{"id":6149,"date":"2010-10-21T02:04:22","date_gmt":"2010-10-21T07:04:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=6149"},"modified":"2010-10-20T23:06:02","modified_gmt":"2010-10-21T04:06:02","slug":"two-tickets-to-the-christmas-ball-by-donita-k-paul","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=6149","title":{"rendered":"Two Tickets to the Christmas Ball by Donita K. Paul"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"\"<\/a>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/strong><\/span> <\/strong> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n


<\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n


<\/p>\n

Donita K. Paul<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Two Tickets to the Christmas Ball <\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

WaterBrook Press (October 5, 2010)<\/p>\n

***Special thanks to Ashley Boyer and Staci Carmichael of Waterbrook Multnomah for sending me a review copy.***<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>Expertly weaving together fantasy, romance and Biblical truths, Donita K. Paul penned the best-selling, fan-favorite DragonKeeper Chronicles series. After retiring early from teaching, she began a second career as an award-winning author and loves serving as a mentor for new writers of all ages. And when she\u2019s not putting pen to paper, Donita makes her home in Colorado Springs and enjoys spending time with her grandsons, cooking, beading, stamping, and knitting.<\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a>.<\/p>\n


<\/p>\n


<\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $14.99
\n Hardcover: 240 pages
\n Publisher: WaterBrook Press (October 5, 2010)
\n Language: English
\n ISBN-10: 0307458997
\n ISBN-13: 978-0307458995<\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong>
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Christmas. Cora had been trying to catch it for four years. She scurried down the sidewalk, thankful that streetlights and brightly lit storefronts counteracted the gloom of early nightfall. Somewhere, sometime, she\u2019d get a hold of how to celebrate Christmas. Maybe even tonight.<\/p>\n


<\/p>\n


<\/p>\n


<\/p>\n

With snowflakes sticking to her black coat, Christmas lights blinking around shop windows, and incessant bells jingling, Cora should have felt some holiday cheer.<\/p>\n

And she did.<\/p>\n

Really.<\/p>\n

Just not much.<\/p>\n

At least she was on a Christmas errand this very minute. One present for a member of the family. Shouldn\u2019t that count for a bit of credit in the Christmas-spirit department?<\/p>\n

Cora planned out her Christmas gift giving in a reasonable manner. The execution of her purchasing schedule gave her a great deal of satisfaction. Tonight\u2019s quest was a book for Uncle Eric\u2014something about knights and castles, sword fights, shining armor, and all that.<\/p>\n

One or two gifts purchased each week from Labor Day until December 15, and her obligations were discharged efficiently, economically, and without the excruciating last-minute frenzy that descended upon other people\u2026like her three sisters, her mother, her grandmother, her aunts.<\/p>\n

Cora refused to behave like her female relatives and had decided not to emulate the male side of the family either. The men didn\u2019t buy gifts. They sometimes exchanged bottles from the liquor store, but more often they drank the spirits themselves.<\/p>\n

Her adult ambition had been to develop her own traditions for the season, ones that sprouted from the Christianity she\u2019d discovered in college. The right way to celebrate the birth of Christ. She avoided the chaos that could choke Christmas. Oh dear. Judgmental again. At least now she recognized when she slipped.<\/p>\n

She glanced around Sage Street. Not too many shoppers. The quaint old shops were decked out for the holidays, but not with LED bulbs and inflated cartoon figures.<\/p>\n

Since discovering Christianity, she\u2019d been confused about the trappings of Christmas\u2014the gift giving, the nativity scenes, the carols, even the Christmas tree. Every year she tried to acquire some historical background on the festivities. She was learning. She had hope. But she hadn\u2019t wrapped her head around all the traditions yet.<\/p>\n

The worst part was shopping.<\/p>\n

Frenzy undid her. Order sustained her. And that was a good reason to steer clear of any commercialized holiday rush. She\u2019d rather screw red light bulbs into plastic reindeer faces than push through a crowd of shoppers.<\/p>\n

Cora examined the paper in her hand and compared it to the address above the nearest shop. Number 483 on the paper and 527 on the building. Close.<\/p>\n

When she\u2019d found the bookstore online, she had been amazed that a row of old-fashioned retailers still existed a few blocks from the high-rise office building where she worked. Truthfully, it was more like the bookstore found her. Every time she opened her browser, and on every site she visited, the ad for the old-fashioned new- and used-book store showed up in a banner or sidebar. She\u2019d asked around, but none of her co-workers patronized the Sage Street Shopping District.<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds like a derelict area to me,\u201d said Meg, the receptionist. \u201cSage Street is near the old railroad station, isn\u2019t it? The one they decided was historic so they wouldn\u2019t tear it down, even though it\u2019s empty and an eyesore?\u201d<\/p>\n

An odd desire to explore something other than the mall near her apartment seized Cora. \u201cI\u2019m going to check it out.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jake, the security guard, frowned at her. \u201cTake a cab. You don\u2019t want to be out too late over there.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cora walked. The brisk air strengthened her lungs, right? The exercise pumped her blood, right? A cab would cost three, maybe four dollars, right?<\/p>\n

An old man, sitting on the stoop of a door marked 503, nodded at her. She smiled, and he winked as he gave her a toothless grin. Startled, she quickened her pace and gladly joined the four other pedestrians waiting at the corner for the light to change.<\/p>\n

Number 497 emblazoned the window of an ancient shoe store on the opposite corner. She marched on. In this block she\u2019d find the book and check another item off her Christmas list.<\/p>\n

Finally! \u201cWarner, Werner, and Wizbotterdad, Books,\u201d Cora read the sign aloud and then grasped the shiny knob. It didn\u2019t turn. She frowned. Stuck? Locked? The lights were on. She pressed her face against the glass. A man sat at the counter. Reading. How appropriate.<\/p>\n

Cora wrenched the knob. A gust of wind pushed with her against the door, and she blew into the room. She stumbled and straightened, and before she could grab the door and close it properly, it swung closed, without the loud bang she expected.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t like loud noises,\u201d the man said without looking up from his book.<\/p>\n

\u201cNeither do I,\u201d said Cora.<\/p>\n

He nodded over his book. With one gnarled finger, he pushed his glasses back up his nose.<\/p>\n

Must be an interesting book. Cora took a quick look around. The place could use stronger lights. She glanced back at the clerk. His bright lamp cast him and his book in a golden glow.<\/p>\n

Should she peruse the stacks or ask?<\/p>\n

She decided to browse. She started to enter the aisle between two towering bookcases.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot there,\u201d said the old man.<\/p>\n

\u201cI beg your pardon?\u201d said Cora.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow-to books. How to fix a leaky faucet. How to build a bridge. How to mulch tomatoes. How to sing opera. How-to books. You don\u2019t need to know any of that, do you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWrong aisle, then.\u201d He placed the heavy volume on the counter and leaned over it, apparently absorbed once more.<\/p>\n

Cora took a step toward him. \u201cI think I saw a movie like this once.\u201d<\/p>\n

His head jerked up, his scowl heavier. He glared over the top of his glasses at the books on the shelves as if they had suddenly moved or spoken or turned bright orange.<\/p>\n

\u201cA movie? Here? I suppose you mean the backdrop of a bookstore. Not so unusual.\u201d He arched an eyebrow. \u201cYou\u2019ve Got Mail and 84 Charing Cross Road.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI meant the dialogue. You spoke as if you knew what I needed.\u201d<\/p>\n

He hunched his shoulders. The dark suspenders stretched across the faded blue of his shirt. \u201cReading customers. Been in the business a long time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m looking for a book for my uncle. He likes castles, knights, tales of adventure. That sort of thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

He sighed, closed his book, and tapped its cover. \u201cThis is it.\u201d He stood as Cora came to the desk. \u201cDo you want me to wrap it and send it? We have the service. My grandson\u2019s idea.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cora schooled her face and her voice. One of the things she excelled in was not showing her exasperation. She\u2019d been trained by a dysfunctional family, and that had its benefits. She knew how to take guff and not give it back. Maintaining a calm attitude was a good job skill.<\/p>\n

She tried a friendly smile and addressed the salesclerk.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want to look at it first and find out how much it costs.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the book you want, and the price is eleven dollars and thirteen cents.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cora rubbed her hand over the cover. It looked and felt like leather, old leather, but in good repair. The book must be ancient.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you sure?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich?\u201d the old man barked.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich part of the statement am I sure about? It doesn\u2019t matter because I\u2019m sure about both.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cora felt her armor of detachment suffer a dent. The man was impossible. She could probably order a book online and get it wrapped and delivered right to her uncle with less aggravation. But dollar signs blinked in neon red in her mind as she thought how much that would cost. No need to be hasty.<\/p>\n

Curtain rings rattled on a rod, and Cora looked up to see a younger version of the curmudgeon step into the area behind the counter.<\/p>\n

The younger man smiled. He had the same small, wiry build as the older version, but his smile was warm and genuine. He looked to be about fifty, but his hair was still black, as black as the old man\u2019s hair was white. He stretched out his hand, and Cora shook it.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Bill Wizbotterdad. This is my granddad, William Wizbotterdad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me guess. Your father is named Will?\u201d<\/p>\n

Bill grinned, obviously pleased she\u2019d caught on quickly. \u201cWillie Wizbotterdad. He\u2019s off in Europe collecting rare books.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s not!\u201d said the elder shop owner.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe is.\u201d Bill cast his granddad a worried look.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s just the reason he gave for not being here.\u201d William shook his head and leaned across the counter. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t like Christmas. We have a special job to do at Christmas, and he doesn\u2019t like people and dancing and matrimony.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bill put his arm around his grandfather and pulled him back. He let go of his granddad and spun the book on the scarred wooden counter so that Cora could read the contents. \u201cTake a look.\u201d He opened the cover and flipped through the pages. \u201cColored illustrations.\u201d<\/p>\n

A rattling of the door knob was followed by the sound of a shoulder thudding against the wood. Cora turned to see the door fly open with a tall man attached to it. The stranger brushed snow from his sleeves, then looked up at the two shop owners. Cora caught them giving each other a smug smile, a wink, and a nod of the head.<\/p>\n

Odd. Lots of oddness in this shop.<\/p>\n

She liked the book, and she wanted to leave before more snow accumulated on the streets. Yet something peculiar about this shop and the two men made her curious. Part of her longed to linger. However, smart girls trusted their instincts and didn\u2019t hang around places that oozed mystery. She didn\u2019t feel threatened, just intrigued. But getting to know the peculiar booksellers better was the last thing she wanted, right? She needed to get home and be done with this Christmas shopping business. \u201cI\u2019ll take the book.\u201d<\/p>\n

The newcomer stomped his feet on the mat by the door, then took off his hat.<\/p>\n

Cora did a double take. \u201cMr. Derrick!\u201d<\/p>\n

He cocked his head and scrunched his face. \u201cDo I know you?\u201d The man was handsome, even wearing that comical lost expression. \u201cExcuse me. Have we met?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe work in the same office.\u201d<\/p>\n

He studied her a moment, and a look of recognition lifted the frown. \u201cThird desk on the right.\u201d He hesitated, then snapped his fingers. \u201cCora Crowden.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCrowder.\u201d<\/p>\n

He jammed his hand in his pocket, moving his jacket aside. His tie hung loosely around his neck. She\u2019d never seen him looking relaxed. The office clerks called him Serious Simon Derrick.<\/p>\n

\u201cI drew your name,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

He looked puzzled.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor the gift exchange. Tomorrow night. Office party.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh. Of course.\u201d He nodded. \u201cI drew Mrs. Hudson. She\u2019s going to retire, and I heard her say she wanted to redecorate on a shoestring.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s Mrs. Wilson. Mrs. Hudson is taking leave to be with her daughter, who is giving birth to triplets.\u201d<\/p>\n

He frowned and began looking at the books.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou won\u2019t be there, will you?\u201d Cora asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cAt the party? No, I never come.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know. I mean, I\u2019ve worked at Sorenby\u2019s for five years, and you\u2019ve never been there.\u201d<\/p>\n

The puzzled expression returned to Serious Simon\u2019s face. He glanced to the side. \u201cI\u2019m looking for the how-to section.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cora grinned. \u201cOn your left. Second aisle.\u201d<\/p>\n

He turned to stare at her, and she pointed to the shelves Mr. Wizbotterdad had not let her examine. Mr. Derrick took a step in that direction.<\/p>\n

Cora looked back at the shop owners and caught them leaning back in identical postures, grins on their faces, and arms crossed over their chests.<\/p>\n

Bill jerked away from the wall, grabbed her book, rummaged below the counter, and brought out a bag. He slid the book inside, then looked at her. \u201cYou didn\u2019t want the book wrapped and delivered?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I\u2019ll just pay for it now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you sure you wouldn\u2019t like to look around some more?\u201d asked Bill.<\/p>\n

\u201cRight,\u201d said William. \u201cNo hurry. Look around. Browse. You might find something you like.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bill elbowed William.<\/p>\n

Simon Derrick had disappeared between the stacks.<\/p>\n

William nodded toward the how-to books. \u201cGet a book. We have a copy of How to Choose Gifts for Ungrateful Relatives. Third from the bottom shelf, second case from the wall.\u201d<\/p>\n

The statement earned him a \u201cshh\u201d from his grandson.<\/p>\n

Cora shifted her attention to the man from her office and walked a few paces to peek around the shelves. \u201cMr. Derrick, I\u2019m getting ready to leave. If you\u2019re not coming to the party, may I just leave the gift on your desk tomorrow?\u201d<\/p>\n

He glanced at her before concentrating again on the many books. \u201cThat\u2019s fine. Nice to see you, Miss Crowden.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCrowder,\u201d she corrected, but he didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n

She went to the counter and paid. Mr. Derrick grunted when she said good-bye at the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome back again,\u201d said Bill.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d said William. \u201cWe have all your heart\u2019s desires.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bill elbowed him, and Cora escaped into the blustering weather.<\/p>\n

She hiked back to the office building. Snow sprayed her with tiny crystals, and the sharp wind nipped her nose. Inside the parking garage, warm air helped her thaw a bit as she walked to the spot she leased by the month. It would be a long ride home on slippery roads. But once she arrived, there would be no one there to interrupt her plans. She got in the car, turned the key, pushed the gearshift into reverse, looked over her shoulder, and backed out of her space.<\/p>\n

She would get the gift ready to mail off and address a few cards in the quiet of her living room. There would be no yelling. That\u2019s what she liked about living states away from her family. No one would ambush her with complaints and arguments when she walked through the door.<\/p>\n

Except Skippy. Skippy waited. One fat, getting fatter, cat to talk to. She did complain at times about her mistress being gone too long, about her dinner being late, about things Cora could not fathom. But Cora never felt condemned by Skippy, just prodded a little.<\/p>\n

_<\/p>\n

Once inside her second-floor apartment, she pulled off her gloves, blew her nose, and went looking for Skippy.<\/p>\n

The cat was not behind the curtain, sitting on the window seat, staring at falling snow. Not in her closet, curled up in a boot she\u2019d knocked over. Not in the linen closet, sleeping on clean towels. She wasn\u2019t in any of her favorite spots. Cora looked around and saw the paper bag that, this morning, had been filled with wadded scraps of Christmas paper. Balls of pretty paper and bits of ribbon littered the floor. There. Cora bent over and spied her calico cat in the bag.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you have fun, Skippy?\u201d<\/p>\n

The cat rolled on her back and batted the top of the paper bag. Skippy then jumped from her cave and padded after Cora, as her owner headed for the bedroom.<\/p>\n

Thirty minutes later, Cora sat at the dining room table in her cozy pink robe that enveloped her from neck to ankles. She stirred a bowl of soup and eyed the fifteen packages she\u2019d wrapped earlier in the week. Two more sat waiting for their ribbons.<\/p>\n

These would cost a lot less to send if some of these people were on speaking terms. She could box them together and ship them off in large boxes.<\/p>\n

She spooned chicken and rice into her mouth and swallowed.<\/p>\n

The soup was a tad too hot. She kept stirring.<\/p>\n

She could send one package with seven gifts inside to Grandma Peterson, who could dispense them to her side of the family. She could send three to Aunt Carol.<\/p>\n

She took another sip. Cooler.<\/p>\n

Aunt Carol could keep her gift and give two to her kids. She could send five to her mom\u2026<\/p>\n

Cora grimaced. She had three much older sisters and one younger. \u201cIf Mom were on speaking terms with my sisters, that would help.\u201d<\/p>\n

She eyed Skippy, who had lifted a rear leg to clean between her back toes. \u201cYou don\u2019t care, do you? Well, I\u2019m trying to. And I think I\u2019m doing a pretty good job with this Christmas thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

She reached over and flipped the switch on her radio. A Christmas carol poured out and jarred her nerves. She really should think about Christmas and not who received the presents. Better to think \u201cmy uncle\u201d than \u201cJoe, that bar bum and pool shark.\u201d<\/p>\n

She finished her dinner, watching her cat wash her front paws.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou and I need to play. You\u2019re\u201d\u2014she paused as Skippy turned<\/p>\n

a meaningful glare at her\u2014\u201cgetting a bit rotund, dear kitty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Skippy sneezed and commenced licking her chest.<\/p>\n

After dinner, Cora curled up on the couch with her Warner, Werner, and Wizbotterdad bag. Skippy came to investigate the rattling paper.<\/p>\n

Uncle Eric. Uncle Eric used to recite \u201cYou Are Old, Father William.\u201d He said it was about a knight. But Cora wasn\u2019t so sure. She dredged up memories from college English. The poem was by Lewis Carroll, who was really named Dodson, Dogson, Dodgson, or something.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe wrote Alice\u2019s Adventures in Wonderland,\u201d she said. \u201cThere\u2019s a cat in the story, but not as fine a cat as you. He smiles too much.\u201d<\/p>\n

Skippy gave her a squint-eyed look.<\/p>\n

Cora eased the leather-bound book out of the bag. \u201cThe William I met at the bookstore qualifies for at least ancient.\u201d<\/p>\n

She put the book in her lap and ran her fingers over the embossed title: How the Knights Found Their Ladies.<\/p>\n

She might have been hasty. She didn\u2019t know if Uncle Eric would like this. She hefted the book, guessing its weight to be around four pounds. She should have found a lighter gift. This would cost a fortune to mail.<\/p>\n

Skippy sniffed at the binding, feline curiosity piqued. Cora stroked her fur and pushed her back. She opened the book to have a peek inside. A piece of thick paper fell out. Skippy pounced on it as it twirled to the floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is it, kitty? A bookmark?\u201d She slipped it out from between Skippy\u2019s paws, then turned the rectangle over in her hands. Not a bookmark. A ticket.<\/p>\n

Admit one to the Wizards\u2019 Christmas Ball<\/p>\n

Costumes required<\/p>\n

Dinner and Dancing<\/p>\n

and your Destiny<\/p>\n

Never heard of it. She tucked the ticket in between the pages and continued to flip through the book, stopping to read an occasional paragraph.<\/p>\n

This book wasn\u2019t for Uncle Eric at all. It was not a history, it was a story. Kind of romantic too. Definitely not Uncle Eric\u2019s preferred reading.<\/p>\n

Skippy curled against her thigh and purred.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what, cat? I\u2019m going to keep it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Skippy made her approval known by stretching her neck up and rubbing her chin on the edge of the leather cover. Cora put the book on the sofa and picked up Skippy for a cuddle. The cat squirmed out of her arms, batted at the ticket sticking out of the pages, and scampered off.<\/p>\n

\u201cI love you too,\u201d called Cora.<\/p>\n

She pulled the ticket out and read it again: Wizards\u2019 Christmas Ball. She turned out the light and headed for bed. But as she got ready, her eye caught the computer on her desk. Maybe she could find a bit more information.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

MY REVIEW:<\/strong><\/p>\n

Two Tickets to the Christmas Ball<\/a> is a\u00a0 splendid fantastical tale filled with all the magic and wonder of the Christmas season. Confused by all the Christmas traditions and not sure how Christmas should really be celebrated, Cora plods through the weeks before the holiday, systematically purchasing gifts for her relatives. She hopes the gifts will make a difference to her dysfunctional family but knows in her heart that nothing will ever change. When she wanders into a quaint off the beaten track bookstore, she runs into Simon, the boss of her boss. Upon arriving at their respective homes, both Cora and Simon find a mysterious ticket to the Wizards’ Christmas Ball. Shortly thereafter, the two coworkers continue to experience coincidental meetings as well as many unexplained mysterious occurrences. What does it all mean? Will Cora discover the true way to celebrate Christmas? Will the shopkeepers on Sage Street succeed in their matchmaking efforts?<\/p>\n

I truly enjoyed Two Tickets to the Christmas Ball<\/a>. Although it was filled with mystical events, it never ventured away from its message of faith.\u00a0 The characters are wonderfully realistic with a superb hero and heroine. The supporting cast (including the cat) adds so much to the story that none of them could have been left out. I am sure that I could read this one again and again and discover more hidden gems each time.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8,57],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6149","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books","category-christmas"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6149"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6149"}],"version-history":[{"count":14,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6149\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6170,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6149\/revisions\/6170"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6149"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6149"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6149"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}