My Epiphany

I thought I had this writing thing down. The real writing. Like at the request of a professional who expected to see it in her inbox.

All through the summer and fall I’ve written and edited by faith. Truly. I trusted that Lord would make a way to get it done in a timely manner. That I could take Sundays completely off. That I could put down my work and engage with my family and friends when I needed to.

But when January and a different request arrived, it was as if I hadn’t learned anything at all! I plunged in, starting with an unrealistic deadline for myself. With that date fixed in my head, I figured I had to work constantly to get there. I started in the morning and worked late into the evening with few breaks. I only took time off to attend my sons’ basketball games.

For ten days I worked. Then, as I lay in bed, jittery, frantic, unable to sleep, I had an epiphany: I wasn’t made to work 24/7. You’d think I’d know that, but I guess I didn’t. Not really. I thought if I used all the hours available to me in a day, I’d finish more quickly. But it doesn’t work like that. Not when you don’t eat right or sleep right or exercise. Not when you have no down time and no interaction with others.

So on the 11^th day, I stopped. Not stopped working, but stopped working non-stop. I took regular breaks, ate regular meals, exercised. And in doing so, I accomplished as much or more than when I pushed myself over the limit. And the end result was better work. My husband concurred when I told him my plan. His support helped me give myself “permission” to take breaks.

I really hope this lesson has taken root now. And I hope it is a lesson I needed to because deadlines imposed by others and not myself hover on the horizon. But whatever the case may be, I know that by pushing myself to the brink of exhaustion and frustration, I’ve also pushed to a new level of trust in the Lord. I work hard in the time I have to work but I have to trust Him not only to give me the time to work but the creativity and freshness of mind I need for that time.

Gleaning Historical Tidbits

I love learning about history. Not the history you learn in textbooks, necessarily, although knowledge of those things is an important background. I love the little things. The obscure things. Things important to the people of a specific time and place but not noted by the country or the world. That’s why I love the Dallas History Conference.

This year we learned all kinds of cool things—about the fact that SMU had a medical and pharmaceutical school that opened and closed its doors before the undergraduate liberal arts school had its first class, about the red light district in Dallas from 1910-1913 and the efforts that brought about its demise, about the outlaw Shilo Scrivnor, about the long-forgotten Long’s Lake pleasure park, and about “Dad” Garrett and his inventions. What? You haven’t heard of most of that?

Precisely! Isn’t that fun? While none of those actual topics may find their way into my stories, I learned lots of little things—like the name of one of the biggest employers in Dallas in the early 1900s, several bank robberies that occurred in Dallas in the late 1910s and early 1920s, what hospitals were up and running in Dallas in the early 1900s and some of early medical men whose legacies remain today. I learned some of the history of traffic signals and radio stations and fire and police alarms and an African-American newspaper. Tidbits that can enhance a story and that are just plain fun to know!

Here’s a bonus for you: Did you know that the first car in Dallas was delivered by train to Terrell then driven to Dallas? It took 5 hours and 10 minutes to make that drive!

Someday I’ll have more time to research on my own, but gleaning from the research of others is an amazing thing, too. I’m so glad I live in a place where I can take advantage of that!

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Living the Dream

My husband has always been a far-seeing man. When I met him, he was nineteen. Unlike most college students, he wasn’t living for the next day or the next party. He was living for forty. The perfect age, he told me. You’ve paid off your education and are seasoned in your career. You have a family and a house. Life is good at forty, he told me.

And he was right. Almost.

In spite of reaching those goals for forty that he set way back at eighteen (or earlier), he wasn’t quite living his dream. Two years later, he thought he’d found it, entering into a partnership with a godly man and a great lawyer. For two years we've loved that situation, one he had envisioned long ago that combined Christian lawyers and good legal work. Even so, something still niggled at him. A new judicial seat was created in the area. A public servant. Not his ultimate dream, but something that had always appealed to him. So he pursued it, even knowing it was a bit of a long-shot. And then the unexpected happened.

Out of the blue, he was offered his dream job.

What, might you ask with bated breath, could that possibly be? When my husband made his plans for law school all those years ago, his dream was to practice Constitutional law. Of course as time passed, he realized that such a career doesn’t often pay the bills, especially student loans that covered a private college education and a private law school education. So he plunged into the world of business litigation. He enjoyed it and he was good at it. But on the side he indulged his true love, using his pro bono hours to write letters and briefs and argue cases for causes of religious liberty. And he loved it. He felt he was using his talents in the service of the Lord and others.

As of today, he takes the helm of legal activities at the Liberty Institute. He will get to live his dream—practicing Constitutional law on a daily basis. It’s quite a shift, going from private practice to working for a non-profit entity. But we are so proud of him and so excited for his new adventure, even if we are sobered by the thoughts that he is moving to the front lines of a huge spiritual battle. 

Sometimes you really do get to live that dream that the Lord has dropped into your heart, even if it takes a few years longer than you imagined.

Three Forms, One Story

It isn’t often that I can embrace other forms a book I love, though on occasion, it happens. Such as Emma by Jane Austen and the movie Emma with Gwyneth Paltrow. Or the book Les Miserables and the musical Les Miserables. Sometimes it’s nice to enjoy a story in its shorter form when time doesn’t allow for re-reading the entire book. And that is especially true when it is a book that inspires.

Like Little Women. I love that book, but don’t often have the time to sit down and re-read the whole thing. That’s why I love the movie, the Wynona Rider version. But in times such as now, as I’m editing like crazy, two hours is a precious commodity. That’s why it was so wonderful the other night, as I traveled to a business dinner with my husband, to put in the cast recording of Little Women: The Musical.

We saw the show a few years ago when it came to Dallas Summer Musicals. I went with trepidation, afraid I would hate it. But I didn’t hate it. In fact, I really enjoyed it! Then last year, my daughter’s school performed it. We bought the CD the minute it was announced, and I remembered again how much I loved the music. The songs not only capture the characters, but they are songs you will sing in your head, the music as inspiring as the story.

It’s nice to have different, sometimes more convenient ways to experience a story as timeless as Little Women. But then again, each of the other makes me long to experience the book once more.

Connection Interrupted

We made some changes to our Internet service last week. No provider change, so no big deal.

“It’ll go off one afternoon and come on again the next morning,” he told me. “Is there a day that would work best for you?”

I picked a Friday, because I knew I’d be gone all evening. It would be painless. Or so I thought.

Thursday morning I woke up to no Internet. No a good day. I had posts up at two group blogs and I needed to respond to comments. And I moderate an email loop on Thursdays. Needless to say, I wasn’t happy.

Long story short, it came on again about Friday noon. A day and a half. I thought I’d lose my mind—even with email on my phone! And as I stewed, I remembered the birthday my husband decided to “give” me AOL service, probably 12 or 13 years ago. This Internet thing was all brand new. We put the kids to bed then dialed up via the free trial CD. After an hour or so of trying to figure out what in the world we were supposed to do “on line,” we gave up. I told him, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

It took another two or three years—until my sister moved overseas—to get us connected, first via dial-up, then cable, then DSL. Now we have it our phones, can find it in various places with our laptops. In a few short years it has gone from enigma to necessity.

I’m just glad to be connected again!

A Sweet and Bitter Providence

If you’ve been hanging around here very long at all, you know that I seldom do non-fiction. Long ago I realized that my mode of learning is through story. I can name several novels that have changed my life because I “saw” the spiritual truth illustrated by the story. It’s also the reason I love history (the “story” of God and man.) But last week, when mulling over how to spend a Barnes and Noble gift card, my friend Cheryl posted on her blog the book trailer for John Piper’s new book—and I was hooked.

My husband has read John Piper for years. I confess I have not. But this book, A Sweet and Bitter Providence, caught my attention because it expounds on the Biblical book of Ruth. I love the Word of God, especially when it is combined with story. And his premise, that the story of Ruth, Boaz, and Naomi shows how God’s providence in our lives, personally and globally, is both sweet and bitter, intrigued me. So I bought it.

It’s a small book. After all, Ruth only contains four chapters. But the truth packed into this “little” story is amazingly big. Some things I’d never considered before. Some things I’d felt but never been able to put into words. A Sweet and Bitter Providence is a book I wish I’d read when starting out in life, instead of coming to learn things the hard way. It’s a book I intend for my children to read, to at least plant in their minds the truth of how God works in our lives, for our good and His glory.

Pick this one up. I think you’ll be glad you did.

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The Prayers of My Heart

I have a tough two weeks coming up. I need to finish editing a book before it heads to the final evaluation. That presents two problems: time and confidence. And each of those affects the other.

But last night I walked into the church service, the first one in several weeks due to travel and school events, and the Lord met me in the music. I was able to sing the prayers of my heart. Things like:

            Take my life and let it be, all for You and for Your glory,

            Take my life and let it be Yours

Or:

            I need you, Jesus

            I need clean hands, I can’t, You can,

            I need you, Jesus

Or even:

            In Your presence we find strength to face the day,

            In Your presence all our fears are washed away

I know I will walk a fine line over the next few days, balancing writing tasks, physical well-being, and others’ needs. But my prayer is that the Lord would manage those through me. That when each day is done, He would be glorified and I would be changed.  

The Raven Saint

Don’t you sometimes just get in the mood for a swashbuckling, adventurous, romantic tale? I do. And when that happens, I reach for M. L. Tyndall. I have especially enjoyed the Charles Towne Belles series, which culminates with the recent release of The Raven Saint. This series began with sister Faith, the lady pirate in The Red Siren. Then sister Hope stowed away on a ship chasing after a man in The Blue Enchantress. And while I have loved those stories, I have to admit I’ve been waiting to see what happened to sister Grace.

Grace was the “good” sister, the one concerned with the things of the Lord and with her care for the poor and downtrodden. But when she is kidnapped by the French rogue Captain Rafe Dubois and learns she is to be sold to a Spanish don as revenge on her father (a British admiral), her faith endures its greatest test.

In a romantic adventure worthy of her sisters’, Grace discovers grace—what it means to give it and to receive it. And along the way she finds she has the heart of a woman, as well. I loved this story for exploring what we seldom like to talk about, our own pharisaical attitudes and actions. But as God loves the “sinner,” He also loves the “saved,” and will not let us remain in our sin, whether overt or disguised.

The Raven Saint provides a very satisfying ending to this trilogy of adventure on the high seas of the eighteenth century.

My Civic Duty

My husband has been a lawyer for twenty years now. I’ve never really known what he does. In the courtroom, I mean. He is a litigator and spends a good bit of time on that stage. But today I received an inkling. I got called for jury duty and, for the first time ever, didn’t qualify for an exemption.

Granted, this was a criminal case and my husband does civil cases, but I still saw the process from the other side. And what did I find? I found it boring! We sat there while both the assistant DA and the defense lawyer droned on and on, occasionally asking a question to which we must respond. They nitpicked words and other things, sometimes twisting the meaning of someone’s answer, as lawyers often do. (I know. I live with one.)

The most interesting part was watching the others on the jury panel. I noticed that some people liked to talk and were more than happy to jump in with a whole story in response to a simple question. I also noticed those determined to be argumentative. Not sure if those were trying to get on the jury or get dismissed from it! But mostly I watched a group of normal citizens (and one police woman) trying to do their civic duty to the best of their ability.

No, I didn’t get picked. I think it never quite got to me, but if it had, I feel sure I would have been stricken by the defense for my answer to the question (specifically directed at me): So you are telling me that if a police officer knocked at your door and said they’d come to arrest your child, you wouldn’t assume your child is innocent? I took an oath to answer truthfully, so I said no. I’ve never assumed innocence. We are all sinners and given the right circumstances and state of mind, can do things we never imagined we’d do. Besides, while my child might not be guilty of the charge, I’m sure I would find them almost certainly guilty of something—even just of poor judgment.

Doing my civic duty was an interesting though not altogether pleasant experience. In the end, I find myself hoping I don’t have to repeat it soon. Then again, maybe it would be different on the civil side of the courthouse.

Out of My Comfort Zone

Usually when we talk about “comfort zones,” we mean doing something we wouldn’t normally do. We aren’t really talking about physical comfort—the kind of bed we like to sleep in, our favorite pillow, our personal space. But lately it seems that the Lord has been prodding me from my physical comfort, and it hasn’t been, well, comfortable.

Besides the discomfort of the body, though, I’ve discovered that I don’t like being uncomfortable. I’ve gotten used to things the way I like them, and I don’t enjoy when they get disturbed. And yet, when things have required enduring less than ideal conditions lately, every situation has been tied to relationships.

I know the Lord desires me to sacrifice my personal, physical comfort in order to love others, but that really came home to me during a church service during this past Advent season. As we sang a hymn about baby Jesus in the manger, the fact of his physical discomfort struck me. We know He gave up the glory of heaven to walk with us in the dust of earth. But He gave up the comfort of heaven, too. Gave it up to be wrapped in a coarse blanket, laid on prickly hay in a hard manger. Not my idea of comfortable! But He considered His comfort of far less importance than our eternal souls.

People are important to the Lord. And they should hold the same importance for me if I am growing to reflect His nature. I know that. So I sacrificed my comfort in several very different situations over the past few weeks. And while I congratulated myself for enduring, I did not endure with grace or joy, as Jesus did. Yes, I didn’t throw a fit and demand my definitions of comfort be met, but I sacrificed with many sighs and much complaining. I have a feeling I’ll get to do this lesson over again until I get it right.

When My Mind Works Best

Picture the scene:

The blue sky deepens to black. The house darkens, room by room, and grows still. Quiet settles. It is time to sleep.

Or is it?

Precisely at that moment when everyone else in my house drifts into dreamland, my mind kicks into high gear. I’ve thought out amazing plot lines in those hours. Written countless blog posts that wax eloquent on a myriad of topics. Met characters. Created the perfect opening or closing line of a story. Finally, deep into the night, my mind shuts down, my eyelids shut, and I sleep.

The tragedy comes in the morning, when I can’t remember a single thing I thought out! I know, “get up and write it down, silly!” But that is easier said than done. There’s the eye thing. My contacts are out. My glasses don’t correct well enough for me to see words on a page (or screen) unless it is just 2-3 inches in front of my face—and even then they aren’t clear. And there’s the fact that I invariably wake up my husband as I slip out of bed or back into it. He hates that. He needs his sleep. And in the winter there’s the whole cold issue. I hate getting up once I’m toasty warm.

So there you have it. My mind works best when I can do the absolute least about it. I guess I’ll just have to keep muddling through.

Help Me, Lord!

It occurred to me recently that I spend my days sending up “Help me, Lord” prayers. Help me, Lord, to be patient. Help me, Lord, to know what to say. Help me, Lord, to hold my tongue. Help me, Lord, to endure this circumstance. And so on, and so on, and so on.

As I pondered this situation, I found an uneasy guilt creep in and tangle around me. Shouldn’t I be worshipping more than petitioning? Praying continually for others instead of myself? I considered these questions, anxious for the Lord to search and know me, to reveal any wickedness and lead me in the way everlasting. Then other questions surfaced in my mind. Isn’t this a good thing? Isn’t a lifestyle of “Help me, Lord” prayers a far different thing than the occasional “Help me, Lord”?

Yes, I believe it is. When moment-by-moment my first response is “Help me, Lord,” it is an indication that I recognized His continual presence in my life and that I realize my complete dependence on Him. Conversely, when I shoot a “Help me, Lord” prayer only on occasion, it reveals that I only look to the Lord in a crisis and think myself sufficient for the living in-between times.

So I’m content with my “Help me, Lord” lifestyle. In fact, I can now pray: “Help me, Lord, not to forget to ask Your help in everything, everyday.”

La's Orchestra Saves the World

Alexander McCall Smith’s newest book doesn’t go with any of his previous series, but as is his signature strength, he drew me into a specific time and place with strong, memorable characters.

La’s Orchestra Saves the World is a charming story of La, who moves from London to a small village at the beginning of World War II. Her life has taken turns she never imagined and she suddenly finds herself living a rural life with very little to occupy her time. The things she finds to do seem very small and insignificant in her eyes, and yet by the end of the book, we understand, along with La, that what seemed small to her meant the world to others.

This charming, poignant story should definitely be on your “to read” list for 2010.

A New Year Awaits

Sometimes I think New Year’s Day is my favorite holiday. I guess maybe that’s secretly true for all of us list-making, record-keeping types. I love the totaling out of my writing work for the year, and the blank spreadsheet set up for the coming one. I love slim, empty file folders, waiting to become the bulging ones of December. Everything is fresh and new, full of promise and possibility.

Maybe that’s why I never get into a spring-cleaning frenzy. That itch tends to arrive for me in January, too. Wanting to rid my house of the useless or worn out. Seeking order in closets and cabinets. I don’t always get to these tasks in January, but the impetus begins then.

The New Year also brings the anticipation of return to schedule and routine from the freewheeling holidays, and a time to reevaluate the structure of my days. And while I am ordering the my exterior world, I can also look ahead to new vistas in my relationship with the Lord, especially as each day brings us closer to a new season in our lives. Just 3 ½ years left of children in the house on a daily basis. And I know how fast those years will pass by.

So I welcome 2010, with its fresh, innocent face, as I clear out the old and arrange the new, as I prepare to meet each new day with its joys and challenges. And though only the Lord knows what the days of 2010 will bring, I love that I can be sure of this one thing: Jesus will hold me through them all.

And a Happy New Year

Have a safe and joyful celebration of reflecting on the old year and looking forward to the new!

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Merry Christmas!

May your celebration of the birth of Christ be filled with wonder and joy!

Christmas Movies

I love Christmas movies. I especially love sharing them with my family and friends. This year, I discovered that several of my friends had not only never seen Christmas in Connecticut with Barbara Stanwyck, but they’d never even heard of it! One of those people was my son’s girlfriend. I think she’s a fan now. Of course, she and I had a major meeting of the minds when deciding which Christmas movie we’d watch with them. When I mentioned Miracle on 34^th Street, I said, “It’s the old one.”

She replied. “That’s the only one.”

I wholeheartedly agreed, for I refuse to even acknowledge the other versions! I think that was a very scary moment for my son.

So in case any of you need something new to watch this season—or just to be reminded of a movie you haven’t seen in several years, here are my top 5 Christmas movies:

1. It’s a Wonderful Life
2. Holiday Inn
3. Miracle on 34^th Street (original version)
4. Christmas in Connecticut
5. [tie] Elf and Home Alone

(Notice that the top four were all made before 1950!)

Of course there are others that my family watches every year—and this year I’ve also indulged in several sappy Hallmark channel Christmas movies—but if I can only make time for a few, those are the ones that make my short list!

What are your favorites?

Homemade Sugary Goodness

I remember the first time I realized that all marshmallows didn’t come from a plastic bag in the grocery store. We were at a fancy restaurant for our anniversary and I ordered the s’more for dessert—made with a homemade marshmallow. It was amazing! Never did I think I’d taste anything like it again.

But I was wrong. My daughter had a hankering to try her hand at marshmallow-making and I can highly recommend the results! In fact, I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat the store bought kind again. When that squishy, sugary connection sank into my hot chocolate and melted—oh my word!

Then she used them to make a “s’more” topping for her cheesecake. And while I didn’t taste those results, I’m sure it was amazing, too.

Have you ever eaten a homemade marshmallow? If not, seize the opportunity, should it arise. I don’t think you’ll regret it!

An Inkwell Inspirations Devotional

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Crazy Days

The crazy days of Christmas have intersected with the crazy days of finishing up my latest manuscript.

So now you know why I’ve had nothing to say . . .

A Precursor of Things to Come

We celebrated my husband’s birthday yesterday. It was a strange celebration day in many ways, and a precursor of what is to come.

We spent the day mostly in the usual Sunday ways, but in the afternoon, when present opening time came around, we had to call up our daughter via the computer so she could join in the family circle from far away. That was good, but not quite the same.

After dinner that night, one boy went to a praise and worship youth service and one went to his girlfriend’s house. So after all our birthdaying, my husband and I were alone in the house.

Then it hit me: this is what if feels like for my parents when we all come over to celebrate something or other and then we all leave again. Nice and quiet, yes, but with a bittersweet edge. All the children have their own plans, their own friends, their own lives. And while that makes me very happy (because frankly, I’m ready to have my own life again, too), I see how strange it will feel when the quiet times are broken by the chaotic ones, instead of the other way around.

An Inkwell Inspirations Devotional

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The Violent Bear It Away

A very long time ago, I read some Flannery O’Connor short stories. A week or so ago, I read her novel The Violent Bear it Away. All I can say is wow!

As a writer I’ve often heard “show, don’t tell.” As an editor, I often say it. But rarely do I find such an incredible example of what that means than this book. Never does Flannery O’Connor say “there is a struggle between faith and reason.” Never does she say “there is a struggle between flesh and spirit.” No “there is a God and there is a Satan.” But all of these things are clearly seen on every page.

It’s a short book, the story of a boy’s journey. At least that’s what it is on the surface. But beneath the surface is the journey of everyman—toward God, away from God, acknowledging God, refusing to acknowledge God. It is a powerful story that never comes out and tells you what to glean from it, but it is full of symbolism and metaphor that is not obscure or confusing. If you have lived as a Christian, you will see pieces of your own journey in this word picture story.

I have a feeling this is one I’ll read again, because I’m sure I didn’t catch everything the first time!

Christmastime is Here

I am officially in the mood for Christmas! I admit, it took longer to “take” this year for some reason, but today I have that “I’m excited for Christmas” feeling.

Maybe it was the cold weather—and the few wet snowflakes that dotted my windshield this morning. Maybe it was grocery shopping and buying all the ingredients for the baking and making a tub of hot chocolate mix. Maybe it was a quick change of plans that means we will have our Christmas day a bit earlier. Whatever did it, I’m ready. Or at least I’m ready to get ready!

The Christmas music has been playing all day long. The decorations go up tomorrow. I even downloaded Christmas ringtones to my phone! I imagine a fire will appear in the fireplace again soon. The shopping will commence in earnest this weekend—and hopefully finish, too. The Christmas wrapping box will find a permanent home in my bedroom, along with the tape and scissors. And when my daughter arrives home next week, the house will fill with smells of baking things and Christmas movies will play on the TV.

And then of course there will be family and food and the celebration of a Christmas Eve service at church and the joy of giving to others as God the Father gave to us—generously, without reserve.

What is your favorite part of Christmas? I truly can’t decide. I love it all!

A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts

Have you finished your Christmas shopping yet? Still mulling over a gift for that hard-to-buy-for person on your list? Remember the book A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts! It’s a colorful book of heartwarming stories (including one of mine!), traditions, recipes, and other Christmas tips. And if you want daily stories and ideas, check out the blog by the authors of this book. It might be just the thing to put you in the mood.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Have a blessed and joyful day thanking the God from whom all blessings flow!

Giving thanks Day 24

I am thankful for my five senses—especially at this time of year!

Giving thanks Day 23

I used to dread extended school holidays—like Thanksgiving week—when my kids were small. Now I am so grateful for the time off!

Giving thanks Day 22

I am thankful that basketball is played indoors!

Giving Thanks Day 21

Thank you, Lord, that Your mercies are new every morning. Great is Your faithfulness!

Giving Thanks Day 20

I am thankful that I am looking forward to getting together with my family for Thanksgiving dinner. I always know the food and conversation will be great. What a blessing to not have awkward family relationships to tiptoe around.

Giving Thanks Day 19

I am thankful to have all my kids back at home for a week. I know the days of the five of us will not last forever, and I will welcome in my new “children” when the time comes. But for now, I am appreciative for every day we have to make memories with our children who are quickly becoming adults!

Giving Thanks Day 18

One of the first steps I took toward “seriously” writing was attending a local Christian writers group in 2002. Little did I know what the Lord had in store! There I met two local ladies who asked me to join them in starting a weekly critique group that we named Life Sentence. We began meeting in May of 2003. They encouraged me to attend my first writing conference in 2004. There I met a whole slew of other writers, some of whom I now call friends. Then I joined ACFW and met even more writers, at conferences and via the web.

I am so thankful for other writers to walk with on this journey. Some I only know on my computer screen, some I look forward to seeing every year or two. Some I see often at the monthly writers group I first attended and now help lead. And six years later, Leslie, Mary, and I still meet weekly. God has done amazing things in all three of us, personally and professionally. I couldn’t have imagined it all when I stepped out of my comfort zone and attended that critique group all those years ago. God is so good!

Giving Thanks Day 17

I am thankful for organizations like Samaritan’s Purse that allow our family to participate in a small way in ministry that touches those in other parts of the world. Since my children were small, we have wrapped and packed Operation Christmas Child shoeboxes. In 2006, my daughter was blessed to help pass out some of these boxes in remote villages in Ghana.

If you haven’t yet filled your Operation Christmas Child boxes, do it now! Click here to find a drop off point or to pay for your shipping online and print your barcoded box labels. This is new, way cool thing. The bar code will be scanned at shipping and you will receive an email telling you the country to which your box was shipped! Amazing!

Giving Thanks Day 16

Yes, I am thankful for Facebook. It has allowed me to reconnect with people I’d lost touch with and helped me continue to keep up with them on a more consistent basis!  

Giving Thanks Day 15

I am thankful that my baby is 15 years old today! I love watching my kids grow up!

Giving Thanks Day 14

Thank you, Lord, that You love me so much that You won’t let me remain in my current state. You are always growing me, always prodding me toward maturity. And yet You never expect me to outgrow my need of You!

Giving Thanks Day 13

I am grateful for indoor plumbing, grocery stores, telephones, automobiles, airplanes, and most other modern conveniences! As much as I love reading and writing about other time periods in history, I wouldn’t have enjoyed living in most of them!

Giving Thanks Day 12

I am thankful for my family—both the one I was born into and the one I married into. I am grateful for their love and support and encouragement through the years. I love y’all!

Giving Thanks Day 11

Teachers are amazing people. I’m thankful for those that encouraged me to think and learn through elementary, middle and high school as well as college. I’m also thankful for the ones that have impacted my children thus far in their schooling. I am so grateful that God gifted these special people with the patience and the passion to walk into a room full of children and attempt to impart some knowledge to them!

Giving Thanks Day 10

I am thankful for all the men and women who have served our country in a military capacity—from the patriots that fought to free us from England to those who currently serve, stateside and around the world. Thank you for laying your lives on the line to keep us free.

Giving Thanks Day 9

I am thankful for my children. I am thankful for the joy they have brought to my life as well as the times they have driven me to my knees. They are not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, but I love watching them become who God has made them to be, which requires a few bumps along the way!

It is fun to cheer them as they succeed and even to comfort them when they don’t. They have taught me what it means to love like Jesus loves. They have taught me the difference between the things that really matter and the things that don’t. I am changed because of them—for the better.

Thank you, Lord, that You give us what we need and not always what we imagine we want. I am so grateful that you gave me these three to love and nurture and steward through their childhood and teenaged years. And I thank you that you are growing them into such amazing people—people I like!

Giving Thanks, Day 8

Thank you, Lord, for Your provision of the necessities of life—food, shelter, clothing—but also for your blessings above and beyond those things. Let me never forget that those “extras” are not bestowed because of any “deservedness” on my part, but simply because of Your extravagant love for Your wayward creation. And thank you for allowing me to often be the conduit of Your blessing into the lives of others. The joy of giving is just another of Your gracious gifts.

Giving Thanks, Day 7

I’m thankful that Jesus “being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made Himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:17)

Thank you, Jesus, for conquering death in order to give me life.

Giving Thanks, Day 6

I am thankful for variety. In the colors of the world. In the personalities of people. In types of music and books and art. I’m thankful that God is a creative God with a multi-faceted personality and that this world is a reflection of His nature.

Giving Thanks and Inkwell Inspirations

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Giving Thanks, Day 4

I am thankful for contact lenses instead of coke-bottle glasses and for enough moisture in my eyes to continue to be able to wear them!

Giving Thanks, Day 3

I am not always as thankful as I should be for the gift of my husband. It’s not easy being married to me! I am thankful for our conflict because it helps me see the places in my heart that are not as Christ-like as they should be. I am thankful for our love because it isn’t based on the emotion of the moment. I am thankful for the fun times we have together and with our family. Mostly I’m thankful he has put up with and taken care of me for the past twenty-two years! Poor guy. He’s married to a crazy, fiction-writing wife who hates to cook and clean. I really don’t think he understood what he was getting into all those years ago!

Thank you, Lord, for the gift of my husband. He brings me joy and helps me grow. I wouldn’t want to do life with anyone else.

Giving Thanks, Day 2

I’m thankful for flannel pjs, blazing fires, hot drinks, fuzzy socks, and good books in the wintertime.

I’m thankful for swimming pools, air-conditioning, iced tea, flip-flops, and good books in the summertime.

Giving Thanks, Day 1

Thanksgiving is on its way. In between now and then we get to cheer our sons in at least one football playoff game, celebrate our youngest son’s birthday and enjoy our daughter’s arrival home for a week from college. With so much going on, I thought perhaps I needed to focus on the giving thanks part of the season. So I will try, from today to Thanksgiving Day, to post at least one thing I am thankful for.

Today I am thankful for good friends, ones that listen, advise, and encourage—and that let me do the same for them. I’ve learned, through the years, that reciprocal friendships are especially hard to find!

Thank you, Lord, for the blessing of friendships, old and new, ones that last and ones that are only for a season. Each one is a gift from Your hand. Thank you.

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The Family That Serves Together

I don’t remember doing any “formal” mission or service projects in my family while I was growing up, but I do remember my parents always on the lookout for people that needed help. For my dad, that often meant picking up a hitchhiker or bringing home a family-less person or couple for a holiday dinner. I remember my mom hiring a housekeeper she didn’t have to have because the woman needed work. Helping others was often a quiet thing, but we knew it was there. An atmosphere of service that apparently got caught.

My sister and I always accompany kids from school on their mission project day. We both enjoy helping others and watching our kids learn to help others. At the ministry where my youngest son and I served today, there is a school for at-risk kids. As we were wrapping up our work time, our boys played a game of basketball with the boys from the school. While the game was in full swing, my brother arrived with his weekly pizza delivery for the school kids’ lunch. That’s what he does to help out. A little thing, but so appreciated and necessary. I didn’t know I’d see him there, although I know he’s been involved in that ministry for years. So the three of us were out serving the Lord by serving others today. And then of course there is our youngest sister, too, who serves full time overseas.

Usually on these mission days I reflect on what it means to minister with my kids and their friends. But today I am overwhelmed by the privilege of serving Christ and others alongside my brother and sisters, even when we’re in different locations. And I’m grateful for a mom and a dad who provided us the opportunity to catch a lifestyle of helping others.

Walking the Line

Where is the line between humble dependence on God alone and insidious pride that refuses help or wise counsel? After all, the Lord wants us to rely on Him alone—on his quiet word in our ear telling us to turn to the right or to the left, on His sufficient and perfectly timed provision, on His ability to right the wrongs that come our way. And yet . . . He has formed us into a body, where one part makes up what another part lacks, He encourages us to seek and heed wise counsel, He asks us to help others.

I’ve considered this question in various circumstances of my life and have lately been mulling it over again. I know it isn’t either/or. It’s both. And I guess the line comes down to my motivation. Am I seeking counsel because I desire validation from someone besides the Lord? Am I asking for help because I don’t have the fortitude to do the thing I know is right in order to rectify a situation? Am I holding my troubles close to myself because I don’t want others to think less of me? Am I keeping to “me and God” because I don’t want to be hurt or because I don’t want to extend myself to love the unlovable?

The line is very thin, I believe. And of course when I examine my motivations, I can easily deceive myself. I guess that’s why it is so important to take God’s word as a whole, to understand His heart from start to finish. I’m trying to put my entire reliance on Him. But in doing so, I pray that I don’t neglect the rich relationships and resources He’s given me in the body of believers.

The Reluctant Teacher

It looks like I’m going to have to break down and homeschool my youngest child—for drivers ed! Despite coming from a long line of teachers, I am not one. It was an easy choice to send my daughter to the local driving school. I wanted her to learn to drive without putting my own life—or hers—in danger. I wanted to enjoy the process with her, but not be responsible for it.

When my next child, my son, turned 15, we could have foregone the driving school in that he would have listened to us and done what we said. But, like his sister, he has a spring birthday, so his sports were finished for the year and going to a three-week class didn’t pose a problem.

Now comes the baby of the family. A fall birthday. His drivers ed classes would fall smack-dab in the middle of things. Football would be winding down. Basketball would be gearing up. Not to mention the weekly piano lesson that would have to be moved. The scheduling becomes a nightmare, so I’m going to have to take on the task myself. (He doesn’t want his dad to do it. All of the kids banned Dad to the back seat when driving with their permits. His stress turns into their stress.) My son is motivated to get it done, so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem, but, I confess, it stresses me out a bit.

I don’t mind being driven by a learning driver; I’m just not sure how comfortable I’ll be teaching one!

A Lesson Learned

My daughter came home from college for the first time this weekend. We were so excited to see her, and yet I knew she would come home with plans that didn’t include her family. I didn’t want to make that a big deal. I just wanted to enjoy the bits of time she gave us. So on her first evening home I asked her agenda, mainly due to sharing cars. She went on to tell me about Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.

“But I told everyone I couldn’t do anything on Sunday. I told them I was spending time with my family that day,” she said.

Immediately my mind flashed back The Cosby Show. Over the years, we’ve loved watching the reruns with our kids. We’ve probably seen most of the episodes multiple times. Anyway, her words seemed to mimic Denise Huxtable’s on her first weekend home from college.

I looked at my daughter. “You got that from Denise, on The Cosby Show, didn’t you?”

She laughed. “I really did think of that, how her family wanted to see her but she was so busy with her friends. Then she told her friends she had to spend a day with her family.”

Sometimes that visual image stays with them much longer than mere words. So thank you, Bill Cosby, for lots of laughs and family memories—and even some lessons learned!

The Reason for Quiet

Yes, I’ve been quiet lately. Sometimes that means I’m just busy—with kids, with writing, with life. Sometimes it means I don’t have anything to say. Sometimes it means things are simmering in my head, not quite ready to land in the public arena yet.

This time it’s all three. I’m deep into rewrites on my novel. Those need to be done by the end of next month so my critique group has time to evaluate the whole book and so I can get some Christmas shopping done! Because of that, my head is full of those characters and that story, leaving little room for anything else.

What room is left in my head has been focused on homecoming festivities and football and fall break and an editing job, so the thought of looking at a blank screen and trying to figure out what to blog simply unnerves me.

And yet . . . there are things simmering in there. Thoughts I occasionally take the lid off of and sniff the air. Are they done yet? Have all the flavors permeated the dish? I smell and taste and shake my head, stick the lid back on and wait. One of these days I’ll be ready to set those thoughts on the table for you.

So when you see a lull in my posts after you type in or click on my name, say a little prayer for me, please. I assure you I’m busy doing something. And if I’m busy enough not to blog, then my days are probably more than full!

A Funny (kind of) Dream

I had a dream last night, or early this morning to be exact. I dreamt that it was my turn to bring football drinks and fruit for halftime (which it is) and that I got to the game—and all the way to halftime!—before I remembered. In my dream, it was an away game (tonight we’re at home) and I ran to the concession stand to buy drinks for the team. And guess what? I had no cash! So I asked if I could use my debit card. They said no.

I remember in my dream looking at the little machine on their table and blinking in wonder. “You don’t take debit cards?” I asked. I pulled out another card. “How about credit?”

The little girl (read: teenager) working the concession stand pulled out a piece of paper. “Yes, we take those things, but not from you. We checked your account balance and it is insufficient.”

“What?!” I cried. I couldn’t tell if I was more outraged by her checking my account or the fact that I knew I had enough money in there for this.

Off I raced with my empty wallet, determined to find a bank and a grocery store. Time cut to my return to the football field where, when I’d left, the score had been 6-6. Our players were making their way to the cars, heads down.

“What happened?” I asked the nearest person.

“45’d,” was the answer. (The six-man football mercy rule.) The other team had scored 45 points (and us, 0) in the time I’d been gone.

I was furious—with myself. In this dream, I berated myself for a head so full of writing that I overlooked what I needed to do for my boys. It was an awful dream, and one of the most vivid I can remember lately. But you can be sure that I won’t forget to send drinks for the football team this evening!

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Through Christ

It’s a busy, busy week this week. So much on my calendar that is not my own. And yet I have my own agenda, too. How will it all get done? Inevitably, I get little sleep the night before a week like this. I toss and turn trying to fit all my plans into the coming days, but it feels like fitting pieces into a puzzle of a snow-covered landscape. Finally, finally—after all that wrangling—I give my week to the Lord, asking Him to arrange it, to make time for what needs to be done and to give me wisdom to not worry about the unimportant. It still takes a while to release the need to figure it out, but eventually I sleep.

Why do I do that? Why do I wait so long to do what needs to be done at the very first hint of anxiety?

I woke early this morning, again anxious, but again releasing my day, my week, into the hand of the Lord. After a cup of coffee and another glance at my calendar/to-do-list, I found it manageable, as long as I remain focused. The hours are there to accomplish what I must. But another question lingers: will I use those hours to their fullest potential instead of frittering away valuable time?

With a deep breath and another prayer of relinquishment, I determine that I will.

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Phillipians 4:13

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Autumn Musings

Fall has truly inched its way into Texas. I love this time of year. The nights and mornings are cooler now. My sweet tooth craves candy corn. My dinner menus include lots of soup. I pull out my jeans and my longer sleeved shirts. Football is in full swing. Pumpkin pies will be made and eaten. Summer seems a long, hot dream—one I have no desire to revisit soon.

But mostly what I love about autumn is the promise of winter that tinges the air. I’m so glad God made the seasons to change.

Over Regulation

I don’t often pay attention to news items, but this one caught my eye and stirred my passions. A Michigan woman received a notice that if she continued to watch her neighbors children in her home while they waited for the morning school bus, she would be in violation of state law.

Are you kidding me? It seems like everywhere we turn lately the government is trying to get into people’s business. This was a friend doing a favor for other friends. Apparently they often trade off watching each other’s kids. I know what that’s like. I did the same when my kids were small. But Michigan law says some crazy thing like “you cannot have non-family member children in your home more than four weeks in a calendar year unless you are a licensed day-care.” Seems a bit over-the-top, don’t you think? What about an older couple who take the role of “surrogate grandparents” for a younger couple and keep the kids in their home sometimes? Or what if a family takes in a friend of their child’s after school so that child doesn’t have to be home alone? Is Michigan going to threaten those people, too?

I think we’ve lost all perspective in government. In an attempt to ward off any potential abuse in a system, we begin to penalize those who are simply doing the right thing. Being an American and a Texan, I have an independent streak a mile wide, the same independent streak that characterized my forefathers. I know what is right and intend to do it. I expect the government to deal with those who don’t. So it rankles when a government—any government in my United States—makes laws that penalize good citizens in order to possibly deter one or two offenders. (Because of course we know that those who circumvent the law usually find a way to do it, no matter how the law is worded.)

Ok, I’ve vented now. You can return to your regularly scheduled program.

A Slow Burn

I’ll admit I’m a bit biased. Mary DeMuth is not only one of my critique partners, but she is also a very good friend. For years, I’ve been able to see her books go from idea to first draft to published novel. And while her language has always been beautiful and surprising, what strikes me most in reading A Slow Burn is her growth as a storyteller.

A Slow Burn is the second book in the Defiance, Texas Trilogy. It follows Daisy Chain, in which a young girl goes missing. While Daisy Chain recounts fourteen-year-old Jed Pepper’s struggle to come to grips with Daisy’s disappearance, A Slow Burn delves into Daisy’s mother’s battle with guilt and grief. But lest you think this book is a downer, it is also filled with grace and redemption, sometimes from very surprising places.

As I said, re-reading this book (or rather, reading it in its final, finished form) illuminated Mary’s growth as a storyteller. Not only do her characters live and breath, but each character, each word, each description has meaning that is often revisited throughout the book. The story not only holds together, it forces you as a reader to keep turning the pages. And its final destination does not disappoint. No string is left hanging, no question unanswered—except those that will be revealed in the third and final book!

I’m not the best “book reviewer” in the world, so if you want to see what others are saying about A Slow Burn, check out these blogs.

The State Fair of Texas

We went to the State Fair of Texas today. It’s a yearly pilgrimage to fried food and farm animals, with the new car building reminding us we are well into the 21^st century. This year, as my feet walked familiar paths, I remembered that our annual journey to this place is not something new.

The State Fair of Texas has been around since 1887, with its initial draw being horseracing. Aerial shows and automobiles became featured in the early 20^th century. The Great War and the Spanish flu caused its cancellation in 1918. So as we walked past Big Tex and visited the numerous buildings and shows, I imagined others around us, those who over a hundred years ago enjoyed a similar family outing, a day (or in the case of some people, days) of escape from the normal routine. It feels good to walk paths long trod. It gives one a feeling of continuity. A remembrance that though things change, so many, many things remain the same.

The Hard Work of a Writer

I think there is often a misconception about the real work of a writer. Yes, it seems amazing to some people that writers come up with unusual storylines or characters or that they can write pages upon pages, thousands upon thousands of words, to spin the tale. But that isn’t the real work of a writer. That, my friends, is the fun part. The real work of the writer is in the re-writing.

I finished an 86, 000-word manuscript. I’ve had majorly positive feedback on it. But now it is time to get down to the gritty work of implementing changes to make the story and characters stronger. To make them gripping—and unforgettable. To tell the story in such a way that the reader remembers it long after she turns the final page.

To achieve this lofty goal requires the ability to detatch, to tear apart and build up again, to discard something “good” for the sake of something “better.” That will be my task over the next couple of months. It is make or break time. I can create character and weave a story, but can I do the hard work of a writer? Only time will tell.

2009 ACFW Conference

I had a blast this year at the ACFW Conference. I connected and reconnected with some wonderful people, learned more about writing, worshiped with 500 other believers and witnessed the hand of the Lord in both my own life and in others’ lives. I came home with memories that will be cherished for a lifetime.

One fun thing was meeting some of my fellow "Inkies" from the new Inkwell Inspirations blog. Before this past weekend, I'd only met one of these ladies face to face, but after the weeks we've spent weeks planning our blog, I'd already come to think of them as friends.

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Going and Growing

I love writing conferences. There is something so wonderful about being surrounded by so many other people who “get” you. And when those other people also love the Lord, the experience becomes even more amazing!

Over the past 6 years that I’ve been attending conferences, I stand in awe at how much the Lord has done in me as a person and as a writer. I’ve learned and grown in the craft of fiction, but I’ve also learned and grown in my faith. This year, I’m not frightened at the thought of meeting new people or speaking to editors and agents about my work. Not that I don’t have any nervous flutterings over those things, but I’m not afraid. I’m even rooming with someone I’ve only met via email. That’s a huge step for me! So even if writing conferences are never my path to publication, they have been worthwhile endeavors. They have provided great opportunities for learning to trust the Lord and yearly markers through which to see the progress of growth.

I’m so thankful for yet another opportunity to go and to grow!

Just What I Needed

We walked into church and looked at our programs. The sermon topic: Do not worry.

“I guess that’s a good one for you before you go to your conference,” my husband said.

I shook my head. “I’m not worried. I’m good.”

And I believed that. Until the sermon. As the preacher spoke word upon word, the Holy Spirit sliced through my heart. I was worried. Maybe not about the things I’ve been worried about in past years, but worried all the same.

And a life lived in worry is a life not lived by faith. And whatever isn’t from faith is sin. So I discovered I had some repenting to do. I know whom I have believed. And I need to trust Him for all things.

So the sermon I thought I didn’t need was the one I needed after all. Isn’t God good?

That Time of Day

Just a few months after I turned 40 I decided I had to start exercising and eating right. It was a “now or never” moment. So I plunged in.

Two years later, I’m still at it, more faithful than ever (although the eating thing takes a big hit whenever my daughter is around to cook). But here’s the thing: I still hate it. I hate not eating chocolate cake whenever I want it. I hate making myself exercise, whether at home or in the gym. I thought that, after awhile, I’d begin to enjoy exercise. Or at least that I wouldn’t hate it. (I never really thought I’d come to love the eating right thing. I’d live on desserts if I could!)

I’ll admit I that I’m probably in the best shape of my life (or at least getting there now that the girl is away at school!) and that I feel good. So why is it I still dread that exercise time of day?

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Julie & Julia

We finally went to see Julie & Julia. I loved the Julia Child parts. I hated the Julie Powell parts. But let me explain.

At first, I had some sympathy for Julie. After all, I remember that feeling of life slipping away, of wanting to “do” something, to “be” somebody. But as her story progressed, all I could see was a woman becoming more and more enamored of herself, of her accomplishment. The most telling line came when her husband asked, “What are you going to do when you aren’t the center of the universe anymore?”

Contrast this with Julia Child, who enjoyed cooking for herself and her husband, her friends and her family. She wanted to be good at what she did. She wanted to fill her time with something worthwhile. She didn’t cook to become somebody. She knew who she was and was comfortable in that. She pursued her passion, and after years and years of work, her cookbook got published. But her cookbook and television success didn’t define her. It was simply an outgrowth of who she was. The cooking blog seemed the other way around for Julie—a desperate attempt for definition. At least in how it was portrayed in the movie. (I confess I have not read the book, so I don’t know if the movie was accurate.)

The most astounding thing? My 18-year-old daughter told me the same thing the day she saw it. I was amazed. At 18, I was definitely in the “trying to define myself” mode. In fact, I wandered that road for a very long time. After years of inner turmoil, I found my peace by pressing into Jesus. He gave me a deeper understanding of how much He loves me and of what He desires for my life. In Julie & Julia, the contrast between the settled and the seeking becomes so painfully apparent.

The Blue Enchantress

I have been so excited to read M.L.Tyndall’s newest book The Blue Enchantress, the second book in the Charles Towne Belles series. For those who enjoy an action-packed romance set in the 18^th century on the high seas, you won’t be disappointed!

Poor Hope Westcott. We learned a bit about her in the first book. It was obvious she was a disaster waiting to happen. And because of her numerous shortcomings and insecurities, her redemption is so sweet. The truth of God’s power to redeem both our past and our present come shining through. But least you think that makes for a ho-hum read, the drama in this story is non-stop, complete with a hurricane, a deserted island, and pirates thrown in for good measure.

I will admit that Hope did not capture my heart as completely as her sister Faith in The Red Siren, but I think that is just my personal preference not any fault of the author. And in great “leave them hanging” fashion, Tyndall set the stage for sister Grace’s story. I can’t wait to see what happens to her!

Spaces

One of my favorite features on my Mac is a thing called Spaces. For those of you who have never seen this nifty option, it basically divides the screen into four “spaces.” You can then place open documents, applications, whatever, into these spaces and switch between the spaces at will, the chosen “space” occupying your entire screen and eliminating the need to constantly switch what is on top.

I think the reason I love this option so much is that it mirrors the way I work in the physical realm. I have different “spaces” in my house in which I tend to do different things. For instance, my small leather recliner by the front window, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves tends to be where I read when I don’t want to be disturbed. It is away from the family room, but not beyond its sight. Sometimes it is for quiet weekend mornings of reading the paper with my husband in his matching chair beside me.

My chair in the family room is for the details. My computer lives on the ottoman most of the time. I can sit and work while my family watches TV or does homework. I keep a file basket beside me to hold all the paperwork mom’s have to keep up with—school, music lessons, sports, etc.

In the study, I can write. And edit. And revise. Seriously. A lot of material in a short amount of time. When my computer and I land in the chair-and-a-half, we know it is time to work with words and story.

And in my bedroom is the spot on a small sofa where relationship happens—relationship with Jesus, movies or private conversations with my husband, even an occasional heart-to-heart with one of my children. That space is sacred, rarely jumbled up with the business of life or writing.

So just like my “spaces” in my home keep my world from becoming too cluttered, so Spaces on my computer does the same thing. I guess that’s part of what is meant when people say a Mac is more “intuitive.” It reflects the way we do things in the real world.