The Dreaded Shopping Trip

School is officially over. Work (for those of my kids who have real jobs) has not officially begun. So this is our week of transition. For them, that means time with friends doing fun things. For me, it means grocery shopping.

I hate grocery shopping. Have I said that here before? It’s not just that it is the precursor to fixing dinner every evening, its also the time and money spent on things that will simply be consumed. I know it’s necessary, and I’ve honed my trips into as few as possible, arranging a big shopping day at the beginning of the month and then small trips to the store thereafter. But I still don’t like it.

The only good thing about this week’s trips: someone should be home to help me carry all the groceries in the house! And that, my friend, is one of the things I love about summer.

Remember

THANK YOU to all the men and women who have served our country. Your sacrifice of time and life is remembered and appreciated!

A Sunday Psalm

Because Your love is better than life, my lips will glorify You.
I will praise You as long as I live, and in Your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods,
with singing lips my mouth will praise you.
   --Psalm 63:3-5

The Summer of Schedules

Today marks the beginning of summer. Last son takes last final exam this morning, and then we’re done. Usually this means the onslaught of schedule-less days, which I hate. But as I’ve previously stated, we are in a season of life where everything is in a constant state of change. Summer is no exception.

The boys will have football and basketball workouts. One son will work at a nearby camp. The other will do his music lessons and care for his grandparents’ lawn on a weekly basis. Our daughter will work a corporate internship, with a rush-hour commute on both ends of her day. Last summer I spent my days writing a book. This year, I’ll spend my days researching one. And we’ll all continue to adjust to the ebb and flow of my husband’s new job.

So while former summers have been “sans schedule,” this summer will fall into the “uber scheduled” category. Hopefully we can still find a few open time slots here and there to take in a ball game together or sit by a pool. Because before we know it, one schedule will give way to another and we’ll find ourselves back into the swing of another school year. 

The Dinner Dilemma

Dinner is still my nemesis. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t get into a groove. I’ll latch on to some new way to plan ahead for dinner, but invariably our schedule gets crazy and the new way goes the way of the old ways.

It isn’t just the picking of recipes. It’s also the endless grocery shopping for ingredients I thought I had and didn’t, the stopping of whatever other thing I’m doing in time to fix whatever recipe I’ve finally chosen, and the task of figuring out something to go with the main dish (which, again, I probably don’t have ingredients for or time to make!).

If it were up to me, I’d snack on fruit, cheese and crackers or eat a bowl of cereal. Every night. Unless I went out somewhere. But in a house full of men and almost men, that just won’t cut it. So I continue to try. And fail. I guess I should take heart. Soon all of the children will be out of the house and we can completely rethink our dinner routine. The biggest question, then, is can I survive from now until then!

Walk Worthy

I been fascinated lately by the number of times the apostle Paul, in his New Testament letters, encourages his readers to “walk worthy.”

Ephesians 4:1 says “Therefore I implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called.”

Phillipians 1:27: “Only conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that . . . I will hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind, striving together for the faith of the gospel.”

Colossians 1:10 follows the same theme, explaining why Paul continues to pray for them. “so that you will walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, to please Him in every respect, bearing fruit in every good work and growing in the knowledge of God.”

And I Thessalonians 2:12, which clarifies why Paul continually exhorts, encourages and implores them: “so that you would walk in a manner worthy of the God who calls you into His own kingdom and glory.”

Walk worthy. In none of these cases does he implore us to “walk worthy” in order to become saved. This command to “walk worthy” is given to those who, in their state of unworthiness, were saved by grace through faith. After we have accepted that gift of life, we are to make it our goal to “walk worthy” of it.

Of the gospel. Of His calling. Of God himself.

Yet the only way I can walk worthy of Him, is to live each day in Him. Isn’t God good? He requires something of us that only dependence on Him can fulfill. I think that’s pretty amazing. And it sure makes me want to “walk worthy” of all He has done and is doing in me!

A Sunday Psalm

For You are great and do marvelous deeds; You alone are God.
Teach me Your ways, O Lord, and I will walk in Your truth;
Give me an undivided heart that I may fear Your name.
I will praise you, O Lord my God, with all my heart.
I will glorify Your name forever.
For great is Your love toward me,
You have delivered me from the depths of the grave.
    --Psalm 86:10-13

Racing Through May

I’m hanging on by my fingernails as May races to a close. Four days of school. Three additional mornings for final exams. Graduation and all its accompanying parties. A wedding reception. One more piano lesson, then a recital. Lifeguard training. (My son, not me.) 

I’m looking forward to the relative calm of Memorial Day. How about you?

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Strange, New World

In the years of younger children, it’s the monotony you must get used to. Now with teenagers and young adults, it’s the constant change. Seems like lately everything in our lives is a “new phase.” We just brought our daughter home from her first year of college. Another “first” thing—reintegrating a child into the household. She’ll be working and going to school for the next three months. Meanwhile, our eldest son, looking forward to soon having the designation of senior, will also have a job for the summer, along with football and basketball workouts. So day-in, day-out, it’ll be me and the youngest, who will be working to finish his driver’s ed while also attending workouts and continuing piano lessons.

A strange, new world, that’s for sure. I’m accustomed to summer meaning kids underfoot and no schedules, which usually drives me crazy. Now it will be everyone going in a different direction, spending the days away from home more often than not.

It’s not a bad phase of life, just a different one. One that I think will take some getting used to. And just when I get used to it, I’m sure it will change again.

Saturday Psalm

Yet I am always with You; You hold me by my right hand.
You guide me with Your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory.
Whom have I in heaven but You? And earth has nothing I desire besides You.
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
--Psalm 73:23-26

Too Many Books, Too Little Cash -- Answers

The answers you were waiting for:

I’ve read and want to own The Help and The Pastor’s Wife

Two of my favorite authors have new books: Here Burns My Candle by Liz Curtis Higgs and Her Mother’s Hope by Francine Rivers. Can’t wait to dive into those!

The four debut novels by authors I know: Rooms by Jim Rubart, Code Blue by Richard Mabry, The Pastor’s Wife by Jennifer AlLee, and Crossing Oceans by Gina Holmes.

So if you are looking for a summer read you might want to pick up one of these. And if you do, I might ask to borrow it if I haven’t managed to get it myself!

Too Many Books, Too Little Cash!

The more writers I know that get published, the more books that end up on my “to buy” list. I always have good intentions of buying my friends’ books the week they are released, but, alas, that rarely ever happens. Things like field trips and school dances and new shoes (for the kids, not me) interfere.

Seven books make up my current list. Of those, two I have already read (either a borrowed copy or a pre-release version) and want to own them for myself. Four are debut novels by authors I’ve known since they were pre-published. And two are new books by well-known Christian authors. So here’s the list of titles. Can you guess which ones fall into which of my categories? (Hint: one overlaps into two categories!) 

The Help

Rooms

Her Mother’s Hope

The Pastor’s Wife

Code Blue

Crossing Oceans

Here Burns My Candle

I'll tell on Thursday. And I do have a bookstore gift card to spend, I just have to figure out which ones to spend it on!

Look Ma, No Strings!

Through every stage of my own life as a mother, I’ve come to appreciate my mother more. While lots of reasons to praise her come to mind, the one that has been more glowingly illuminated over the past few years is her lack of apron strings.

As my children and my friends’ children are growing up and leaving home, I’m realizing how much freedom my mother gave her children. Freedom to choose. Freedom to fail. Freedom to live their own lives, in their own ways. Freedom to hear from the Lord—or not.

Not that she didn’t give advice or help—and not that she didn’t pray!—but she didn’t expect to be the only voice in our lives—or even the first one. She didn’t try to manipulate our decisions to fit her needs or desires. She let us spread our wings and fly—even if it meant flying away from her for a while in order to discover ourselves. She didn’t demand relationship; she adjusted it. Her expectations took a back seat to reality. She revels in whatever opportunities work out for us to be together, whether a planned celebration of some sort or a spur-of-the-moment gathering.

And you know what? Because she didn’t try to tie any of us to her apron springs, try to keep us within her grasp, none of us chafe against her requests now. We all like to come home, simply because she respects us enough as adults—and has since we left home—not to demand it of us. We have grace to say “no, it just doesn’t work in my schedule right now” or “I have other plans.” And we know in the saying that we won’t have to endure sulking or punishment or reproach.

My mother holds her grown children loosely, and because of that, she holds our hearts more tightly than if she gripped with both hands.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

Saturday Psalm

We wait in hope for the Lord;
He is our help and our shield.
In Him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in His holy name.
May Your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in You.

--Psalm 33:20-22

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Look to the East by Maureen Lang

I don’t generally do book reviews because I’m not very good at them. I even hated book reports as a child, although I loved to read. But I thought I’d stretch myself, so here I am!

Today I want to tell you about a wonderful book by a wonderful lady. Look to the East by Maureen Lang tells the story of Julitte Toussaint, an outcast of sorts in a small French town torn by a longstanding family feud. But a fight far bigger rocks their world: The Great War. A young woman of great faith, Julitte sees that faith stretched thin by German occupation, even as the bounds of her heart are stretched by her friendship with a man hiding from the Germans.

This is a great era of history often overlooked—and Maureen tells a great story that incorporates the time period as well as one filled with characters who grip your heart and won’t let you go. But that doesn’t really surprise me. Maureen has done this before in books like The Oak Leaves and On Sparrow Hill.

I met Maureen several years ago at one of the ACFW Conferences held in Dallas. I paid for a critique with her after reading her first book, Pieces of Silver. I think her books have become better and better over the years, which makes each new release exciting.

And speaking of new releases, run out and read Look to the East so you can be ready for the next book in The Great War series Whisper on the Wind. If it is half as wonderful as Look to the East, it will be worth the wait!

Lessons for Life

My husband and I have always said, to our children and to others, that playing sports teaches our children many life lessons. But this spring season, their sports activities illustrated lessons for me!

Our older son ran track. Now track is not his favorite. In fact, he really doesn’t enjoy it much. He ran long distances his freshman and sophomore year because his friend did. He managed to make it to the regional meet both years in those events. This year, he was ready for a break when basketball ended. But his football/basketball coach told him he needed to run track to get ready for next year’s football and basketball seasons. Being the dutiful child that he is, he complied. And then my lessons started.

The coach asked him to switch races, from the one-mile and two-mile to the half-mile. Now the half-mile race (or 800 Meter race, as it is called these days) is really a very long sprint. And my son is not a sprinter by any stretch of the imagination! But again, if there is one innate character quality this child possesses, it is obedience to authority. So he did it. And he gave it all his effort, in spite of it not being a sport or a race he would choose. He ended up making the regional meet by a hair and bringing up the rear (almost) in that race. But here’s what I learned: the coach was very proud of my son because he ran the race he’d asked him to run and did it with his whole heart.

Isn’t that how it is with God? Doesn’t he sometimes ask us to run a race not of our choosing? Do we still put our all into it, just because He asked? I’m afraid my answer is not always a yes to that question. But hearing my son’s coach basically say, “Well done, good and faithful servant”, even when he didn’t come close to finishing first, made me realize again that the Lord isn’t concerned about the results that appear before the world. He’s concerned with how we run the race He’s asked us to run.

In a similar vein, I sat through a dismal baseball season with my younger son. We had snagged a new coach, an older man who knows baseball and loves to teach it. So it was a learning year. The biggest thing these boys had to learn? Listen to the coach! When they were on the bases, if coach said run, you were to run, not worry whether or not you thought you’d be out. Your job was to obey. The responsibility for the outcome then lay with the coach.

Isn’t that how the Lord desires us to be? To have our eyes fixed on Him and our hearts so set on obedience that when He says run, we run. When He says stay, we stay, even if it looks to us like we could have safely make it to the next base. I admit, I often stop when He says go and go when He says stop. But I’m learning to trust His voice and obey, for it is obedience He desires, not sacrifice—and not necessarily a “safe” arrival. Just obedience.

So while we had little “success” on the track or the diamond this season, we all learned lessons for life this season.

A Sunday Psalm

Righteous are you, O Lord;

and Your laws are right.

The statutes You have laid down are righteous;

they are fully trustworthy.

--Psalm 119:137-138

Fly Away, Little Bird

It started as an annoyance. I could hear my husband’s voice from the living room and kitchen, punctuated by the dog’s agitated barks. But it was still fifteen minutes until my alarm would go off, so I pulled the covers over my head and squeezed my eyes shut.

When I finally made it out of bed, I got the explanation.

“There were two birds in the house,” my husband said. “We got one of them out, but I don’t know where the other one went.”

I noticed the broom in the corner. Apparently his choice of apparatus for bird chasing. I padded into the kitchen to make coffee. (In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t talk much in the mornings.) Then he let the bomb drop.

“I think it might have fallen behind the cabinets in the kitchen.”

Now, not only am I mute in the mornings, I also have a hard time getting my brain to perform any function, so while I heard the words, they really didn’t register much. Until it was time for him to leave. For New Orleans.

Standing in the kitchen I heard the flapping of wings, a sound not uncommon to my ears from my usual chair near the fireplace. Birds tend to congregate on our roof near the chimney. But this was in my kitchen. Behind a cabinet.

“What are we going to do?” I asked my husband as he rolled his suitcase toward the door.

“I don’t know.” He left to catch his flight. The bird flapped again.

Now I’m not a huge animal lover by any stretch of the imagination. I’m all for nature taking its course. But when you are standing there listening to a panicked bird try to rise up a small, tall space and can’t, and you know if you don’t do something the flapping will eventually stop and the thing will die, well, it’s kind of creepy. It seems cruel. And yet, did I really want to spend a bunch of money and ruin my beautiful cabinetry for a bird that some cat could snatch from a branch tomorrow?

I called my dad, who didn’t want to tear up my cabinets, either. Then I emailed a friend in construction. And I waited. I kept thinking if the flapping stopped, then there was nothing else I could do. It would be awful, but I’d be in the clear. But when my friend finally called about 6:30 that evening that bird still hadn’t given up trying to escape. 

Our friend arrived with a drill-type tool that cut a perfect circle from the back of my cabinet. Then he stuck his hand in and pulled out a bird with a tiny body (smaller than my fist) and long wings (probably six inches). He set the bird in the yard. In a moment, it was gone, just a streak of brown over the neighbor’s roof.

I don’t think I could have gone to sleep that night knowing that bird was still in there, fighting for its life. I would have felt like a murderer. And I’m so glad I didn’t have to figure out what to do with an injured bird hobbling around on my lawn. Thankfully, the Lord watches over even the sparrows. It’s obvious He had his eye on this one the whole time.

A Tiny Glimpse

So many of you, my friends, have listened to me talk about revising and revising and revising again my current novel, so I thought I’d let you into the innermost sanctum of a writer for a tiny glimpse, lest you think you’d enjoy the process!

I’m on my fourth major revision of this book. I’ve tweaked plots, added characters, subtracted characters. I’ve moved whole sections from front to back and back to front. Trying to remember what’s been added or deleted or where that detail/conversation/episode now resides in the book is like trying to herd cats! If only I could de-claw them somehow first! Instead I chase this tail and that one, round and round and round, until I can’t see straight. Hopefully when I reach the end once more the entire book will be a seamless finished product, a line of sleeping cats purring in contentment.

And you thought a book just came out of a writer in one whole piece, didn’t you? No, it’s more like a 50,000 piece puzzle where only 30,000 of the pieces actually make the picture. Kind of makes you want to be a writer, doesn’t it?

Vintage Baseball Game

We went to a vintage baseball game yesterday. They played by the rules of baseball from the 1860s. Yes, you read that right. 1860s, like during the Civil War.

It was fascinating, really, like watching baby movies of a grown up you know. You see bits and pieces of the person that is familiar to you, and yet it is so very different.

How was it different? For one thing, they didn’t use gloves or any other protective equipment! The ball was a bit bigger and softer than it is now, but playing baseball with your bare hands isn’t easy—especially for the catcher! Because of that, the rules were a bit different than now. A ball could be caught for an out not only straight from the air, but also on one bounce! That included foul balls and foul tips.

The pitcher had a bit more leeway then. Besides pitching underhand, no count of balls was kept. The official only called strikes when the batter swung and missed. Even foul balls weren’t counted as strikes!

Of the two teams we watched play, one regularly plays in these types of games and one was formed for this event. It took the newbies a couple of innings to get the hang of things, but they did. And it really was fun to watch. Our hometown rookies even ended up winning by one run in the ninth inning.

If you enjoy baseball and ever get a chance to see a vintage game, I highly recommend it. It isn’t often you get to “experience” a bit of history, so take advantage of it when you can. 

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Woe is Me

My sinuses are at war with all the time I’ve spent out of doors lately. This is unusual for me. First off, until a couple of years ago, I didn’t have allergies. Secondly, I rarely spend time outside, unless I have to. But two track meets and five baseball games in the past two weeks have started me sneezing and clearing my throat. Then the achy eyes, and an itchy-scratchy-tickly throat and wimpy cough set in. And on top of it all, I’m just plain exhausted. So it’s hunker down on the coach day for me. Hopefully with a little rest and a lot of hot tea and inside air, I’ll be back to myself before I have to hit the ground running once more.

Whirlwind Week

So it took me until Tuesday to replace my Saturday Psalm. Hm. Can you tell what kind of week this is? Yes, it is that horrible week when all the springtime sports wrap up. It’s a whirlwind of a week, so forgive me if I’m not around here much. I think things will slow down a good bit come next week. At least that’s what I’m counting on!

A Saturday Psalm

Give thanks to the Lord, call on His name; make known among the nations what He has done. Sing to Him, sing praise to Him; tell of all His wonderful acts. Glory in His holy name; let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice. Look to the Lord and His strength; seek His face always.

--Psalm 105:1-4

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Missing My Movies

I miss movies. Not new ones, necessarily, because that is always an iffy proposition for me. I mean I hate to waste an hour and a half or more on something that I won’t remember when I wake up in the morning. But I really miss my movies. The ones that up until recently I watched and re-watched on a regular basis.

But life has been busy. Too busy for a two hour standstill. And yet I long for that combination of story and character and images and music, the ones that linger with you long after the screen has gone dark. Some of those I own. Some I don’t—at least not yet. Like my “to buy” book list, my “to buy” movie list extends far beyond my current means.

I know this season of life won’t last forever. In fact, once baseball and track reach their 2010 conclusions, I’ll be able to breath. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even find an extra couple of hours to sit back and enjoy one of my favorite flicks.

Those Creative Types

I love my daughter. I really do. She has become such a joy to be around. We talk more, connect more. But it is still difficult for us to live in the same house.

I’ve pondered the reason for this and come up with more than a few. But today, as I am once again drowning beneath a mound of dishes, I’ve identified a new one: creativity.

You see, creativity is messy. For her, that literally means a mess in the kitchen. The kind it takes more than one person to clean up. For me, when I’m writing, that means leaving some household things until they absolutely have to be done.

Can you see where this is going? When I’m working, I’ll leave the dishes in the sink a couple of days. When she is cooking, that’s impossible, both because the pile is so high it must be dealt with and because eventually every single dish in my kitchen will be in that pile. So her creative pursuit gets in the way of my creative pursuit. And because I’m the mom, mine gets relegated to back-seat priority.

So while I love having her around, it is hard when I have writing work I need to get done. And yet that is exactly what keeps happening. Somehow we have to find a way to co-exist. I guess we’ll have an entire summer to figure it out!

Warning: Worshipping Driver Ahead

I’m a radio girl when I’m tooling around town in my SUV. When I’m on short little trips, in and out of my car, I can deal with the spurts of music that I find on the dial. But when I have to go any length of way on the highway—especially alone, I plug in my adapter and fire up my ipod. Driving and listening to music is good for me. And most of the time it doesn’t cause a problem. Except lately. You see, I’ve discovered the Genius feature.

Oh my.

Now I can play whatever is my favorite worship tune on that particular day and press the Genius button and it will pull all the similar songs on my ipod into a playlist. Now that should be a good thing. But here comes the issue: it gets hard to drive when you’re having a personal revival meeting in your car! Keeping my hands on the wheel becomes a problem. Tears cloud my vision. I’m even tempted to close my eyes! But surely the Lord will put His angels on high alert when that happens. Right?

So I apologize if I cut you off or ride up on your tail or do any of those other annoying things on the highway. I guess maybe I need a little sign on my back window: warning, worshipping driver ahead.

Another Asking Lesson

I learn a lot about God through parenting my children. Recently I received another very clear object lesson on James 4:2b: You do not have, because you do not ask God.

I have a son who rarely asks us for anything. And I mean anything! Not for birthdays or Christmas. Nothing. We try to do for him, but he doesn’t seem to care one way or another. He doesn’t sulk when he doesn’t have what he wants and he doesn’t beg if there is something he wants.

The other day I found out he’d wanted to go out of town with a friend over Easter weekend. They were going to visit family, but they were also going to make two college visits. The trip had been mentioned to us by the parents, but not in a “can he go with us” sort of way. We mentioned it to our son, giving other alternatives, thinking he didn’t want to go visit his friend’s extended family who he doesn’t know. But never once did he say, “I want to go.”

Until the day before they were to leave. His friend mentioned the trip in front of me. I later asked my son why he didn’t want to go.

“Because I thought I couldn’t go” was his answer.

“Did you ever ask?” I said.

“No.” (He is a very truthful child as well!)

“I can’t read your mind, Son.” Then I paused. “Is it too late for you to say yes?”

As he called his friend, I literally cried over the fact that here was something his heart desired and I couldn’t give it to him because he hadn’t asked beforehand.

As I grieved for my son, I realized how God must feel when He is ready and willing to give me my heart’s desire, but I simply do not ask. I assume I shouldn’t want it or won’t get it. So I stay silent. And if my heart hurts as a parent in this situation, can I assume God’s heart hurts any less?

In a happy ending to the story, we were able to work it out for him to go, even at the last minute. And if we in our finite ways can sometimes manage such a thing, how much more can God make a way, even if we’ve waited to ask until we think it is too late.

Forgive me, Lord, for not speaking my mind and letting You decide the answer, not assuming I have all the answers myself. Please let both my son and I learn to open our mouths and reveal our hearts’ desires clearly to You and to the people who love us. 

Happy Easter!

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A Saturday Psalm

Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body will also rest secure, because You will not abandon me to the grave, nor will You let Your Holy One see decay. You have made known to me the path of life, You will fill me with joy in Your presence, with eternal pleasures at Your right hand.

Psalm. 16:9-11

No Sin Too Big

What I love about reading straight through long passages in the Bible is that I invariably see some new progression or timing of events or ideas that I hadn’t noticed on earlier readings. Today’s revelation hit me in Acts chapter 3.

Peter is preaching Christ to the Jews in Jerusalem. Listen to the progression of what he says:

“You disowned the Holy and Righteous One and asked that a murderer be released to you. You killed the Author of Life, but God raised Him from the dead.” (Acts. 3:14-15)

“Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord,” (Acts 3:19)

“When God raised up His Servant, He sent Him first to you to bless you by turning each of you from your wicked ways.” (Acts 3:26)

It’s easy to forget at verse 19 and 26 that Peter is speaking to the very ones that delivered over Jesus and clamored for his death. Yet Peter tells them to repent and have their sins wiped clean, to receive a time of refreshing from the Lord. And he tells them that God sent Jesus to them first, to bless them by turning them from their wicked ways.

If this is possible for those that physically rejected Jesus and sent Him to the cross, what sin that we have committed can remain beyond the realm of His forgiveness and grace? God promised these people refreshing and blessing through repentance. And if Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forever, can we expect any less?

Blowing, Blowing, Blowing

Spring in Texas means one thing to me: wind.

I hate wind. It blows things in my contacts. It makes warm days feel cool when sitting in the bleachers watching a baseball game or track meet. It burns the skin and chaps the lips. It tangles my hair and makes reading outside a challenging experience. It makes it difficult even to walk upright sometimes! It encourages my car to stray from its lane. It stirs up things that clog my nose or make it run.

I know it will only last a few weeks. Then the world will turn still. And hot. But I still don’t like wind!

The Help

I’ll admit, one of the reasons I put off reading this book for so long was because so many people I knew were reading it. Something in me hates to follow the crowd. But every now and then I find I can agree with the New York Times Bestseller List. And this is one of them.

The Help by Kathryn Stockett gripped me from the first page. I literally couldn’t put it down. The writing is amazing. The characters so clearly drawn. The twist and turns in the story, flawless. It is a story that illustrates the good and the bad that comes out in all of us. It makes me examine myself, my shortcomings, my attitudes. And that, to me, signifies good fiction. Those are the kinds of books I keep on my shelves for years to come (although I have to give this copy back to my friend and buy my own now!).

But after turning the last page, the afterward parts fascinated me even more. As a writer trying to tell a story with its roots in the true history of others, this book showed me it is possible to grab the essence of what you want to say without having to hold to the facts that inspired it. That facts can intertwine with story and still convey truth.

This story and these characters will stay with me for a very long time.

Walking by Faith

The door is still open. I really have no choice but to walk through it, although I have no idea what is waiting on the other side. Maybe Ruth felt this way. Or Esther. Or Jacob. Or Daniel. When God so obviously clears the path before your feet, you can either move forward or not. Fear and trembling walk with you as you step into the bright light of His way, but that light sometimes obscures what’s ahead in the distance.

Can I trust Him? My experiences of the past scream yes. That niggling little voice says I’m not sure.

Yet that is the definition of faith.

“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Hebrews 11:1

I hope for His glory to be shown in my life. I can say with surety that He desires that, too. And although I cannot see the way, I am certain of His goodness and His amazing love.

So I’m stepping forward by faith. Trusting the Lord to do what He wants to do, not expecting it to necessarily look anything like what I envision. I know it is the thing to do. But faith is never quite easy. If it were, it wouldn’t be faith!

A Book is a Book

eReading has changed my life. No, I don’t have a Kindle or a Nook. And I haven’t pre-ordered an ipad—yet. But I did get the free Kindle app for my ipod touch. I did it to see if I could be satisfied with a book on a screen. So I downloaded a couple of free “classic” titles and off I went.

Truth be told, I forgot about them for a little while. Then we had our travel day from the bad place after Christmas. What I thought would be seven hours of airport and airplane time turned into two days. Of course I finished the only book I had with me.

Now what? I couldn’t spend all that time with nothing to read! So I pulled out the ipod, adjusted the font size and coloring, and started reading. And guess what? I loved it! I loved it so much that I came home and bought a case for it that opens like a book. And now I love it even more!

I don’t know if I’ll ever have the money to plunk down for one of the larger ereaders, but that’s okay for now. I like what I have. My ipod fits in even a very small purse. And that has changed my life. I no longer have to carry a purse large enough to stow several books. And I don’t find myself in a situation where I’ve left a book behind or finish it and have nothing to read. In fact, now I look forward to being at an appointment or stuck in traffic or early for a ball game. I just power up and read. And with a screen that small, there is no losing my place on the page!

I’m not saying I’ll ever give up books with paper pages. My stuffed full bookshelves are testimony to that. But I’ve definitely seen the advantages of embracing the new technology. If only there weren’t so many books and so little time!

Just the Right Words

I don’t often do devotional books. I prefer to simply read Scripture. But last year I received a wonderful, leather-bound edition of Streams in the Desert that I keep by my favorite chair. Days, weeks, months may pass without me cracking open its spine. But then a day arrives that I feel drawn to it.

Yesterday was such a day. I turned to March 22 and began to read. It was all about waiting.

Figures.

Here were some of the sentences that leapt off the page:

Yet when God delays, He is not inactive.

As Joseph did, we should be more careful to focus on learning all the lessons in the school of sorrow than to focus anxious eyes toward the time of our deliverance.

If we have gained the qualities that make us ready for a throne, nothing will keep us from it once His timing is right.

He is never late.

And just to put an exclamation point on those words, He sent them to me at the exact moment I needed to hear them.

It still doesn’t make waiting fun or easy, but at least it reminds me waiting has purpose.

Inkwell Inspirations

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A Sunday Psalm

I love the Lord, for He heard my voice;
He heard my cry for mercy.
Because He turned His ear to me,
I will call on Him as long as I live.

Psalm 116:1-2

My Silly Waiting Ditty

(Sung to the tune of the theme from Rawhide. I watched the reruns—along with The Rifleman—almost every Saturday afternoon when I was growing up.)

Waiting, waiting, waiting,

Oh, anticipating,

Day and night I’m waiting,

How long?

Imagination soaring,

Oh Lord You get the glory,

Or maybe I’ll be left

High and dry.

Trying to keep busy

But not forgetting, really,

That sometime my fate

They will decide.

Yes or no, no or yes,

No or yes, yes or no,

Yes or no, no or yes

Which one?

Waiting day, waiting night,

Waiting night, waiting day,

Waiting day, waiting night,

How long?

clip art courtesy of www.webweaver.nu

For a nice history of St. Patrick, check out Niki's post on Inkwell Inspirations today!

Spring has Sprung

This week the Bradford pear trees burst into bloom, white flowers covering them like a shy bride arrayed in her finery. It’s always a very noticeable sign of spring around here—and it seems to come almost in an instant. That first day I noticed the bits of white clinging to bare branches, the sun appeared and the temperature hovered in the 60s. Suddenly I have hope that I won’t be cold forever. Warm is on the way. 

Then They Will Know

One of the things I’ve learned from years of doing Precept Upon Precept Bible Study is to pay attention to repeated words in a book (or chapter) of Scripture. It makes sense. If God wants us to get it, He’ll repeat it. Over and over. For He knows we are but dust.

So on my last reading of Ezekiel, I kept running across the same phrase: then they (or you) will know that I am the Lord. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 54 times in 48 chapters. I guess it was important to the Lord that we hear that.

He said it after revealing hard things that would happen, like being defeated and taken captive, and after good things, like restoration from captivity. Through all of it, one of His purposes is for us to know that He is the Lord.

Can you look at things that have happened or are happening in your life through that lens? I’m trying to. Because the more I know that He is the Lord, the less I worry about my circumstances, the less I feel the need to figure out how to make it all work.

My knowing is still far from perfect or consistent. Sometimes I sweat the small stuff while I have great trust for the looming doom. Sometimes it’s the other way around. But if His intention is for me to know that He is the Lord, He won’t hide it from my view. I simply have to pay attention to things going on around me.

Easier said than done!

Inkwell Inspirations

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Zits

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I find it hard to laugh at the situations in which I find myself. I tend to take life too seriously, missing the joy—or even just the cathartic nature of a good laugh. So I look to others to help me see the humor.

Like cartoonists.

When my kids were small, I found Baby Blues. Every morning I’d read the three or four frames and chuckle, because I found it so true to life. When my kids grew past the ages of the characters, my enjoyment waned. But in the past few years I’ve found a replacement. What's funny is that both are collaborative comic strips, and one of the guys is involved in both!

If you have teenagers, or even remember having teenagers, check out the Zits comic strip. I don’t think you can help but be amused. It never fails to hit close to home—be it with a teenaged boy or girl. In fact, I’ve been known to laugh until I’ve cried! And for this parent of teens, a functioning sense of humor is absolutely necessary to survival.

Decisions, Decisions

There are moments when a strong-willed child is a joy. I think the college search can be one of those moments. Child numero uno knew exactly what she wanted to do, where she wanted to look. It was a painless (though expensive) process.

Child number two, the compliant one, is proving to be much harder. We don’t want to make the decisions for him. We want his future to be his. But he refuses to make decisions about even where to look. And time is winding down. Yes, we have a whole year and two months until graduation, but with not wanting to miss days of school before finals in May, a summer of work, and senior seasons of football and basketball on the horizon, we know there will no be time to make campus visits. So we have to go now. But we have to choose some places to visit.

We’re driving him crazy. He’s driving us crazy. I think he’d just prefer us to make the decision for him, but I won’t give him that out. He has to learn to decide, to know what HE should do, not simply let others’ opinions sway him. It’s when you worry about that child that you’ve always been thankful was “the easy one,” for sometimes their later days are paved with hard lessons they sidestepped in their younger years.

I’m sure things will all work out in the end, for we continue to do the one thing that works—we pray. I just wish I could see that end a little more clearly in the now.

The Soggy Middle Ground

I’ve never had trouble starting a new project before, but this time it’s different. I’m not sure why it’s different. It just is.

I have an idea. I have some characters. I even have a bit of research done and a couple of fun opportunities for research in the next few weeks. But I can’t seem to write that first word because I can’t seem to get a good picture of things in my mind.

Is fear holding me back? Fear that this one won’t be as good as the last? Fear that I’ll spend all that time and energy only to have another book to put on the virtual shelf? Maybe it’s the anticipation that the year of writing will be my son’s senior year of high school. My second child, my oldest boy. One I will miss terribly.

Maybe it is simply a lack of faith on my part. A worry that I’m wasting precious time. A look at the waves lapping my feet instead of walking with my eyes fixed on Jesus. All I know is that I’ve been floundering for about a month now, and it has to stop. I have to move forward or lay it down. That soggy middle ground simply won’t hold my weight much longer.

Finding the Right Fit

I tried to go clothes shopping the other day. But clothes shopping depresses me. Clothes are not made for long-legged people. They just aren’t. Just like shoes aren’t made for skinny-footed people. Especially sandals. So after trying on a dressing room full of rejects, I hung the clothes back on a rod, turned to my mother and said, “This is why I prefer shopping for books. They always fit.”

So there you have it. One of these days I’ll only own pjs and books. And I’ll be quite happy. As long as the kitchen is stocked, that is. Of course that might be difficult in the pjs. Perhaps this plan needs more work.

Inkwell Inspirations

Come join me over at Inkwell Inspirations today for part three of our five part serial story!

The Young Victoria

I’ll admit that I have a lifelong fascination with royalty. And truly, if I trace it back, it probably began with checking out Jean Plaidy’s The Queen’s Husband back when I was 11 or 12. It told the story of Victoria and Albert. And I was hooked.

So it really isn’t any surprise that I’ve wanted to see the new movie The Young Victoria. But it was only showing at one theater around us—and that one was over 30 miles away. I thought it a long shot, at best. But lo and behold, we actually found ourselves in that area of town on Sunday and went.

While I understand that movies (and books) based on lives of historical figures often skew the historical fact, I didn’t mind. When the credits rolled and the lights went up in the theater, I was still wiping my eyes.

“That may be the most romantic movie I’ve ever seen,” I told my husband.

The screenplay wove the story well. The actors were topnotch. And the fact that it has been nominated for Academy Awards in art direction, costume design, and makeup tell you it was beautiful to watch as well. Definitely a film that will reside among my DVDs when it becomes available.

A Serial Story at Inkwell Inspirations

Have you ever read a serial story? We're doing one at Inkwell Inspirations this week. It's a story that continues for five days and it is written by five different people. This is the second time I've been involved in such a thing. It is very fun for both the writer and the reader! Read the first installment here.

Anticipation

I don’t do anticipation very well. Anticipation of something bad has always led to fear in my life. Anticipation of good has often led to disappointment. So how do we walk through days full of anticipation of something looming on the horizon of our lives? Of something we know, for better or worse, is coming?

Lately I’ve been remembering the days of anticipation before the birth of my first child. The anticipation wasn’t so strong the day I learned I was pregnant. Or even a few months later. I knew I had to wait at least nine months, so the anticipation heightened as the time drew near. I quit my full-time job two weeks before my due date. Every day of those two weeks was filled with anticipation—and little else. I remember feeling restless, eager for something besides the impending birth to occupy my mind and yet unable to settle into anything else for long.

I feel that way these days, too. And yet, nearly twenty years later, I’m thinking that anticipation shouldn’t rule me. I should be able to move forward, to accomplish all that is required of me on a daily basis without succumbing to the inactivity and indecision of anticipation. Isn’t that what it means to not worry about tomorrow? To be able to live each day, each moment without that cloak of anticipation binding my hands and feet?

So I’m trying to do better, trying to live in the now, trying to anticipate only what the Lord would have me to do, not what lies ahead to experience. Help me, Lord!

Inkwell Inspirations

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A Sunday Psalm

Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord;
let us shout aloud to the rock of our salvation.
Let us come before Him with thanksgiving
and extol Him with music and song.
For the Lord is the great God,
the great King above all gods.
      --Psalm 95:1-3

It's In the Details

I’m a detail person. I didn’t always know this about myself. In fact, at a crucial job interview when I was twenty-one, my prospective boss said, “Are you a detail-oriented person?”

           

“No,” I replied, very matter-of-factly. Maybe almost with a bit of disdain. After all, everyone knows that “detail-oriented” means “boring” or “nerd.” And I was determined to be neither of those things.

The Lord graciously let this woman see past my words to my personality and I got the job. It did indeed involve myriad details, all of which I juggled with aplomb. Whether I liked it or not, I recognized that I am wired for detail.

But lately it seems like I’m drowning in a sea of details. I’m not talking about saying “no” to things. I’m just talking about the details of life that must be attended to by someone. Things like when a bill isn’t correct and you must call customer service to get it straightened out. Or when one doctor’s appointment leads to another. Or when you change your provider of ___________ (you fill in the blank) and the list of who needs to know this snowballs until you feel like Indiana Jones running from a giant boulder. Sometimes it’s just the weekly or monthly task of making a grocery list and figuring out what you are going to feed the family or taking care of the car registration, inspection, oil change, tire rotation.

I don’t want to spend every waking moment dealing with the details. I want to read or write or spend time with the people I enjoy. But I have a hard time doing those things when the details of life become all consuming.

The Pastor's Wife

Have you or your spouse ever put your job or ministry before your marriage? Have either of you ever felt like you couldn’t find your place—and your spouse didn’t fully understand? Have you or your spouse ever held to yourself a hurt that needed to be shared?

If you answered yes to any of the above questions—and my guess is that if you’ve been married more than a few days or weeks, you did—then you will be able to identify with Maura and Nick Shepherd, the main characters in Jennifer AlLee’s novel The Pastor’s Wife. I know I did! My husband and I struggled at the beginning of his career with the balance of work and family.

I met Jennifer over three years ago at an ACFW conference, and now she and I both contribute to the Inkwell Inspirations blog. She is a lovely person and a great writer. And I’m glad I can also call her my friend.

But I have to admit, when I agree to accept a free book before publication, I do it with a bit of trepidation. What if I hate it? What do I do then? Just a few pages into this book, I knew that wouldn’t be a problem!

Real without being raw, this engaging romance warmed my heart. Here’s the back cover blurb:

Maura Sullivan thought she knew what she was getting into when she married son-to-be-pastor Nick Shepherd. But when “the other woman” in her marriage turned out to be her husband’s congregation, she ran.

Six years later, she’s back in the small community of Granger, Ohio, for the reading of a will that names both her and Nick as beneficiaries.

Now Maura must face the husband and the congregation she left behind.

I hope you find as much pleasure in their story as I did!

Thank You, Tekeme Studios!

I've long admired the work of George and Ashley Weis at Tekeme Studios. Then I met Ashley face to face at the 2009 ACFW Conference. If our common callings as writers didn't unite us, the fact that she was pregnant with her third child in three years would have. After all, I've lived that life.

But imagine my thrill when the Lord dropped a bit of money in my lap and then nudged me to take the plunge and ask Ashley and George to redo my website/blog! So here it is, the debut. I hope you like it as much as I do.

Thanks, Ashley and George, for managing to put me on the page (or the screen) in a way I could never have articulated but which fits me perfectly. Y'all are awesome!

Olympics

Are you watching the Olympics? In spite of the influx of professionals into the venue, I still love the pageantry and the stories of athletes from around the world that overcome great odds. Like the lone participant from Ghana—that country’s first ever winter Olympian. He’s a skier. His nickname is The Snow Leopard. Or the young American ski jumper that received his trip to the Olympic qualifying trials as his Christmas present from his family. He didn’t even make the medal round, but I imagine that didn’t much matter. Of course there is tragedy, too. Like watching the faces of the other athletes from Georgia as they paraded into the arena after losing their teammate to the luge accident.

More stories will surface in the next few days. We’ll cheer for those who have persevered through hardship or loss. We’ll watch as some favored to win their events will, indeed, win. We’ll watch as others, considered long shots, rise to the occasion and end up on the podium with a medal circling their necks and the emotion of watching their country flag ascend flickering across their faces. It’s a good thing the Olympics only come every two years. I’m not sure I could stand the suspense or emotion any more often than that!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Ask

Are you ever afraid to ask God for something? I am. I find myself afraid I’ll ask for the wrong thing and then God will give it and I’ll be in a mess. Or I get afraid that if I ask, I won’t get an answer. Or the answer won’t be what I want to hear. Or I don’t ask because I think I don’t deserve to recieve anything. Or because asking might mean I haven’t yet conquered self.

But is any of that really true? I’ve been reading in the book of Mark lately. In Chapter 7 the Syrophonenician woman came and asked Jesus to heal her daughter. She wasn’t even deterred by His not immediately saying yes or no. She persisted. And Jesus healed her daughter.

In Chapter 9, the disciples become confused by Jesus’ words about what will happen to him, about his impending death and resurrection. Verse 32 says “But they did not understand this statement, and they were afraid to ask Him.” They didn’t understand, yet they were afraid to ask.

Chapter 10 closes with the story of blind Bartimaeus. He called to Jesus, asking for mercy. When Jesus stopped and took him aside, Jesus said, “What do you want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus asked to receive his sight, and he received it.

As all three of these stories swirl together in my mind, I remember Jesus, who even knowing the Father’s plan for him, asked in the garden, “If it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; yet not as I will, but as You will.” (Matthew 26:39) He asked for the cup to pass, but also asked that the Father do as He pleased.

Then I remember the verses that I’ve pondered since my teenaged years. “Now suppose one of you fathers is asked by his son for a fish; he will not give him a snake instead of a fish, will he? Or if he is asked for an egg, he will not give him a scorpion, will he?” (Luke 11:11-12)

So many times I am like the disciples. Afraid to ask. Afraid, maybe, to hear the answer—even sometimes afraid Jesus will grant my request. And yet—of all the examples above the only one turned down flat was Jesus’. But He didn’t mind, for He’d qualified it with “not as I will, but as You will.”

If the Word of God is to be taken as a whole, then I must conclude that God wants me to ask. That He will not give me something to my detriment if my heart is seeking that which is good in His sight. That while He may not say yes to my request, He is not offended by it. Indeed, while He knows my need or my desire before I ask, He sometimes deems it necessary for me to voice the question. I just need to ask.

Sunshine Award

So how fun is this? Steena over at Chocolate Reality gave my blog a Sunshine Award. Here's the cool part about this for me--Steena often reads and comments on my "Critique per Week" post I do at the Wanna Be Published blog. But I had no idea she'd found this blog! Anyway, part of the point of this award is to pass it to other bloggers I know. So here goes.

• Relevant Blog 
• The Reads in Rockwall 
• Has Anyone Seen My Purse
• Carla's Writing Cafe 
• Random Jottings 
• Kisses From Katie
• Fallible

Rules to Accept the Award:
Put the logo on your blog in your post.
Pass the award onto 12 bloggers. (Yeah, I didn't manage 12. Time crunch)
Link the nominees within your post.
Let the nominees know they have received this award by commenting on their blogs.
Share the love and link to the person from whom you received this award.

Freezing Toes, Eating Woes

I thought I was crazy. Or at least completely lacking in self-control. But today I found a scientific explanation for my behavior of late. And that was comforting.

You see, until December, I’d been doing so well eating right. At first I blamed my lapse on my chef daughter being home from school. And that was part of it. But she’s been gone a few weeks now and I’m still struggling. The most frustrating part was that I could do fine for several days—even weeks. Then I wanted to (and did) eat everything in sight. I literally couldn’t help myself. But then I noticed something: my binges came as the temperature dropped.

I’m very cold natured as it is. And we’ve had an unusually cold winter this year. The result? I eat. Not just food, but carbs and sweets. So today I looked up cold weather and appetite and found an interesting article on WebMD. It said that when the temperature drops outside, our body temperatures drop. (Boy does mine drop!) One way the body knows to raise that temperature is to increase the appetite. Food helps the body increase its temperature again. Especially carbs and sugar.

Now, being the biology boycotter that I am (I took Life Science in 7^th grade, but no Biology beyond that.), I had no idea my body worked like that. I only knew I couldn’t quit eating this winter. I still need to have a bit more self-control in what I consume. And I need to find a way to get warm enough to exercise, which wouldn’t be a problem except that I’m too cheap to turn up the heat in the house! But at least now I know I’m not crazy.

Reading vs. Writing

Catching up after Christmas and doing another round of edits on my book didn’t leave much time for reading in January. In fact, I only read two books. I can’t remember the last time that’s happened. I tend to average 4-5 books per month. I have for years and years. Yet here am I with February half-gone and I have yet to close a back cover and wish the story hadn’t ended.

It’s a hard thing, I’m learning, to balance the reading and the writing. I love to read. I hate not to read. And yet there are only so many hours in a day. And this coming from one who always reads at least a chapter before bed and carries a book with me at all times for those “unexpected” free moments! My “to read” stacks are growing higher, even as I’m longing to re-read some old favorites. How did I get in this mess?

Oh, yeah. I wanted to write. Isn’t every dream a double-edged sword? And here is mine. Maybe I need to talk my husband into a beach vacation this summer, even though neither of us cares for the beach. At least it would be time with nothing to do but read. Unless, of course, we found a historical site to visit.

On second thought, maybe a research trip would be as fun as a reading one!

Inkwell Inspirations

Come join me for a devotional over at Inkwell Inspirations!

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!

Inkwell Inspirations

 I'm hosting a guest blogger at Inkwell Inspirations today. Come take a peek!

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.