Tag Archives: Captivating

The Present State of Miss Bessie

Stretching the Imagination

Miss Bessie’s House

The Present State of Miss Bessie

The other day, I stopped by the house of Miss Bessie, that’s what she was called among the few folks who still knew her. As I turned the key and shut off the engine, a holy silence settled over the old homestead. A light breeze stirred the Spanish moss and in the distance, a lonely dove called out its mournful tones.

“Coo, coo, coo.”

I stepped from my car, walked the short space from where I’d parked underneath a massive live-oak, to the porch lined with Boston ferns and Pansies. With each step, my heels crunched the gravel like some rude child chewing with his mouth open.

I put my foot upon the first step of the porch; it groaned under my weight, but held. The hollow sound of each footfall resonated but went unnoticed by the spider, holding vigil over the unopened entrance.

The light tapping on her door brought the usual response…silence. I wasn’t surprised, as Miss Bessie’s hearing had long forsaken her. With care, I pushed the weathered door open; it creaked under its weight and scraped the pine-heart floor like bear claws. Light from the morning sun filtered through the lace curtains, giving the sitting-room a soft illumination. Particles of dust drifted in lazy circles in and out of the shafts of golden rays, which penetrated the yellowed shades.

The aging clock on the mantle, no longer beating out its rhythmic cadence, was the only indication that something wasn’t….normal.

I took a halting breath and knew…

Pushing deeper, I found Miss Bessie sitting in her old rocking chair on the back porch. To look at her, you would think she was either asleep or in deep prayer. Her hands were folded, her head bowed, and a few strands of grizzled hair, which escaped her hair net, hung loosely across her peaceful forehead. Her tattered Bible lay open on her lap. Gnarled fingers, locked in fervent prayer, sat lightly on its yellowed pages. Across her knees stretched an old, worn quilt. Its raggedy fringes stopped just high enough to reveal her feet, covered with a pair of darned socks, one loosely gathered around her ankle, the other pulled as high as it would go.

One look and I knew. The old rocking chair, which had been her support in life, had become the chariot upon which she rode to glory in the small hours of morning. In some shameful way, I envied her. She had fought the good fight and won the victory. For me, my journey was somewhere within the long dash, which held two dates apart.

I don’t go by Miss Bessie’s house anymore. However, rumor has it that if you pass by her former residence about the time the upper branches of that old live-oak play catch with the first rays of sun, you can hear the faint humming of Miss Bessie wafting through the morning air.

For more of Bryan’s musings go to his web-site, www.newlifepublicationsonline.com  and read about his newest Thriller, Sisters of the Veil. It’s only available on line at Amazon’s Kindle Direct Publication, but it is a must read.



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A Pebble Among the Diamonds

They say there are rivers in South Africa which are littered with diamonds and all you need to do is to pick them up. Whether or not that still holds true today can be testified by others, but this week I can testify that I was a pebble sitting among some of God’s diamonds without knowing it. I ate breakfast, lunch and dinner with award winning novelists and writers and had no clue I sat among such greatness.
Among the 350 plus conferees were diamonds in the rough waiting and wanting to be discovered. Yet there were others, polished by God’s hand and placed at the tip of His mighty pen to write words of inspiration and meditation. To write words which take us to places we’ve never been, and words which draw us closer to God.
These diamonds came in all shapes and colors, some young and vibrant, filled with ideas and ideals. And others well acquainted with life; with its ups and downs, blessings and burdens. To sit among them, as I did, was like sitting among the scribes of Israel; humble, determined, and patient, with one significant difference. Unlike the scribes who copied the Dead Sea Scrolls in Qumran, these scribes possessed the spark of creativity. They were people in whose hearts burned a message from God and found their voices to proclaim it.
Throughout this week I rubbed shoulders with like-minded people; people with aspirations and dreams, people with messages from God. Thus a process began; a process of shaping and reshaping this pebble. At some point in the process a shaft of sunlight burst through the clouds like a javelin and struck one of the newly formed facets. In that moment I discovered I was not a pebble after all.


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I Made My Wife Cry by Bryan Powell

Yes it is true. Probably more times than I would like to admit but this time it was different, this time it was for reasons that did not require an apology…Praise the Lord. This time it was balanced with an equal (or greater than) amount of laughter. You see, we just finished reading my newest novel The Witch and the Wise Men…A Christmas Tale.

We (Patty and I) started reading The Witch and the Wise Men…A Christmas Tale out loud earlier this week and finished it around midnight last night; she simply couldn’t or wouldn’t put it down until she finished. She had to know, she had to find out how it ended. The story took us on a wild ride from Babylon to Bethlehem, from the first century to the twenty-first century. We went from laughing to crying, from yelling at the characters to cheering with them, from being scared out of our wits to praising the Lord for the great things He had done.

The Witch and the Wise Men…touched the full spectrum of emotions. We laughed ourselves silly at the funny comments made by my character Gasper, the youngest member of the trio of Magi.
Our hearts soared with joy as Ty (Huntley) compared his love for Samm (Samantha Myers) to that of the love Hosea had for Gomar; just to have it ripped out of our beating chests as she admitted her culpability in the deaths of Ty’s parents. Tears scalded our cheeks as Scott Wyatt (Pastor of the Cedar Point Bible Church) turned his back on his wife in her time of need.
We cheered as if our team won the Super-Bowl when our hero finally came through at the last minute and saved the mission from certain disaster.

The Witch and the Wise Men… took us on a journey from the Judean hills of Endor in the years following our Lord’s birth, down through the corridors of time to the present day, to an insignificant valley town in Illinois. It is there that a great spiritual battle was fought in the night skies over Cedar Point; it was there that the united prayers of the saints ascended and touched the throne of Heaven and it was there that a mighty foe was defeated in the Cave of the Witch buried deep within the wicked mountain. When we finished we were exhausted but completely thrilled. I sent my manuscript in to the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest with the hope that it passes the first, second and third judication levels. I should know by February 24 if it passed the first level, which is called the Pitch; a 300 word summary of the manuscript. Below is my Pitch. Please find me on Facebook or LinkedIn and let me know what you think.

While you are at it, don’t forget to go to www.newlifepublicationsonline.com  and check out my Book Trailer. Click on the ‘My Content Page’ and click the video link, then let your fingers run, not walk to the link to place your order for Stranger in the Pulpit.
You can order it from me and I will send it right out!

A child has been abducted by the Witch of Endor posing as a modern day witch named Mrs. White. She plans on offering the child to the Dark Lord on December 22nd, the night of the Winter Solstice. With the help of Ty Huntley, the Wise Men set out to rescue Ashton, Samantha Myers’ baby from the clutches of the wicked Witch and in the process learn the power of love, prayer and forgiveness. Along the way they encounter a hurting Pastor who needs to know the truth about his wife, a lost attorney who is seeking to make sense of it all and a desperate young lady who has made a mess of her life and will do anything to forget her past, but time is running out for all of them. With only hours to spare, the three Wise Men must rely on the power of a praying church, the support of two newly converted Jewish believers and a young shepherd boy with a sling shot to stop the coming of the Son of Perdition, but is there time?

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What’s better than selling a book? RAVE REVIEWS!!!

“Congratulations on your novel. I enjoyed reading Stranger in the Pulpit very much; it held my interest to read it in a couple of hours. I’m looking forward to your next one, Stranger in the White House.”
Then he quotes this poem;
Our dreams are wings by which we fly.
They help us to soar and lift us high.
God placed big dreams within our souls,
and with these dreams, we reach our goals.
“I can attest to this truth throughout my life expectations, as God is faithful and supportive of the desires of our heart. I highly recommend your novel to anyone that I know.”
Best Regards,
Bill B. ,Tallahassee, Fl.

Bryan M. Powell



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