Friday Book Pick: Spring Rain by Gayle Roper

It's Friday again! I'm really enjoying recommending great books to you each Friday and hopefully some of you are getting some ideas for good weekend reads. Now as summer vacation is quickly approaching, I want to encourage you to not write spring off too early.

The novel Spring Rain by Gayle Roper would be a great way to wrap up the spring season. If you are the type who likes a little of everything in your novels, Gayle Roper is the writer for you. She incorporates romance, suspense, faith and controversy, all in one book. She doesn't shy away from dealing with difficult topics and this is no syrupy sweet religious novel. The characters deal with real-world issues of homosexuality, pre-marital sex, death, forgiveness and difficult family relationships.

In Spring Rain, Roper tells the story of single mother Leigh Spenser, seeking to raise her son amidst the swirling rumours and memories that surround her past. When Clay Wharton arrives home to make peace with his estranged twin -- Leigh's best friend Ted who is dying from AIDS -- her past comes back to haunt her anew.

I loved reading Spring Rain and am excited to be part way through book two of the Seaside Seasons. series, Summer Shadows. I am already enjoying it immensely. I can't wait to dig into the rest of the series.

Have a great weekend everyone and get reading!

Chains of Guilt

The other night my son (9 1/2) reached his limit. You know the one... the "I'm-tired-and-grouchy-and-my-sister-is-getting-all-of-the-attention" limit. It resulted in a sudden downward spiral of behavior and mood which sent he and his sweet mom into a dangerous battle of wills.

After an hour or more of fussing/arguing/complaining he was sent to bed. REALLY early. He fussed and cried in bed for another hour until I went in to try to get him to calm down.

He tried everything he could to get me to stay. "I don't want to be a-looooooooone," he sobbed.

"Well," I countered. "How about I send the cats in to keep you company?"

"But they won't stay," he whined, pathetically. (Remember, he's almost 10, not 2).

I tried to lighten the mood. "I could chain their little paws..."

He burst into another convulsive sob. "But they didn't do anything to deserve it. Not like meeeeeeeeee!"

That was the moment that melted my heart. Of course, part of me realized that I was being played, but it was still sweet. What touched me was that he actually admitted to being guilty. That is a rare occurrence for him. He always has a reason or an excuse. He can talk his way out of anything. For him to admit to his guilt, even if it was done in an overly dramatic fashion, was huge.

It's a big step for anyone to take. Admitting our responsibility for our condition instead of playing the victim takes real courage. And agreeing that others shouldn't be punished for our misdeeds -- that's another sign of courage. No one likes to suffer alone. Misery loves company. By admitting that it wasn't right for the cats to be forced to share his punishment, it's a sign that my little guy is growing up.

In the end, one of the cats did come in and stay with him for awhile (no chains were required).

Thankfully, God doesn't leave us along to wallow in our guilt. He offers mercy and grace. If we confess and ask forgiveness, He offers it freely.

And He will not leave us alone in our troubles. He stays with us. "For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." [Romans 8:38-39 NIV]

He will always be at our side. No chains required.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

A couple years ago, a friend of mine had her first baby and it brought back a flood of memories for me. Every child is exciting and special, but that first one brings such an incredible change. After my friend's baby was born (mine were about 7 and 5) I was overcome with longings for another child. I suddenly felt sad that my own kids were getting so independent and I desperately wanted a little one to cuddle.

This was unusual for me, so I didn't rush to my husband and make demands. I knew this was probably just a reaction to events and not a true desire. So, I prayed about it.

I was out walking one morning (enjoying the freedom that comes with having the youngest child in kindergarten) and God showed me what was really happening in my heart. I was in mourning. I was mourning the loss of a life stage.

We go through many stages or seasons in our lives. Each stage demands change. With change comes loss. The old season dies away and the new season takes its place. It's often full of great new opportunities, but it can still be frightening to let go of the past.

I remember feeling this same sadness when I started graduate school. In college I had been "guitar-playing-chapel-going" Karen. In grad school, no one knew me in this way. I was suddenly "geography-class-teaching-and-non-beer-drinking-Karen." I mourned the loss of who I had been until I came to appreciate the person I was becoming.

So, this longing for another child was just fear of losing what I had been? The Mom of tiny babies was now the Mom of school-age children. What would that look like? What would that mean? Did God have something new in store for me?

Over a year later, I am delighted with where I am. I am making steps toward a new career as a writer. I am enjoying watching my children become more independent. I'm feeling great about life.

I still get that sickening fear sometimes. Last week on my youngest child's seventh birthday I started doing the math. She is a third of the way until 21. Halfway to being 14. That's scary stuff. What will it be like when they leave the nest?

Just as there are life stages now behind me, there are even more ahead. Each time I enter a new one, I will need to force my eyes back on Him. I do not need to mourn. I do not need to fear. I need to trust in the plans that He has set out for me.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future." [Jeremiah 29:11 NIV]

Color Confusion

Have you ever had your colors done? No, I'm talking about touching up your roots or choosing paint chips for your bedroom walls. In the 1980s, finding your "color season" was all the rage. These are the color palettes that are the most flattering to your skin, hair and eyes. After you identify these, you can then supposedly choose wardrobe pieces that make you look healthy and vibrant.

I had this done when I was about fifteen and was quickly identified as an "autumn" meaning lots of khaki greens, rusty oranges and such. As a teen during the eighties, I was into either pastels or neons. This was not good news for me! As I grew older, I eventually learned to embrace my colors -- taking pride in how God made me. I filled my wardrobe with what I called "ick green."

At a retreat this past weekend, a dear friend offered a workshop on colors. I already knew mine, but I decided it would be fun to attend and see the process again. I watched each of my friends take the hot seat and I did a decent job predicting the results each time. "I'm pretty good at this," I was thinking, proudly. Terry held up my best color (ick green) as a bad example for a friend who is a "winter." I laughed and piped up that ick green was my best color. Terry turned and looked at me. "Oh, no, it's not. Just wait."

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that I am no longer (or maybe never was) an autumn color! I am actually a summer! Now, I'm really confused. I thought I knew who I was. Was I wrong? Was I mislabeled? Have I changed? It makes me think of Brandon Heath's great song, "I'm Not Who I Was."

Tomorrow I'm going to blog about change. But, for today, I'm going to celebrate my color confusion with a bowl of fruit loops. I may treat my kids to a bag of skittles. I may stop at Costco for some brightly colored petunias and a jar of jelly bellies.

And I may have to take a look at my closet and find something that's NOT ick green. Hmmm. That might mean another trip to the store!

In honor of Memorial Day... Here's my daughter's class reciting the Pledge of Allegience on our local Christian radio station:107.9 KHPE. Enjoy!

Book Pick Friday -- Summer Reads for Kids

With Memorial Day weekend looming, we are getting ready to kick off the summer, right? Today's Book Pick Friday is dedicated to good summer reads for kids age 8-18.

Here are some of my picks:

For teens and advanced readers:
Dragons in Our Midst Series by Bryan Davis. Fantasy is super-hot with teenagers right now and Bryan Davis is one of the best Christian fantasy writers in the market. I am reading the first book in this series, Raising Dragons to my nine-year-old, but I'd say it's written more for teens. A teenage boy discovers a deep family secret -- he is the son of a dragon. His heritage, and what he is becoming, puts him in danger from those who wish to wipe the world of dragons, forever. It will take faith and courage to overcome the evil that threatens to overwhelm him. This is a four book series: Raising Dragons, The Candlestone, Circles of Seven and Tears of a Dragon. I have not read all four, but I have purchased the set and can't wait to finish them.

For young teen and preteen girls:

Wendy Lawton's Daughters of Faith series. These books take brave girls from the pages of the history book and deliver them into captivating chapter books that will teach, inspire and entertain. I recently read Almost Home with my kids. It is the story of Mary Chilton, a young passenger on the Mayflower. It follows her journey from Holland to England and on to America. God shares some mighty lessons with Mary as she searches the world for a place to belong. I know that my kids have a completely different understanding of the word "Thanksgiving" since reading this book.

For young teen and preteen boys:

Bill Myers' My Life As... Series. This is also known as The Incredible Worlds of Wally McDoogle. There are 24 books in this series and (in my opinion) they are God's gift to boys. If you kids snickered and giggled at Sponge Bob and Super Diaper Baby, they will love these books. And so will you. Because mixed in with the humor is the story of a boy who -- even when everything (and I mean EVERTHING) is going wrong in his life -- still finds a way to connect with God. So, even those boys who would never dream of picking up a chapter book, much less a Christian chapter book, will devour these stories and ask for more. My son and I have read several, including such great titles as My Life As a Smashed Burrito With Extra Hot Sauce, My Life as Polluted Pond Scum and My Life as a Bigfoot Breath Mint.

For more information on any of these books, and to read sample chapters, click on the titles.

Have a great summer -- and get those kids reading!

Hot Chicks & Bad Words

Last year my son's class did a fun science project. They incubated chicken eggs and raised the chicks. The school had an all-day track meet on a hot day and the teacher was concerned about the chicks overheating. When I told her that my daughter and I were going to return to the school for something, she asked me to unplug the heat lamp. My daughter (six at the time), loved looking at the chicks in her brother's classroom, so she was very excited. On our way up to the third grade room, we stopped in and said hello to her kindergarten teacher and the teacher's aide.

My daughter said proudly, "We're off to find some hot chicks."

Their laughter followed us down the hallway.

Our kids' mouths can cause us such embarassment. Last week I posted about my son's experience in the principal's office, which he promised me was NOT for saying a bad word. He had actually come home with a bad word just about a year before that. We were practicing bike riding when I overheard him sing-songing an odd word. If you are wondering which word... well, it starts with an "F."

"What are you saying?"

"Ummm."

I had heard correctly. He swore to me (no pun intended) that he didn't know it was bad.

"So, where did you hear this word?" I asked. I figured he'd picked it up on the playground or at the park. We're pretty careful about movies and such. His answer took me completely off guard.

"I learned it in Sunday school."

"What???"

After a bit of pressing, I discovered that it didn't come from his teacher. It came from one of the other kids. Still... It's kind of funny to think that he learned his first bad word in Sunday school.

Fives

If you spend any time at all on Facebook, you've seen the "Pick Your Five..." lists. People either love them or they hate them. Sometimes it's both. I'm not sure why we do them. Does anyone really care which five countries I would most love to see? Which five albums I could listen to all the way through? The five things I never leave the house without? And to me, the funniest ones -- five people you had posters of as a kid or the five things I want to have with me when aliens attack. Some things we just don't need to know, right?

But I will confess, I'm one of the offenders. The lists suck me in. I get an itching to share. Maybe that's why I blog.

Last night was the worst. I did five lists. To my credit, I only posted three. I chose the five cities in which I have lived, the five things I never leave the house without (couldn't resist "cat hair") and my five fears.

I think we should come up with some new "fives." Maybe you can help me out. What kinds of fives would you like to share?

Five favorite verses?

Five "momisms" you say on a daily basis?

Five desserts you cannot resist?

Five worst toys to step on in a dark hallway? (I vote for legos! Ouch!)

Five reasons your kids have declared you the "meanest mom EVER!"

Five things that make you feel loved?

Your turn... What are YOUR fives?

Or, answer one of the above lists! C'mon folks... it's all about sharing. You know you're itching to, right?

Writing Contest Nightmare

"And the winner is . . ."

Please -- not me, not me, not me...

Every other kid in the crowd leaned forward, expectantly. Everyone wanted to win this prize.

Everyone except me.

At my elementary school (way back in the dark ages), we had an annual writing competition for fourth through sixth graders. We had to write an essay on fire safety. The winner -- usually a sixth grader -- got the honor of being the school's Junior Fire Chief for the year. This came with a real fire hat, badge, parade, rides on the trucks, hanging out with the firefighters, etc. It was any kid's dream.

It wasn't mine. I was the shyest child in the school. To be hauled up on stage in front of everyone would be my worst nightmare. In addition, my best friend had already told me of her overwhelming desire to win the contest. I was more than willing to forgo the honor to keep the peace.

There should have been nothing to fear. It had been many years since a little fourth grader had won this contest. My chances were slim to none. Right? I cringed as the crowd of students jostled and pushed, chattering excitedly. I felt light-headed. Not me, not me, not me.

"And the winner is . . . Karen Dunmire!"

My fourth-grade classmates erupted in screams. I don't even remember being shoved to the front and walking up the long red staircase. I do remember looking out over our student body and not hearing a word the fireman was saying about me. All I remember thinking is, "I feel sick."

When I wrote about my writing journey (a while back) I had completely forgotten this incident. My first writing contest. How things have changed. I can look back and laugh. Every time I send off a manuscript, it's like entering that essay contest all over again. Except now my chant is a little different.

Please, pick me, pick me, pick me!

Blueberry Pie

One of my favorite things about our yard is the blueberry bushes. The year we moved in, I looked at the berries and decided that I needed to bake a pie. I was not very experienced in the kitchen and had never made a crust from scratch before, but I figured since I was using fresh, home-grown berries, that this pie needed to be done right.

I reached into my cupboard and grabbed my glass sugar canister and carefully measured out the right amount to make the sweetest, yummiest pie ever. I carefully cut decorative patterns into the top crust. This pie wasn't just going to be yummy - it would be a work of art. And into the oven it went.

But as I enjoyed the rich smell of baking pie, I started to get a nagging thought. My salt canister and my sugar canister look alike, except that the sugar one is larger. Normally I place the sugar in front and the salt behind it.

What if?

I checked the cupboard. The canisters were reversed. My stomach did a somersault. Did I put salt in the pie instead of sugar?

I dashed back to the oven and peered in. No... It looked so perfect. It smelled so wonderful. Surely it must be fine. I couldn't have made such a stupid mistake. But the doubt remained.

After the timer went off, I slid the pie out of the oven. It was so lovely, I almost took a photograph of it. I reached a spoon through one of the decorative vents to taste the filling.

Yeeeeecccchhhh!

Perfect on the outside -- full of salt on the inside. I was heartbroken. So much work. So many beautiful berries. Fit only for the trash can.

It reminds me of when Jesus was blasting the Pharisees in Matthew 23. These were the highly religious folks of their day, but Jesus saw the truth of their hearts. They were puffed up with pride because they "appeared" so good.

"Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of dead men's bones and everything unclean. In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness. [Matt 23:27-28 NIV]

Most of us are guilty of this at times. People ask, "How are you?" and we answer, "Great," with a big smile. But the smile often masks what's on the inside. Not just sin, but it masks pain and hurt as well. We may have a lovely crust, but we are often full of salt on the inside.

I started over and made another pie. This one was a much more "humble" pie. No fancy leaf decorations, I just slapped the crusts together and cut some slits. But I was careful with the sugar this time.

It wasn't beautiful. But it was delicious.

Book Pick Friday -- Brandilyn Collins

Okay, I'm officially re-naming my Friday posts. In reality, I don't review books, I recommend books. But "Recommendation" is such a long word and I get tired of typing it! So, I'm going to call it "Book Pick Friday." Short and sweet!

So, looking for a good weekend read? This weekend I want to recommend (ugh, that word again) suspense author Brandilyn Collins to you. If you like spine-tingling excitement that will keep you turning pages until the wee hours of the morning and then leave you nervous to turn out the lights, she is your writer.

Brandilyn has written at least 15 books (I think the number may be higher, but that's what's listed on her website). Today, I'm recommending the Kanner Lake Series: Violet Dawn, Coral Moon, Crimson Eve and Amber Morn. (Click on each title to learn more). This four book series is set in a quiet Idaho town -- a seemingly unlikely location for murder and mayhem. Various characters weave in and out of these books, often congregating (and blogging!) at the local coffee shop. This author is such a master of character development that by the end of one book, you feel like these characters are your friends. You can't wait to pick up the next one so you can hang out with them some more. I did not read them in order, but that didn't seem to detract from the stories.

She spins a wild web of murder, mystery and clues that keep you guessing until the last page. As a Christian writer, she does a superb job of weaving her faith into her books. I can't wait to pick up her newest releases: another suspense novel titled Exposure and a young adult novel titled Always Watching.

Have a great weekend and a a great read!

The Principal's Office

Yesterday I posted about those "hand in the cookie jar moments." We've all had them. We know we've done something wrong and we've been caught red-handed. My son reminded me tonight of his moment. It's a precious memory to me.

Last year I was reading the last of the Narnia books to my son (then 8), I had to pause to explain something to him. One of the main characters is a donkey. Okay, Lewis doesn't use the term "donkey." He uses an older term which is no longer considered polite. I'm sure you can figure it out. My son wasn't familiar with the term, so I was a little concerned that he would start using the word in conversation, unknowingly.

"Um, by the way, don't ever use this word."

"Why?"

"Well, in Lewis' time it meant 'donkey,' but today it's considered a naughty word."

Of course an eight-year-old boy needs further clarification on what the word means exactly. I decided that knowledge was power, so I told him. He thought it was hysterical and was rolling on the floor with laughter. Now, knowing how silly eight-year-olds can be, I grew even more concerned that he would use the word to shock someone.

"Kiddo, I'm serious. This isn't just naughty. It's 'get sent to the Principal's office' kind of bad."

His eyes grew as big as saucers and his cheeks lost their rosy color. "That's NOT why I was sent to the Principal's office!"

My chin just about hit the floor. "What??? When were YOU in the Principal's office?" How come nobody told me about this?

To my relief, my son was perfectly innocent. After a scuffle on the playground, the principal had crammed every third-grade boy into his office for a lecture on behavior. My kid was not involved (or so he and everyone else assured me) other than being included for the lecture.

But I will always treasure that moment. The deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes was so precious. If it hadn't of been for that conversation, I doubt I ever would have heard about the incident. It was almost as if he were admitting to having his hand in the cookie jar, even though he hadn't taken the cookie! He must have felt some guilt about not telling us about being sent to the office.

We still love to needle him sometimes. "So kiddo, what did you get sent to the Principal's office for today?" Thankfully, he hasn't been back...

At least, not that he's admitted.

Beware the Uniform

Have you ever had one of those great hand-in-the-cookie jar moments?

I once held a summer job at a wildlife park, and we wore these awful two-toned brown polyester uniforms. They were mostly tan, but had dark brown pocket flaps and these folded back and buttoned flaps on the shoulders. There was a patch on the sleeve decorated with the park insignia.

One evening, I was driving home from work along a two-lane mountain road when a old beater pickup roared up behind me. In a no-passing zone, the truck whipped around and momentarily hung by my side. The three occupants, two men and a young woman looked over at me, laughing at their brazen act. I glanced back, slightly annoyed that they would risk all of our lives just to show off.

The laughter died on their faces and as a single unit, they swung their heads forward. The truck pulled in front of me and promptly slowed down to 50 mph. I had to hit my own brakes to match their pace. For a moment, I was puzzled by their behavior. Why did their bravado disappear so rapidly?

It finally dawned on me that they had seen my shirt. I hadn't realized until that moment how much it resembled the Washington State Patrol uniforms.

They drove slowly and evenly in front of me for the next 20 miles. I had fun following close behind and imagining their conversation. Eventually they found a place to turn around and we were free of each other. I had way too much fun imagining their discomfort and laughing about it.

Only a few years later, it was my turn. I was the one driving way too fast down a mountain highway when a patrol car pulled out behind me with full lights and siren. My heart dropped down into my stomach. I was SO busted. There was no excuse for my speed. It was reckless and I knew it. I was going to pay the price. I had never been stopped before, but I guessed it was my turn. I slowed down and pulled to the side of the road, trying to calm my frazzled nerves.

Imagine my surprise when the cruiser sped past me and disappeared in the distance. My hands were shaking as I began to laugh. He wasn't even after me! I was completely guilty, but he must have had some bigger fish to fry.

Maybe he just wanted to "imagine my discomfort" and laugh about it later.

I certainly deserved it.

Flashlight Worthy

Author Mary DeMuth mentioned the term "flashlight worthy" on Twitter the other day. (I guess I should say, she "tweeted" it). I got a shiver down my spine when I read those words. My biggest desire is to write books that are flashlight-worthy. You know the ones. They the keep you up all night because you simply MUST find out what happened to those characters to which you've become so attached. I was terribly guilty of flashlight reading as a kid. Now, as an adult I've become much more mature-- I have the itty-bitty booklight.

These are two of my other goals:

To write stories that evoke a strong emotional response. I don't mean they have to make you cry or laugh so hard that your diet pepsi comes out your nose. But, I do want the reader to care about the characters and feel changed in some way after they close the cover.

I want to write books that make people wrestle with questions. The song "Jesus Loves Me" says that I know this because the Bible "tells me so." No to try to upstage this famous song or the Bible, but I want my stories to entice people to question their beliefs and then come to "own" their faith.

So here's my question for you. If you are a writer, what are your writing goals? If you are a reader... what books have been "flashlight-worthy" for you?

A First-Grader Defines "Meek."

I was leafing through my daughter's school journal today and I stumbled over a very moving entry. Each day they have to write a sentence on a topic which the teacher provides. On March 6, my first-grader wrote these words:

I am meek when someone hurts me.

Wow. That resonated in my motherly heart. My child is "meek" when hurt. Part of me says, "Oh, isn't that sweet" and part of me says, "Who is hurting my child? Let me at 'em!" Not exactly a meek reaction, but an honest one regardless.

I had to look up the definition of meek. I've always heard the verse, "Blessed are the meek for they will inherit the earth," (Matthew 5:5) but I've never been really clear on who the "meek" were.

So I looked it up on Dictionary.com and this is what I learned.

Meek: Mild of temper; not easily provoked or irritated; patient under injuries; not vain, or haughty, or resentful; forbearing; submissive.

Actually, that's a fantastic description of my daughter. She is mild and easy-going and not easily irritated. That's why she can put up with so much teasing from her older brother. What really caught my attention was the middle part of that definition, "patient under injuries."

Notice, it doesn't say, "puts up with all kinds of abuse." It says, "patient."

The bible describes one man as meek -- Moses. It's funny, when I think of Moses, I think of him as all strong and powerful-- "LET MY PEOPLE GO!!!" But Numbers 12:3 describes him differently: "Now the man Moses was very meek, above all the men which were upon the face of the earth." [King James Version]. The NIV and most other versions use the word "humble." He was humble and meek. Patient. Remember how many times he had to go before Pharaoh? Remember how long he interceded for the Hebrew nation with their God? He may have been patient with the people and with Pharaoh, but he still got the job done.

Jesus also could be described as meek by this description. He was clearly patient under injury. He was meek when people hurt him. But He still carried out the Father's will.

As a Mom, I want my daughter to stand up for herself. "Meek" is not my top priority for her. And yet, as she grows, she will find herself in many situations when "patience under injury" will be an asset. I just pray that she also finds strength when she needs it.

And I think there's hope for her. The very next entry in her journal cracked me up. I think it's in reference to the "I know an old lady who swallowed a fly" song. She wrote...

I think the old lady should swallow a shark.

Book Review Friday -- The Covenant

It's book review Friday again... Time to pick out a good weekend read. Today's book is Beverly Lewis' The Covenant. It's the first in a five part series called Abram's Daughters. One of the most successful of the "Amish romance" writers, Lewis spins the tale of two sisters -- one wild, one obedient. Sadie, the wild older sister is curious about the "English" boys and life outside of her Amish culture. She takes advantage of the freedom given to Amish teenagers before they take their vow to God and their community. Steady and reliable Leah is forced to hide her sister's secrets. The relationship between the two sisters is like a finally choreographed dance. I enjoyed the tension between the two girls, the hint of secrets between their mother and aunt and the gentle teen romance between Leah and the boy of her young dreams.

This is my first experience with "Amish Romance." In the past few years, Amish books have grown in popularity to the point of becoming their own genre. At an editor's panel at the Mount Hermon Christian Writer's Conference, I listened as the editors discussed what they called "Buggy Lit." At first I thought they were talking about some type of strange insect books. When they finally explained the term, I ungracefully rolled my eyes. I was thinking that the shelves were being taken over by such books. One of the editors spotted my grimace (and the chuckles of other nearby writers) and called us on the carpet for them. "You roll your eyes, writers, but just ONE of those buggy books pay for all the rest of your books." Buggy Lit -- also sometimes called "Bonnet Lit" has been wildly successful.

I think one of the reasons for this is that these books are an odd combination of historical romance and contemporary romance. The books are contemporary (actually today's is set in the 1940s), but they have a historical feeling to them. They are clean, chaste and inspirational. Faith affects the characters' decisions in a way that we have trouble imagining.

So, if you're ready to get a taste of the Amish lifestyle, or if you are a long-time fan-- pick up The Covenant. Explore the "English" lifestyle with Sadie and the Amish lifestyle with Leah. And do it all from your own home.

What's in Your Freezer?

I've been following the blogs of various Christian writers and agents. I read a great post from new author, Sarah Sundin, yesterday. Her first novel, A Distant Melody, a historical romance set in World War II, will be published by Revell in January 2010, the first in the Wings of Glory Series.

She wrote about cleaning her freezer. We writers can get ideas in the wackiest of places! But she made a great connection between mucking out the freezer and keeping tabs on what is festering in our 'devout' souls, based on Jesus' words in Matthew 23:27-28: "'Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of dead men's bones and everything unclean. In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.'"

This reminded me of a line from an annoying credit card commercial: "What's in YOUR wallet?" Except it came out as, "What's in YOUR freezer?"

I'm not sure what God is trying to teach me about my soul... I may have to think and pray on that. But I have a funny story about my freezer. Okay, my husband doesn't think it is so funny.

I used to work as a park naturalist. I led guided hikes, organized campfire programs, coordinated field trips, etc. I've always been fascinated with God's animal creations -- from the tiniest insects to the largest mammals.

One day when my husband came home from work, I met him at the door.

"Um, Hi! If you go to the freezer for anything... Well, be careful."

He gave me a wary look, as you can imagine.

"Careful about what?"

"I found a GREAT specimen today. I'm going to have it freeze-dried for work."

"O-kaaaay... What is it?"

"Well, let's just say... Avoid the back corner of the freezer until I can get it out."

By this time, he was getting pretty nervous. "What is in the freezer?"

I shuffled my feet and looked at the floor. "I put it in a freezer bag. And I marked it, so no one would accidentally try to cook it."

"WHAT IS IN THE FREEZER???"

He wasn't too pleased when I admitted to my find. It was a brown bat (dead, of course).

In my defense, it was in beautiful condition and double-wrapped in freezer bags. It stayed there for several months as I looked for someone who would agree to preserve it for me. I didn't have any luck, for some odd reason. It finally got tossed and our freezer has been bat-free for many years now.

Doesn't that make you want to come to my house for dinner?

So, the question is... what's in YOUR freezer?

Wordle

This is for all you "word people" out there. You know who you are. You are the ones that relish the lyrics of songs, the poetry of words, the feelings that certain words inspire. I've found a very fun way for word people to waste time online. Someone "tweeted" about this site this afternoon and I've been playing around with it ever since.

It's called Wordle and you can find it at http://www.wordle.net. You type in a list of words and it uses them to design a "word cloud." You can jumble them up, change colors and fonts, etc. It's great fun. I've been playing with some elements from Shaken. Click on the images below to see them full-size.

This last one is my favorite. It's the theme verse for Shaken, Hebrews 12:27: We are receiving a Kingdom that cannot be shaken. I like the jumbled look to it.

So, I challenge you to go to this website and make your own "wordle." I'd love to see your results!

Letters from San Francisco

Yesterday, I shared some photos from the 1906 Earthquake in San Francisco, the setting for my young adult novel, Shaken.

Photos have helped me imagine the scene, but another thing that has aided my research are letters. In the early hours after the disaster, people immediately began writing letters to their loved ones describing the events. Some of these letters contain very picturesque descriptions. Today I'm going to share a favorite of mine. It's from the collection of the Bancroft Library, which can be read on-line.

It was written by Archibald Treat, an attorney living in Sausalito, to his younger sister Elanor who was visiting relatives in Nevada. This is just the first section of the letter.

Dear Sis,

I hardly know where to begin in this effort to picture the happenings of the last week. We were awakened on the morning of the 18th about 5.15 by the first shock of earthquake. It was immediately succeeded by the second, and I can best liken my sensations to those of a rat being shaken by a bull terrier, for that second shock was no imitation. The walls of the room seemed to shrink, and all objects came towards me in a mad, jiggling dance. To add to the confusion everything in the house seemed to be churning around in a huge coffee machine, and slowly getting closer to the wheels. This was due to falling chimneys, breaking glass, and the working of the timbers of the house. I held Gus by one arm and steadied myself in bed with the other, she in the meantime shrieking for me to let her go. I thought the bed as safe a place as any, and forced her to remain until the shock had passed. She lost no time then reaching the street, and I carried Van down in his bedclothes. Laura had made good use of her long legs and was not far behind. I brought all the clothes to the front porch, and the family then made itself more presentable. Norah, the girl, was slow in coming from her room, and afterwards explained this by saying that she had not been to church much of late and stopped to say her prayers.

I love this image of a girl (or woman, perhaps?) getting down on her knees to say her prayers shortly after the massive quake. My main character, Wanda, has the exact opposite reaction. She is already furious with God for letting her sister die and the earthquake just deepens her resolve to never speak with Him again.

This is where Wanda's story begins. Her journey through the burning city is her journey back to God. And she takes it reluctantly -- one painful step at a time. If you are not familiar with the story Shaken, you are welcome read the first chapter. You can find the link on the side of the screen.

Observers

While working on revisions to Shaken, I've been digging back into my original research and trying to immerse myself in the time period. I'm always amazed when I look at all of the photos of the 1906 quake. In many ways, they are eerily similar to photos taken in the recent Italy earthquake. I thought I would share a few photos with you today that have really moved me this week. I am most drawn to the people in the photographs. It is really powerful to try to get into the moment and imagine what they are thinking and feeling as they observe what is going on around them.

[I apologize to the historical society's that may have copyright on these. I've lost track of where I found which photos. I do not plan on using any photos in the book itself, it's purely for research purposes at present.]

The photo above shows people gathering shortly after the first quake. They are looking downhill toward the fires that are burning in the areas south of Market and the financial district. You've got to wonder what they are thinking as they look at the rising plumes of smoke. Do they have any idea that those flames will soon be consuming the neighborhood in which they are standing? Is it idle curiosity at that moment or do they have an inkling of what is ahead? Over the next three days those fires consumed 490 city blocks.


This woman is sitting just outside the Ferry Building in San Francisco. The exhaustion and pressure of the day is evident in her demeanor as she perches on the edge of a steamer trunk. Many refugees hauled what they could down to the ferry building and fled across the bay to safety. I love the man standing down-photo from her. He looks like a cowboy getting ready for a shoot-out. Do you think he knows her? What is he thinking as he observes her grief?


In the photo above, author Henry Lafler types away in Portsmouth square. His typewriter is sitting on a trunk, probably abandoned by someone in attempt to flee the oncoming flames. Take a close look at the bare ground in front of him. Do you see the shovel? The square had been used as an overflow area for the city morgue. Now the fires were pressing in, officials quickly ordered a temporary burial. Only a reporter could calmly sit there typing up a story with fresh graves directly in front of him and smoke from the oncoming flames rolling down the street. Then again, today, how many of us would be out there with our blackberry, digital camera or laptop computer? Maybe we are all casual observers of the events around us.

Another thing I've been researching this week is the history of women's fashions, particularly underwear. Whatever you do, don't try this on the Internet. You can get some pretty creepy information. Trust me, I'll spare you THOSE photos!

Only Uni -- Book Recommendation Friday

It's Friday again -- the perfect day to pick a good weekend read. Today's recommendation is Only Uni by Camy Tang. It's actually the second book in the Sushi Series. When I was in the bookstore at Mount Hermon, I accidentally grabbed the second book instead of the first, but that didn't really seem to matter. I didn't feel like I had come in during the middle of a story, like it often does when you read a series out of order.

I was excited to read one of Camy Tang's books, because I had seen her reviewed elsewhere and was intrigued by the very concept of "Chick-Lit" with an Asian twist (in her words: "Romance with a Kick of Wasabi"). The main character, Trish, is third-generation Japanese American. She's also a modern, young career girl looking for love and fulfillment in her life. After a series of bad relationships, Trish has decided to recommit herself to God, to actively stop looking at men and to pour herself into volunteer work. Between a tempting ex-boyfriend and an overly-attractive co-worker, Trish finds her new vows difficult to maintain.

Camy Tang finds the humorous sides of everyday life and creates a delightful struggle for her character who is pulled between her personal longings and the desires of her extended family. Will following the rules help ease Trish out of her old life and make her into the "good girl" she so desires to be? God has some powerful lessons to teach Trish about leaning on His grace.

Only Uni was a great read and I'm looking forward to picking up more of Camy Tang's books. I highly recommend this funny, uplifting writer. Make sure to check out her website and have a great weekend! I hope you find time to read.