Over Regulation

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

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

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

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

A Slow Burn

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

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

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

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

The State Fair of Texas

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

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

The Hard Work of a Writer

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

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

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

2009 ACFW Conference

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

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

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Going and Growing

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

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

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

Just What I Needed

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

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

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

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

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

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

That Time of Day

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

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

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

Find Me At Inkwell Inspirations

I'm blogging over at Inkwell Inspirations today. Come join me!

Julie & Julia

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

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

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

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

The Blue Enchantress

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

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

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

Spaces

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inkwell Inspirations

Hey y’all!

I’m excited to be part of a new group blog of award-winning, not-yet-published writers that goes live TODAY. We call our blog Inkwell Inspirations. I think it will be a fun, challenging, and informative place for readers and writers. We’d love to have you visit—and stay awhile, if you like!

Those who comment will be entered in daily prize drawings through September and October.

I’ll still post here, but a couple of times a month, I’ll post over there. And don’t worry. I’ll always let you know when.

To Be Like Jesus

Isaiah 11 tells of the coming of the Messiah. The beginning of this chapter was quite familiar to me—a stem of Jesse, the Spirit of the Lord will rest on Him—but a couple of verses down it describes Jesus this way:

And He will delight in the fear of the Lord, and He will not judge by what His eyes see, nor make decisions by what His ears hear. (Isaiah 11:3)

Oh, that I would be like Jesus in these ways!

The Writing Spa

Who would have thought that seven years ago when two wonderful ladies asked me to be in a weekly critique group with them (a group we named Life Sentence) that it would lead to this.

My dear friend Mary DeMuth, then an unpublished author, now a multi-published one, recently started an editing and mentoring service called The Writing Spa. And as of this month, Leslie Wilson and I are joining her team!

I can officially say that I am a freelance editor. Not a destination I ever imagined for myself, and yet one that seems to fit nicely, like a good pair of shoes. If you are a writer in need of some help, come check out The Writing Spa.

Clash of Cultures

Jeff and I will use any excuse to tour a historical site. And to stay over night in one? Well, that’s even better!

Lately, I’ve been reading a lot about the history of southern Louisiana. In the space of a few hours, we got to glimpse the clash of cultures in that region firsthand. In the morning, we toured a Creole plantation house. It was built by a French family. That afternoon, we toured a plantation house built by an English-speaking family originally from North Carolina. A fascinating contrast!

Besides the obvious—French-speaking vs. English-speaking, Catholic vs. protestant—there were some other interesting differences. For instance, Creole houses were painted in bright colors. They had no hallways—one room flowed directly into another. The center doors were not used, though they often stood open. The planters conducted business from their bedrooms, only later using a small dressing room off the bedroom as a designated office space (because their more Americanized counterparts were not comfortable conducting business in a bedroom).

On the other hand, most homes of English-speaking people were painted white. The particular house we visited (and stayed in overnight!) was classic Greek revival with white columns, a large center door opening into a central hall and staircase. Very Gone With the Wind-ish. While in both houses the dining room comprised the largest of the rooms, this house sported two parlors and a library besides the various bedrooms.

Each family viewed their dwelling as differently as they built them. The English-speaking family lived in their house. It was home. For many French-speakers, the plantation house was business, a place to live during planting and harvesting seasons. Many considered “home” to be a house in New Orleans. Not true for all, but more common than for their more American counterparts.

The history represented in both houses is the kind of history I love. To me, the “big” historical events pale in comparison to how daily life was lived out. I love family histories and pictures and memoirs. I loved staying in that historical home and imaging what it would have been like to live there in 1850, 1880, 1910, 1950. We had a lovely adventure into the past at both plantations. I’m glad we got to visit them in the same day.

Beginnings of Change

The season is beginning its change around our house. No, the leaves aren’t putting on their autumn colors or fluttering to the ground. And yet just as sure as new blades of grass signal the advent of spring, we are on the cusp of transformation.

Our oldest is leaving for college. Her departure is the first cold front that promises winter, the first 100-degree May day that warns of summer’s heat. In four short years we will have an empty nest. While we will enjoy the last years of our children in our house on a daily basis, we also plan to prepare for what lies ahead for just the two of us.

The season is changing. And I find that instead of wanting to hold on to the season that has passed, I’m embracing the one to come.

Ten Days

I’ve hit that point in my summer where I am ready for school to begin. I’m tired of no set schedule. I’m ready for things to settle into a routine. It’s not really that I want my kids to go away (which is usually the case), but more that I need some real structure to my life again.

Ten more days. I just have to hold on for ten more days.

Psalm 23

We went over Psalm 23 a few weeks ago in Sunday school. I’ve been thinking quite a lot about it since then. What struck me, on this reading, was the first verse: The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.

I’ve always read that verse in context of today’s definition of “want”: desire, crave. Reading with that definition, the onus for the act of not wanting is on my shoulders. But that is not what God meant at all. The Hebrew word for “want” in this verse is the older definition: to lack. “I shall not lack” puts the responsibility squarely on the shoulders of the Shepherd.

I’ve been thinking about that difference in terms of specifics. Look at it in these two sentences:

I shall not crave peace.

I shall not lack peace.

Wow. “I shall not want” does require something of me. It requires me to stop striving. To rest. To trust. To keep my eyes off the things around me—both the good and the bad—and keep them on Jesus, my Shepherd, my Provider. And yet it goes beyond “me,” too. This same statement is made to every believer, so I don’t have to worry that my brother or sister in Christ won’t have everything they need, when they need it. They won’t lack, if Christ is their Shepherd, just as I won’t lack.

I think there is great freedom in realizing “I will not lack” versus “I will not desire.” Our flesh still desires so many things. But the way to combat that flaw of sinful man is by knowing, believing, clinging to the fact that “I will not lack” something vital and necessary to my life because the Lord is my Shepherd.

I’m sure I’ve heard a pastor say all this at some point in my life, but sometimes it takes me a while to get it. And I’m still not sure I get it completely. But isn’t that the best part? I will not lack for understanding—even when it comes a little at a time over the course of many, many years.

Grace for the Moment

Last summer I went on an organizational frenzy. I cleaned out all the closets, cabinets, and panty—even my side of the garage! I found a calendar and filing system that worked for me. I had a place for everything and everything in its place. Why? Because something stirred strong inside of me, pushing me to get it done, telling me I’d be sorry during the school year if I didn’t. Yes, it was the Holy Spirit.

I confess, at the time I thought it might be because something would happen with my book. Halfway through the school year I realized it had nothing to do with that at all. It was simply God’s grace to prepare me for an extremely busy year that was partly of my own making (by not saying no to a few things) and partly the nature of having a senior as well as other kids still in school.

This summer, I haven’t had any fits of cleaning out, but in spite of the fact that clutter and disorganization usually make me crazy, I haven’t been bothered by it. Not yet, anyway. Again, I see God’s grace for the moment. I have been able to focus on writing my book and being with my family and God’s grace has tamped down my normal stress over everything else.

I’m learning that the Lord provides grace in each day. And grace that prepares for what we don’t know that lies ahead. It’s just a matter of learning to recognize it for what it is.

I'm Back!

Yes, I’ve been away for a while. Not away from home. Hunkered down at home, actually, finishing my latest manuscript. It’s off for a last look by my critique partner and after I fix what she finds, it will wing its way into the world.

I’ll have more to say about what I’ve learned through that process later on. For now, I just wanted to say that I should be blogging again more regularly now.

Thanks for sticking around!

A Fun Find

We spent a couple of days in east Texas with some of our good friends. One morning, Jeff and I ventured into a larger town and wandered through a few antique stores. We love antiques, though we buy very few. Our weakness, however, is books. (Of course!)

We found three books we were willing to shell out $2-$3 each to own. One was a copy of a book I read as a child. It’s kind of an obscure book. I’ve never heard anyone mention it, never found it hanging around in a current library collection. But when I saw it in a dusty back corner amidst a tumble of children’s books, I grabbed it up.

I don’t know if, on a re-reading, it will hold any literary merit at all, but I remember it being a book I truly enjoyed, one that continued to fuel my love of reading—and book-buying, for it was one that lived in my bookshelf for years! I wondered if the author would find a satisfaction in that. She didn’t write a bestseller, but her story meant something to someone. And isn’t that the point?

Actually, I still have titles on my shelves that few people have ever heard of, authors that are not even close to household names. I keep them for the same reason that I bought this one: because the reading of them is a good memory. And somehow I feel I owe it to the ones who penned those stories to make sure they don’t disappear forever.

The College Life

What is it about a college campus that draws me? For the past two days I’ve been on a local university campus while my sister attended yearbook workshops with her students. She needed an extra driver and thought the time away without responsibilities would afford me time to write. And it did. I got tons accomplished! But just walking across campus and into the student center sent waves of longing through me.

My reaction didn’t surprise me, though. It happens to my husband and I every time we return to our university for a football game or other event. I think it’s a combination of good memories, a beautiful place, the opportunity for intellectual stimulation, and a lifestyle that thrives on relationships. But our infatuation with the college life is more than the campus, more than the classes, more than the lifestyle. It’s all three in combination with each other, none able to be separated out.

Maybe that’s why the thought of sending my oldest to college this year hasn’t seemed as hard for me as for other mothers I know. I’m so excited for her—to get to experience and learn and make lifelong friends. She’s too much like both Jeff and I not to thrive in that environment.

I’d go back to college myself in a heartbeat. And in any capacity—student or staff. Maybe wife of a professor. Hm, that might be the best of all worlds!

Slow and Steady

In our fast-paced, run-faster world, we sometimes forget to remember that the story of the tortoise and the hare represents a true truth. I’m re-learning that this summer. Instead of having big chunks of time in which to write a book that must be finished in the next month, I’ve had all the normal errands as well as summer stuff as well as kids in and out of the house—sometimes on an hour-by-hour basis. But through it all, I’m writing a little here, editing a little there. Every time I think there is no way I can finish this project on time, I realize that slow and steady is at least keeping pace. I find I’ve done more than I imagined. I discover that perhaps my deadline set by faith can be met, both by the grace of God and my diligent efforts to run the race step by step instead of in frantic bursts.

I think the diligence and self-discipline are the real lessons here. And I know these truths apply to so much more than my writing. They apply to exercising, eating right, Bible study, relationships, money—everything! But I don’t act as if they do. Instead, I hurry, hurry, hurry, doing a slap-dab job at one thing, ready to move on before I should. I forget that the end result of slow-and-steady is the one I am really trying to achieve. I want to cross the finish line not just for the sake of “winning,” but also to hear “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Pages of the Past

I went to look up just one little piece of information for my historical novel. I knew I needed it straight from the source my character would have had access to: the newspaper. Two hours and about twenty printed pages later, I emerged.

You see, I’m a sucker for old newspapers. They say so much! The language is, of course, important—what words are used and how. I love one ad I found: Estrayed—one fawn-colored jersey cow. Estrayed! What a great word! The articles are important for what is told and the conclusions that are reached on national and international events and questions, especially from the vantage point of looking back and having more information. The ads are wonderful sources of detail to add texture to a historical story and also good research into what kinds of things were available to the general public at a given time.

Page after page after page of fascinating stuff. And very little of it would have seemed so to the people who read it in “real time.” For me, these pages of the past help round out the picture of life for people that lived through the events we read of in our history books. And for me, the lives of ordinary people are the best part of history.

Feeling Left Out

Trust has been a huge topic between the Lord and I lately. Seems like every teaching I hear, every scripture I read and every conversation I have comes back around to trusting God. Really trusting, not just saying I trust Him.

I have come to that place of trust in some areas of my life. Not so much in others. Just this past week I’ve been sliding into a funk over not having an agent. It seems like everywhere I turn I hear other writers talking about their agents. Writers that are on about the same level I am. And I’ve started feeling left out. I’ve been wondering what I’ve done wrong. Have I not been as persistent as I should? As personable? Is my writing still not up to par?

Now I do know that I am happy none of the projects that I’ve pitched to and had rejected by agents have come to fruition, because I don’t think I would have been happy with those projects and possibly those agents in the long run. I keep telling myself that somewhere out there is someone who “gets” me, someone who, on a professional and a personal level, will champion my work. But right now it feels like finding that person will never happen.

And then it all comes back to trust. Do I trust the Lord to do with my writing what He will—even if that never includes publication? Do I trust the Lord to give me the exact right agent for the exact right project at the exact right time? Do I trust that the Lord can make what He wants happen, with or without an agent in the picture?

I’m grappling with all of that as I finish this manuscript, one that I feel good about, one that has already garnered some attention. And still I struggle. Do I trust God—ultimately and always? The answer is yes, but sometimes getting my head to believe my heart takes a little while.

The Tree and the Chaff

I love so many of the word pictures in the Bible. They often explain God’s heart so much more fully than mere words would do. Lately I’ve been considering the contrasting pictures in the first Psalm. Those that “delight in the law of the Lord” are described as a tree rooted by a stream. The “wicked” are compared to the chaff that the wind blows away.

Think about that. Can there be two more extreme images? A tree—a flourishing tree, nonetheless—that soaks up water from the nearby stream through its deep roots. It is living. Steady. Immovable. Lasting. It is also beautiful. And functional, providing shade as well as producing fruit in its season.

The chaff, on the other hand, is almost weightless, able to be blown away by the wind. It is the extra but unnecessary part of the crop. The dead and useless part. The waste.

I’ve considered both of these images in the past, but never in their direct contrast with each other, as they are presented in Psalm 1. It really makes you want to be the tree, doesn’t it?

World Magazine's Last Lines Contest

My name appeared in World Magazine this week. They’d asked for submissions of favorite “last lines” of books. I got so excited, because I do have some favorite last lines. But alas, there was a 50-word limit, and my favorite ending required contained a few words more to complete the sentences. So I submitted my second favorite ending, from Gone With the Wind. Four others also submitted this one. Our names appear beneath our entry.

But I still contend that if I’d been able to submit from my first choice, it would have been in the running to win. So since I have the forum to do it, I thought I’d share it here. Below are my favorite “last lines” of a novel. In fact, I’ve often wanted them framed so I could read them as I pass by. They are beautiful not only for their sentiment, but for their poetry.

From The Train to Estelline by Jane Roberts Wood:

I sat on the steps and watched Christobel, who loves Mr. Sully, Berl who has nobody, and Mr. Dawson, who had wanted a boy, watched them dancing, and I said to myself, “Lucy, you could sit here on these steps forever, waiting for things to be right.”

And I got up and walked out to where the dancing was.

I hope instead of spoiling the book, these lines intrigue you enough to read it!

Up

A good movie does what a good book does: it shows, it doesn’t tell. However, sometimes books and movies have lazy writers who tell instead of show. The people who create the Pixar movies very seldom fall into that category.

We saw Up last night. Wonderful movie. But from the “short” before the main feature through the end of the film, I was also fascinated by the mastery of the writers in showing, not telling.

Have you ever considered the Pixar short films? They are completely wordless, yet you don’t just know what is happening in them, you know who it is happening to. The sense of character is extraordinary, even with no words spoken.

I found this to be particularly true of the beginning sequence of Up as well. We see, we experience, Ellie and Carl’s years together in a way that impacts us emotionally. (Ok, I cried.) Having Carl say, “Ellie and I had a good, long marriage. I miss her,” wouldn’t have had the same effect. Likewise, throughout the movie, even the dialogue revealed character with a subtleness of getting to know a new friend.

I highly recommend this movie for writers. But I also highly recommend this movie for everyone else, too. It will make you laugh and cry and inspire you to go back to your life and live it.

The Making of a Great Day

I had a great day yesterday. A productive one. Laundry done. Nine pages edited and sent to my critique group. 4175 new words written. I worked out, had some time in God’s word, and even managed to watch a movie in bits and pieces as I folded clothes. But those things, which normally would have defined my great day, weren’t the reason for it.

The best part of yesterday was receiving a call from a friend that morning to pray for her and finding out that afternoon that the Lord had intervened in a miraculous way. Even if I hadn’t marked one thing off my to-do list yesterday, it still would have been a great day just because of that! I love it when the Lord so clearly shows Himself!

The Parties Are Over

I’m not a very good party giver. I prefer to play hostess to more impromptu and casual affairs. On those occasions, it doesn’t bother me that my house is less than stellar, nor do I care that the food is not five-star quality. I just enjoy the fellowship and don’t worry about the rest. But a planned event is a whole different thing in my mind. I get majorly stressed—over the house, the food, the people attending. I want it all to be right. And I want everyone to have fun.

I gave a graduation party two weeks ago and a bridal shower yesterday. As usual, I didn’t feel like either went the way I wanted them to. But as I considered it later, I wondered if my stress colors my perception of the outcome. Perhaps both parties were nice and fun. Perhaps people enjoyed being there. Perhaps everything really did go according to plan but the details that required my attention from beginning to end skewed my view of each party as a whole.

Thinking these things still doesn’t make me want to give a party again anytime soon. In fact, it makes me grateful there isn’t anything like that on my calendar in the near future!

Delighting in Dickens (Yet Again!)

The sheer size and density of each Dickens’ novel intimidates me. I think I’ve said that here before. And yet when I finally take a deep breath and crack open the cover, I revel in the world he creates, marveling at his genius as a writer. 

I just finished Little Dorrit. I picked it up after watching the new Masterpiece Classic version on PBS. And what a delightful read! As usual, Dickens ability to create character is almost unparalleled. This one, in particular, used some great devices to show character, whether through speech or mannerisms or thought processes. 

For instance, throughout the entire book Mr. Pancks is described in terms of a steamboat. It is amazing how Dickens makes the reader see Pancks by this extended metaphor. 

Flora,  a woman stuck in the past, runs her mouth continually in stream-of-consciousness dialogue (or rather monologue, since other characters can barely get a word in!) Dickens SHOWS this trait by writing her dialogue with almost no punctuation. Lines after line of it, subject constantly changing, with only the occasional (very occasional) comma and period. 

The Marshalsea Prison becomes a character and is even described as one would a person, both in looks and thoughts. It becomes a living, breathing part of that world, not just a “setting.” 

Of course, being Dickens, these characters are only a few in a cast of many. I could go on and on concerning the “dream sequences” of Afferty, the unique physical appearances of Flintwinch and Mrs. Clennam and Blandois and “the Bosom.”  Add in the irony of the Circumlocution Office and Society and this romping satire of politics and society make this Dickens novel another jewel for both the reader and the writer. But I think my favorites might be the cast of truly “good” characters. Amy Dorrit. Arthur Clennam. John Chivery and his father. These are characters you root for, and ones who do not disappoint in the end.

 

 

Home Again

Elizabeth got home last night from her senior class trip to Cancun. They had a great time. We asked her if they got on each other's nerves. (It's a small school. These kids are almost always together!) Her reply? "Nope. We got along great. It was like one big family vacation."

Wow! I love that! She said when they ventured out from the resort a couple of times, the guys were extremely protective of the girls, stationing themselves before and behind the group. I love these kids! I love the relationships she has had with these boys, how they have been good friends to the girls and treated them with respect. I hope she will find some more of these types of friends as she goes off to college! 

I'm glad she got to celebrate her graduation with her friends and with a few days of fun and sun. Now it's back to the real world: work and getting ready for her Ghana trip!

Busy As Bees

Have I mentioned how much I hate to work outside? Don’t get me wrong, I love a beautiful yard as much as the next person, I just hate the hot and the dirt and the bugs! But my in-laws love it. When they come to visit, they take on the projects I don’t have the time or inclination to do. Like cleaning out the flower beds and trimming the bushes and re-cementing the mailbox (we had it propped up with bricks!) and staining the deck. 

I wish I had some before and after pictures, but since I don’t, here are the after pictures. It’s all beautiful! And just in time for me to give a bridal shower next weekend. Thanks, Bernie and Jane!

A Routine Search

I’m at the beginning of an unusual summer for me. Generally, after a school year of routine, I’m ready for a few (and I do mean few!) weeks of unstructured time. However, this school year never felt like it fell into a predictable rhythm for me. Between my volunteer responsibilities and my kids, something urgent seemed to crop up almost daily. Thus, I find myself on the precipice of summer searching for that which, at this point in the year, I usually despise: routine. 

This summer, my goal is to find a daily routine that encompasses ALL of my priorities—time with the Lord, physical exercise, writing, and family—as well as a weekly routine that allows me to maintain my home, my relationships, and my sanity. Sound impossible? Probably. But if I can even gain a good foothold this summer, the transition to the school year shouldn’t be overwhelming with just 2 high school boys, both on the same schedules of sports and things. 

Of course this is all easier said than done. And I know that even finding a good routine doesn’t guarantee that it will happen every day. After all, life happens. But my routine will never happen if I don’t try!

Graduations

We’ve been planning all year for a graduation this week. But we didn’t expect two graduations. Earlier this week our Aunt Debby graduated from the Now into Eternity. As Elizabeth crosses the stage and receives her high school diploma, a prelude to the next step in her life, Aunt Debby will be laid to rest 2000 miles away. 

We will miss being there with the family. And they will miss being with us. We will miss Aunt Debby when we visit next—miss her laughter and her conversation. In fact, it won’t really seem real that she is gone until we miss her then. 

So we will rejoice and grieve at the same time tomorrow. But isn’t that in itself simply a picture of our life on this earth? We take the good with the bad, the happy with the sad. We smile and we cry. Our hearts swell with pride and break with hurt, all at the same time. Yet our God is in every moment. And life goes on.

 

 

Short, and Sweet

Sometimes it’s the simple things that touch your heart. In these stressful days when my head is full of things that must be done, I needed something to read. Something short. And sweet.

I remembered a conversation I’d had a few days earlier about a new musical based on the book Sarah, Plain and Tall. This person had never read the book or seen the movie, but she was so touched by the musical version of the story. I’ve always loved this book, so I pulled it out again. It’s a quick read. Lyrical and sweet. The perfect combination of heart-wrenching sorrow and joy.

Pick it up again—or for the first time. You’ll be glad you did.

As We Forgive

Those of you who’ve been around my blog very long know I don’t read a lot of non-fiction. And even when I do, it isn’t often I tout them here. But it would be impossible for me to let this opportunity go by. 

As We Forgive by Catherine Claire Larson is one of the most powerful books I’ve ever read. It is the story of the aftermath of the Rwandan genocide, the story of a reconciliation taking place in a society and culture. An almost unthinkable reconciliation. This is a book about forgiveness. The stories of several individuals are interwoven with chapters discussing how and why we should seek reconciliation and forgiveness. These are topics that, as human beings, we will all face in matters big or small, but hearing how God has worked in Rwandan society, in perhaps the biggest of all matters, gives us hope. 

Don’t read this book if you don’t want to let go of your own hurts or shortcomings. Don’t read this book if you don’t want to get free of unforgiveness. Don’t read this book if you don’t want your life changed. Because that’s what it will do. You will never be able to fall back into old patterns of nursing hurts and desiring revenge without a prick of conscience again. 

Racing Downhill

Ever feel like you are in a downhill race? That pretty much describes my life right now. And given my propensity to be a bit of a klutz, I’m worried I’m going to trip over my feet and go tumbling all the way to the bottom! 

All the end of year school stuff is upon me, as well as graduation events and parties and the wedding season gearing up, too. Hard to believe I have three friends who have children getting married this summer! Add in that I’ll probably need to live at the gym due to all the cake I’m consuming at these social events and I’ve about used up all the hours in my days! 

But knowing me, I’ll find time to read, probably to research, and maybe to write. And I’ll fit in blogging somewhere, too. So hang in there with me. It’s going to be a wild ride!

 

 

The Value of Chronicles

2Timothy 3:16-17 says: All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness; so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work. 

Do you really believe this? ALL Scripture? I’ve been reading in Chronicles lately. It is tedious, to say the least. List after list of unpronounceable names, some in the form of genealogy, some in lists of positions held. So I found myself asking: is this part God-breathed, too? If so, what in the world can I learn from it, besides what not to name my children? 

As I meditated on this, as I asked the Lord to teach me something, anything, from these endless lists, a bit of understanding dawned on me. While earlier books of the Bible cover some of the same time periods and events of Chronicles, those books are mainly concerned with the big picture stories. But in Chronicles, God has a point to make: everyone matters. 

Name after name, with even some mothers and daughters thrown in, of people we don’t know much, if anything, about. And yet God knew them. He knew them by name. He knows what they did or didn’t do. He knows how they lived their lives. He knows the positions they held, from king and high priest to the overseers of troops and supplies to simply the heads of families. Each had a place. Each had a part to fulfill. I think Chronicles is an admonition to those of us who don’t have the “out front” roles in the body of Christ or in the hierarchy of His kingdom to remain faithful. To do what we are called to do. And to know that He sees.

The Best $5 I've Ever Spent

When my mother handed me the information for the Heritage Farmstead Museum, I knew it was a place I needed to go to further understand farm life at the turn of the century—the 20^th century. Finally I had a free day and took off. They only do docent-guided tours at 1:30, but I showed up at 12:30 to look around the grounds for a little while on my own. I took pictures and imagined my characters living and working in such a place. 

At 1:30, no docent had arrived. Finally, at 1:45, the director of the museum came to give me the tour herself. So there I was with this wonderful historian, just her and I, walking through this enormous museum-house and discussing what would be available to an average person and when they might own it, admiring the reproduction paint colors and wallpapers, and studying the original furnishings, clothing, toys, etc. As we talked, I discovered that she has done research on the home front during World War I. She invited me to come back and visit with her about that another day. My conversation with her as well as all I saw in the house was absolutely invaluable and would have been enough to make my $5 worthwhile. But when we stepped outside, this lovely lady handed me off to the Executive Director of the Museum, who took me around the rest of the buildings in the “farm yard.” 

Again, a fascinating historian who answered every question I threw at him. At the end, he gave me his card and an invitation to call or email as well as the name of the director of another such place that focused more on town buildings and would be another good source of information. Two hours of individual attention from two historians steeped in the time period I am working in. See what I mean? Definitely the best $5 I’ve ever spent!

Worship With The Body of Christ

We worshipped yesterday with a congregation made up of many people from Africa. We visit this church once a year with the team our daughter goes with on her summer trips to Ghana. It is always a wonderful time being with other parts of the body of Christ. This time it made me think: why don’t we do this more often? Not go to this church, necessarily, but visit other churches that are not like the one we frequent, worship in different ways with different parts of the body of Christ. After all, we’re going to spend eternity worshipping with these people! 

The thought sparked an analogy between our physical bodies and our spiritual ones. I’ve heard that when you exercise using the same routine, the same movements, that your body gets so used to it that it doesn’t have to work as hard and thus, stagnates a bit. That’s why it is important to change up your exercise routine occasionally. It struck me yesterday that perhaps it is the same with our spiritual “exercises.” We get into our routine, we get used to the way we do things. And, perhaps, we get a little comfortable, a little less focused on the Lord and more going by rote. What if, occasionally, we stepped out of that comfort zone and fellowshipped with other parts of the body of Christ who worship differently from us? Perhaps they are more free and expressive in their worship. Perhaps more reserved. Perhaps more liturgical. Just coming at worship from a different perspective, even if we don’t agree with that congregation on every point of theology, opens our eyes to Christ in a new way.

 

The Nun's Story

Not long ago I walked into the library at my kids’ school and perused the shelves as I waited for a meeting to begin. Now I’ve been known to be intrigued by books others would easily skim over. Sometimes such a book will almost jump off the shelf and into my hands with little explanation why. 

Such was the case with The Nun’s Story by Kathryn Hulme. It’s an old book, published in 1956. I opened the book to read the front flap and found a summary and endorsement by none other than Daphne du Maurier, one of my favorite authors. And the subject matter of the book? A woman’s (nun’s) struggle to surrender to obedience. Since obedience seems to be the lesson I’ve been stuck on this year, I left a note on the librarian’s desk and took the book home with me. 

Fascinating book on many levels, but definitely the book for me right now. I could identify with the main character, Sister Luke, as she struggled to die to herself, to conform her iron will to the mandates of her convent and of the Lord. She not only learns obedience and humility, but, in the end, she learns to listen to the voice of the Lord over it all. It may not be a book to speak to everyone, but for me, at this moment in my life, the story touched deep places in me with every twist and turn of this woman’s life. 

I’ll be finding a copy of this book for my own shelves now. And then I discovered, quite by accident, that there is a movie adapted from the book starring Audrey Hepburn that garnered quite a few Oscar nominations and awards. So I guess I’ll be acquiring that as well. 

Has the Lord used an obscure book (or at least obscure to your current culture, maybe well known in its time) to further open your spiritual eyes? For me, this is but one of many.

Something To Look Forward To

I always look forward to the arrival of an e-newsletter I subscribe to called “British Missives” by my friend Therese Stenzel. Besides various tidbits of British life, she also makes book recommendations for those of us to love to read stories in and about England and Scotland. Today I got SO excited when I read the title of the up and coming Liz Curtis Higgs novel, Here Burns My Candle. 

I immediately searched for a blurb and release date, and found one here. It is the story of Ruth, retold in 1745 Scotland. If that sounds strange to you, then you obviously haven’t experienced Liz’s other Scotland books—all retelling of Biblical stories in a completely different age and location yet with all the character and truth of the originals. Love, love, love those books! So now I’m looking forward to March 2010. I just wish it wasn’t nearly a year away!

For Me?

It is a dark and stormy day. What a great day to write! And I actually have the day, since the rain will knock out the early afternoon baseball game. Just when I think I’ll fly to pieces because my schedule has been so kid-heavy and writing-light (ok, non-existent!), along comes the gift of a day without obligation. I know the Lord doesn’t orchestrate rainy days for my benefit alone, but sometimes it feels like it!

Why No Posts?

Last week and this week: 8 ball games, a fundraising dinner, prom, booster club meeting, and 2 track meets. The track meets and 2 of the games were over an hour away!

So yes, I'm still here, but I'm too overwhelmed with kid stuff to have anything constructive to say about anything else! But it's all winding down. I think.

Miss Match

Do you love the old black and white movies of the 40s, like I do? Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn, Myrna Loy. P.I.’s tracking down bad guys. Nazis on the decline, Russians on the rise. If you want to read a book that puts you in mind of watching those great films, pick up one (or both) of the Allie Fortune mysteries by Sara Mills. 

Miss Fortune, the first book in the series and Sara Mills’s debut novel, came out last year. It was such a fun read. Now the second book has arrived—Miss Match—which I liked even better than the first. Allie Fortune is a lady P.I. in New York City just a couple of years after the end of World War II. Not only does she search out problems and bad guys, she also has to walk a fine line with her matchmaking mother. When I read these books, I see them played out before me in black and white. The characters are memorable, the mysteries intriguing. 

If this time period appeals to you, pick up one of these books. I don’t think you’ll be sorry you did.

Jeroboam's Lesson

I read the story of Jeroboam recently. Are you saying, “Who?” Jeroboam, the first king of Israel after Israel and Judah split into two kingdoms. (See First Kings 11-13.) Jeroboam’s story starts out so well. 

Because of Solomon’s sin, God tells Jeroboam He will give him the kingdom, instead, although Solomon’s son will keep the tribe of Judah. After Jeroboam hears this word from the Lord, he must go into exile in Egypt until Solomon’s death. Solomon dies. Jeroboam returns and, through Solomon’s son’s foolishness, finally receives the kingdom, just as the Lord had said. 

When the Lord takes us into a new realm of success—maybe even power or authority—how do we respond? Jeroboam suddenly became afraid the Lord would take the kingdom out of his hand, which shows us two things: 1) he now felt he “deserved” that place and 2) he trusted the Lord to get him there, but not to keep him there. Now he had to devise his own plans to hold his people and his power. And he did it by setting up two golden calves for his people to worship. 

Now we may not set up idols for others, but how often do we grasp to keep the things—whether possessions or positions—God has graciously bestowed on us? Those things may be for a lifetime or for a season, but if they are gifts from God, held at His say. We cannot devise ways in the flesh to hold on to them. Well, we can devise ways, but those ways never work! In the end, what did Jeroboam get for all his striving to force the loyalty of the hearts of Israel to him? The house of Jeroboam was blotted out and destroyed from the face of the earth. (I Kings 13:34) 

If God has given you something to hold, be it a possession or a position, won’t you trust Him with it—whether it is to last for a moment or for a lifetime? 

Consequences

The school year of saying yes when I shouldn’t have is coming to a close. Finally. I have floundered in my writing because I said yes to a volunteer job I shouldn’t have, to a job I thought would be no big deal but grew into a monster that ate my time and energy. My husband told me not to take the position, but I didn’t listen. Then I literally had to set aside my writing from September to January and March to May.  I thought, at first, that it was a “denying myself” setting aside. But I’ve figured out it wasn’t. It was disobedience, plain and simple. It was a setting aside of what the Lord called me to do to instead do what man asked of me. So I’ve spent this school year living out the consequence of a wrong choice. 

All I can say is it sure makes me want to obey the voice of the Lord next time. 

The Lamb of God

We’ve been studying the book of Mark in our Sunday School class. As we’ve observed the disciples’ reaction to Jesus and His ministry, their misunderstanding of why He came and what His kingdom would look like, I keep remembering the words of the prophet as Jesus stepped into the public eye: “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” 

That statement encompassed it all, and yet no one got it. No one (or very few) equated “the lamb of God” with the physical sacrifices in the temple. They didn’t hear “takes away the sin of the world” and understand atonement or justification. In fact, although Jesus talked throughout His ministry about the kingdom of God and why He came, he did not refer to Himself as “the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” Every time he spoke of lambs and sheep and shepherds, he spoke of Himself as the Shepherd and His people as the sheep. 

So I think even we, like the disciples, tend to forget that Jesus is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. But that is exactly what is on my mind as Easter week begins. The Lamb of God. Who takes away my sin. 

I dare you to mull that over for a few minutes and walk away unchanged.

Begin at the Beginning?

At what point in a story should the audience jump in? That is a question every writer (of books or movies or plays) must grapple with. And it is not as easy as it sounds!In the past few weeks, I’ve run across two examples of writers who made opposite choices. 

The first comes from a book I’ve wanted to read for over a year—a  nice, fat paperback (I love fat books!), a unique retelling of a story I love. But, alas, as I delved into its pages I found myself bored. Why? Because the author began at the beginning of the character’s story. Not at his birth, but at the beginning incident that shaped who he was becoming. But the story of his evolution isn’t nearly as compelling as the story of who he is on the other side of it. I would much rather the author have started the story on about page 350 (of almost 500) and given me the rest in snatches and hints along the way. 

On the other hand, as I drove girls to a softball tournament I again had the experience of “listening” to a familiar movie. This always helps me see things in the writing of the story that I don’t see when I watch it. The opening scenes of Pirates of the Caribbean struck me in where it began each character’s story. In the opening “prologue” type scene, we are introduced to the Elizabeth, Will and the gold coin—the coin being the most important of the three. Then we are drawn into the present day story some years later, meeting these two characters again in different circumstances. When we first meet Jack Sparrow, just a bit later, we learn he is a pirate and his ship is called the Black Pearl, and yet he has no ship. In fact, he is trying to steal one from the British navy! 

The place the screenwriter chose to bring the audience into the story propels the audience through the story by NOT knowing every detail of the characters’ lives to the point that we meet them. A more amateur writer might have started this story when the pirates found the cursed gold or maybe when Captain Barbosa arranged a mutiny to take over the Black Pearl from Captain Jack Sparrow. But both of those beginnings would have made it tedious to get to the real action, to the real story. 

So where to begin? I’m still learning to figure that out!

 

And the List Grows On

I can’t seem to get everything done these days. I have a “to do” list a mile long of things that must be accomplished between now and graduation. I mark off two or three or four items only to add five or six or seven more. I’m not sure I’ll ever get ahead at this rate. It makes me want to grab a stack of books, hide, and ignore all the “to dos” that are calling my name—although I’ll try not to ignore my few but faithful blog readers!

Abigail's Example

I read the story of Abigail and David again today. (I Samuel 25) I’ve always loved this story, from many different perspectives through many different seasons of my life, but today a new thought struck me: I need to pray that I will be an Abigail in the lives of my friends and family and I need to pray that the Lord will raise up Abigails in my own life. 

Why? Because, like David, who one chapter earlier told Saul that the Lord would judge between them but he would not retaliate against Saul for trying to kill him without cause, we forget our great stands of faith. When Nabal insults David and his men, David rears up in anger and readies his men to slaughter Nabal and his house. That’s when the Lord sends Abigail to step in and remind David not to, in her words, “avenge himself by his own hands.” 

I want to have the courage to step in between those I love and those they desire to avenge themselves against, whether in word or deed, and remind them that it is the Lord who will fight their battles. What more incredible act of mercy and love is there than to help keep them from sin they will later regret? Abigail arrived in the path of David’s anger with humility, kindness, and truth. And she kept David from bloodshed he would have later regretted. Our battles don’t often involve actual bloodshed these days, but they do involve words that wound and actions that hurt others financially, socially, or in myriad other ways. 

Lord, send “Abigails” my way to keep me from sin and give me the courage and grace to boldly step into the face of another’s anger and remind that one of who You are and how You will fight for them.

 

 

Who Knew?

This evening, I walk into the kitchen to find my daughter trying to wash paint from her hands. Not latex paint, mind you. The hard stuff. But do we have any paint thinner in the house? Of course not! As I gather my keys and purse (all the while muttering under my breath and counting to 10, then 20), she says, “Wait, Mom. I think this is working.” 

I look up. “What’s working?” Of course I’m rolling my eyes and slipping on my shoes. Nothing but paint thinner will remove that paint. I know. I’m the mom. 

“Yes, it’s working,” she says. “I’m using olive oil and it’s coming off.” 

Open-mouthed, I stare at her clean hands, watch her dab a bit of olive oil on one last spot. It comes clean. 

Who knew olive oil would take paint off your skin? (OK, so other people know because I googled it after the fact. But I had no idea!) And who knew an almost-eighteen-year-old could actually have the sense to try it?

 

 

A Lesson from Saul

I read the story of Saul again the other day. It really is an awful story if you read straight through from his being chosen as king to God saying He will tear the kingdom from Saul and Samuel refusing to ever see Saul again. (Read I Samuel 9-15.) He falls so far, so fast. But the thing that struck me this time as the saddest part of the whole situation comes at the very end of chapter 15. “And the Lord regretted that He had made Saul king over Israel.” 

Wow. I don’t ever want to live in such a manner that the Lord “regrets” where He has placed me! Looking back over Saul’s life, I think the biggest key to avoiding that outcome is humility. Saul went from knowing he was nobody to believing he was somebody. He forgot, in his position of authority and fame, that it was the Lord and only the Lord that raised him to that place. He had done nothing to deserve it. But it all went to his head. Suddenly, nothing was his fault anymore. He didn’t make decisions based on anyone’s good but his own. And he used the outward appearance of worship only when it elevated him in the eyes of his subjects, not because God deserved it or required it of him. 

It’s a good lesson for us all.

Did You Know . . .?

As I have researched my new novel, set in 1918, I’ve come across some fascinating facts. I thought it might be fun to pass some of these along once a week or so.

Here’s your first installment:

In 1917, Herbert Hoover was the U.S. Food Administrator. One of his jobs was to conserve food at home in the U.S. in order to feed the troops fighting The Great War overseas. In an effort to do this, he designed a voluntary food conservation program. The people took to calling it “Hooverizing.” What was this conservation program? It consisted of Wheatless Mondays and Wednesdays, Meatless Tuesdays, and Porkless Thursdays and Saturdays. Americans complied; avoiding any government mandated rationing of food during WWI.

Daisy Chain

When Jed Pepper’s best friend Daisy goes missing, the insecurities that stem from Jed’s family’s secrets come raging to the surface. What kinds of secrets does a Texas pastor’s family hold? You’d be surprised. 

And that is the premise for Mary DeMuth’s newest novel, Daisy Chain. It is the first in the Defiance, Texas Trilogy and, in Mary’s words, is a “long answer to a conversation with a friend” concerning that friend’s family of origin. Hearing the story of a father touted as an upstanding Christian man in the community but who spun into physically violent and abusive rages behind closed doors sparked Mary’s compassion for that family and her desire to explore the issues inherent in such a situation. Her ultimate goal is for others to find freedom in Christ, as she has experienced as well. In one effort to facilitate this freedom, Mary has also launched a companion blog where people can anonymously post their family secrets in order to loose their hold by telling them, by keeping them completely secret no longer. It is becoming a community of encouragement and prayer. And that, too, comes back to Jed and Daisy’s story. 

Throughout the pages of Daisy Chain, help is afforded Jed by two characters who help him process both his feelings and his faith. They point him toward the redemption that only the Lord can provide in his present circumstances and past failings. Does that make you want to know more? Well Daisy Chain is a complex story of suspense and mystery and coming of age that is painful and wonderful all at the same time. 

If you want a more traditional “review” of this book, check out some of these other bloggers!

Crumbs from the Table

In our Sunday School class (which is actually on Saturday night!), we’ve been going through the gospel of Mark. It has been fascinating! This week, we talked about the Syrophoenician woman’s encounter with Jesus in Mark 7. 

Do you remember this one? She had a demon-possessed daughter and she came to Jesus for help. He told her that the children must be fed first, that their bread shouldn’t be thrown to the dogs. Her reply? “Yes, Lord, but even the dogs under the table feed on the children’s crumbs.”

Now there is a lot in that story, but here’s the thing I can’t get out of my mind. Just before we finished for the evening, our teacher made this statement: “This woman understood the power in one crumb from Jesus’s table. We have been invited as guests to sit at the table and partake of the feast.” 

I know my faith in the feast is often much less than her faith in one crumb. But I don’t want to live that way. I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief.

Addicted to Historical Fiction

My name is D’Ann, and I’m addicted to historical fiction. 

Yes, it’s really true. I spent the whole day on Tuesday immersed in 1918. It was wonderful! I didn’t want it to end! I love it all—the writing, the research, the escape into another time and place with its own unique set of challenges for the people who lived there. There is something about putting myself back in time that just thrills me. 

Not that I haven’t enjoyed the contemporary stories I’ve been writing. I have. But they didn’t feel like this. I haven’t really felt this way since the fall of 2001 when I completed my first novel, also a historical and one I hope to re-write someday. 

The hard thing is waiting between-times, being patient until another chunk of time comes along in which to literally lose myself in a story of the past.  

The Power of Fiction

I came across Beth Moore’s blog recently. Her Bible studies have meant a lot to me, so I bookmarked it and peruse it occasionally. In the most recent post, she confessed herself to be a bibliophile (I knew I like her!) and asked people to comment telling ONE book that they love. 

Well of course this got my attention. I decided I must scroll through the nearly 750 comments because, of course, there might be a new title to add to my “to read” list! Interestingly enough, most of the books mentioned—even some of the obscure ones—I’ve read. Now, if you know me or have been reading here very long, you know I rarely read non-fiction. So guess what? An overwhelming majority mentioned a fiction title over a non-fiction one. (I didn’t do the math but it was probably around 4 or 5 to 1, and possibly greater than that!) Isn’t that fascinating? For me, fiction has touched me more deeply than non-fiction. Apparently that is true for others, as well. Not that there aren’t valuable non-fiction titles. There definitely are! But when people think about a book they love—a book that stays with them or that they re-read often—it usually comes back to a memorable and well-told story. 

That’s why I write fiction. And reading those comments inspires me to keep at it.

Spring Frenzy

March has come in like a lion—in more ways than one at our house! Not only did we get a windy, cold weekend, but our schedule, always busy, seems to have been bumped up a notch as well. I’m not sure why this happens, but it happens every spring. 

Maybe it is having two children’s birthdays in the spring, just 10 days apart and both usually near Easter. Maybe it is the “culmination” of so many school things into a ceremony or program or event that I must attend or get my children ready to attend. Maybe it’s that baseball games seem to last so much longer (each individual game and the season as a whole) than the other sports, and track meets are all day events, even though there are very few. Maybe it’s just that I get antsy for school to be out so the schedule will slow down! 

Although I’m unsure why it happens, the frenzy of spring around here is as certain as white flowers blooming on Bradford Pear trees and green grass popping up in the yard. Unfortunately, I’m starting to see both!