Skip to main content


Last week, I was watching the almost season finale of the TV show Castle (one of my favorite television shows of all time) with two of my younger sisters.
What can I say? I'm a sucker for a well-composed story about a writer and his muse. *wink wink*

It was a bit of an emotional roller coaster last week (to say nothing of the season finale we just finished watching an hour or so ago... but I'm just not ready to go there yet, so don't ask if there is anything of value in your life at this particular moment in time).
We've been waiting for six television seasons for Kate Beckett, butt-kicking NYPD homicide detective and muse to murder-mystery writer Richard Castle, to finally see justice served as far as her mother's murder case is concerned.
My youngest sister and I were in tears off and on throughout the episode -
At first when it looked like the man who ordered her mother's stabbing was going to find a way to frame her for the murder of another man involved in her mother's case, then later on as Beckett legitimately found the evidence she needed to put that man away, and finally as she arrested him while he was in the middle of filming a news interview for a national audience.
At last, the victim's family received a measure of closure and justice was executed.

As I've mulled that episode over this last week, what keeps coming back into my thoughts is that justice doesn't come on our time clocks.
Sometimes (for a fortunate few) it comes in a few weeks or a few months' time.
Sometimes it takes a few years, sometimes it takes a lifetime, and sometimes...
Well, sometimes it isn't going to be served before the end of the world as we know it.
Those are the times when the only way it is ever going to be meted out is by God's hand, and that is an incredibly hard pill to try to swallow-
Especially in a society where we want what we want when we want it, and if we can't get it honestly, then we try to get it by any means necessary.

But as the image of Kate Beckett slapping the cuffs on the man who ordered her mother's murder filled the television in front of me last week, there were two things that struck me.
One - it wasn't the sneaking around and lying (at times) which made it possible for Beckett to experience that moment.
It was the years she spent diligently pouring over the evidence, making herself so familiar with it that just the tiniest of nudges in the right direction had her looking at it differently and seeing things she hadn't seen before.
Two - whether we see it in our lifetime or not, justice is worth whatever price we're willing to pay in order to see it.

That would be why I was crying - the reminder that justice is always worth pursuing.

Photo Credit: "Royal Courts of Justice Interior" by Eugene Regis is licensed for use under CC BY 2.0


Popular posts from this blog

Metaphors: Candles

I've recently fallen in love with candles. Since coming home from the World Race , I've bought at least one a month. My favorite candles are the ones that come in glass jars - because when they burn out, I can clean the remaining wax out and put the jars to other uses. Right now,  that means they get cleaned out and packed away in anticipation of my move to Flagstaff. But as I was lighting one tonight (vanilla spice... Thanksgiving smells? Yes, please!), I saw a metaphor for writing flickering away in the flame licking at the wick and melting the wax. I suppose it could be a metaphor for life in general, but since the theme of this blog is writing... Well, you do the math.

[Five Minute Friday] Purpose

Fiber bars, strewn along the side of the road. There had to be at least a dozen of them, still in their wrappers and completely unopened. No box in sight. Really? That's about the reaction my younger sister and I had when we stumbled on them on our early morning run. Really? along with disgusted sighs about the wastefulness of it. These were the expensive ones, not a generic store brand that kind of tastes and kind of looks the same sometimes. So, when we weren't keeping an eye out for their box, we speculated about what had happened. And wondered how many more we were going to see before the end of our run. "Maybe they took one bite and thought they were gross," my sister said. "So they threw them out because they didn't want them anymore." I let out one of those disgusted sighs and nodded along with her theory. "Yeah, or they got in a huge fight, and threw them out in a fit of rage." "That's a possibility." And

Book Review: Always Gray in Winter

Happy Thursday! Welcome to the first book review of Spring 2019. Today, I'm looking at science fiction and furry writer Mark J. Engels' debut novel, Always Gray in Winter - which is also the first in a series. Disclaimer/Permission Tag: The book for this month's review was provided to me for free by the author in exchange for a fair and honest review of their work. Also, the cover art is being used with permission of the author. Always Gray in Winter Mark J. Engels, 2017, Thurston Howl Publications Description:  A distant daughter. A peculiar device. A family lineage full of secrets. When werecat Pawlina Katczynski finally resurfaces, her location previously unknown to anyone close to her, the reunion is short of welcomed. Instead, she finds herself thrust tooth and nail—tooth and claw—into a feud between opposing werecat clans as her family and their enemies reignite a battle that has raged for years. Always Gray in Winter invites the reader to j