop-eyes and corkscrews. My favorite was a
brilliant red marble.  I would look through the lot until I found it
each time.

     Sometimes my brother or one of my more adventurous cousins
would crawl through the dark closet and join me in my secret
hideaway. After just a little while, though, they would leave for
more exciting games being played outdoors. They didn't find the
dusty relics as fascinating as I did.

     A few times I visited the room and found objects moved around
and out of place. Maybe Granny had been in there sorting through
things or adding to the collection. Perhaps another family member
had squeezed past the blocked door in search of a long lost item. 
I'd look around each time I found the room changed, until I located
the Prince Albert can. My red marble was always inside.

     When the smell of frying chicken became too strong to ignore, I
crawled back through the closet and emerged, dusty and hungry, to
eat with the rest of the family. My grandfather would quietly ask,
"Did you find the red one?"  Each time I told him that, indeed, I
had. The red marble was always there.

     Years passed, and one day I realized that it had been quite a
while since I had made that crawl through the long closet to my
special place. I had been drafted into kitchen duty with the rest of
the women. I enjoyed their gossip and stories more than before. 
There was always cleaning up to do after the meals.

     I was married and living hundreds of miles away when Granny
decided that a move to a smaller home was in order. She packed up
the necessities, divided up what was still useful for the dozens of
children and grandchildren who showed up to help her move, then
held a yard sale to dispense of the rest.  The house was rented out
and later sold.

     Recently, I drove past my grandparents' old address.  The house
was gone, along with the garage next to it. All that was left were
some empty lots with the old elm trees standing alone.

     I often wonder what became of the red marble in the Prince
Albert can. Did anyone else appreciate the vintage clothing, or the
beautiful gold clock that no longer kept time? Who finally took
home the goose feather pillows I had curled up with on lazy
afternoons so long ago?

     Now I am left with happy memories. But how I would love to
go back in time, if only to spend an hour or two, in that secret
room full of treasures.

Pamela Jenkins
bunnies-n-birds @ juno.com


Pamela Jenkins lives on a farm in Oklahoma with her husband of
twenty-four years and their four children. She is the office
manager for a veterinary clinic and enjoys writing in her spare
time.  She is a contributing author to ‘Chicken Soup for the
Grandparents' Soul,’ ‘Chicken Soup for the Fisherman's Soul’ and
‘Chocolate for a Woman's Dreams.’
  

     You are encouraged to write to the authors to let them know
what you think of their story. Have a comment on today's story?
Send it to: moderator @ write2theheart.com



     Write 2 the Heart now has an affiliate program with Cognigen.
They have several long distance plans to chose from. I personally
use the PowerNet Global 4.5¢ Per Minute Plan. I love having my
own toll free number without the monthly fee; I only pay for actual
calls. My family can call home whenever they are out of town. I
have used it more times than I care to remember over the last three
years in emergency situations.

   Cognigen has more than just great long distance rates; they have
calling cards, internet access, web hosting services and much more.
You can check out all of their telecommunication products and
services at http://ld.net/?cbspeir.  Looking for an affiliate program?
You will be surprised at all the products and services you will have
access to.


                     Letters From Our Readers


Kathy,
     I related to your story as I have several long distance friends
that I have never met in person but cherish. They have been a
blessing to me many times and seem to know when I need them.
Barbara Bullock


                     Military Prayer Reminder
    
     As you read over this list of names, please take a moment to
pray for these young people and their families:
 
Chris Speir                   
Tim Speir                     
Alan                              
Todd Holland
Graham
William
Julie Sagel
Jessie
Marshal Thompson
Jason
Eric Hernandez
Kristin Danielson
Ryan
Larry Miele
Daniel
Amy
John
Joanne
Gary Boardwine
Josh
Hadassah
Chanz Wackerly
Robert Henderson
David Habighurst
Tonia
Melissa Bair
Matthew Nutter
 
     Please continue to pray for our country, our leaders, and
our troops at this time. If you have loved ones in the military,
or who are being called to go overseas, send their names
(first and last or first only) to be included in our prayer
reminder.


                           Cheryl’s Corner

     Last Wednesday, I received a call from Tim. He would be home
on leave the next day. I was so excited, but also a little dismayed. I
had been cleaning closets, cabinets, and other cluttered areas and
had deposited all the excess “stuff” on Tim’s bed and floor. I spent
all day Thursday putting everything back in the places I had just
pulled it from so he cold have a place to spend the night.

     By the time he got home, I was very happy to see him, just a
little tired and sore. He had just begun visiting with all of us when
the phone rang. Tim had been volunteered for hazardous material
training and would have to do this training in Little Rock. He had
to leave that night in order to report for duty. I really did enjoy
visiting with my son, but now I find I have to do all of that work
again! My back hurts just thinking about it.

God bless,
Cheryl

Copyright © 2004, Write 2 the Heart
Nothing may be reproduced or published without
the written permission of the individual author or
copyright owner. All rights belong to the authors.