Miriam Part Four

The music again filled the room, but now it was interrupted by another sound – feet in the hallway outside, accompanied by a loud male voice. Josh kept playing. "Miriam! Are you down here?" The voice was at the door now, and Miriam turned to it with a forced smile. "Oh, there you are, baby! We were wondering where you were – oh, sorry, I didn't know you had company."
"Um – hello, Nick", Miriam said, suddenly aware that she was still tugging on her hemline. In his party clothes Nick looked like he'd just stepped out of a GQ advertisement – but then he always looked like he'd just stepped out of a GQ advertisement, right down to the three-day stubble. He was grinning and holding a beer bottle, just as he'd been when she slipped away. Feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed, she looked back and forth between Nick's grinning face and Josh, who kept playing gently.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to barge in", Nick continued, walking up to her and slipping his arm around her waist. "It's just that – oh, hello there, Josh."

"Hello, Nick", Josh gave Nick a brief glance and continued playing.
"Long time, no see! I brought Miriam to the party", he pulled her close to his side. "What are you doing here?"

"Playing the piano", Josh answered with the slightest of smiles, not bothering to turn his head.

"Well – ah, right. Anyway, baby, the band's back and about to start another set. I thought you might want to get out on the floor with some of those signature moves of yours. Whaddya say?"

"Um, I dunno, Nick", Miriam hedged. Difficult as it was to stay here with Josh, feeling all the turmoil his presence caused in her, the prospect of leaving filled her with bleak despair. She felt she could not face the pounding rock music, the empty laughter, smoke and flickering lights from the mirrored balls. "I've got a bit of a headache coming on."

"Oh, come on, baby, don't be a spoilsport", Nick urged, tightening his arm around her waist and grabbing her elbow with that grip of his that was just a little too firm for comfort. "I know how much you love to rock and roll, and the band's well warmed up now. I was looking forward to the chance to – y'know, get down a little." He gave a little dance wiggle, his tight grip on her forcing her to do the same.

"I don't know, Nick", Miriam protested weakly, trying to wrench her elbow free from his grip. "I was hoping to lie down for a while."

"Baby, baby", Nick chided with one of his perfect grins, "I didn't bring you to this party to have you lie down in a room by yourself. I brought you to show you off, and have a little fun! That's why I asked you to wear that dress I got you. Great dress, eh, Josh?"

"We were just talking about the dress. It's beautiful", Josh said, not turning, continuing his beautiful playing in a more subdued key.

"See, baby! Even ol' Josh here doesn't think you should be hiding in a corner! So c'mon!" Nick slipped his arm from her waist but grasped her hand in an iron grip. "I'm not leaving without you." He was looking into her eyes now. His lips were smiling but his eyes were cold and determined, almost reptilian. She knew that look – Nick used it when he intended to get his way, and he always did. Resistance flared within her, but old habit overruled it. Her heart collapsed – she was too tired to fight right now.



"Miriam" is a short story by Roger Thomas, author of The Last Ugly Person: And Other Stories

Miriam Part Three

"Yes – er, that is, you play beautifully, as you always have", Miriam said, dropping her eyes from his and looking nervously around the room. They were alone, weren't they? She felt like she should say something else, but didn't know what. Josh's fingers swept over the keys with effortless skill, and the haunting melody filled the room.

"That – what you're playing – it sounds familiar", Miriam ventured. "Have I heard it before?"

"I doubt it", Josh replied, then corrected himself, "but then, maybe you've heard bits of it. I just made it up tonight, but it contains themes I've used before."

"Yes, I can see that", she replied. "It's very beautiful."

"Thank you", Josh nodded slightly and played for a bit more. "So – how have you been?"

Miriam dropped her head and smiled. She should have expected that – it was the perpetual "Josh question". Almost every meeting, phone call, letter, or even e-mail would include that little question; so casual yet so probing. How had she been. How had she been? Let's see, Josh – how long has it been? Years now? A lot of water under the bridge, a lot of distance between her and – oh, just about everyone. Lots of acquaintances, lots of cards in the box on her dresser, lots of memories that blurred together, lots of faces but no names to go with them, lots of meetings but few friends, lots of parties...

"Fine, Josh, I've been fine", she answered. "It's – I'm a little tired these days, but otherwise I'm doing well. And – and you?"

"You're looking good", he volunteered, his hands still sweeping across the keyboard. "Nice dress."

"Thanks. Nick got it for me, and since he brought me here, I thought I'd – you know, wear it", she answered. It was a nice dress, but in Josh's presence she was suddenly conscious of how short it was, and how low the neckline was cut. It certainly complimented her dancer's legs and the trim figure she worked so hard to maintain, and she could always tell that male eyes were watching her every move when she wore it. It certainly was sexy. Sometimes men would come and – talk to her. And keep looking at her. It was attention, but – they weren't the nicest men.

"You've always looked good in red", Josh continued.

Looked good in red. Yes, she did – everyone told her so. But then, she also looked good in white. Even more people told her that, especially when she wore the white dress that Josh had gotten her years ago. It wasn't at all like this red party dress – it was more a cool weather dress, with long lacy sleeves, a tea-length skirt, and a beautiful collar that framed her long neck. She'd joked with Josh about his taste running toward Victorian wedding dresses, but there was no denying that it made her look and feel more feminine and beautiful than anything else she had. When she wore that dress gentlemen would open doors for her with a little bow, and women would come up to tell her how beautiful she was, while Josh just looked on and smiled. Goodness, she hadn't worn that dress in years. Just last month she'd spotted it in the cleaner's bag at the back of her closet and had taken it out. Why was she still keeping it? She pondered donating it to St. Vincent, but she just – couldn't. She'd hung it back on the bar.

"Thank you", Miriam answered, tugging at her hem just a little. "I – thank you." The silence fell between them again, full of the melody and so much more. "How have you been?"

"I've been well", Josh said lightly. "Here and there, plenty to keep me busy, of course. You remember how it was."

"You always managed to make time for me", Miriam said, startling herself. Why had she said that?

Josh looked back at her with one of his small smiles. "It's easy to make time for the truly important things."

"Miriam" is a short story by Roger Thomas, author of The Last Ugly Person: And Other Stories

Miriam Part Two

She came to the doors and cautiously peered around the corner. Seated at a beautiful concert grand was a young man with his back to the door, playing with grace and passion. She could only see the back of his head, but the cut of his wavy brown hair and his posture were familiar enough – could it be? Her breath caught in her throat and her hand flew to her mouth, but her heart was racing. What if it was? Could she – after all this – ? Part of her wanted to turn away and return to the party, pretending that she'd never followed the music down the hall. But a stronger part wanted to know, to at least see if it was him, and if it was, maybe –

She walked quietly into the room, trying not to distract him. If she was quiet enough, maybe she could catch a glimpse without his noticing her, and then leave without having been seen. She could see more of the pianist's profile now. He was playing from memory, his eyes closed, swaying as he played, entranced with the music. She was almost alongside him now, and could see most of his face. He was still caught up in his music, oblivious to all around him. Her heart raced faster – it was him.

Images raced through her mind, images from a life she'd almost forgotten, a life she'd tried to forget. His deep brown eyes smiling into hers as they walked along the beach. His slight wisp of a smile, with the ever present edge of sadness. The brief touch of his hand – all the contact he'd ever ventured, yet, somehow, all the contact he'd ever needed. No, no – her heart turned away from the images, and she made a slight turn back toward the door.

"Hello, Miriam", he said without opening his eyes.

"Oh!" she caught her breath at the sound of his voice – that familiar, comforting, yet slightly disturbing voice. "He – hello, Josh. I – heard the piano – that is, I was just wandering by, and the music – I – I didn't know you were here. That is, I didn't see you at the party."

"I wasn't invited to the party", Josh replied, opening his eyes and looking at her as he continued to play. "But I'm an old friend of the family, and I have a standing invitation. I'm staying in the guest house, and happened to be over and decided to try tickling the ivories a bit."

Miriam heard him speaking, but was only half attending. She'd forgotten how penetrating his eyes could be. Calm and deep, yet when he looked at you, you could feel like you were the only one in the world. Yet at the same time they could discomfit you, make you feel like he was able to see thing you'd rather remained hidden. Josh was the only man she knew who could comfort and unnerve you with the same glance.



"Miriam" is a short story by Roger Thomas, author of The Last Ugly Person: And Other Stories

Miriam Part One

Miriam was walking down the beautifully paneled hall when she first heard the music. At first she thought it might have come from the garden, but no – it was too delicate, too ethereal to have come from the hammering guitars of the rock band playing for the party. There it was again! Just a few bars, fading almost as quickly as they'd been heard, but clearly from a piano or keyboard – and also dimly familiar.

Had it been merely a piano tune, she would have ignored it and continued on her way. Perhaps it was a guest who wandered away from the party, or a family member enjoying a little quiet. But the haunting familiarity caught her attention. Where did she know those notes from? They stirred yearnings within her, pleasant feelings she hadn't known for quite a while – yet at the same time aroused disturbing images of things long forgotten. What was that music?

Hesitant and torn, she stopped at the intersection of two hallways and clutched her party purse. She'd been intending to follow this hallway to the right, but the music seemed to coming from a hallway further up that went left. There it was again! Her curiosity prodded her to follow the notes up to where the hallway turned left.

Her search was rewarded. From the head of the hallway she could hear the music dimly but steadily. The long hall was lined with doors, all closed except for one double door standing ajar toward the far end. It seemed that the music was coming from there.

She walked tentatively down the hall toward the music, searching her heart as she went. Why did the music seem familiar? Perhaps she recognized the melody, which seemed somewhere between classical and slow ragtime, but what seemed most familiar was the style. In contrast to the cacophony at the party, this was gentle and alluring. The strains seemed to float along the hallway, now soft and delicate, now swelling in a lively allegretto. The tenor of the music was sad and somber, not quite a lament, but there was an underlying theme of joy and hope that kept bubbling through. Whoever was playing knew much more than how to play notes off a sheet – he knew how to bring a piece of music to life, to make it express the artist's heart and soul. She hadn't met many who could do that – in fact, the only one she could remember was –

"Miriam" is a short story by Roger Thomas, author of The Last Ugly Person: And Other Stories

Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage by Cheryl Dickow, Part Five

Where had her life gone became the bigger question. What happened to her dreams of teaching at a local college or of having taken one or two significant family vacations? Time was running through her fingers like sand in an hour glass and each grain became a tear of remorse or regret or fear. She could no longer tell. And so her plan began hatching.

She became fixated on reports that said that a person’s forties were the new thirties. By those calculations she was only thirty-eight! This was math that she liked. She found great comfort in that. Thirty-eight was quite young and a great age to take a trip. Once she had recaptured the past ten years, she had to decide on what kind of trip she would take. Her sister had just returned from France and England. Beth listened intently to stories and enjoyed all the pictures and yet none of it stirred a desire in Beth’s heart. The pictures of the Eiffel Tower at night were truly magnificent as were the expensive, melt-in-your-mouth chocolates but still Beth had no inclination to visit those parts of Europe.

Later that week, Beth was writing down everyone’s dental appointments on her calendar when her eye caught the calendar’s notes for Yom Kippur and Sukkot. In that instant she knew where she was going: Israel. Her childhood memories of growing up in a predominately Jewish neighborhood and having attended more than a few synagogue services came flooding back. She wanted to be in Israel. Actually, more accurately, she needed to be in Israel. And her planning began.

Beth was next in line. She took a step forward and felt as if she were walking with God for the first time in a long time. She was overcome with peace as she moved through the vacuous tunnel to the plane. This time she was focused on finding her seat and refused to get caught up in any of her day dreams. S3, S3, S3, S3, Beth repeated, until she was buckled in. She found that there were great benefits to paying attention.

She selected a nice, clean, freshly folded blanket and a crisply covered pillow from the empty, overhead bin. She easily moved into her seat and got herself situated. Although she wasn’t quite ready to make use of her pillow or blanket she was relying on her sister’s advice: Sleep during your flight, even if you don’t want to! You must do everything you can to make it through the first day on your trip without succumbing to sleep. Get yourself on schedule right away. Her sister had explained that staying up during this flight, and then sleeping when you arrived at your destination, really threw a wrench in your whole trip. So Beth planned on following her sister’s advice and doing her best to get to sleep as soon as they were in the air.

The woman for whom Beth had offered a prayer stood in the aisle eyeing her ticket and the numbers posted on the small plastic signs above each row. She looked at Beth, her toddler asleep in her arms. Beth smiled knowingly as the woman moved in such a way as to not wake up her child. Beth helped by removing the diaper bag from the woman’s shoulder and placing it on the floor, just tucked under the seat enough so that the woman could maneuver her way into the narrow space. Beth watched as the woman bent forward, ever-so-slightly, and then put the back of her hand against her child’s beautiful head so that it wouldn’t lunge backward causing him to wake up.
The woman thoughtfully eyed the armrest between her seat and the seat of her toddler. Beth instinctively knew it would be best to raise the armrest to create one large single space for both mother and child versus two small spaces. Beth reached over and in one movement pushed in the release button of the armrest while pulling it up to be tucked between the seatbacks. The mother smiled her appreciation, both women understanding the need for silence. Beth’s heart filled with gratitude to the Lord for having allowed her to pray for this mother and her child and for also giving her seat companions that would help her follow her sister’s advice: to sleep.

The plane was in the air, the young mother and her child were serenely tucked into their roomy seat. They were all on their way to Israel. Beth’s last cognizant thoughts, as she drifted off to sleep, were from the book of Jeremiah. For thus says the Lord: Shout with joy for Jacob, exult at the head of the nations; proclaim your praise and say; The Lord has delivered his people, the remnant of Israel. Behold, I will bring them back from the land of the north; I will gather them from the ends of the world, with the blind and the lame in their midst, The mothers and those with child; they shall return as an immense throng.



Want to read more? This is the end of the excerpt but you can get the whole story at Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage

Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage by Cheryl Dickow, Part Four

It was at times like this that Beth drove herself crazy. She watched a young mother struggle with a two year old who clearly wanted the cartoon doll in a gift shop. The mother had made the grave mistake of running into the gift shop to buy a pack of gum and a magazine and walked out with nothing more than a screaming toddler, arms outstretched, as if the doll could save him from some terrible fate that awaited. Beth thought of the countless times she had attempted some excursion with her own children, each endeavor meeting with defeat.

As Beth watched the mother’s control slowly slip away, Beth wondered if she was supposed to go help this young mother. Was this woman, at the edge of her patience, meant to be someone whom Beth should know? These were the things Beth grappled with now. Almost too anxious to hear God’s call, she often wondered if she had become deaf to it. Sitting in her seat, waiting to be called for boarding, Beth decided this woman wasn’t supposed to be in Beth’s universe. At least not in the physical sense. She decided to quietly say a prayer for the return of the young mother’s patience.

As soon as Beth finished her short but heartfelt prayer, her row was called. Securing her tote bag under her left arm, and holding her boarding pass in her right hand, she took her place in line. She smiled at everyone who looked her way, wanting to strike up a conversation with them all. Were they as excited as she was to be traveling to the Holy Land? She could feel her stomach doing flip-flops at the prospect of standing on the ground that her Lord and Savior stood upon. Were His words still echoing in the foothills of Mount Sinai? Would she feel Judge Deborah’s presence at Mount Tabor? Would she break down during her own walk on the Via Dolorosa?

Her questions filled her mind as she inched her way closer to the airplane that would be arriving at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv in ten hours. For one fleeting moment she wished that Luke were with her. Would he add to her excitement and anticipation or would he detract from it? It was something she hadn’t been willing to risk as she weighed the pros and cons of what she felt she needed during the planning portion of this trip.

Part of her thought they needed time together. They could have made arrangements for the two boys to stay with friends and family. But the other part of her, and as it turned out, the larger portion, knew she simply needed time to herself. And it needed to be time that had great meaning for her. Her ache for what life hadn’t yet held was becoming almost unbearable at times. Her need to grasp at the tailwinds of time began in earnest the day her son was accepted to college. She watched him read his congratulatory letter and simultaneously saw him as a toddler putting his first puzzle together. Where had the time gone? A searing pain ran through her like a hot knife through butter, melting everything it touched. She couldn’t bear to think of Sophia leaving in another year. Two of her children on their own!



Get the whole story at Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage

Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage by Cheryl Dickow, Part Three

It was at times like this that Beth drove herself crazy. She watched a young mother struggle with a two year old who clearly wanted the cartoon doll in a gift shop. The mother had made the grave mistake of running into the gift shop to buy a pack of gum and a magazine and walked out with nothing more than a screaming toddler, arms outstretched, as if the doll could save him from some terrible fate that awaited. Beth thought of the countless times she had attempted some excursion with her own children, each endeavor meeting with defeat.

As Beth watched the mother’s control slowly slip away, Beth wondered if she was supposed to go help this young mother. Was this woman, at the edge of her patience, meant to be someone whom Beth should know? These were the things Beth grappled with now. Almost too anxious to hear God’s call, she often wondered if she had become deaf to it. Sitting in her seat, waiting to be called for boarding, Beth decided this woman wasn’t supposed to be in Beth’s universe. At least not in the physical sense. She decided to quietly say a prayer for the return of the young mother’s patience.
As soon as Beth finished her short but heartfelt prayer, her row was called. Securing her tote bag under her left arm, and holding her boarding pass in her right hand, she took her place in line. She smiled at everyone who looked her way, wanting to strike up a conversation with them all. Were they as excited as she was to be traveling to the Holy Land? She could feel her stomach doing flip-flops at the prospect of standing on the ground that her Lord and Savior stood upon. Were His words still echoing in the foothills of Mount Sinai? Would she feel Judge Deborah’s presence at Mount Tabor? Would she break down during her own walk on the Via Dolorosa?

Her questions filled her mind as she inched her way closer to the airplane that would be arriving at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv in ten hours. For one fleeting moment she wished that Luke were with her. Would he add to her excitement and anticipation or would he detract from it? It was something she hadn’t been willing to risk as she weighed the pros and cons of what she felt she needed during the planning portion of this trip.

Part of her thought they needed time together. They could have made arrangements for the two boys to stay with friends and family. But the other part of her, and as it turned out, the larger portion, knew she simply needed time to herself. And it needed to be time that had great meaning for her. Her ache for what life hadn’t yet held was becoming almost unbearable at times. Her need to grasp at the tailwinds of time began in earnest the day her son was accepted to college. She watched him read his congratulatory letter and simultaneously saw him as a toddler putting his first puzzle together. Where had the time gone? A searing pain ran through her like a hot knife through butter, melting everything it touched. She couldn’t bear to think of Sophia leaving in another year. Two of her children on their own!



Get the whole story at Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage

Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage by Cheryl Dickow, Part Two

With the entire airline industry on its head since the fateful September day in 2001, Beth found that safety measures seemed no different entering the El Al terminal than for her flight to New York. Precautions were in place everywhere and everyone was prepared for the eventual questioning by security personnel or the inevitable ransacking of bags and carry-on luggage. Rules, procedures, and limitations were constantly being updated. Currently, you were not allowed to have any beverages, shampoo, creams, or lotions in your carry-on bags. Beth wasn’t deterred by any of the edicts. She was too caught up in realizing her longtime dream of visiting Israel for her spirits to be hampered.

As she walked the terminals at LaGuardia airport she felt they, too, were no different than the terminals in Detroit. There were shops touting souvenirs of “The Big Apple” just as Detroit had souvenirs of “The Motor City” or of “Motown,” although these were both monikers that Detroit had long ago outgrown. LaGuardia also had the same small eateries as in Michigan. There was a hamburger place with lines spilling out into the halls while the establishments promoting more exotic cuisine seemed quite a bit emptier.

If everyone was like Beth, which she came to realize was in fact the case, a tourist was bound to avoid foods that have potentially negative long-term effects. “Passing-through” would have been applicable to the person as well as the meal. With an aging population, Beth knew this must be the case for many people and felt a twinge of sadness that she couldn’t partake in any of their interesting edibles. Those days were a thing of the past.
By far, Beth’s favorite thing to do was people watch. She was fascinated by the sheer number of people who inhabited the earth. She often wondered, as she watched people go by, why this one or that one wasn’t in her realm of acquaintances. Did God have a master plan and people only met when He deemed it necessary and providential?



Get the whole story at Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage

Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage by Cheryl Dickow, Part One

Beth awoke, startled, as her book slipped from her lap and landed on her feet. She was sure she had been snoring, another symptom of menopause, and embarrassedly looked at her seat companions. Fortunately, they, too, were older and probably couldn’t even hear Beth’s snores above the roar of the engines. Beth saw that she missed her chance at a drink and pressed the “call” button for a flight attendant. Normally she would have just dealt with her dry mouth but today felt it necessary to make a statement that the next two weeks were all about her. Not in a rude or offensive way, just her own simple acknowledgement that she, too, was worth the effort.

“Can I help you?” asked the flight attendant as he reached across her seat to turn off the call button.

“Yes, please, I’m sorry that I missed the drink cart. Could I please get a glass of ice water?”

“Sure, just give me a moment,” was his reply. Beth refused to feel guilty as he looked up and down the aisle, apparently preparing a strategy to obtain this errant drink requested by a demanding passenger. Of course Beth knew that receiving the drink was only the first leg of the imposition. When she had finished her drink, she knew she would have to press the call button again to dispose of the plastic up and shards of ice that remained. She opened her book and began reading to indicate that this wasn’t something she was going to back down from, regardless of the flight attendant’s dramatic flair.

When the plane touched down in New York, Beth had just finished the third chapter of the book. So far, so good. It was just what she had hoped and knew she had made a good decision. The christening flight of her trip was a success. She listened as the pilot instructed everyone to remain seated during the approach to the terminal and filled them in on the weather conditions and time in New York.

Beth had close to ninety minutes before her second flight and decided to be one of those people who simply sat in their seats while the other passengers jostled for a place in the aisle, just to stand, like sardines, until the door was opened. This made two, very unlike-Beth acts within the space of three short hours. First, she did not beg off with her interest in a glass of water the moment she saw it would take a bit of maneuvering and now, staying seated during the plane’s disembarkment, as if she were a lady of leisure. She was practically a new woman already! This was going to be an awesome two weeks.


Get the whole story at Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage

Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage

I'm pleased to announce that our first excerpt will be starting tomorrow. "Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage" is by Cheryl Dickow, publisher of www.bezalelbooks.com. Here is a review by Lisa Hendey of Catholic Mom.

Beth Gantry, Liz, Elizabeth...the main character of Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage
is many things to many people. What seems unclear in the opening pages of this debut novel from established non-fiction author Cheryl Dickow is how Elizabeth will be able to reconcile her roles as wife, mother and teacher with the woman she feels she has always wanted to become.

In the opening pages of this engrossing story, we meet Elizabeth and depart with her on the journey of a lifetime: her solo trip to Israel. She has dreamed of this pilgrimage for many years, but in the end it appears to be her discontent with her life that drives her to finally embark on her voyage. Beth has given her life to serving others and has come to feel only disappointment and resentment in return for her loving efforts. Her relationship with her husband Luke is strained to the point of near divorce. She feels a growing gulf between herself and her teenage children, the oldest of whom has flown the coop for college. Even her spiritual life seems dry and distant.

Beth looks at her journey to Israel as an opportunity to regain the life she feels she has missed out on in all of her efforts to care for others. "Her ache for what life hadn't yet held was becoming almost unbearable at times." Leaving her children in the care of her very driven and increasingly distant husband, Beth throws herself into her travel. Her desire is not to have the typical tourist experience of the Holy Land. Rather, she arranges for apartment housing in hopes of truly experiencing the traditions of the Jewish people. After having spent years studying the Jewish culture, "Elizabeth wanted to know, up close and personal, what is was like to live as a `chosen one'."

Elizabeth's logistical efforts are rewarded immediately when she meets the friendly neighbors at her Jerusalem accommodations. Meir and Ayala Goldfarb, along with their adult children David and Miriam, immediately embrace Elizabeth as a part of their family's Sabbath celebrations and she finds herself invited to dine and worship with them.

Just as the reader is joining Elizabeth in settling in to her wonderful scenario, unexpected tragedy strikes. Beth, at the urging of a very concerned Luke, contemplates cutting her trip short but eventually decides to remain in Jerusalem. The ensuing events draw her even more closely into the Jewish rituals and traditions she has longed to experience. Ultimately, through her wonderful relationship with the Goldfarb family, she meets Sipporah and Rachel, who will become her guides. Their tutelage is both historical and spiritual - embracing their companionship Elizabeth ultimately reconnects with her own personal spirituality. A fire is lit within her as she reconnects with God with a new intensity.

Interspersed throughout the accounts of Elizabeth's trip, we find Luke experiencing his own journey of sorts. As he steps in for the role his wife has played within the family, he begins to understand her perspective and his part in the damage that has occurred in their relationship. Like Beth, he finds himself longing for a deeper and more convicted connection with God. But has his marriage suffered too greatly to be repaired? The closing chapters of this lovingly crafted novel bring a tender response to this dilemma.

Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage
is not the typical inspirational novel. Part travelogue, part history lesson, part Bible study, this book blends a wonderful story with empathetic characters. Author Cheryl Dickow's research and attention to detail are apparent in this smartly written tale. Dickow's strengths lie in both character development and in educating the reader without taking on an overly dogmatic tone. In reading this novel, I learned a tremendous amount about Jewish culture and its relevance to the roots of Christianity. The close connection I felt with several of the characters in this book, along with my admiration for the wisdom and spiritual reflections of author Cheryl Dickow, leave me hoping that we will be treated to a sequel to Elizabeth: A Holy Land Pilgrimage

Please submit your stories!

Welcome to the new Catholic Blog Fiction blog! Please submit your stories for consideration - published or not, if you have the rights to them, we'll consider them. We can publish excerpts that can stand alone or a full story. It will be broken into smaller sections so part of it will be posted each day. We will include links to your site or Amazon to help promote sales of your work (if applicable). Submit queries to pfmacarthur at comcast.net.

Thank you!