Crossing Oceans by Gina Holmes

I’d heard a box of tissue was required for the reading of Gina Holmes’s debut novel Crossing Oceans. And although I’m generally a crier, I took that as kind of a challenge to get through the book without enough tears to require the assistance of Kleenex.

But I didn’t make it.

The thing I loved about this book is that while the story line seemed guaranteed to tug at my heartstrings, Gina drew her characters with such realism that what could have been a bit melodramatic came across as true-to-life. As the characters’s emotions rollercoastered from joy to anger, fear to faith, frustration to resignation, mine followed. And though the ultimate end was known almost from the beginning, it was poignant and beautiful and worth the ride.

When Work is Play

We went on vacation to Colorado a couple of weeks ago. And I determined it really would be a vacation. I didn’t even take my laptop! Granted, I wasn’t completely unplugged. I still had my blackberry for emails and my ipod touch for facebook and twitter and reading blogs and stuff. But for the most part, I relaxed.

We played games. (I lost every one.) We hiked a bit. (I did it, even if I didn’t like it!) We watched movies and read. (Four books in seven days. Now that’s what I call a vacation!) And a couple of afternoons, my husband and I journeyed into the town to scrounge up a bit of history, for that is what we love.

And did we find a treasure trove! Not only were many of the buildings along the main strip built in the early 1900s, but the historical society also had a nice little (free!) museum with quite an array of artifacts. I took more pictures of those than of the waterfalls and other vistas we viewed. Oh—and we browsed two antique stores, marveling at the finds we couldn’t justify paying money to own.

To some (like my teenaged sons), that might not sound like much fun. But when it comes to research, my work is play. With each new piece of history, be it information or artifact, my mind automatically churns back to another era. I file away the details, the feel, the smells. I imagine a character, a scene, a story. I get lost in the possibilities. And since vacation is about doing what you enjoy instead of what has to be done, I guess I was blessed to be able to spend my time doing just that, even if it doesn’t sound like much fun to anyone else!

Inkwell Inspirations

I'm interviewing my friend Carla Stewart over at Inkwell Inspirations today!

Come read about her debut novel Chasing Lilacs.

Representing King and Country

I have loved watching the FIFA World Cup this year. But my favorite parts haven’t been the games, though they have at times been exciting. No, what I have enjoyed are the pre-game ceremonies. I love watching the little South African boys in their football uniforms escorting the players of each team onto the field, holding hands with some of the best players in the world. Some of the young faces are split with grins. For others, their features are etched with the seriousness of the situation. All, I am certain, will retell their moment on the world’s stage for the rest of their lives.

The teams file onto the field, the little boys now standing in front of each player. I love how the camera pans the players’ faces as their national anthem is sung. It’s that same feeling I get during the Olympics. Each player carries the weight of their entire country on their shoulders, knowing they are competing for the honor of their fellow citizens. And yet, in spite of the pressure, they are proud. They sing with fervor as the camera then seeks out their fans, some draped in their flag, others painted with country colors, all singing at the top of their lungs.

Lately those scenes remind me not of my loyalty to America, but of my loyalty to my real King and country, knowing that my true citizenship is in heaven. Every day I “compete,” as Paul reminds us in his letters. I run a race, and I am to run it in a way that is seeking the prize of the high calling of Christ. Every day I represent my King and all my fellow citizens of heaven in my every action, large or small, public or private. If only would I always consider my representation of the Lord and His saints as much of an honor and responsibility as the soccer players competing for their country in a World Cup game. 

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And Ladies of the Club

I’m a sucker for a long book. I like knowing I will live with the characters for more than a few hours or a few days. But such books aren’t written very often anymore. Or if they are, their subject isn’t one that grabs my attention. So when my friend handed me an old, fat paperback and told me I’d love it, I didn’t hesitate to plunge in.

And love it I did! . . . And Ladies of the Club by Helen Hooven Santmyer was published 25 years ago. The funny thing is that I remember seeing it on the shelves of the bookstore I worked in while I was in college, and while the cover enticed me, for some reason, I never took it home.

This epic novel centers around two girlhood friends—Anne and Sally. It begins at their graduation from the Female Seminary in an Ohio town in 1868, when they are invited to become charter members of the Waynesboro Woman’s Club, a small group of women dedicated to continuing their intellectual pursuits while living within the bounds of their womanhood.

The book ends 1,433 pages later in 1932.

These characters really lived for me. By the end, I felt like they were my friends. I love authors that can make that happen! Another thing that struck me was the incredible historical detail in the book. I found myself wondering how in the world the author had done all that research! Then I looked her up on the Internet, only to discover that Helen Hooven Santmyer was herself born in 1895! She was into her late eighties when this book finally saw publication. So these were the stories of her mother’s generation—and of her own. She lived many of these things instead of just reading about them. And it shows.

I loved every aspect of this book—the political, social and religious climates of that day and region, the subtle changes that happen through this 65-year period, the relationships that grow and change, the ebb and flow of joys and sorrows that characterize every life.

If you love epic stories, if you love history, if you love stories of relationship, you will love this book. But beware! When you pick it up, you are in for a long haul. But if you are like me, that only heightens the appeal.

A Saturday Psalm

I will exalt You, my God the King;
I will praise Your name for ever and ever.
Every day I will praise You and extol Your name
for ever and ever.
Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise;
His greatness no one can fathom.
One generation will commend Your works to another;
they will tell of Your mighty acts.
They will speak of the glorious splendor of Your majesty,
and I will meditate on Your wonderful works.
  ---Psalm 145:1-5

Code Blue by Richard Mabry

I met Dr. Richard Mabry in March of 2005. We were in the same Fiction Mentoring Clinic, under the tutelage of Gayle Roper, at the Mount Herman Christian Writers Conference. I discovered that Richard lived in the DFW metroplex, as I did, though we’d had to go to California to meet. An avid baseball fan and a retired doctor, I enjoyed critiquing his novel that dealt with both and visiting with both him and his lovely wife.

Five years later, I got to hold Richard’s first published novel in my hands! Code Blue came out recently and Richard graciously provided a copy for my enjoyment. And I did enjoy it! Not that I didn’t know Richard was a good writer. I’ve known that for a long time. But medical suspense isn’t what I read by choice. (Besides being a scaredy-cat, I finagled my way out of Biology in both high school and college!)

Yet I enjoyed his book. Good characters. An interesting plot. A satisfying ending. Enough medical terminology, but not blood and gore. Tension and suspense, but not terror and nightmares.

I can actually say I’m looking forward to reading the next one!

Inkwell Inspirations

Come over to Inkwell Inspirations and read about my one and only camping trip!

A Sunday Psalm

As a father has compassion on his children,
so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him;
for HE knows how we are formed, He remembers we are but dust.
As for man, his days are like grass,
he flourishes like a flower of the field;
the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more.
But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord's love is with those who fear Him,
and His righteousness with their children's children--
with those who keep His covenant and remember to obey His precepts.
    --Psalm 103:13-18

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

There are many good places for people watching. But few places afford such prolonged instances of people listening than a baseball game. Think about it. You sit in close proximity with many strangers for anywhere from three to four hours, with only occasional demands on your attention. Because even if you love it, you have to admit that baseball is a slow game. Sometimes very little happens. So people talk.

As a writer, I need times to people listen. It helps my dialogue writing, in tone, implication, word choices and cadence. It helps my characterizations, for there are so many different kinds of people and I can learn so much about them by the things that come out of their mouths. It can also help my plotting, for you can’t imagine some of the outrageous stories people relate to each other in the midst of a crowd of strangers.

For a multi-tasker like me, that makes a baseball game the perfect activity. I can be with my husband and kids doing something they enjoy. I can appreciate the action of the game. And in the lulls, I can listen to those around me and spin out situations and characters that might someday find their way into my stories, even if only in fragments.

So will this make you think twice the next time you have a conversation in the midst of a crowd? Writers’ ears are lurking everywhere! And for me, the ballpark scores a homerun on nearly every visit!

An Apple a Day

In my younger years, I loved apples. I’d use that nifty tool that cores and wedges an apple with one hard push, then I’d eat the wedges dipped in peanut butter. I’m not sure when that little habit fell by the wayside, but it did. Maybe it was when I had small children and didn’t even have time to use the wedge tool—or to eat the wedges before they turned brown! Or maybe I sacrificed my snack to the children. I can’t remember. But lately I’ve renewed my apple habit.

Being grown up now, I’ve moved past peanut butter on my apples. And I’ve bypassed wedges as well. I still don’t like biting into an apple whole, so I core it then cut it into rings. I munch them plain. Or smeared with natural almond butter. Or Nutella. I cut them into smaller pieces and scatter them in a salad—a green salad or chicken salad. Sometimes I’ll even use them in place of a cracker with a packet of flavored tuna. (Herb and garlic or sweet and sour work best.)

Of course, my choice of apple has changed since long ago, as well. Now the somewhat-health-conscious me buys organic instead of regular. And my taste has moved to Gala instead of Red Delicious. But no matter the details, I can still feel good about an apple, whether part of a snack or a meal. And it is nice to rediscover something good that was once forgotten. 

The Young and the Older

Since I live with a lifelong baseball fan, we have been watching Stephen Strasburg’s debut as a pitcher in the major leagues. If you aren’t a sports fan, let me give you a recap. Strasburg is a 21-year-old pitcher who has had phenomenal stats in the minor leagues and was brought up last week to pitch for the Washington Nationals. And he did not disappoint. In his debut, he pitched 7 innings, struck out 14, and walked 0.

But what I love about his story is not that he came in and performed as expected. It is a much smaller piece of the puzzle—and it involves two of my favorite baseball players of all time.

When the Nationals brought up this young guy, they wanted to pair him with a veteran catcher. They chose 38-year-old Pudge Rodriguez. Pudge came to the big leagues in 1991, as a highly touted 19-year-old catcher for the Texas Rangers. Even now, with almost 20 years in the majors under his belt, I’m sure Pudge remembers very well the kind of pressure attached to one so young and talented. And I’m sure he also remembers the value of a veteran player paired with a rookie in the battery.

In 1991, the rookie Pudge caught the 44-year-old Nolan Ryan—who also threw a 14 strike out game that year! (Which, to me, is as amazing a feat as one pitched by a young guy.) Of course I can’t say for sure that Nolan Ryan, even indirectly, influenced some of the calm and maturity Pudge brings to Stasburg, but given the character of both those guys, I’d say it’s a safe bet.

And isn’t that cool? Young guys learning from those that have had longevity. And two players toward the end of their careers not threatened by the attention surrounding the up-and-coming.

But then the Bible tells us that this is the way it should be. The older realizing they still have something to give by telling the younger generation of the faithfulness of the Lord, by encouraging them as they begin their journey through life. The younger ones understanding and embracing the value in the experience of those who have lived longer on this earth. And it proves yet again that illustrations of the truths of God can come from even the most unlikely of places!

A Sunday Psalm

But as for me, I will always have hope;
I will praise You more and more.
My mouth will tell of Your righteousness, of Your salvation all day long,
though I know not its measure.
I will come and proclaim Your mighty acts, O Sovereign Lord;
I will proclaim Your righteousness, Yours alone.
Since my youth, O God, You have taught me,
and to this day I declare Your marvelous deeds.
Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, O God,
till I declare Your power to the next generation, You might to all who are to come.
         --Psalm 71:14-18

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LIfe in Defiance by Mary DeMuth

I always look forward to receiving my copy of Mary DeMuth’s latest book. But while her hard yet redemptive stories grip my heart, I find an even more personal joy in discovering how the book has changed and grown and deepened since my reading of the early manuscript.

Life in Defiance is no exception. If you are familiar with the previous two books in this trilogy, Daisy Chain (currently nominated for a Christy award) and A Slow Burn, you will know that each book is told from a different character’s point of view while keeping a continuous time line of events surrounding the disappearance and murder of Daisy Chance. In book one, the girl disappears. In book two, we discover she has indeed been murdered. In book three, the truth finally comes to light. But this book is about more than solving a mystery. It is about a character’s journey to understanding God and herself.

Ouisie Pepper’s tale will tear your heart out as you read. Now that is not generally what I look for in fiction (I’m really an escapist by nature!) but reading such a story, even if not on a regular basis, changes me. Through Ouisie’s words, I remember that people’s lives are not always what they seem to be on the outside. I realize that heartache and tragedy can be masked over to the general public. I understand that being a friend—one who boldly lives to love Jesus, however imperfectly—can often be the only lifeline a person has as they grasp at faith in difficult circumstances.

Yes, questions about Daisy are finally answered. But in the end, that isn’t what satisfies. What satisfies is seeing a picture of God meeting us where we are, of Him wooing our hearts, of His all-sufficient grace.

Want to hear what others are saying about Life in Defiance? Click here for a list of blogs featuring the book this week!

Calendar Addiction

I used to think I simply had a penchant for calendars. Now I realize it’s an addiction.

Let me explain.

Currently, I keep a calendar on my computer (iCal), on my ipod touch (synced with iCal), and on my blackberry (also synced with iCal). I also have two magnetic weekly dry erase calendars on my fridge—the current week on the refrigerator door, the following week on the side, which are updated by hand from my iCal. All of these calendars are color-coded by family member.

But that isn’t all. Beside my chair in the corner of the living room sits my weekly, spiral-bound paper calendar. This isn’t color coded, but it is manually synced (i.e. written) with my computer calendar and the fridge calendar. It also functions as my “to do” list. Next to it is another small spiral bound blank book in which I designate one page per week to record my specific writing goals/tasks for that time period. Oh—and the monthly wall calendar in my laundry room marked with family birthdays. (This year’s calendar is compliments of Aunt Sheri, complete with the birthdays already marked!)

So you’d think that would be enough. I mean, how many calendars does one person (family) need? But last night as I was lying in bed and trying to figure out what writing I needed to get done this summer, I realized I needed a way to see this on a calendar. But I didn’t want to clutter up my other calendars. (I hate cluttered calendars!) And then I realized I already had the perfect solution!

On my iCal, I have a “family” calendar, which includes each person in my family with a different color code. I can view the calendar with the entire family or just check the box next to one person and view only their events. So I realized all I had to do was create a new calendar group for writing and color code my different kinds of tasks—blogging, drafting and revisions, editing for others, etc. On a normal day, these remain hidden by unchecking the writing box. But when I need to see and schedule things for writing, I simply click that calendar, unclick the family calendar and wa-la! All my writing “to dos” pop up on my computer (and my ipod!), categorized. When I finish a task for the week, I simply delete it!

At that moment, I realized my calendar addiction. I mean, how many people sit around thinking about their calendars—and get excited over discovering more ways to make them work!

My name is D’Ann Mateer, and I’m addicted to calendars.

A Saturday Psalm

When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,
The moon and the stars, which You have ordained;
What is man that You take thought of him?
And the son of man that You care for him?
    --Psalm 8:3-4

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Not Ashamed

You who frequent my small corner of the blogosphere know that I love finding new nuggets of truth nestled in very familiar passages of Scripture. Yesterday I ran across another one.

I was reading through Hebrew 11. You know, the Faith chapter. How many hundreds of times have I read this, heard it preached, even memorized portions of it? But today it wasn’t the patriarchs and their feats of faith that caught my attention. It was a small phrase embedded in the middle of verse 16: Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God.

Usually when we think of “ashamed” and our faith, we think of Paul’s declaration in Romans 1:16: For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ. We consider that we should not be ashamed of Him. Rarely do we contemplate that He might be ashamed for us to call Him our God.

Ouch! I don’t want the Lord to be ashamed that I call myself His child! So if I go back to Hebrews 11, how did the saints of old live lives that didn’t bring shame to their God? I think the answer lies at the conclusion of Hebrews 11:11: She considered Him faithful who had promised.

This verse refers specifically to Sarah, but I think it applies to the entire “hall of faith.” Their faith didn’t rest in a “happening,” a situation, a circumstance. Their faith remained though floods and barrenness and captivity and martyrdom, through miracles and victories and freedom because they believed in the faithfulness of their God.

That’s the kind of faith I want to have. Faith in the One who is always faithful. For while I might declare myself not ashamed of the gospel of my Lord, an even greater travesty would be for the Lord whose gospel it is to be ashamed of me.

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. 

Inkwell Inspirations

I've posted a devotional over at Inkwell Inspirations today!

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

Inkwell Inspirations

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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!

You can find my devotional thoughts over at Inkwell Inspirations today!

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.