Whisper on the Wind by Maureen Lang

I remember back when Bodie Thoene’s Vienna Prelude came out. I’d never read anything quite like it. It had romance and adventure, action and intrigue all on the epic stage of World War II. I devoured all her subsequent books, loving every one. Since then, I’ve read many good books, but none in quite that same vein.

Until now.

If you read my blog regularly, you might remember my review of Look to the East by Maureen Lang a few months ago. Well the second book is here (or almost here!). And it is a doozy!

Whisper on the Wind is set in Belgium in World War I. Isa Lassone has smuggled herself back in to German-occupied Brussels while other people are desperate to get out! In her quest to rescue the man she loves and his family, she finds herself instead entangled in the underground resistance newspaper. Suddenly there is more at stake than just her heart!

As with the Thoene books I love, Marueen Lang has found a balance of romance and adventure that is sure to thrill almost any reader. And in a period of history often forgotten. 

The Green-Eyed Monster

I find myself envying my daughter lately. I’ve never really done that. Never lived vicariously through her. But as I recently lived day after day after day with the unexpected jumping in and scrambling my life as I prefer it to be, I found myself green with jealousy.

After all, she’s a college student. With no one to worry about but herself. No real responsibilities except getting to class on time and making the grades to keep her scholarships. No need to drop everything should someone else need something. No one depending on her to make things run smoothly. No time and energy and money spent when an issue like air-conditioning arises. (Don’t you wish your house had a permanent maintenance man?) No need to figure out what’s for dinner, even though that does mean eating cafeteria food. No one desiring her to fit her life and schedule around theirs.

See what I mean? I keep thinking that being an empty nester will be nearly the same thing, but my friends assure me that isn’t so. And so I sigh and watch her carefree life, knowing she doesn’t appreciate the lack of people and things all vying for her attention. And yet—it drives me to pray. Not only my grumbling heart, but also for her. For there will come a day when she walks in my shoes, sacrificing her wants, her wishes, for the family God will bless her with.

And I pray she will do it far more graciously than I. 

Surrender the Heart by MaryLu Tyndall

Who doesn’t love a good adventure on the high seas? It’s hard not to when it comes in the form of a MaryLu Tyndall book! Thanks to MaryLu’s generosity (and that of her publisher!) I received a copy of her latest book Surrender the Heart. And it did not disappoint.

As a reader, I love how MaryLu blends adventure and romance and spiritual truth. As a writer, I marvel that she does it in books where almost the entire story takes place on a ship!

While MaryLu’s previous books have revolved around pirate characters, Surrender the Heart takes a new direction. Set in the War of 1812, where the fledging American navy bested the powerful British navy, this is a story of a reluctant patriot and a passionate one. But it is also about facing deep fears, accepting God’s unconditional love for us, and trusting Him with our lives.

With characters that capture your imagination and a stunning, surprising adventure at every turn, I think you will enjoy every moment you spend with Marianne and Noah.

A Sunday Psalm

Sing joyfully to the Lord, you righteous;
it is fitting for the upright to praise Him.
Praise the Lord with the harp;
make music to Him on the ten-stringed lyre.
Sing to Him a new song;
play skillfully and shout for joy.
For the word of the Lord is right and true;
He is faithful in all He does.
The Lord loves righteousness and justice;
the earth is full of His unfailing love.
      --Psalm 33:1-5

As the Clock Ticks

I try to catch time

To hold it

To make it bend to my will.

Instead the days race by

Hours fleeing

Minutes flying.

In the chaos I’m caught between

Wanting time to stand still and

Wanting to jump over calendar squares.

People come before work

Yet deadlines loom.

Houses don’t clean themselves.

Families have to eat.

And so I pray:

Multiply the moments.

Help me discipline my days.

In that plea I must rest

Believing the Maker of Time hears my cry

And answers.

In His time

Not mine.

Back to School Thankfulness

It’s been a crazy week, with a bit more craziness to come. But for now, I’m sitting alone in my house, quiet except for the music playing on my computer. I always look forward to the calm of the first day of school. Though this year I only have a few minutes to revel in it before I must force myself from my chair and run through this day, still I sit thankful. Thankful for a daughter that loves her college life. Thankful for a senior son that is open to whatever future the Lord has for him. Thankful for my baby boy who has another three years at home. Thankful for my husband who gathered us all close and prayed before the boys embarked on another school year.

God is good.

Oh the Things Moms Will Do

I’ve spent the past week running all over creation looking for a pink necklace. Not just any pink necklace, mind you, but one almost the exact dark hot pink of the sandals from the clearance rack. After all, if you are wearing pink sandals with a black and white dress, it stands to reason that your necklace should be pink, too. Right?

Lest you think I got caught up indulging my inner diva in me, let me assure you, I did not. I embarked on the quest for my daughter.

Let me explain. She’s never been a girly girl. In fact, she’s really been a tomboy most of her life. But all of sudden, at 19, she is conforming to the social norms. So for the first time in my life, I really, really feel like the mother of a girl. And the girl who has disdained pink in any form, now begged me to find that perfect pink necklace while she spent the week at Glorieta with her college friends.

What’s a mom to do? Go shopping, of course. And of course no one had what I needed. Not until in a desperate attempt to not disappoint, I checked the necklaces at Walmart. And wa-la! One—count it, one—necklace that worked. Yes, one style, but ONE left! My only consolation? It was on clearance for $3. If only I hadn’t already spend four times that amount in gas going to all those other places!

A Sunday Psalm

I do not hide Your righteousness in my heart,
I speak of Your faithfulness and salvation.
I do not conceal Your love and Your truth from the great assembly.
Do not withhold Your mercy from me, O Lord;
may Your love and Your truth always protect me.
   --Psalm 40:10-11

Back in Time

I went on a researching trip the other day. Back to the library of my alma mater, to the site of my first post-college “real” job. (Ok, so it was the only “real” job I ever held!) But besides a very fun lunch with former co-workers I hadn’t seen in almost 20 years, my favorite part was my time in the West stacks. 

You see, when they updated and added on to the library building, they left the original one, incorporating the old into the new. Thus, the West stacks are the old library—even before I was there! No windows. Old study carrels. No computers. Narrow staircases leading from one floor to the next, unless you are brave enough to get on the small elevator that services that building.

The dust and eerie quiet and the buzzing florescent lighting brought a thrill. My fingers touched books held by long-gone co-eds and cataloguers, making me feel a part of all those who had used those books and walked between those shelves over the years. Because while I love the history I find in the books, sometimes what I really love is the history of the books. Wondering who held them, read them, checked them out—and why. Did they get a good grade on the paper? Did they discover the answer to a question that plagued them? Maybe they gossiped or flirted or cried behind the open covers.

In the end, I had more to do than time to do it, so I’ll be making another trip back. But that doesn’t bother me. That library draws me. I think it’s because I feel more than other people’s history within its walls. I also feel the ghost-of-me-past walking alongside. Idealistic. Full of dreams of what life would bring. A few years ago I wouldn’t have wanted to meet that girl again. These days, she’s a welcome companion. Maybe because I recognize so much of her in my children. Maybe because after all this time some of those dreams are being fulfilled. Whatever it is, I’m glad my path has taken me back to that place, for so many reasons.

What about you? Is there a place that evokes that idealistic, full of dreams, on the cusp of life you? Or is there a place where history feels close, as if you could pull aside a thin curtain and step into another era?  

Lady in Waiting by Susan Meissner

I’ll admit that I’m a sucker for almost any novel that toggles between a past and present story, especially when that author has navigated that device well in the past. And since Susan Meissner’s The Shape of Mercy is still one of my favorite books, it’s no wonder I snapped up her new one, Lady in Waiting, the moment I saw it. (You, on the other hand, will have to be a lady in waiting until it actually releases in early September!)

Lady in Waiting is the story of waiting, and of choices, in the lives of two very different women: Jane, a 40 something mom living in Manhattan and Lady Jane Grey, the teenager who ruled England for all of 9 days before she was imprisoned and later executed at the order of her cousin, Queen Mary. Jane tells her own story; Lucy Day, dressmaker, tells Lady Jane’s story.

Susan does an amazing job of weaving together universal themes that effortlessly span the gap of almost 500 years as well as capturing the pull that history has on those that love it. So if like me you love not just history in the books but also the unknown history of things, too, you will love this story.

As usual, I’ll stop there since I don’t want to spoil it for you. Instead, I’d like you to experience Lady in Waiting for yourself. And as always, I’d love to discuss when you are finished reading!

Car Shopping

When I was young, I thought car shopping would be fun. But that was before I understood about things like budgets and car insurance and gas mileage. And before I realized that I had married a researcher and a planner.

Now I dread car shopping. I know it will take weeks or months not only to find what we want but also to decide to actually plunk down the money for it. At least that’s how it’s gone for five of the six cars we’ve purchased in our married life. But there was that one . . .

When our van, which we loved, developed issues almost overnight, expensive issues, more money than we wanted to spend for the age of the car issues, we had to make a decision—and fast! We drove to the dealership to look at a van exactly like the one we owned. But we couldn’t decide. So we drove, on a whim—and we don’t do anything on a whim!—to another dealership. And there was a just-turned-in two-year old Suburban, loaded with amenities! Given the ages of our children at the time, we knew this was the last moment in our lives we could justify buying a Suburban. We looked at each other, locked eyes, and decided. We wanted that car!

We bought it in a day. Signed, sealed, and almost delivered. (They had to clean it up first.) And we’ve never regretted it. Then again, we’ve never regretted any car we’ve purchased. So I guess as we begin round seven, I’ll rest in that. Slow or fast, we’ll do what we’ve always done: set a price limit, look around and pray hard. 

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Adjusting to the Journey

I’ve spent the summer trying to find my “sea legs” in regard to my writing. You see, for the past ten years it has been on the periphery. Not that I didn’t work on it. I did. More and more in the past few years. But never before have I had to work on it. If things got crazy around my house, I’d just set writing aside for a little bit—or at least I wouldn’t stress over how little I managed to do.

With a contract, things change. Not that my family isn’t supportive. They are. But finding our collective “sea legs” is taking some time, too. That could be because this summer was unlike any we’ve ever had, all going in different directions and being gone more than we were home. But whatever the case, it doesn’t negate the fact that we must all adjust our thoughts and our actions to this new way of life.

For me, part of it is a scheduling issue, trying to carve out the needed hours to do what must be done. But part of it is a writing issue. I have a short summary I wrote for the 2^nd contracted book, but now I have to flesh it out into a whole novel. I don’t usually do those kinds of things before I start writing! And yet I know I must, for the clock is ticking toward the deadline and I don’t have time to start and stop over again and again like I have in the past.

So if you think about it, please pray for me—for us—as I find my “sea legs” for this new journey. I know they’ll come. The knees are getting less wobbly already. But the time has come when I need to stand strong and firm and move forward in spite of the unfamiliar rocking of the boat on the waves. 

She Speaks Conference

I had the opportunity this past weekend to be a part of the She Speaks Conference put on by Proverbs 31 Ministries. I didn’t go as a participant. I was invited to attend in my role as a mentor at The Writing Spa. But that didn’t keep me from being impressed with the conference and changed by the few sessions I attended.

First, I was impressed not only with the professionalism of those running the conference and speaking at the sessions, I was also impressed with their accessibility, their humility, and their authenticity. They welcomed Leslie and I in as a part of their team even though they’d never actually met up before. We didn’t just meet colleagues; we made friends.

We did attend the three general sessions where we heard vibrant, relevant messages by Lysa TerKeurst, Angela Thomas, and Karen Ehman. I was challenged to pay attention to my reactions, to trust God with my calling, and to remain true to my First Love. In each instance I took away a nugget of truth I knew God meant for me.

But the thing I think I will remember the most about this was the weekend was that I didn’t pull away in fear when the Lord’s plopping me in the midst of a circumstance that challenged my comfort zone. Me, the introvert, spent 9 hours on Saturday consulting with writers I’d never met until they walked into the room. And every time I thought I had nothing to say, the Lord sent words careening out of my mouth—words of truth cloaked (I think! I hope!) in love.

Someday, perhaps, I’ll attend this conference and sit through all the sessions. But if I only go back in my Writing Spa role, I’ll be more than satisfied. After all, what could be better than a weekend spent as a vessel of the Spirit of God continually being emptied and filled. 

No Place Like Home

27 of the last 44 days. That’s how many days I’ve been out of town as of yesterday. Never in my life have I packed so much travel into such a short period of time! Not all the trips were business. But they weren’t all pleasure. Most trips were planned. Two were last minute. Two trips involved driving. Three involved airplanes. I have to say: I’m exhausted—and so glad to be home!

But in these whirlwind six weeks, I feel as if I’ve become a seasoned traveler. I can pack for up to 6 days in two carry on bags. I can throw a suitcase together in a matter of hours. I can whisk through security without stress. (The only thing I still can’t do is ride a commuter prop plane without white-knuckling the armrests!)

I’m glad to have a couple of weeks to catch my breath before a short trip to drop our daughter at college. Then everyone will start school and I’ll be back to blessed routine—at least until my next trip!

A Sunday Psalm

May my lips overflow with praise,
for You teach me Your decrees.
May my tongue sing of Your word,
for all Your commands are righteous.
May Your hand be ready to help me,
for I have chosen Your precepts.
I long for Your salvation, O Lord,
and Your law is my delight.
    --Psalm 119:171-174

The End of Summer

No, school doesn’t start on Monday, but it is the end of summer all the same. The end of summer jobs for my two oldest, the beginning of football two-a-days for the two youngest. (That one in the middle overlaps into both groups!) It is also the date I’d set in my mind for the end of research on the new book. I have some good stuff, but now I have to figure out the actual story and see what specific research I need to fill some holes. So come Monday, we will all buckle down and get to work. Even the daughter who doesn’t leave for school quite yet must finish sorting her room into taking-to-college and storing-in-garage so her brother can move in when she leaves.

When I wake up Monday morning, my whole thinking will have shifted. And that’s a good thing. While I’ve learned to enjoy the go-with-the-flow of summer days, I’m ready to get productive again.

So what signifies the end of summer for you? A date? An event? A holiday? Do you end summer reluctantly or with a warm embrace of farewell? 

Hinds Feet on High Places

Over a decade ago, as the Lord wooed me into a deeper relationship with Him, I read a book that gave bolstered my weak faith and spurred me forward. Hannah Hurnard’s Hinds Feet on High Places is an allegory of the Christian’s journey from one in employment of the Shepherd to one who lives in intimate relationship with Him. It isn’t about the journey to heaven, like Pilgrim’s Progress, but about the journey of our relationship with Jesus here in this life.

I really hadn’t thought of this book in years. Not until the possibility of a book contract began to look like a real thing. One day as I once again prayed “not my will but Yours be done,” it struck me that I had reached a true place of surrender—at least in my writing life. (Not there yet in other places!) Anyway, it occurred to me then that the Lord might be about to call me from a safe plateau to a new climb of faith. That’s when I thought of Hinds Feet on High Places.

Last week I pulled the book from my shelf. It isn’t a long book, but it is one that should be pondered. I read with both remembrance of the past and fresh eyes for the future. I saw how far the Lord has brought me up that mountain and how far I still have to go. Maybe it’s one of those things I need to read every 10 years or so as a benchmark, a measuring stick, a mark on the wall that tells me inches have been added.

I challenge you to read it for yourself, to evaluate your own journey—where you are now, where you began. And I pray Ms. Hurnard’s story will encourage you, as it did me, to continue the journey of faith the Shepherd has set beneath your feet.

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A Sunday Psalm

I will praise the Lord, who counsels me;
even at night my heart instructs me.
I have set the Lord always before me.
Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.
  --Psalm 16:7-8

The Search for a Connection

Did you know it can still be difficult to find internet in a small town? While getting ready for our last minute, quick trip to my husband’s hometown for Gram’s funeral, we both breathed a sigh of relief remembering the new coffee shop of with internet we’d found when we visited at Christmas. No more searching for a nice place to check email and catch up on a bit of work. But to our dismay, the shop was closed—for vacation!

So we took ourselves (and our computers) to another place in town we’d used before, one which charged for Internet access. No matter, we decided. But when we arrived, the place had changed hands and was now a café and a flower shop! We went in and asked about Internet access (actually, I asked it they had Wi-Fi and the guy said, “Huh?”). Turns out they did—when they finally found the right password to give us. But we felt bad taking up a table while just drinking tea, depriving a waitress of a party with a larger check.

Finally, on a whim, we checked the McDonald’s. Lo and behold, we were connected—and for free. We answered emails and other things in a decently comfortable booth in a completely remodeled restaurant (no playground, no red and yellow motif.) I never imagined I’d be happy to spend an afternoon at Mickie D’s after all those years of Happy Meals with my kids!

The Pieces of Our Lives

My daughter is cleaning out her room. Not only is she returning to college in a few weeks, her youngest brother is moving into her space when she leaves. So she’s packing up all the things she isn’t taking to school to store them for later. It’s been an interesting process. I remember being her age. I didn’t want to let go of anything! Everything had sentimental value!

She is a bit like me that way, although she has definitely trashed and given away more than I did at her age. But I’m not pushing her to purge. I know when she goes through that stuff again in one year or three years, she’ll find more she can let go of, more that doesn’t feel necessary to her life and memories.

So I smile as she sorts through the pieces of her nineteen years. I laugh as she chooses what to keep and what to give away, explaining her reasoning and her stories behind each piece. And yes, my eyes even mist over occasionally as I realize its another step in the process of growing up and moving on to her own life. 

Grandma's Legacy

We have been fortunate, my husband and I, to have our grandmothers in our lives into our adult years. Our kids have been fortunate to grow to an age where they remember, vividly, three of their four great-grandmothers.

My father’s mother went home to Jesus not long after she watched the calendar turn to the year 2000. My mother’s mother slipped away in 2006, before we expected her to go, while we were still preparing ourselves to say good-bye. Now my husband’s maternal grandmother waits at the threshold of heaven’s gate. And again, we grieve. This time from far away.

We will miss gathering at Grandma’s house when we visit. We will miss the strength of a woman who endured the sudden loss of her husband and raised her three girls alone. We will miss her laughter. But most of all, we will miss her cooking.

A truly creative cook, Grandma loved us all with her food. How thankful we are that several years ago Aunt Sheri complied all Grandma’s recipes into spiral bound books for each family! From that book my daughter made her first cheesecake, the one that helped finance her trips to Africa. The one that fueled her confidence in her ability to cook by taking 3^rd place at the State Fair.

But my daughter isn’t Grandma’s only culinary legacy. Grandma’s daughters both enjoy being in the kitchen. As does my sister-in-law. And my daughter. And another of Grandma’s great-granddaughters. So even as we prepare to say good-bye, we know Grandma will live on in our gatherings around the table, in the love in which the food is prepared and received.

A Sunday Psalm

I will praise You, O Lord, among the nations;
I will sing of You among the peoples.
For great is Your love, reaching to the heavens;
Your faithfulness reaches to the skies.
Be exalted, O God, above the heavens;
let Your glory be over all the earth.
   --Psalm 57:9-11

Revisiting High School

Yes, I’m one of those weirdoes who look back with fondness on my high school experience. Not that it was perfect. Far from it. But somehow I understood even then that those years would in many ways be the most carefree of my life. Because of this, I’ve always enjoyed my high school reunions, too.

Five years ago I had to forego the get-together. My husband had been invited to a legal seminar in London over the same weekend and, well, you don’t turn down London! I remember thinking at the time how much I’d have to catch up on at the 25^th reunion. Never in a million years did I imagine Facebook!

In the past two years I’ve reconnected with so many of my classmates, seen pictures of their kids, heard what is happening in their lives, that our reunion this weekend will truly be meeting up with old friends instead of an attempt to reignite long-dormant relationships. Of course there will be others there, too—ones I haven’t kept up with through social media. Ones I will be surprised to see again after all these years. But it’s not so overwhelming when I already feel “caught up” with so many.

Now into our 40s, many of us have children graduated from high school, or getting close. Some are even grandparents! Our lives have all taken different paths and yet still we have a past shared experience that bridges the gaps. And remembering who we were then in light of we are now makes me thankful for all that God has done through the years. And I think it gives us all hope for our kids and their friends, too!

I’m looking forward to every minute!

That's My Girl!

I have many author friends who find pictures of famous people or catalog models and use them for reference as they create their characters. I confess I’ve never done this, although I have perused many old photo albums. My characters usually appear in my head and to try to find a picture match of them would be a long waste of time. But as I’ve been researching my next book, my heroine has been a bit fuzzy. Not her character. I see that clearly. But her mannerisms. Her face.

I do often look at newspaper pictures in my research. (That’s the advantage of setting stories in a time where photographs were readily available!) It helps with setting and clothing and other accoutrements of life. But as I said before, rarely with characters.

Until now. While searching through the online database of a research library, my heroine appeared from the pages of the 1915 Chicago Daily News! I love that it isn’t a portrait but a spontaneous shot. And I could just see in her smile and her bearing that she's the one.

I already feel like she is my friend!

What's in a Name?

I love my name. I really do. I love the uniqueness of the apostrophe and the capital A. I love that it forms a contraction of my parents’ names: Don and Ann.

But what I love, computers hate. Databases scoff. Website and email addresses distain. It’s been a struggle since college, really. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been mistakenly called “Dan” from computer printouts. Or “D”, as in the initial. I get mail addressed to all sorts of interesting combinations of my name, too.

So when the possibility of publication drew near, we considered the question of my name. Would it cause a problem? The answer: most likely. So after many prayers we came to the conclusion that it was more important to be found by readers than to hold on to my uniqueness.

Very soon all my web presences (website, facebook, twitter) will become ANNE MATEER, as that is the name that will appear on my book covers. Yes, you will all still know me as D’Ann. And my D’Ann accounts on the web will still work, too. But the primary identity I’ll use as an author will be Anne Mateer.

It’s kind of strange as I think about it. But it’s kind of fun, too. It allows me put on and take off my “writer” hat. It helps shy, reluctant me to market this other persona. And it keeps me humble.

So I'm rejoicing in and get used to my new name. Look for it to pop up on the blog and other Internet meeting places in the very near future!

Humbled and Amazed

I can remember sitting in my bedroom, somewhere around 30 years ago now, reading a Eugenia Price novel and thinking Someday I would love to write historical fiction that is specifically Christian. You have to understand: Eugenia Price’s novels, published by Doubleday, had the most Christian content I’d read in a currently penned book. But I longed for more. 

Enter Janette Oke. And Bodie Thoene. And Gilbert Morris. I devoured their books as I finished college, got married, had babies. Suddenly Christian historical fiction was everywhere! The reader in me rejoiced. The writer? Not so much.

But in fits and starts, from about 10 years old to 33 years old, I nursed my writing dream. In 2000, with my youngest off to kindergarten, I began to take my writing more seriously. In 2001, I actually finished the manuscript for a historical novel.

Then I switched to contemporary women’s fiction. Wrote three more novels. Experienced a miraculously specific encouragement from the Lord to return to historical fiction. Wrote a new historical novel. Received a request for that manuscript from an editor judging it in a contest—an editor at a publishing house I’d have never raised my sights to dream about. I revised and revised and revised under the direction of said editor. And I prayed and prayed and prayed and prayed. Not that I would be published necessarily, but that the Lord would teach me through the journey, no matter the outcome.

Today--exactly 13 months since the day I received the email requesting my manuscript--I can finally announce that I signed my first book contract, a two-book deal with Bethany House Publishers. As I look back through the details of the past 10 years—details I keep in a file started long ago named “My Writing Journey Or How God Managed to Orchestrate My Career”—and I am humbled and amazed.

Today is my day to boast in the Lord. To declare that He has done this wondrous thing. To shout from the highest mountain, "To Him be the glory forever and ever. Amen."


Oh Lord, You have done wondrous things and my mouth will never cease to tell of Your greatness!

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. 

Inkwell Inspirations

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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

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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