As the spray of the wooden shields flew through the air, Hildebrand wielded a mighty blow, swinging his scimitar over his son’s head. Ducking the strong and fierce swing, Hadubrant charged into Hildebrand with his steely vambrace posed at his father’s bare knee; and he knocked Hildebrand over. Blood covered the ground.

They started to fight and their shields were smashed into bits and so it was now they started with sword to sword. Hildebrand knew he must not kill his son, but he needed to protect himself from the hard blows.

My heart is breaking
aching
watching
tears shedding
waters shattering
rough
through storms
deep and cold
churning
the soul.

Crowds wounding,
because they're
hurting
though hiding

Smiles cracked
like broken glass
shatter and fall
into nothing.

The sun is running
through the breeze
burning
shaking trees
trembling knees.

Eyes screaming
of pain and grief
direct at you
the fault.

There are shadows
of you
in this empty room - places
your fingers have
touched and moments
you've breathed
that we can't take back
and I wouldn't
want to, anyway.
Everywhere I find
little pieces of
your life
left as souvenirs
of this brief
togetherness.
Your voice echoes in my
loneliness.
Please come back
and make this house
a home again.

Hi,
I'm an editor and a columnist with Home Education Magazine. I'm also a homeschooling parent, one of my offspring is Claire who was one of the early writers for ApricotPie.

I am completing an upcoming book about interest-led learning, especially homeschooling beyond home. I need input from homeschoolers willing to share their insights and stories. I have a number of questions I'd like to ask to generate responses for inclusion in the book. Or please send your answers to my private email at stlaura at lcnoh dot com

(IT FINALLY OCCURED TO ME TO POST THIS SECTION OF MY DIARY UP HERE)

Dear Friend,

I am a misfit, the unwanted, the person nobody cares about or understands. For me this diary became my friend, my listening ear, my sanctuary. Have you ever found that there was nobody there for you? Then you know as well as me the power a diary can hold.
I hope that this diary can help give people an insight in what it’s like to be part of the unwanted, so that you can try and understand the hurt and pain I and many like me have suffered.

Dear Homeschooling Friends,

Morning inspirations often appear dim to me later in the day. It happened today when I woke up with the early morning sun shining into my eyes and the inspiration to write about what it means to "see" - or not to see - God.

I watched my shadow falling on the pavement. It was strangely still…shoulders sagging. My footsteps echoed down the street as my feet came in contact with the hard ground. A shiver ran all the way through me. It was cold for September.

I don’t know why I did it.
I wish I hadn’t.
She used to trust me, and I broke that trust.

“If they catch us, they’ll think you’re the spy,” She’d said. “I couldn’t let that happen.”
I looked away from her, ashamed at what I knew.

I watched as they kicked her awake, then put a sword to her throat. I wish I could’ve done something then to save her, but I wasn’t ready to risk my life. As they hauled her to her feet, fear shone in her eyes. She glanced at me.
And I looked away.

SOME OVERALL STUFF ABOUT CAMP...
Everything about Camp Barnabas is unique. The founders, Paul and Cyndy Teas, wanted it to be a special place for kids who have been told their entire lives, "You can't do that." Picture a regular camp. What do you see? Kids swimming, shooting rifles, archery, roughing it for 24 hours, maybe climbing a ropes course. Now picture this...blind kids shooting a rifle, kids in wheelchairs climbing a rock wall, cancer survivors swimming and splashing. This is Camp Barnabas.