Faith’s Adventures

From the Archives:  Faith’s Adventure – All 8 Stories

Faith to the Rescue
Faith Loses a Friend
Faith Goes on a Holiday
Faith’s Christmas Surprise
Faith’s Close Encounter
Faith’s Discovery
Faith Becomes a Mother
Faith – That’s my Blue Eye
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Partly true, partly fictional. 8 very short stories about Ken and his dog faith. Suitable for all ages. Please note: story “Faith Loses a Friend” may need parental guidance for younger children.

Archived in
Short Fiction by Chrissy at Riverside Peace

Pavlova and smiles

In response to dVerse’s Birthday Haibun Challenge
dVerse Poets Pub

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With the semi-retirement of my husband also came poorer health for me and I wasn’t looking forward to my 60th birthday. Being the wife of a military man has been a good life but it also brings family separations especially with our children who are now grown up and married with their own. Across states and interstate, I thought the misery of another birthday without my family would drown me in sorrow.

To my delight we all met up in the Hunter Valley, New South Wales – winery country, less than an hour from our daughter’s family home. Our son and his family stayed in the adjoining cabin to ours. Physical pain on our four-hour road trip threatened to ruin plans for a lovely weekend but with the sun bursting through the clouds on arrival and seeing family, filled me with warmth and joy.

I don’t remember much of the weekend but the joy and smiles from our four grandchildren will forever stay in my memory just as the cream and fruit oozed from the birthday pavlova they helped decorate.

joy and smiles to share
lifting a winter of pain
creamy dribbles flow

Chrissy Siggee August 7th 2020 (Sydney time)

Gnome Matter What…

This little guy was left on our front porch early Sunday morning. Below the photo you can read the tale behind the gnomes in our little street.
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When we first moved into our new little home in December 2019, we found most of the neighbours to be a friendly bunch. A few stopped by to comment on my garden gnomes which were still standing in a group on the edge of the garden awaiting to be placed in their new home. We all had a story about how our gnomes came about.

This little street apparently has mystery gnomes that appear here and there, in other gardens or on peoples door steps. One poor gnome is known to be found laying on the road after Saturday night parties.

I thought nothing more about the gnome tales until I opened our front door on Sunday morning just past. I thought immediately of who the culprit might be but wasn’t completely sure. Sure enough, later in the day the suspect neighbour was walking her dog down the street and I asked her if she knew anything about our gnomely visitor. With a laugh she told me that because of the Covid restrictions, the gnomes had been staying in self quarantine. While doing the right thing they gave each other a complete makeover and repaint ready to play. I wasn’t the only one to have a visitor and he’ll probably go home of his own accord in a day or so.

It might sound silly but you know, it’s sometimes the silly things in life that helps make the world a happier place. There’s one thing that has come out of this gnomey business and that is we have been made to feel truly welcomed here and have been included in the neighbourly gnome games.

After all, it’s a little gnome fact that getting to gnome your neighbours puts a smile on your face.  I really feel at gnome here. – Gnome matter what…. Thank you neighbours and gnomes.

 

Hope in the City

DELIVERED  – A Peculiar People Collaboration

Amongst the group of writers I can claim to have written just one chapter but yes, I wrote Chapter four.

320_4654160An immigrant and her young daughter, struggling to reach their dream…a special needs child, searching for hope…a newly released ex-con, seeking forgiveness. They have one thing in common—they’re about to be touched by God in a way they never imagined. All through a simple postcard. Brought up in a strict Muslim home in London, Sulafa has recently experienced the transforming power of Jesus Christ. Now, despite fear of discovery and its consequences, she knows she has to spread the good news. In an act of bravery, she sends out postcards with a single message: Let me pray for you. Her simple request impacts lives and brings hope in the midst of hopelessness.

The second of many anticipated books from Peculiar People, Delivered is a collection of short stories that intertwine to deliver a single message. It is the work of twenty-five authors with one united voice, proclaiming the power of God to transform lives and His ability to do the miraculous in the most ordinary of circumstances.

Amongst the group of writers I can claim to have written just one chapter but yes, I wrote Chapter four.

Chapter Four

Hope in the City – by Chrissy Siggee

Seventeen year old Sarah stepped down from the train and looked around. Haunted eyes stared out from a gaunt face. She looked around to gather her bearings. Commuters pushed and shoved their way past, almost causing her to stumble under the heaviness of her backpack. The warped wheels of her worn suitcase flip flopped behind her as she followed the crowd. She’d come to Sydney for a new life. No one here knew of her former years, which she wanted to forget…

from the book:  DELIVERED  – A Peculiar People Collaboration

 Available now from Amazon

Mercy

Mercy can be a difficult topic to tackle; yet I find it’s one of the most desirable gifts Christians seek. To show mercy is an awesome experience but to receive mercy is not always easy. Sometimes people misunderstand those who show mercy. Those who show mercy often don’t even realise that’s what they are demonstrating.

To show mercy is to show forgiveness, compassion, kindness, pity or understanding… even leniency. When explained this way, I can see how people have shown mercy toward me and how I have shown mercy to others. I also understand how we can misinterpret another’s acts of mercy. Have we become unaccepting of another’s gifts? Do we feel complacent with our circumstances or those of others?

Jesus showed mercy/ compassion and He has instructed us to show mercy. Shouldn’t we also accept mercy from those He has instructed to show mercy?

Exodus 33:19 says: “And he said, I will make all my goodness pass before thee, and I will proclaim the name of the LORD before thee; and will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will shew mercy on whom I will shew mercy.”

Isaiah 30:18 says: “And therefore will the LORD wait, that he may be gracious unto you, and therefore will he be exalted, that he may have mercy upon you: for the LORD is a God of judgment: blessed are all they that wait for him.”

Where and when was mercy shown to you in the past month?

When was the last time you showed mercy to another?

Father, help us to show mercy to others no matter the situation. Teach us to be compassionate and live our lives as you would. Also, help us to remember that when others show mercy to us that we do not reject them, because the mercy they show is the mercy you would have them give as you would have us to give. Amen

 
© Chrissy Siggee 2012

Scripture Verses used are from the King James Version of the Bible

 

 

Little White Dove

Rising, falling,
Gliding, flying.

Mantled in whispers of cloud,
Little white dove blissfully endowed.

Rising, falling,
Gliding, flying.

Softy embracing a heavenly tone,
Fly little white dove in skies unknown.

Rising, falling,
Gliding, flying.

Little white dove rise beyond the dance,
Through the power of a rhythmic trance.

© Chrissy Siggee

Archived in
Poetry by Chrissy at Riverside Peace

Coming Soon!

While the garden has been left to the mercy of a wet winter and poor drainage, I was not neglecting my writing…well maybe a little. Except when hubby was working from home, I managed to write some new poems. These will be posted in August. I do hope you enjoy my most recently written pieces.

 

Chrissy

 

Police Embarrassment

‘This is the Police. Come out with your hands in the air!’

Three police cars parked strategically around the front of the gas station. The alarm had been activated and the police were called in. There had been a spate of break-ins and they had finally caught the culprit in the act. Firearms used in the previous two robberies made the police nervous. They guarded themselves behind their cars where the faint smell of body odour and heated engine oil mingled. Neighbours awakened by the early dawn invasion, gathered cautiously outside their homes to observe the commotion.

‘Do you hear me? This is Police Officer Brody. Come out with your hands up!’

The door opened slowly, revealing a small laced-up boot. The officers dropped down behind their vehicles, guns cocked.

‘Please don’t shoot’, a quiet trembling voice responded.

The door opened a little further and an elderly woman hobbled out. She was stooped low and walked with a cane.

‘What the…? Please step out into the open and put down your—cane.’

She dropped the cane and raised her hands as far as her skinny arms would allow.

Officer Brody stepped forward to access the situation. He motioned Police Officer Mandy Walters to carry out a search. Brody steadied the shaken old lady with his powerful hand under her elbow. Officer Walters placed the crooked walking stick back into an arthritic hand. She obviously didn’t want to embarrass the startled petite woman any further by searching her.

With an indignant expression, the woman faced the officer in charge. ‘I think there has been a mistake. You see, I left my keys in the bathroom and when I went back in, I noticed I had grease on my clothes.’ She rubbed at the spot on her weathered skirt.

‘I tried to wash it, but I had to take it off because the skirt wouldn’t reach the faucet. I locked myself in so no one would disturb me. Unfortunately, I think the nice man at the counter must have closed up for the night and didn’t realize I was still there.’

‘Where is your car?’

‘Sir! I don’t own a car. That’s my motorcycle.’ She lifted her cane and pointed with her bent fingers past the police cars and confused police officers. A Harley Davison that sheltered under an ancient oak tree glistened in the morning sunlight.

‘I find this all hard to believe. Tell me how you were in there all night without triggering the alarm?’

‘Well, you see…. I sat on the toilet seat to adjust my tights and I slipped off into the corner. I was stuck and didn’t have the energy to get up until this morning. When I left the bathroom, I was aware that I couldn’t get out so I shook the door. That pesky alarm just kept screaming at me.’

Brody scratched his head, completely mesmerized while she shuffled towards the Harley across the road. She mounted the motorcycle with a little difficulty, but unwavering. She placed an opened-face helmet over her greying, outdated hairstyle.

Using her key, the engine started up with a roar. Poking the cane into a side pouch, she flipped the kickstand up and drove off in one smooth movement. Officer Brody glanced at a smug-faced Walters before replacing his gun into its holster.

‘What are you looking at? You can do the report when we get back.’

© Chrissy Siggee

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Archived in
Short Fiction by Chrissy at Riverside Peace

Temptations in History

The teacher talked on and on about the Livonian War that lasted twenty five years back in the mid to late fifties of the seventeenth century. History could be boring. Mr Tirone was boring.

Finally, the bell rang and Todd snapped out of his trance.

‘Thank goodness that’s over.’ Trish groaned aloud when she caught up with him at the door.

Todd agreed. ‘Yeah, I didn’t think it would ever end. I thought history was going to be an easy class.’

‘How’s it going with the assignment?’

‘Don’t ask. I mean, where do I start?’

‘We could work on it together at my house tonight. My parents are both working the late shift and my kid sister is staying over at a friend’s house.’

Todd grinned. ‘OK. I’ll come over right after I do my Math homework. Now Math I can handle but I can’t afford to get behind on it.’

She gave him her best see-you-later smile as she entered her next class. Todd continued to the gym where the last forty minutes of the day would be a little more active.

It was just after seven when Trish open the front door to him. She was wearing a pretty pink top with a low cut neckline.

‘My parents will be home about nine so we only have a few hours.’

Todd force himself to look above her shoulders where he met her smile. ‘OK. My curfew is nine thirty so let’s get started.’

He followed Trish into the kitchen where her text books laid open on the dining table. His back pack slipped off his shoulder and he let it rest on an empty chair.

‘Drink?’

‘Thanks. Do you have juice? I’m not into soda stuff.’

‘Sure. Orange or apple?’

‘Apple please.’

After a few minutes of casual chitchat over the breakfast bar Trish leaned forward. ‘So, where do you want to do this?’

Her breath smelled of mint and her floral perfume tickled his nose. He cleared his throat and turned toward the table.

‘The table is fine.’ He picked up his back pack and opened the zip. ‘I just brought the main textbook and a note book. It’s great that you have offered to help. Maybe I just need to get started.’

Trish came close but didn’t sit so Todd did. Big mistake. He turned his head and placed his juice on the table to his right. He cleared his throat again. Trish walked around to the other side of the table and pulled out a chair.

‘Are you OK Todd? You seem nervous. I can assure you that no one else is here.’

Todd nodded and took another sip before he spoke again. ‘Let’s get on with this.’ He opened his text book to the Livonian War. ‘I really don’t see why we need to study stuff that happened in the seventeenth Century.’

‘I find it intriguing. I could listen to Tirone all day.’

Todd grimaced. ‘I take it that History is a favourite subject.’

‘No. I prefer Human Dynamics.’

Todd was confused. ‘What? Which one is that?’

Trish knee bumped his sending chills up his spine but she didn’t seem to notice.

‘Silly. I was joking. Now let’s open to page two-six-five.’

It was exactly nine when Todd looked at his watch. ‘I’d better go.’

Just then the back door opened and a man entered. ‘Hello there.’ He must have been six foot three at least.

‘Hello Daddy. This is Todd. We’re working on our History assignment.’

He looked from his daughter to Todd and back again. ‘Yeah right.’

Todd wished the floor would open up and swallow him.

‘Oh Daddy, don’t be so dramatic.’

Todd rose and stuffed his textbook and notes into his bag. ‘I was just leaving. Nice to meet you Sir. Thanks Trish. I really appreciate your help.’

Trish stayed where she was. It was then he noticed why. She held her text book close to her chest.

Todd left the kitchen with a nod and headed to the front door.

The following day while Todd was sitting in the History classroom early to jot down yesterday’s notes from the blackboard, Trish came in and stood behind him.

‘Thanks for a great night.’

He stopped writing and looked up. All he could think of was the moment she opened her front door.

A few sniggers followed by other students who had also entered the room.

Todd sucked in air. ‘We should do it again sometime.’

More sniggers.

Trish winked and moved to her usual seat.

What’s going on here?

Mr Tirone entered. ‘Open your textbooks to page two-six-five. Todd Hughes, what did you learn from yesterday’s “boring” class?’

Heat rose to Todd’s face. Good thing Trish helped me out last night. He turned to the requested page and answered the question.

‘I’m impressed’, Tirone stated. ‘And I thought you went to sleep.’

Laughter rose across the classroom and Todd felt Trish’s eyes on him. He dared a look and returned her smile.

I can handle this. She’s cute enough and knows her history.

Over the lunch break Todd sort out Trish to thank her for getting him out of an embarrassing situation.

‘Hello Todd.’ The voice was soft and warm.

‘Hello to you too.’ He smiled at Trish. She’s beautiful, even in her school uniform. ‘Thanks for last night. It came in handy today.

The girls who were sitting with Trish stood and left. He felt awkward. ‘We can talk later.’

‘That’s OK. They get it.’

Todd looked around. ‘Get what?’

‘You know. You me. Us.’

‘Us?’

‘Don’t you like me?’

‘Yes, but I thought we were just friends.’

‘Friends are cool I guess.’

Todd bit his lip. ‘You mean…all that last night?’ It felt like his stomach flipped and he found it hard to breathe. ‘What about your Dad?’

‘He’ll get over it. We’ll just have to be more careful.’

Todd didn’t answer.

‘We didn’t do anything wrong.’

‘No, we didn’t. We were just studying together.’ He thought about what he would say next. Yes, he liked Trish but he wasn’t sure if he was ready for a relationship. He had thought it would be nice to have a relationship with someone when he went on to university. He may have been ready for that. Now he wasn’t so sure. ‘Trish, where do you want this to go?’

She shrugged. ‘As far as you want.’

They were so close that he could look into her eyes. They were a pretty blue and her blonde curls kinked at her perfectly shaped eyebrows. He breathed in her scent and his nerve endings quivered.

‘I don’t know.’ He drew in another long breath.

‘What’s wrong with me?’ Her voice broke.

‘Nothing. Nothing at all. You’re perfectly beautiful. I just don’t think either of us are ready for this.’

‘Oh Todd. We could just study together after school. Maybe at your house if you’re not sure about mine.’

He sighed. ‘I don’t think we can study together now.’

‘We could make out.’

Todd smiled. ‘Why don’t we wait a while. We can be friends at school.’ He paused. ‘You helped me more than I would have thought last night. I think I may even grow to like history.’

They both gave a short laugh.

‘I’m not sure if I could handle being in the same class now.

Todd took her hand. ‘We’ll get through it. I promise.’ With that he kissed her hand and left.

© Chrissy Siggee – 2019

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Archived in
Younger Teens by Chrissy at Riverside Peace

Tommy’s Lesson

Tommy entered the kitchen; his head bent forward to watch his feet as he walked. His hair skimmed the underside of the kitchen counter as he cut the corner.

‘Grandpa, can you help me tie my shoelaces please?’

‘Sure. Up we go.’ He lifted his grandson onto a high kitchen chair.

‘Grandpa, why is it so hard to learn how to tie shoelaces?’

‘That’s a good question. Everything we learn in life can be hard.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s part of learning.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, if everything was easy to learn in life there wouldn’t be any strength to our character.’

‘Huh!’

Grandpa slowly looped a shoelace as Tommy watched. ‘Let me put it this way,’ Grandpa continued as he twisted one end of the lace around the loop. ‘Do you remember when your daddy and I took you fishing last summer?’

‘Yes.’ Tommy’s face screwed up. ‘It was so hard to get the worms to stay on the hook and get the fish to bite them.’

‘That’s right. Do you remember how many times you had to practise to get it right?’

‘Lots.’ The little boy nodded once and continued to study his grandfather’s hands.

‘By the end of the weekend you had it just right and you caught the biggest fish for supper.’

Tommy’s face beamed and revealed a toothy grin. He let his foot drop and held up the other one.

‘Your turn,’ Grandpa encouraged.

Tommy wriggled his foot onto his other leg and concentrated on the shoelace. It took a few minutes but eventually he made the final turn and pulled the loop through.

‘There will be other things in life you will need to learn and they won’t be easy either.’

Tommy sat looking at his shoes while he listened. ‘Like what?’

‘Oh, all sorts of things, like how to know the difference between right and wrong, when to make an important decision and how to choose which decision to make.’

‘Why?’

‘Because that’s life and we need to learn lots of things like tying shoelaces and how to fish. Making a decision when choosing what kind of friends we should have can be a tough one.’

‘That sounds really hard. Will I have to learn how to talk to grandsons too?’

The old man laughed. ‘Yes, but not for a while yet; that’s a grown-up’s lesson. You can wait for that.’

‘Look, Grandpa. We tie shoelaces the same. Maybe you practised lots too.’

‘Yep, I practised lots too but some life lessons took longer to learn than others.’

‘Grandpa, can you teach me how to learn other life lessons?’

‘I certainly can but right now… why don’t we have some ice-cream?’

Tommy giggled and his eyes brightened. ‘I guess we don’t have to learn how to eat ice-cream.’

© Chrissy Siggee

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Archived in
Children’s Corner at Riverside Peace

The Runaway

Connie searched the playground the neighbours and the sand pile behind the back shed. Her hand went to her throat to ease the pain that seemed to creep up from her hammering heart. Moisture blurred her vision.

‘ETHAN!’ Connie’s throat grew tight. She had no choice but to call the social worker that had assigned Ethan to Connie and her husband Carl, a few weeks earlier.

She grabbed the phone and dialled. ‘Ethan is missing!’ She blurted out before Rebecca could finish her greeting. ‘I’ve looked everywhere.’ Connie found herself pacing.

‘Calm down Connie. He’s probably run away.’

Connie stood still. ‘Why would he do that?’

‘I don’t know. We get a lot of foster kids who run away. Ethan has been in the system a long time, and with numerous foster families. He’s run away before.’ She sighed. ‘I admit, I thought he was happy with you and Carl, but it’s hard to tell with these kids.’

Thinking more clearly, Connie contemplated the past few weeks. ‘He’s a bright little boy. I thought he was settling in.’ She paused. ‘Carl offered to take Ethan fishing when he returns from the office. He needed a file to work on over the weekend.’

‘Okay, I’ll call the local police and then come around. Just stay calm.’

Carl came in just as Connie hung up the phone. ‘Look who I found in the car under a blanket.’

‘Ethan, you scared me half to death.’ She placed her hand over her mouth and sat down at the table.

Ethan hung his head. ‘I was going to run away when Carl got to town but I fell asleep.’

‘Why would you want to run away?’ Connie dared to ask.

‘I got scared. When the Baker’s took me fishing, they got mad at me because I broke their new rod. They beat me with it and told me I was selfish.’

Carl sat beside Connie and drew Ethan close. ‘You’ll never be beaten here, I promise.’

‘Even if I wet my bed? Mrs Beasley wiped my face with the sheets and then made me wash them.’

Connie gasped. ‘There’s no excuse for bad behaviour by any adult.’ She thought for a moment before continuing. ‘You haven’t wet your bed since you’ve been here. Do you think there’s a reason for that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Ethan shrugged. ‘I’m not scared here.’

‘What kind of things do you like to do?’

Ethan tilted his head and bit his lower lip. He shrugged again.

‘Do you like going to the movies?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve never been. I watched cartoons sometimes at the Webster’s. The other families didn’t let me watch TV.’

‘Football?’ Carl asked.

‘The beach?’ Connie added.

Ethan began to whimper. ‘I haven’t been anywhere much—just school and the playground.’ A lone tear rolled down his face. ‘I like the playground.’ He wiped the tear away. ‘Can I go there again?’

Connie looked at Carl for a long moment. She pulled Ethan onto her lap. He was short for a seven-year-old but it was his frail body and lightness that had surprised her.

Ethan stiffened but soon relaxed in Connie’s arms.

She kissed his cheek. ‘We can go to the park together. How about a picnic of burgers and soda?’ She released her embrace. A tear stained face looked back at her.

‘What’s a pick nick?’

Carl sighed deeply. His sad eyes met Connie’s. ‘There’s a lot we can do. I think a picnic lunch at the playground is the perfect place to begin.’

A knock sounded at the front door. ‘Rebecca. I forgot all about her.’

Carl let Rebecca in and explained the situation.

Ethan’s lip trembled. He looked up at Connie. ‘Will I have to go to another foster family?’

‘No sweetie’, Rebecca answered for Connie. ‘But you need to talk to Carl and Connie in the future if you’re unsure of anything.’

‘Connie and Carl won’t beat me.’ It was a statement rather than a question.

Rebecca knelt down beside Ethan as he slid off Connie’s lap. ‘No, Ethan. This family is…different.’

Ethan looked up at Carl then to Connie, then back to Rebecca. ‘Why are they different?’

‘Well firstly,’ Carl began. ‘We really want you to be our son—to adopt you as soon as you feel ready. If that’s okay’, he added.’

The corners of Ethan’s mouth turned upwards.

‘Really? Yes, please!’

© Chrissy Siggee

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Archived in
Short Fiction by Chrissy at Riverside Peace