Deborah Deetales

Good golly, Miss Molly!

2012-02-03T18:11:00.000-08:00

It's definitely been a while since I last posted. I do, however, have a good excuse for my laxness. Her name is Molly Deborah Ackerson (notice the middle name?) and she arrived sixteen years to the day of her parents' wedding. Having been told they couldn't have children has made the birth of Molly Deborah just that much sweeter and sharing their anniversary date with her birthday is the icing on the cake. She's my sixth grandchild and the only girl in the bunch. Her five boy cousins have yet to meet her, but then neither has anybody else, with the exception of her Aunt Dennae who flew up to Alaska from Kentucky both before and after her birth. That will happen eventually, though, and I'm sure the rest of her family will fall in love with her at first sight just as I did.

Welcome to the world, dear, sweet Molly! Here's hoping you're as excited about the rest of what humanity has to offer as you appear to be with your first bite of rice cereal!

***

On the other hand, I have stayed busy with my writing and am happy to announce the availability of my sixth and final installment of my Laramie on the Lam kids' adventure series on Amazon (http://tiny.cc./emnqn), Barnes and Noble (http://tiny.cc/6jhte), Omnilit (http://tiny.cc/uqa9s), Smashwords (http://tiny.cc/ydx83), and Quakeme.com (http://tiny.cc.kzgod). It's called Laramie Conquers the Last Frontier and it ties up all those loose, mysterious, funny ends I left dangling from the other installments. I think your kids will like it. I'd be pleased if you'd take a look if you have a chance.

Another happy note: Echelon Press will be publishing my Laramie on the Lam series in print! I don't have all the details as yet, but I do know the stories will be combined into one book and I've incorporated study guides at the end of each story for those homeschool parents (or any parents, for that matter) who may want to quiz their kids on the educational tidbits I threw in there.

Until the next time...

Let's face it: It's always Thyme for Love!

2011-12-05T22:00:00.000-08:00

Today I'm featuring debut author Pamela S. Meyers and her delightful novel, Thyme for Love, published by OakTara.

April Love has always dreamed of being a chef.
But she didn’t expect her former fiancé

or murder to be part of the recipe for her new job.

When April Love signs on to be an in-house chef at an old lakeshore mansion in Canoga Lake, Wisconsin, she comes face to face with her long-lost love, the drop-dead gorgeous Marc Thorne. It doesn’t take long for their old magnetism to recharge, but how can she trust the guy who left her nearly at the altar eight years earlier? Her gut tells her something happened to Marc in between—something he’s reluctant to reveal.

When April’s boss is murdered, Marc is accused of the crime. Unless April can find out who really killed Ramón Galvez, her chances for love will end up at the county jail. But someone else is just as determined she not solve the mystery…and will go to any length to stop her.

***

This debut novel by Pamela S. Meyers had me by the title alone--I grow herbs and anything having to do with my beloved hobby is fine by me. Then I opened the cover and began reading. As much as I liked the title, that was just frosting on the cake (excuse that deliberate pun) compared to what followed.

Pam Meyer's plot is out of the ordinary, her setting is beautiful, and her characters are delicious (but not too good to be true-to-life!). Protagonist April Love has been hurt in the past and isn't about to make the same mistake a second time, despite the fact that she's irrestibly drawn to the man who did the hurting the first time around. The romantic angle of Thyme for Love is great all by itself, but the mystery that deepens after Marc Thorne, April's ex-fiancé and current thorn-in-her side, is accused of murdering their boss kept those pages flipping as fast as I could turn them. I didn't put the book down each night until I could no longer make my eyes focus on the words.

Ms. Meyers has a wonderful way with description and not only puts her readers in the scene, but also inside the heads of her characters. Just when I thought I knew who the guilty party was, I was proven wrong. That's my kind of mystery!

Fortunately for me (and all the rest of Pamela's readers), Thyme for Love is just the first of a three-part series and I look forward to reading more from this talented author. Be sure to look for Pam's recipe for Chicken George at the end of the book!

About the author:

A native of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, Pamela S. Meyers currently lives in Arlington Heights, Ill. She served on the Operating Board for ACFW 2005-2009, and is president of her local ACFW chapter. Her debut novel Thyme for Love releases November 14, 2011, and her historical that is set in her hometown, Love Finds You in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, will release in June 2012. She has published articles in Today’s Christian Woman, Christian Computing, Victory in Grace, and Ancestry. She is also a contributor in the compilation book, His Forever.

Here it comes!

2011-11-17T22:45:00.000-08:00

It's coming.... it's almost here... won't be long now... keep an eye out!

Yes, that's right. Polar Bear Plunge by author Linda S. Glaz is being released on December 5th! And to make it even better, for the entire month of December, you can have this delightful novella for only $1.00.

Yep, you read that right--$1.00. Can't buy a quart of gas for that anymore. Can't even buy a cup of coffee at McDonald's for $1.00--at least not in Alaska. I paid $1.69 for a cup the other day at McDonald's and believe me, it wasn't one of those fancy brews, either. Plain old coffee with two creams. I should have saved my money and I could've had one and two-thirds downloads of Polar Bear Plunge!

Here's a little more about Linda and her book:

Striving to put meaning back into her life after her husband’s death, Aleni Callan immerses herself in hospital work. Angry with God, she finds herself even angrier, when hero, Brice Taylor, author of The Human Shield, arrives in the Emergency Room with a concussion and hypothermia after participating in the Polar Bear Plunge. Aleni wants nothing to do with a man who willingly takes chances with his life.

Brice doesn’t understood how God could bring him through being a captive in Iraq, when he failed his troops so miserably. Writing about his escape brings fame he would rather avoid. And by meeting widow, Aleni Callan, his feelings of failure only increase.

Megan Callan with the help of her three-year-old grandson, Ty, scheme to bring Aleni and Brice together. And while the best laid plans often go awry, Megan isn’t one to accept no.

About our author, Linda S. Glaz:

I’m a wife and mother of three. I balance being a child of God while also being older than God. Hmmm, scary, but almost true. I’ve been blessed to have had an amazing life so far: Air Force meteorologist during Vietnam era, teaching karate and self-defense along with soccer for 25+ years. I sing and direct in church and community theatre musicals where this little old lady sounds more like the guys than the gals. Also scary, but true. I work in a physical therapy clinic three days a week to earn money to keep my writing afloat. My writing life is a 24/7 proposition. When not writing my own stories, I am an agent for Hartline Literary Agency. I wear so many different hats I’m surprised I wasn’t invited to the Royal wedding. Blessings to everyone, may your writing dreams all come true.

*****

I've read this story and believe me, it's great. If you look carefully at the top of the book cover, you'll see a comment that reads: "Heartwarming, funny, and poignant... a real winner," signed by me! Yep, I was lucky enough to read this book a while ago and I guarantee this is the perfect "curl up under a warm blanket with a cup of hot chocolate in front of the Christmas tree" book. At only $1.00, what better way to spend some quiet hours during the holiday season? Don't forget your friends and family, as well. They'll thank you for this delightful story.

Jonathan Wakefield's Fatal Reality

2011-11-14T08:52:00.000-08:00

Today, I welcome my good friend and fellow Christian Writers Guild fiction track graduate and finalist for the Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild 2009 Operation First Novel contest, Jonathan Wakefield. Jon's debut novel, Fatal Reality, a fast-paced thriller, is on the shelves at Amazon and Barnes and Noble (and probably at a lot of other places by now). It's published by OakTara Publishers (www.oaktara.com). Following the interview, I’ll post my review of this thrilling novel, but first, let’s find out a little more about Fatal Reality and its author.

Jonathan, can you give us a little background on your journey to publication?

My journey—similar to that of many authors—was long, challenging, and rewarding. I can trace my initial interest in writing all the way back to third grade when my teacher surprised me by reading my poem “Family Sounds” to the class. In fourth grade, I started writing fiction regularly. I’ve never stopped.

I was so passionate that I even tried to write my first novel, fully (and naïvely) intending to get published, in seventh grade. I quit after fifty pages, but the goal of becoming a published novelist had been established. Twenty-three years later, it has finally been met.

While Fatal Reality is my debut novel, it’s actually the eleventh I’ve written. I’ve spent many years studying the craft of fiction to be able to write something that someone might want to read.

As for the premise, the popularity of reality shows has always intrigued me, so when the idea of one being hijacked in view of the entire world hit me, I quickly grew fascinated with the possibilities. Within a few days, the entire novel had written itself in my head, and I knew I had to get started. Six months later, I was finished.

As you know, I entered it in the 2009 Christian Writers Guild’s Operation First Novel contest and, like yours, it was chosen as a finalist. I didn’t win, but I did gain the interest of an agent, who ultimately submitted Fatal Reality to OakTara and landed me a publishing contract.

Fatal Reality is a hard-hitting thriller that is sure to make Christians think (and a few Christians cringe as they recognize themselves). If you had to choose one thought your readers take away from your book, what would it be?

A theme running throughout Fatal Reality is the importance of being honest with ourselves and each other about who we are and our shortcomings. I want readers to finish with the thought that we rob Satan of his power when we face those shortcomings head-on and thereby allow God to turn them into our greatest strengths.

Because you and I were fellow Craftsman students, I know you studied with the Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild. What made you decide to go with a Christian writing program? Would you do so again? Would you recommend a program like this to beginning writers--or others who might be farther along their writing path?

I didn’t become a Christian until after college, which was actually about the same time I started seriously training as a writer and seeking publication. It didn’t take long after my spiritual awakening to learn that God was the one who’d implanted in me that insatiable desire to write. Knowing him personally gave my writing a purpose, and from then on I intended to glorify him with every word I wrote.

Soon thereafter, I came across an advertisement for the Christian Writers Guild and decided to give one of their courses a try. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I’ve since taken two more courses with them and grown tremendously as both a writer and a Christian in the process. The Guild taught me how to write with a biblical worldview, giving me the confidence to attempt something that’s really quite intimidating. Words are powerful. The Bible—God’s Word to us—has transformed countless lives. So if I’m going to attempt to use the same tool to reach people with his message, I had better be sure I know how to use it properly. I would certainly do it all again, and I would encourage anyone at any point on their writing journey to do the same.

How long was Fatal Reality "in production," i.e., have you had this idea in mind for a long time or has it evolved over several years?

As I mentioned, concept to completion encompassed only six months. I normally take longer than that, but the Operation First Novel contest deadline was looming and I really wanted to enter.

What in your daily life influenced you in writing this book? Was there a particular event that tipped the scales--when you knew you had to write this book?

For a while I had wanted to write a novel about a reality show with a Christian protagonist, because I thought it offered a lot of good possibilities for moral dilemmas for someone who tries to live by biblical standards. And I love a good thriller, so as soon as I got the idea of turning a reality show into a race for survival, I knew I was on to something.

In the book, your protagonist, Kyle Borders, is a well-respected Christian leader who faces nearly insurmountable odds for survival while coming face-to-face with his personal demons. When you were putting this book together, what part of the plot came to you first--the reality show or his personal problems?

The reality show came first, but his problems quickly followed. I’ve actually never had a story lock itself in place in my mind so quickly before Fatal Reality. It just materialized in a way that seemed to fit perfectly for me. That’s part of why I was able to write it so quickly—once I had the story set, it didn’t need much reworking.

I know fiction isn't the only writing at which you excel. Can you tell us more about Jonathan Wakefield and what you believe in passionately?

How did I know you were going to ask me that? J Yes, I do have a wide range of interests, both within fiction and beyond. The eleven novels I’ve written have actually spanned five separate genres.

I’ve also done a lot of freelance copywriting and editing, some for profit and some for charity. I’ve written and edited everything from scientific papers to grant proposals to marketing materials.

I enjoy article writing as well. I’ve written for a variety of publications, including technical journals, newspapers, Christian magazines, church newsletters, and political blogs.

Writing about politics is something I’ve become quite passionate about, especially in recent years. I used to think that as a Christian I should avoid the topic because it might distract from my attempts to spread the gospel; but I’ve come to realize that the Bible has much to say about government (the word “king” and its derivations—such as “kings” or “kingdom”—appear over 2,500 times in the Bible), so Christians should as well.

But I want to make it clear that my political writings are entirely separate from my fictional writings. Fatal Reality doesn’t carry a political message or address politics in any way. It’s a straight-up thriller driven by spiritual and cultural themes.

And finally, Jon, where can we learn more about you, your career, your books, and your writing journey?

The best place is at my website at www.jonathanwakefield.com. You can find all the details about Fatal Reality there as well as information on any events I may have scheduled. And if readers have any questions for me, they can contact me through the form on the website. I’d love to hear from you!

Thank you, Jon. I'm sure we'll be hearing much more about you and your writing in the future.

*****

Long before I actually read Fatal Reality, I had a feeling it would blow me out of the water. I've known Jonathan for a few years now and he's always struck me as an earnest Christian who takes his writing as seriously as he does his walk with Christ. I couldn't wait to read the novel written by this talented man. I'm happy to report I was not mistaken in my assumption!

Jonathan Wakefield's debut novel, Fatal Reality, is based in the not-too-distant future and among other issues, addresses the sad state of much of today's television programming (reality shows, in particular). It explores the scenario of a well-known Christian leader who competes in what he thinks will be a 24-hour race to the finish line. Because it will be aired through a live feed, Extreme Mortality, the biggest reality show ever, will give Kyle Borders the perfect opportunity to live out his faith for the whole world to see. Unfortunately, it will also give Daniel Vats, creator of the groundbreaking show, an opportunity to not only kill at will, but also expose Kyle Borders for the man Vats believes he really is.

What follows is a fast-paced thriller that engages and entertains the reader while at the same time guiding him to important moral and spiritual points. The plot twists and turns through the pages much like the desperate contestants who dash through the jungle in the fight of their lives. Wakefield's characters--each one a hard-nosed individual chosen to compete based upon his or her strengths and expertise--are portrayed with skill and an eye for the varied weaknesses all human beings are capable of displaying. Wakefield carefully peels away the bravado and exposes their greatest fears.

Wakefield writes with great skill and plots his book well. Around each corner (and page after page), he reveals the ugly, naked truth about the harm human beings are capable of inflicting upon one another.

Wakefield admits he took a risk writing this book, but in my opinion, it was a risk well worth taking. You will too.

***

Until the next time...

Mad for Mind Over Madi

2011-11-01T20:16:00.000-07:00

Q:        What’s true-to-life, drop-dead hilarious, inspirational, eye-opening, and sometimes hits a little too close to home?

A.        Easy—Lynda Lee Schab’s new novel, Mind Over Madi.

           When too-close-to-forty Madi McCall decides her husband, Richard, is cheating on her with town siren Fawn Witchburn, she asks him to move out. No, it's not the smartest move Madi could make, but her insecurities, coupled with her mother’s constant haranguing about the evilness of all men, blind her to common sense and her husband’s assurances of his undying love.

Left with their twin teens, Christina and Max, and youngest child, Emily, Madi forges ahead with her life. While she juggles her hormonal teens and a little girl who misses her dad, tends to household responsibilities, spends time with her fashionista friend, Sylvie, and tries to straighten out her insecurities with her counselor, Sarah Price, Madi turns to her guilty pleasure for solace.

Schab has turned the insecurities that so many of us feel into a witty, thought-provoking debut novel. What transpires will have you laughing out loud, cringing, sighing, commiserating, and wondering just how Lynda Schab knew your innermost thoughts—let alone your guilty pleasures. Her characters could be our next door neighbor or sister or co-worker. Her descriptions are fresh and spot-on. Her plotting is superb and I couldn't turn the pages fast enough to find out what new dilemma Madi would find herself in--and what hilarious or heart-rending way she would use to get herself out. Prepare yourself for some unexpected twists as Madi discovers a few secrets and realizes she needs God in her life as much as she needs her husband.

Thankfully, Mind Over Madi is the first of a three-book series. Looking forward to Lynda's next two novels, Madily in Love and Sylvie and Gold, will help you get over coming to the end of a great debut novel.

*********

LYNDA LEE SCHAB got her writing start in greeting cards (Blue Mountain Arts, Dayspring) and from there went on to write articles and short stories (Mature Living, Christian Home & School) and in many places online (including www.Examiner.com and www.wow-womenonwriting.com), but her passion has always been fiction.

Mind Over Madi, her debut novel, is near and dear to her heart. Lynda admits she has a lot in common with the character of Madi. Not only are they both addicted to ice cream, chocolate, and computer games, they struggle with the same types of insecurities and continually require a hefty dose of God’s grace.

Lynda works behind the scenes at FaithWriters.com and is a member of ACFW. She is a regular book reviewer for FaithfulReader.com and is the Grand Rapids Christian Fiction Examiner and the National Writing Examiner for Examiner.com. Mind Over Madi received Runner-up in the 2007 FaithWriters Page Turner contest, was a finalist in the 2007 RWA Get your Stiletto in the Door contest, and won second place in the 2008 ACFW Genesis contest, Chick Lit category. Lynda lives with her husband, Rob, and two teenagers in Michigan.

www.LyndaSchab.com

Coming attractions!

2011-11-01T16:21:00.000-07:00

I hope you're all ready to read about a great new book coming out soon! I'll be reviewing debut author Linda Schab's new book, Mind Over Madi, right here tomorrow. Don't miss out hearing about this fantastic author's first novel. I'll give you a sneak preview:

Is this a great cover or what???

Until the next time.... (which will be tomorrow)...

Purging the litter box of sin...

2011-07-26T12:50:00.000-07:00

She's beautiful, isn't she? Her name is Maple and she's my little Mississippi kitty. She was just a kitten when we found her in a PetSmart in Tupelo and brought her home that same day. She came with us, of course, when we moved to Anchorage.

As gorgeous as she is, she has her ugly side--namely, her litter box. While Maple is soft and loving, beautiful to behold, and fun to cuddle, her litter box isn't. And if I don't dig carefully enough to purge that box of her hidden "treasures," it will eventually begin to smell and offend and become a major household problem.

So it is with sin. We can hide it, cover it up, disguise it, smooth it over, rearrange it, or flat-out ignore it, but nevertheless, it's still there. There are times we can manipulate things so our sin isn't as obvious, but it hasn't gone anywhere. It's festering, stinking, adding up.

A few months ago, I was teaching my grandsons the proper way to clean their kitty's litter box. When I asked why they scooped only the top layer, Hunter, who was 7, explained to his silly grandma that if you dug down too deeply, "you get all that yucky stuff." His idea of cleaning the box was to skim off the visible clumps and leave the rest safely buried where (in his opinion) it wasn't hurting anybody. I explained that while that was true in the short run, eventually the yucky stuff would overtake the entire box. The only way to keep the box fresh and clean was to dig deep and do the dirty work of cleaning it right the first time.

I, too, have to dig deep to purge the sin I've covered up, passed off as a bad habit, or just plain ignored. Skimming works only when you're trying to fool someone--and our Heavenly Father isn't One to be fooled. No, it's not fun, but neither would it be fun to find myself with a lifetime of yucky stuff clogging up my relationship with God.

Until the next time....

Blessing upon blessing...

2011-06-21T12:28:00.000-07:00

Few things are as exciting as the birth of a child, and when that baby is your grandson, it’s doubly thrilling. I arrived in Detroit, Michigan, from Anchorage, Alaska, early on the evening of Thursday, May 26th. After a joyous reunion with my son, Derek, my very pregnant daughter-in-law, Renee, and my 3-year-old grandson, Tyler, we settled in to wait for the arrival of their second son (and my fifth grandson).

Adam Dennis Gordon was born on Tuesday, June 1st, at 9:16 p.m. He weighed nine pounds, six ounces, and was a whopping 22 inches long! Although mom was in labor for close to nine hours, he gave her little trouble once he got down to business. As you might imagine, he’s beautiful. He arrived sporting a full head of dark hair (just as Tyler did) and was perfect in every way. He passed all his tests with flying colors and was on his way home by Friday.

Since he’s been home, I’ve taken every opportunity to cuddle, kiss, love, and hug him, as well as exclaim over, encourage, praise, and explain things about life, the rest of his family, and Grandma to him. He’s been remarkably receptive and has very politely limited his inattention to a few instances of nodding off completely or screaming his lungs out for a meal. I can’t blame him for either. I don’t suppose I’m the most interesting conversationalist in the world (particularly in the still-working-on-focusing-eyes of a six-day-old baby) and hearing how incredibly perfect one is might become tiring after a time. Nevertheless, I keep on telling him. I comfort myself by believing he’ll miss my jabberings when I’m gone.

I’ll be returning to Alaska on Friday, June 10th, completing a visit that allowed me to be at the birth of my new grandson, spend time with my slightly-less-new one, Tyler, and their parents, Derek and Renee, as well as my dad, sister and brother-in-law, nephew, and brother, and two dear friends. Once I get home, I’ll settle in to await the birth of my sixth grandchild in Alaska this coming October!

Life is good. God is good. Thank You, Lord, for granting me travel mercies, for bringing my grandson safely into this world, and for keeping all of us in the palm of Your mighty hand. With You, all is possible; without You, nothing is. Help me to remember that and to praise Your name always.

Until the next time…

A little help from my friends...

2011-05-05T11:39:00.000-07:00

I don't often write about my passion--writing--on this blog, although that's what its original purpose was to be. It's too easy to veer off on subjects that, without a doubt, influence my writing, but don't refer directly to the craft of writing.

However, today's entry will address a very important aspect of writing--the invaluable assistance, advice, and encouragement given to me by my writing friends. I wouldn't even be on this blog today if it weren't for the expertise and generosity of Bonnie Calhoun, technological genius. She helped guide through the seemingly impossible task of accessing my blogs after obtaining a second email address. Thanks, Bonnie, for your untiring help.

There are many others who have helped me along the way--far too many to mention by name--but without whose guidance I would still be in the starting block. From teaching, mentoring, editing, critiquing, encouraging and advising to hands-on technical assistance and pulling-my-fat-from-the-fire rescues, my writing friends are just as much a part of any success I might find as I am.

Of course, we know the true Author of any writing success--our Heavenly Father, without Whom none of us would know what we're doing or see any of the fruit of our work. He and He alone deserves the praise when we do well, but there are many wonderful folks out there who serve as His helpers!

I've been blessed with friends and colleagues who are as eager to help others as they are to find a home for their own work. I'm particularly fortunate to be a part of Terry Burns' client group (Terry's our agent extraordinaire from Hartline Literary Agency) and I've found so much more than a random group of writers who share an agent. We laugh, cry, lend a helping hand, congratulate, empathize, encourage, advise, and share praises, pain, and prayer.

Just a few years ago (and I'm dating myself here), writing was a solitary job. Submissions were made by snail mail; answers came the same way. Unless you knew someone personally and lived within driving distance of them, sharing writing experiences, critiquing, or even taking classes were difficult at best, impossible at worst. The advent of computers (wonder of wonders!) and then the Internet, complete with e-mail, changed all that. (Of course, they brought their own set of problems to the situation--see second paragraph above.)

I'm glad I happened to live during the transition from solitary writing to family-style writing. Not only has my writing improved, but my sanity's been maintained and my computer remains in one piece. (Thanks again, Bonnie!) Thanks, also, to everyone who's helped me along the way. I couldn't have done it without you.

Until the next time...

Bless her sweet heart...

2011-04-21T16:48:00.000-07:00

... Linda Glaz has featured me and both installments of my Laramie on the Lam series (Laramie and the Law and Laramie and the Land of Liberty) on her writer's blog at http://lindaglaz.blogspot.com/

Linda is a talented writer and editor whose blog is a wealth of information for aspiring writers (as well as those other "normal" folks out there). She's hilarious, creative, wonderfully helpful and I guarantee you, she'll have books falling off the shelves any day now.

Without the kindness and encouragement of people like Linda (thank you, Linda!), I wouldn't have my agent, Terry Burns, nor would I have my completed adult manuscript in his hands. For that matter, I wouldn't be having half as much success with my Laramie series without the publicity and kind words her blog post have generated.

Surely, God knew what He was doing when He put people like Linda Glaz in my path! Thank You, Lord.

Until the next time...

Regal Round-Up

2011-04-11T19:27:00.000-07:00

Talk about magnificent. This was taken in the parking lot of the VFW Hall in Eagle River, Alaska. Each winter while the rivers are frozen over and fish are hard to come by, a kind woman feeds wild eagles on Sunday mornings. She begins passing out pieces of fish at 10:30 a.m. and precisely at 10:25 a.m., the eagles begin arriving. Don't ask me how they know; I guess nature has a way of relaying important information like this when it needs to.

My son-in-law, Ron, and I visited a week ago yesterday. This lone eagle stood watch over the parking lot, and eventually, someone came out from the building and informed us that the eagle lady would not be coming that morning. Apparently, the river had thawed enough to allow the eagles to fend for themselves. My question for him was "How do the eagles know not to come?" He shrugged and grinned. "Beats me." When I asked him how many had arrived the week before, he said, "About a hundred." Can you imagine seeing a hundred of these magnificent creatures gathering from all directions, down the from the snow-covered mountains to a humble gravel parking lot on the edge of a small town-- swooping, snatching, gliding on the currents to accept the gift of food during the cold Alaskan winter?

Evidently, the memo hadn't reached this eagle and he stood on his tree branch for close to an hour while we snapped pictures and waited for the lady, her fish pieces, and the other eagles to arrive. When they didn't, we left and I imagine he did shortly thereafter.

But for a little while, I shared a moment in time with one of God's most regal creations, both of us hopeful; both of us waiting and watching. We have one more winter here in Alaska before we leave for parts unknown, and you can bet your bottom dollar (and all the fish you can eat) that I'll be there every single chance I get for a chance to witness the regal round-up.

Until the next time...

Pretty in pink...

2011-03-26T20:12:00.000-07:00

The mountains here on Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage, Alaska, are beautiful any time of day or night, all year long. But when I looked outside the other night to see the setting sun painting the snow-covered peaks a pretty pastel pink, I had to take pictures. To add to the grandeur, the moon was almost full and its gauzy, fragile beauty added a touch of elegance to the scene.

Granted, it's not always spectacularly beautiful up here. (Notice how I never post dreary shots of foggy skies or rainy days?) But on any given day, there is something of beauty to celebrate no matter where we are. The Lord has filled our world with objects of incredible beauty--some are magnificent and hard to miss, others are tiny to the point of being nearly invisible. But since He took the time to create each and every one of them, shouldn't we take the time to look for them, to admire His handiwork, and thank Him for thinking of us long before we ever came to be?

Until the next time...

Living in the moment

2011-03-08T14:32:00.000-08:00

I've spent the last few days marketing my new story, Laramie and the Law. Somewhere in there, it dawned on me that I'd better start thinking about working on the third installment. (The second will be published on April 1, 2011.) I've become caught up in the neverending game of the "done" and the "yet to be done."

Life is like that sometimes. We get so caught up in something in our past (or looking to the future) that we forget to live in the moment. This morning I woke up and noticed the glorious sunshine the Lord has seen fit to bless us with for the last several days. The snow-covered mountain peaks are etched against the startlingly blue skies, the snow covers the ground like a huge white blanket, and the icicles that melt during the day magically re-form overnight as the slow process of thawing out for another year progresses.

In a few weeks, this will be gone. Yes, I'll love the warmer temps, the green grass, and springtime flowers. But I shouldn't lose sight of the beauty that God is giving me this very moment. I have lots of "yesterday moments," and plenty of "tomorrow moments"--but I have only one "right this minute" moment. I need to savor each and every one of them.

Until the next time...

Laramie and the Law now available!

2011-03-02T19:40:00.000-08:00

It's here!

Laramie and the Law, the first installment of my six-part series (Laramie on the Lam), published by Echelon Press is now available for Nook download at http://barnesandnoble.com/. It's a steal at a mere $.99 per download! It will also soon be available (at the same low price) on Amazon for Kindles and other e-readers, through apps on the iPhone, and at other online outlets, as well.

Laramie and the Law was written for kids between the ages of 8 and 11, but younger ones would love to get in on the adventure--especially if Mom or Dad or an older sibling reads it to them.

The second installment, Laramie and the Land of Liberty, will be available for download on April 1, 2011. Follow Laramie Wyoming and his best friend, Maestro the black lab, as they solve mysteries and dodge the bad guys while they travel across the United States in a motorhome from one cool place to another.

It all starts with a bank robbery in his hometown of Laramie, Wyoming. Read more about it here:

You know you're in trouble when you see your picture on the front page of the newspaper and discover you're wanted by the local police for robbing a bank—all because you were just trying to be polite!

Laramie Wyoming always (well, most of the time) does what his mother tells him to. But what happens when an unsuspecting sixth grader holds open the door for three men leaving the bank?

The police accuse him of robbing it. What kind of a deal is that?

The next thing Laramie knows, his mother is ready to scalp him, the police are hot on his trail, his dad's going to blow his top when he gets home, and he and his dog Maestro are holed up in the tree house. Oh, and there's the $30,000 in his backpack he didn't have the day before. Worst of all, the robbers want it back.

Life gets complicated for Laramie Wyoming of Laramie, Wyoming, and he's got a lot to do if he wants to clear his name, get the police off his back, avoid the bank robbers, and ever see the inside of his house again.

I'd be tickled if you'd take a look and pass this information along to anyone you know who has kids who love wholesome adventure, faithful dogs, and mysteries just waiting to be solved!

Until the next time...

Good times, goodbyes, and new beginnings!

2011-02-02T09:20:00.000-08:00

It's nearing that time again--the day I'll be boarding another plane back to Alaska. I've had a good, long run here in Kentucky, though, and I've loved every minute of it. I arrived on September 10th and my flight leaves on February 6th. Five months! And although I'll always be grateful for these special months spent in the company of my daughter and her husband and my three precious grandsons, it's time for me to let them have their house back to themselves.

I was able to share Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas (and all the preparation and celebrations those occasions entail) with my family down here. The day before I leave, we'll be celebrating my middle grandson's 8th birthday, so we'll be ending the visit with another memorable occasion. I hope I've been a healthy, happy, nurturing, and inspirational influence on my grandchildren during this visit, as well as a help to Dennae and Richie. I appreciate their putting up with me for all this time and hope I'll be welcome to visit again! I love you guys.

Then in June, I'll be heading to Michigan in time for the birth of my 5th grandson! My oldest child and his wife are expecting their second child--and it's a boy! He'll be joining his big brother who will be four in August. Good times! And there will be news from Alaska soon... stay tuned for further developments.

Finally, I'm excited to announce that the first installment of my six-part children's series for Echelon Press will be published on March 1st! I've been asked to keep a lid on the details, but soon....

Until the next time...

A clean slate

2011-01-17T13:22:00.000-08:00

Christmas is behind us and as are most folks about now, I'm ready for spring. Not that Alaska, or even Kentucky, where I am at the moment, don't abound with beauty during the winter time. They do--at least sporadically. But a little bit of snow and freezing temps go a long way and I reached my breaking point about three weeks ago.

I think if most of us had our way, the first day of spring would occur on December 26th. Fortunately, we don't have that perogative, for if we did, springtime would lose that special anticipation it holds for us year after year. Yes, the stretch between the day after Christmas and that perfect first day of spring (not the one on the calendar, but that true first day--the one we "know" is the harbinger of green grass and new flowers) seems an eternity. But isn't that what makes it so magical? Isn't that what makes that first sniff of newly-revealed dirt, the pristine air, or the hint of growth in the flowerbeds so enticing? Aren't the drab conditions of an overlong winter darkest just before the sparkling days of spring?

Fragrant grass, spring-green leaves, colorful flowers, unblemished beginnings. Spring heralds all things fresh and innovative, innocent and unblemished. It gives us all a chance at a new start. In the meantime, while the winds blow cold and the skies remain dreary, let's remember all that lies in store for those willing to wait--second chances, a clean slate, a new day.

Until the next time...

Doin' the Happy-Hop

2011-01-13T11:50:00.000-08:00

This was me yesterday (aside from the long ears, ability to jump off the ground, fuzzy tail, long ears--you know, that "being a bunny thing" Birch has going on here) when I found out my son and daughter-in-law are expecting a baby boy. This will be their second child and he'll be joining big brother Tyler (3) when he's born in early June.

The newest addition to our family will make a total of five grandsons (currently aged 9, 7, 3, 3, and our new pre-born) and six when you add in my step-grandson (14) here in Kentucky. I honestly don't know if I could find my way around the little girls' department anymore. I'm so accustomed to trucks and Legos, dinosaurs and Hot Wheels, Spiderman, SpongeBob, and anything "Cars" related that I'd be lost in the world of little girls.

Of course I'd love to have a granddaughter someday and if it's God's will, I will. But in the meantime, I'm content to do happy-hops around the house and revel in the rough-and-tumble world of little boys and bunny rabbits.

Until the next time...

Helping hands...

2010-10-08T10:32:00.000-07:00

Cannon is three years old and "helping" Grandma with the dishes or laundry is high on his list of priorities. I love the idea that he wants to help and that he understands the concept of lending a hand to those who are doing chores. We have a good time washing and rinsing the dishes, tossing dirty clothes into the washer, wet clothes into the dryer, and pulling clean, dry clothes and towels out of the dryer for folding. (You can see from his picture that he's an efficient little guy--using his shirt to hold his second gun in his quest to rid the house of monsters is sheer genius.)

But his idea of helping differs greatly from mine. And while I don't mind his assistance at first, after a while I'm more than ready to go it alone. As anyone who has ever had a 3-year-old help them with household chores already knows, the pace slows down to a crawl; most things need to be rewashed/redried/refolded after all that "assistance". I hold my tongue as long as I can and then gently suggest he might want to find someone else to help.(They're always very appreciative, as you can well imagine.)

My impatience with slow-downs and obsession with perfection (and speed) are traits I continually battle to overcome. In that regard, I need to settle for less-than-perfection. On the other hand, I can't help but wonder if God doesn't feel the same way about our trying to help HIM as we do when little ones try to help us. Let's face it, in God's eyes, we can't be any better at helping Him out as Cannon is at helping me. Like Cannon, our intentions may be the best, but sometimes helping just gets in the way. Just as I know more about washing dishes than my grandson does, God also knows infinitely more about running the universe than I do.
And fortunately, He also knows a lot more about ridding our world of monsters, although I'm sure He appreciates Cannon's dogged determination to help out.

Until the next time...

Blending in...

2010-09-12T10:06:00.000-07:00

Geckos have an uncanny way of assuming the characteristics of their surroundings. This is a defensive measure and I'm sure it goes a long way in baffling predators bent on turning them into tasty tidbits.

As humans, it's easy to get lost in our surroundings, to blend into the background so completely that others don't notice us as being different or unique in any way. But as Christians, we should always strive to showcase our glorious standing as children of God. After all, once we accept Christ, He lives within us; we are His ambassadors to the fallen world. We are to live our life for Him, to glorify Him through our actions, our dealings with others, and our words. We must stand out from our surroundings if we expect others to see that Christ lives in us. In that way, we can be an encouragement to others to accept Jesus Christ as their Savior so they, too, can stop hiding in the arms of the rough and tumble world of sin and step into the Light of Salvation.

Until the next time...

End of the rainbow...

2010-08-26T16:52:00.000-07:00

This is just a small section of a full, double rainbow that arced overhead the other night. While the one end was hidden by houses and trees on the other side of the base, the second "end of the rainbow" could clearly be seen touching the ground. I've never before seen the base of a rainbow and I'm sure that if I chased it to where it appeared to be, it would elude me no end (little word play there). In any event, it was the most magnificent example of God's covenant with His children that I have ever witnessed.

On a more technogocial note, I lost a little over fifty pages of my latest manuscript through a computer problem the other day--added to by my incomprehensibly dumb failure to back it up on my thumb drive. I was heartsick. We tried everything, but the little bugger (an Acer Aspire I use for traveling, going to the library, etc., when I don't have access to my desktop) refused to power up. I prayed God would fire it up long enough for me to retrieve my manuscript and transfer it to my thumb drive.

My daughter and son-in-law were helpful in coming up with ideas, but nothing seemed to work. My daughter even suggested I do what I had advised her do one time when her laptop went kaput--remove the battery. I agreed I should try that (although I didn't remember suggesting that to her), but didn't get around to doing it. I was still holding out, I guess, for God to do something magnificent.

Well, you guessed it. After about the eighth time she suggested it, my son-in-law removed the battery, plugged it back in, and miracle of miracles, it powered up. While I was waiting for God to do something remarkable, He had already solved the problem by reminding Darice of something I had completely forgotten I'd reminded her to do. Talk about remarkable. When will I learn to not only trust that God is always there, but that He knows how and why and when I'll need Him long before I do?

It was like grabbing that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Until the next time...

God is in His heaven...

2010-08-20T12:44:00.000-07:00

Few things remind me of God's power and sovereignty as do the skies and the heavens beyond. Nighttime brings the moon, stars, galaxies, meteor showers, nebulas, planets, constellations, and the occasional comet. If I'm really lucky, the northern lights put in an appearance. Of course, some of those heavenly sights require perfect weather, a certain geographic location, clear skies and just-right temps, as well as a strong pair of eyes or binoculars--perhaps even a telescope.

The daytime skies, though, are different. Aside from those dreary, overcast, drizzly days we all get on occasion, the sky provides some of the best displays of God's love for His children seen anywhere. Blue and sunny skies are not only cheerful (and essential to life on earth), but they also provide the perfect backdrop for clouds. Whether drifting lazily along like great cottonballs piled upon one another or feathered delicately by the winds aloft, clouds always remind me that God is in His heaven and that He is playful. Why else would clouds, those tiny droplets of moisture that clump together like mounds of white cotton candy, come in so many different sizes, shapes, and altitudes? Why would puppies and bears and buildings and images of Thomas Jefferson (or Thomas the Train, for that matter) appear above us if not to prove that God loves beauty and mystery and the ever-changing panorama that clouds give us whenever we look skyward?

Every once in a while, I come across a cloud formation that takes my breath away. So it was on the day I took this picture as I leaned out the window while my daughter drove along the Parks Highway between Fairbanks and Denali National Park at 60 m.p.h. I'm lucky I didn't end up on the pavement. But some sights are worth the risk of a nasty road rash.

There's something about the way He places the sunbeams at just the right angle to demonstrate, through His playfulness, love for beauty, and passion for us, just how often He thinks of His children and our view of the sky above. As if it's not enough that he placed the sun and moon and stars and planets right where He did, He also gave us the magical disappearing act of wisty or puffy or thunderous or sun-dappled or sunset-layered or sunrise-streaked clouds to delight and amaze us down here on our earthly level.

And if that's not enough to remind us of His love, sometimes He sends a rainbow. Couldn't get much better than that, could it?

Until the next time...

Up close and personal...

2010-08-16T16:28:00.000-07:00

Some blessings are bigger than others. A great example of that is the magnificent guy pictured here. After weeks of an absolute dearth of wildlife here on base, unusual for our experience-to-date in Alaska, I ran across this handsome specimen and his buddy (and co-tree muncher, also a bull) on the way to the library the other day. (Me, not them.) I pulled over and snapped photo after photo. Others, of course, followed my lead and before long, several cars were lined up on one side of the road keeping watch over the bulls as they partook of a leisurely, leafy lunch.

One of them wandered into the brush and out of our view. This guy, though, not only stayed in sight, but also decided to cross the road and take a closer gander at me. I guess turnabout's fair play even in the moose kingdom. I kept one hand on the button to raise my window in the event he decided he didn't like the looks of me, and the other on the camera. The photo on the left is the result of my not being able to catch his head as he wandered by at arm's length from my open window, but then everyone needs a good "moose torso-and-hindquarters shot," don't they?

I wouldn't recommend my behavior to anyone else. Yes, he's gorgeous and very picture-worthy, and yes, he and his friend were the first moose I'd seen in a good three weeks. But that's no excuse for taking the chance of becoming the morning headline: "Stupid Woman Gets Head Knocked Off By Fed-Up Bull Moose." Thank goodness I had the brains to stay inside my car. I'm careless, but not entirely without sense.

Being able to enjoy, observe, and photograph these beauties is a blessing indeed, but a second (and probably more important one) is the way God looks out for me when I don't always do it the way I should. Thank You, Lord, for granting patience to your beautiful and wild creations, allowing me to enjoy their grandeur in safety, even when I don't deserve it. I promise I'll be more cautious in the future.

Until the next time...

Masquerading...

2010-07-26T19:47:00.000-07:00

Ever felt like you're not being who you're supposed to be? As if you're not fulfilling your God-assigned role in this world? Pretending to be something you're not? I do. Maybe I'm not dressed like a lobster like my grandson, Cannon, is in this picture, but there are times, nonetheless, when I feel as though I'm masquerading as someone I'm not.

A writer, for instance.

There are many mornings when I sit down in front of this computer monitor and ask myself, "What now?" I never get an answer--not from me, anyway. But there are times when God Himself gives me a nudge on the back of my head as if to say, "Go on now. Be who I made you to be. You may not feel like a writer, but that's who you are. Live with it."

So I do. Some days I'm able to pull it off; other days I look (and feel) like a writer about as much as Cannon resembles a lobster without his costume. But he's a pretty convincing lobster when he is wearing it, so I guess the least I can do is be a convincing writer when God tells me to put my writer costume on.

I just wish I looked as darned cute.

Until the next time...

The Bigger Picture

2010-07-22T18:41:00.000-07:00

I've learned a lot during the past two weeks. For instance, I learned I can do things I never thought I could do (and live to tell the tales). If it were not for the encouragement of Darice, Ron, and Alan, I might never have enjoyed these special events. For starters, I rafted down a river, hiked long and arduous trails through the Alaskan countryside, drove the Parks Highway between Denali National Park to Anchorage, and in general, pushed myself beyond my pre-conceived physical and psychological limits. I'm not ready for hang-gliding or spelunking quite yet, but who knows? (Oh, who am I kidding? I'm never going to hang-glide or spelunk. Just got carried away with the possibilities, I guess.)

But I also learned some lessons that were less physical in nature. My brother surprised me with the gift of his Canon Powershot S5 IS camera, along with a phenomenal camera bag. I'd been admiring his camera and its attributes the entire time he was here; on his last night at our house, he made it mine, first making me promise I wouldn't refuse his gift. Without knowing the extent of his generosity, I accepted. I was floored at his gesture, speechless (and that doesn't happen often), and overjoyed. Alan and I share a mutual love of photography; in fact, it runs in the family. Both our parents enjoyed taking pictures, as does our sister, Shelley. As a whole, the Harpers seem to have a bent toward this wonderful hobby.

But Alan's gift to me extends even further than the obvious value of such an expensive camera and all it can do. He told me he's seen my work, believes in me, and knows I can (and will) use this superior piece of equipment to bring my photography skills to a higher level. I told him that owning this camera will change my life. And it will. Already I'm discovering how to capture the beauty of God's creation with my new camera. The photo above records just a tiny fraction of the intricacy found in the Alaskan rainforest we trekked through yesterday--sort of a "drop in the bucket" of all the things I'll now be able to discover and record.

Sometimes accepting gifts is difficult. We can't believe others think enough of us to give us something special. Perhaps we don't feel worthy. Maybe we're leery of selfless generosity--"What do they want in return? Is this too good to be true?". But when we accept the kind gestures of others, we're allowing them a chance to perform an act that's meaningful to both parties.

And so it is when we accept the gift of salvation from Jesus Christ. Unbelievable as it may be that He wants to do this for us, that He gave His life so we could live with Him for all eternity, that His offer is simple, binding, and eternal--it is, nevertheless, a gift He extends to us with the sincere hope we'll accept. When He holds out His hand for us to grasp, He too is saying, "Please accept my gift. Don't say 'no'."

I guess you could say that when we accept His gift of salvation, we become an important part of a much bigger picture.

Until the next time...

Brothers and rapids and bears, oh my!

2010-07-20T17:16:00.000-07:00

Let's face it: some days are just better than others. Such was the day Darice, Ron, Alan and I moseyed on down the Kenai Peninsula and took a 10-mile float trip down the Kenai River. I've never been in a raft before--a healthy fear of water (well, a fear of dying in water) and lack of opportunity have kept me shorebound-to-date. But I was determined that in honor of Alan's visit from Michigan, I was going to sit in a raft, by gol, and drift down a river. Some things just deserve an extra spurt of courage.

I'm so glad I did. Not only did none of us die, we also managed to have the time of our lives drifting past the wooded shoreline of the Alaskan wilderness, watching bald eagles glide overhead or tend to their young in their massive nests--sort of the McMansion of the bird-of-prey world. Everywhere we turned, we faced yet another of God's beautiful creations--rocks, beaches, towering mountains, rushing water, blue and sunny skies, salmon and trout, ducks, beaver dams, and a host of other glorious aspects of this part of the world. We even took on some class 2 rapids! Now I can truthfully say I've rafted in whitewater--not very white water, mind you, but hey, rapids are rapids.

Following a wonderful lunch at the lakeside Kingfisher Roadhouse, we then hiked a 5-mile round trip trail down to the Russian River Falls. There we watched majestic salmon fight their way up the falls for the right to spawn and then promptly die. While I can't fathom their enthusiasm for dying after all that hard work, I have to respect their determination. And although we didn't find any bears at the falls (returning hikers we met along the trail reported bears catching dinner across the river), we did run across one on the way back to the trailhead. Fortunately for us he meandered away, content to let us continue our trek unmolested. Good thing, too. Although we carry bear spray everywhere we go--grocery store, library, on rides around the base--the one time it might have come in handy is the one time we leave it in the car. I think he simply took pity on us.

All in all, it was a day I will never forget. But even more important than the exhilarating experiences we had enjoying God's gifts is the sheer pleasure I had simply spending time with my brother. Many states (and many more miles) separate Michigan and Alaska, so my chances to visit him are, in large part, dictated by my finances. Having him with us for two solid weeks has been a pleasure I'll never be able to describe... but I sure hope we can duplicate it some time in the future.

I've been thrilled countless times since coming to Alaska at the wonders our Heavenly Father has created for His children to enjoy. But none of them are greater than His gift of a family. Thank You, Lord, for my family and for the time you give me to spend with them.

And thank You for Alan.

Until the next time...

Living in the shadows

2010-07-15T20:06:00.000-07:00

Reflections allow us a second chance to enjoy a beautiful sight. Normally, we think of reflections as accurate representations--a mirror image, if you will--of the original. But there are also times when the same can be said of shadows, even though the word conjures thoughts of gloom and doom, fear and darkness, evil and the brevity of life.

Who can forget Psalm 23:4, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." Or Job 16:16, "My face is red with weeping, deep shadows ring my eyes." These Bible verses and others like them equate shadows with the darker side of life.

There are times, however, when a shadow, like the one in this photo I took at my sister's house, can reflect all the glory--the multiple colors and delicate details--of the original, not just a dark approximation of it. And so it is with God. Psalm 91:1-3 says, "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty." While we are resting in His shadow, we can also be reflecting His glory.

I pray I will always be a bright reflection of the glory of God even as I seek shelter in the shadow of His mighty wings.

Until the next time...

Starry-eyed

2010-06-27T17:24:00.000-07:00

Stars are big right now in the decorating world. I think it began as a celebration of Texas and those who hail from there (or wish they did), but if that's the case, it's expanded far beyond just those folks and spread clear around the country.

Like many others, we have several stars in and around our house, but (nothing against Texas here) it has nothing to do with that great state. For us, I think it's more a matter of just plain liking stars and the way they look. They're simple and nicely-shaped; some are colorful, others are monotoned. They lend themselves to myriad decorating tastes. All in all, they're very utilitarian and can be used for many purposes.

For me, though, there is only one purpose and it really has nothing to do with sprucing up indoor or outdoor living spaces. I've made a conscious decision that when I see a star (or use one to grace a wall or dress up a garden), it's to be recognized as a symbol of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He is, after all, the Creator of the every star in the night sky, the All-Star of all creation, the Superstar of Salvation. I could go on and on, but I won't. Suffice it to say, there's no one above our Lord, and no star (and that includes movie, athletic, political, or other stars created by human beings) could ever shine as brilliantly as the Bright Morning Star.

Until the next time...

What a blessing to be used!

2010-06-24T15:03:00.000-07:00

God sent me a gift today via my dear friend, Sherri. I'd been pondering my mission in life; what it is that God wants me to accomplish while I'm on this side of Heaven. Yes, I worship Him, I write to glorify Him, I do my best to live a Christ-like life.

But I've been stumped about just what it is that God has given me a passion to perform. My writing? Perhaps. I certainly hope so, but if my book isn't published, have I accomplished anything other than to pursue a worldly goal? Will that in itself help to further His Kingdom?

Then I received an email from my dear friend in Georgia and in it she mentioned my love of nature. I've long enjoyed photographing the small things that God has placed in our world--things that we might easily overlook, but things of beauty, nevertheless. I felt a nudge when I read her words and then it hit me. God was speaking to me through her. I immediately wrote back and told her how much her words meant to me--that they were literally the answer to a prayer.

Even better, I discovered later on this morning that Sherri had been praying to be a blessing to someone today. Through our communications, we discovered that God has used us and blessed us simultaneously! Our words to one another not only spoke to our hearts, but also revealed His love.

He never ceases to amaze me.

Until the next time...

Moose magic

2010-06-22T15:21:00.000-07:00

There are days, despite my knowing better, where I feel forgotten and left behind. I don't feel special; I don't even feel run-of-the-mill. I just feel invisible.

And then something happens to jolt me out of my pity party. So it was the night my daughter and I were taking an evening drive around the base (a "candy bar run," we call it as we always stop to pick up some "provisions") to look for wildlife. And there on the side of the road where you'd least expect to find it, laid a mama moose and her obviously newborn baby. We parked next to them and watched for at least thirty minutes. Mama watched us carefully, but made no attempt to get up and chase us away--which they've been known to do. Moose are extraordinarly agile and quick. If she'd chosen to chase us away, believe me, she'd have been able to do so.

But she didn't. And despite the fact that they were lying along a drive to the base hospital--an odd spot for wildlife, particularly one with a new baby, to take a rest--there they were. We watched quietly, in awe at their beauty, snapped dozens of pictures, and took in the specialness of it all. It was as if this majestic animal had come to an agreement with us. She wouldn't stomp us into the ground and we wouldn't make a move to harm or disturb her or her baby. It was an easy truce, one that was sealed with long, silent, eyeball-to-eyeball contact. Have you ever stared a moose in the eye? It has to be one of God's most beautiful gifts. There she was, wild and strong and huge, staring into my eyes. There was intelligence in those big brown eyes and I know she knew we were there only to enjoy a special time given to us by God.

Funny thing, I no longer felt invisible. Quite the opposite, in fact. I felt chosen--hand-picked to share this magical slice of time in Alaska with only my daughter, a couple of Hershey bars, and a baby moose and its mama for company. You can't feel much more special than that.

Until the next time...

Thank You, Father

2010-06-20T18:55:00.000-07:00

What better way to celebrate Father's Day than to acknowledge our Father of all fathers! Nowhere do I see His hand more than in the artistry of nature. We visited the Eagle River Nature Center on Friday and hiked deep into the Alaskan woods where mountains, ponds, trees, wild flowers, birds, and all other sorts of God's creation greeted us. Later, we visited a waterfall along the Seward Highway that skirts Turnagain Arm. It was a mighty uphill climb (and we still didn't reach the source of the river), but the views along the way were phenomenal. Everywhere we looked, water spilled over rocks and fallen tree trunks, splashing and foaming its way down the mountain. In some places the slope was gradual; in others, the water crashed and tumbled over chunks of granite--big and small--to the river below. There it continued its journey until at last it spilled out into the the bay. The aches and pains I've felt as a result of my upward trek are well worth seeing what God has created for His children's pleasure--even in places we might never know existed if not for the urge to explore.

Until the next time...

Family visit!

2010-06-17T17:49:00.000-07:00

We have company from Michigan with us this week--Ron's cousin and her husband. It's great to see family and wonderful to show them around this beautiful part of Alaska. The weather hasn't cooperated as much as we'd hoped, but they're being very good sports about it and accepting the cool temps, drizzles, and overcast skies for what they are--part of God's great creation. Despite the less-than-stellar weather, they're having a good time hiking to glaciers, panning for gold, scouting wildlife, and seeing the sights. We have a barbeque and campfire planned for later tonight, then a trip to the Eagle River Nature Center tomorrow, followed by a nice lunch. Then it's back to the airport for their return flight.

I hope they've had as much fun being here as we've had showing them around.

Until the next time...

Shaping up...

2010-06-11T14:58:00.000-07:00

I'm reading Rick Warren's The Purpose Driven Life. I think everyone else in the world has already read it. I started it several years ago, but something prevented me from finishing it and now I think I know what that was.

I've been beating myself up lately for not taking my writing as seriously in the past as I take it today. You could have done so much more, Deb, if you'd only applied yourself. Just think where you might be today if you'd written more and faster and better. But in chapter 29, Rick begins to describe the role God has decided I will play during my lifetime. He explains my SHAPE, the unique combination of abilities God has given me for the purpose of serving Him. The letter "E" stands for experience.

It occurred to me that while I've been railing against the fact that I haven't yet done what I think He wants me to accomplish, God's been preparing me to do just that. My life experiences have slowly molded me into the person (and writer) He wants me to become. While I've been flopping around like a wounded, crazed bird in a glass box with only a small opening to freedom, He's been showing me what's on the other side, calming me, healing me, teaching me what I need to know to find that doorway to freedom.

I can relax now, knowing that I'm where God wants me to be at this stage of my life. I can stop fretting about the past and starting enjoying the present--with an eye toward my eternal future with Him. Yes, if I'd worked more diligently at my writing in the past, I might be farther along in my writing career, but would I still be traveling the course the Lord planned for me? Or would I have taken a shortcut, gotten hopelessly lost, and completely abandoned my path?

Fortunately, I'll never have to know--firsthand--the answer to that question. I'm where I'm supposed to be, doing what I'm supposed to be doing. And that's good enough for me.

Until the next time...

All wrapped up...

2010-06-04T14:44:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's the little things that drive you over the edge.

This morning I tried to open a new bottle of plaque-fighting mouthwash--you know the stuff you use before you brush your teeth? Well, apparently it's a lot more valuable than I first suspected because it's impossible to get into. Perhaps it's specially-drawn water from the legendary fountain of youth; believe me, after this morning's battle, I could use a shot of youth water.

I always dread opening a new bottle because I know I'm in for a mighty battle with the plastic-encased cap, but today's endeavor was one for the record books. I admit that everything within four feet is a blur without my glasses, so attempting to open it by running my thumbnail under the rim of plastic on the top of the cap, just by feeling it, was stupid to begin with. But I can usually accomplish the task because there's a slightly-serrated slit along one side that makes one part of the plastic a wee bit weaker and thus vulnerable to tearing. But somewhere in the world, a plastic wrapping-serration-slitter machine is out of order. I did everything but get out the chain saw to remove that wrapper. I even put my glasses on, thinking the weak spot was just lost in the blur. No such luck. I dug my tweezers out and stabbed at it with them for... oh, five, six minutes. Nothing. Risking a nasty tweezer-stabbing, I finally leveraged them enough to create a tiny tear where one did not previously exist and managed to pull the wrapping far enough down the cap to open it. A stubborn bit of plastic still ringed the base of the cap, but I was beyond being neat.

Except it wouldn't open. It's one of those "push down with the palm of your hand and simultaneously turn the cap" caps. Yeah right. I leaned over it, placed my palm on it, pushed with all my weight, and twisted. I got a nasty plastic-twist burn on the palm of my hand for my trouble. I tried squeezing it inward on two sides with one hand, pushing down with the other palm, and twisting. No go.

Plaque pre-rinse bottles aren't the only products difficult to gain entrance to--the world is filled with plastic-encased, stapled, metal twist-tied packages. And I completely understand why the retailing world has resorted to super-packaging to stop those few thieves who have ruined it for the rest of us. They're tired of the pilfering, we're tired of paying higher costs for products encased in stuff that would protect the space shuttle from burning up in re-entry (and the medical costs associated with attempting to pry that stuff off), and the thieves are simply finding new and improved ways to do what they've always done--mess it up for the rest of us.

I've often thought that someone--a very patient, very strong someone--could create a lucrative business in the days before Christmas by simply offering to open children's toys and then cart away the cardboard and plastic debris. They'd have to own a semi-trailer, of course, and have nerves of steel and good insurance coverage, but it would certainly make Christmas morning simpler and I'm sure folks the world over would pay dearly for this service.

I finally set my pre-rinse aside and brushed my teeth without it. My teeth will no doubt fall out of my head soon, but at least I'll know my bottle of green stuff is safe from anyone--besides maybe The Hulk--who would dare try to open it.

Until the next time...

Getting down to business

2010-06-03T12:51:00.000-07:00

There are times (too many times) when I find myself playing writer--you know, the way we used to play office or school when we were little?

Playing writer is so much easier than being a writer. I get to rearrange my desk, change the lighting, add this inspirational quote over here, move that writerly object over there. Sometimes I get to wander around OfficeMax, buy new pens or notebooks or stock up on paper for the printer (although we're usually out of toner, which renders the paper generally useless for its intended purpose and I end up scribbling grocery lists on it instead).

And if I'm really desperate to update my surroundings, organize, or expand my horizons (read: procrastinate), I can always clean out my files. Yes, cleaning out my files is vitally important to my writing success. After all, don't readers want their authors to have uncluttered files? Isn't that some kind of an unspoken rule of the publishing world? "Author will provide, at all times, proof that he/she maintains uncluttered files and a well-lit and nicely-decorated/inspirational quote-surrounded environment."

I always feel so much more like a writer when I'm not sitting in front of my computer. After all, feeling like a writer doesn't require thinking--merely the appropriate accoutrements to the profession. On the other hand, being a writer is work. Hard work. Lots and lots of hard work. And when I can't think of anything worthwhile to write, I feel like a failure. So pretending to be what I know I truly am satisfies me for the moment. Sometimes. Most of the time, though, pretending just makes me feel more like a failure than I feel like when I'm writing. (If I haven't confused you yet, I haven't done my job.)

Yes, I can always use a new pen (those Pentel gel pens are my favorite) or another notebook or clean files, inspirational quotes are indeed inspiring, and rearranging my desk gives me something new to look at while I'm staring off into the distance. But none of those are substitutes for the real stuff of writing: sitting down and writing. No two ways about it. Writers write.

Now if I just had a new pencil box, everything would be perfect.

Until the next time...

Flying high...

2010-06-02T19:10:00.000-07:00

It was a glorious day here in Alaska, with deep blue skies overhead, puffy white clouds piled along the horizon, myriad shades of green bursting from every tree and bush, and wildflowers blossoming among the ferns. The river that runs through Cottonwood Park here on Elmendorf AFB is filled with the snow-melt from the Chugach Mountains and rushed past us as we walked the dog along the riverbank.

After leaving the natural splendor of the park, we drove to the other side of the base and watched F-22s land, touching the runway as lightly as a feather wafting on the breeze to the ground below. An enormous C-17 Globemaster took off next, its huge body lifted into the air as if by magic, majestic in its size and power. It never fails to amaze me how man's innovative technology (given to us by God, of course) and His glorious creation are showcased side-by-side on this base. I'm a lucky woman.

And speaking of wonderful things, I received my signed copy of the contract with Hartline Literary Agency in the mail yesterday. It's official now--and I'm tickled pink to be representated by literary agent Terry Burns. Prior to receiving the contract, I worked with his very knowledgable, funny, and patient editorial assistant, Linda Glaz, who helped me whip my manuscript into tip-top shape. Thank you, Linda, for all your assistance, and thank you, Terry, for representing me. I'm flying high! I look forward to a long and fruitful relationship.

Until the next time...

Resurrected

2010-05-04T13:35:00.001-07:00

Days like yesterday leave me awestruck.

As my Mother's Day present, Darice and Ron took me to down the Kenai Peninsula to Seward, Alaska, where we took a four-hour Kenai Fjords gray whale-watching tour. The grays are migrating from California to the Bering Sea this time of year and it was our hope (as well as the hope of everyone else on board) that we'd spot one of these glorious creatures doing what it does best--that is to say, inspire awe and renew our mouth-dropping wonder at God's creation. The drive to Seward from Anchorage took four hours and with the tour and the drive back, we put in a long day. (Ron took the brunt of it, driving both to and from Seward.)

The snow-swept peaks, etched in perfect relief against the bluest sky I've seen in years, made me feel as though I were inside a living, breathing (and windy!) calendar picture. Everywhere I turned, whether on the top, lower, or middle deck, inside or out, there were wonders beyond any ability of mine to adequately describe. Dall porpoises darted alongside the boat to escort us both to and from the mouth of the Bering Sea, racing through the waves at a speed that rivaled ours; sea lions by the hundreds sunned on the rock outcroppings along the shore or on small granite islands that rose from the bed of the bay. They sprawled haphazardly against the warmth of their stony beds and looked for all the world as though some great wave had hoisted them high above the water and slapped them against the rocks where they stuck--velcroed to the spot. There they lay, warmed by the afternoon sun, content, sleeping for the most part (although one or two got shoved off their perches and had to flipper their way back to the rock) and braying in that sexy way sea lions have. A bald eagle perched majestically atop a towering tree; a brave and nimble mountain goat nibbled alder branches on the side of the steep mountain and watched us watch him. Sea birds swooped and darted, tended their nests, or skimmed over the water in search of an afternoon snack.

All the while, the boat bobbed and rolled as we grew closer to the open, unprotected water of the Bering Sea. The sea spray dotted our faces and I tasted salt on my lips and felt the brisk breeze sandpaper my cheeks. For a few minutes there, I felt as though I were on the deck of the Northwestern with Captain Sig Hansen and his crew, braving the elements, bringing in the king crab on an episode of "Deadliest Catch." Ha! It did, however, make me wonder how those men survive twenty-foot swells when six-inch whitecaps were enough to make me grip the railing to keep from pitching overboard.

Then came the whales. The first one we spotted was a rare fin whale--rare to these waters and capable of growing to 85 feet in length. Our boat was 85 feet long! It surfaced, water sluicing off its back in great shining sheets, its gigantic back glistening, then waved to us with its fin and headed for parts unknown. Next came the humpback whale and her calf. They spouted water, dived below water, and frolicked the way only mama whales and their babies can frolic. Just when I thought we'd have to turn back without seeing any migrating gray whales, there they were! Their "blows" drew us toward them. We cruised quietly and waited for them to appear after their initial sounding dive. And they didn't disappoint us. First came the blow, followed by the graceful curve of their backs, then the magnificent tail wave for which they are famous. Then it was down for another sounding dive. About seven minutes later, they were back up again to repeat their magnificent aquatic performance. After that, we left them in peace, content to have witnessed the natural movements of one of God's greatest creatures in the very spot He specifically designed for them.

Glaciers, hundreds of waterfalls, caves, towering granite cliffs, snowy mountaintops that resembled the prickly spine of a mile-high stegosaurus, rocky beaches, terminal morrains, islands covered with trees or perhaps starkly bare, peppered with only the seabirds that perched atop their granite mass, the emerald waters of inland bays, the sun glistening off the softly rolling, white-capped water of the Bering Sea--all of it blended into a panorama of such gut-wrenching beauty as to nearly hurt with the joy of seeing it.

What a privilege I've been given. I know there are many other beautiful places on earth; I've visited some and lived in others. But yesterday, on the deck of the Orca Voyager in Alaska's Resurrection Bay at the mouth of the Bering Sea, surrounded by ancient mountains and in the presence of countless natural wonders--well, at that moment in time, that was the most beautiful spot in the world. Thank You, God! You never cease to amaze me and resurrect my wonder.

Until the next time...

Amazing Grace

2010-05-02T11:37:00.000-07:00

On average, I hurt myself about every twenty minutes. Round-the-clock. I can drift off to sleep relatively unscathed and awaken the next morning marred with colorful splotches, scratches, lumps, and perhaps one or two broken toes. I have no idea what I've done to myself. Discounting otherwordly abuse or alien abduction theories, common sense tells me I did it to myself while I was awake (rather than during my sleep as it appears), and just don't remember doing it. Experience (lots and lots of self-abusive experience) tells me I cannot be trusted with myself. My family agrees. I've been known to trip, slip, collapse, plunge, bounce, ram, and skid over, on, through, into, and against anything in my path. Or off the path. Doesn't matter.

Once I fell over while sitting astride a bicycle parked in our garage. One second I'm sitting there, feet on the floor, hands on the handlebars; the next I'm flat on the cement floor with my legs tangled in the spokes and my head just inches from a workbench that should have cracked my skull open. Another time I fell out of the shower--just standing still, lathering, no fancy turns, no dizzy spells, when bam! I'm flat on my back on the bathroom floor, the shower curtain billowing in my wake. Then there was the time in Alaska when I hurt myself running from a charging pregnant moose I was stalking... okay, I had that one coming.

My all-time best performance, however, had to be the "Great Sprawl." It was a Sunday morning and I was taking my daughter and her husband and my four grandsons out to breakfast. Before we could get inside the front door, I managed to nosedive, gracelessly, to the sidewalk. In the split-second it took me to land, I remember thinking, "This one's gonna hurt." And it did. I bounced--yes, bounced--off the concrete with my right cheekbone. Why I didn't break all my teeth or nose or neck or skull (or cheekbone, for that matter) is a matter of divine grace. There can be no other explanation. And of course, I could have done this in a stadium packed full of NFL fans on a Sunday afternoon, but no, I had to do it in front of an even bigger crowd--the Sunday morning gathering of post-church breakfast eaters at a Cracker Barrel in Kentucky.

While I lay sprawled, broken and bruised, dazed and dumbfounded on the hard concrete, my daughter and her husband hovering above my throbbing face asking me if I'd had a heart attack, the manager drifting in and out of my line of sight with pillows for my aching head and drinks and bananas for my four grandsons, the EMTs arrived. I convinced them I wasn't dying, just clumsy, and with my thanks, sent them away to tend to accident victims who, unlike me, didn't deserve what they got. After thirty minutes of staring at the sun and answering questions, I announced I was fine and more than anything in the world, wanted to stand up, brush myself off and get some breakfast. I needed coffee.

I limped into the store and up to the podium and asked for a table for seven. We were escorted through both dining rooms, past two hundred or so people trying not to stare at the crazy lady with the skid marks on her face and the legs bruised beyond repair, where we had a wonderful breakfast with lots of coffee.

For once, my clumsiness paid off. In what was probably an attempt to keep a lawsuit at bay, the manager picked up our check and told us our meal was on the house. We thanked him profusely and I assured him I did not hold the restaurant responsible for my show-stopping inelegance, that I had a history of spectacular spills. He seemed relieved and promptly refilled my coffee cup.

I thank God for watching over me when I can't be trusted to take care of myself. I can only imagine the number of times He's saved me from certain death--or broken bones, gouged eyes, a fractured skull, you name it; the many times I've been oblivious to His love and attention, those times He's kept watch over me like a shepherd watches over the one sheep who keeps getting lost. Or falls into the creek. Or over the cliff. In short, I thrill to His amazing grace in light of my amazing lack of grace.

Until the next time (and there will no doubt be a next time!)...

Still a winner...

2010-04-26T12:25:00.000-07:00

A lot has happened since I last posted to this blog. First of all, I did not win the Operation First Novel contest in February at the Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild Writing for the Soul conference (that's quite the mouthful!). After holding my breath for what seemed like five years, I let my stomach drop to my ankles for a few seconds after the announcement, then gathered my tattered hopes around me and said, "Okay then. That's behind me. Now I can look forward (and breathe once more) and concentrate on pitching this novel to all the agents, editors, and publishers at the conference."

And that's exactly what I did. Yes, it was disappointing to hear someone else's name as the winner--after all, who wouldn't want to win $20,000 and publication of his or her book by Tyndale Publishing House? I know I did. But, I reminded myself, I was still a finalist and that carried a lot of weight at the conference. Believe me, I threw that weight around every chance I got and it paid off. While I don't know whether or not it will eventually garner me an offer for representation or a contract to buy my manuscript, I do know that I met many wonderful folks from great Christian publishing houses and literary agencies. I had a chance to pitch my book, make important contacts, network with influential people in the business of Christian publishing,
and reunite with my dear friends from the inaugural Craftsman class.

I'm still awaiting word from several agents and publishers. Maybe the news will be good, maybe not. I know I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make my book better and I trust that anyone willing to take me on as a client or offer me a publication contract knows more than I do!

Until the next time...

Denver, Colorado, here I come!

2010-02-14T13:16:00.001-08:00

Even after all these weeks, I can hardly believe it--I'm a finalist in the Christian Writers Guild "Operation First Novel" contest! This Wednesday, I'll be on my way to the Writing for the Soul conference at the Grand Hyatt in Denver, whereupon the other three finalists and I will find out which one of us has won the delightful double prize of publication by Tyndale and a check for $20,000.

I'm so blessed and thrilled to be a finalist. Two of my three esteemed (and equally excited, I'm sure) co-finalists are also Craftsman graduates. One was in the first Craftsman class with me and I'm so happy for him. I find myself in the strange predicament of rooting for Jon, as I know what a talented writer, wonderful husband and father, and all-around great Christian man he is. He and I agree that no matter how much we would love to have our respective books published, it is God's Will we desire, not our own. It's in His hands now and that's been a comfort to me ever since I learned I was one of the lucky four. Knowing that I could no longer edit, rewrite, or otherwise fiddle with my manuscript freed me up to spend every waking minute being nervous. (Isn't life good? :-)

Darice will be meeting me there and I'll be so tickled to be with her again and have her with me during what will undoubtedly be the most exciting night of my professional life--regardless the outcome of the contest. My time in Michigan, Florida, and now Kentucky has been wonderful, but I do miss her and Ron and the pets. I'll be returning to Alaska in early April if all goes as planned, but in the meantime, touching base and spending time with her will be great.

In the meantime (between being nervous during my waking hours and dreaming about it every night), I'm working hard to have an excellent book proposal for not only the manuscript I entered, but also for the sequel that I'm working on now. I will have three great opportunities to pitch my work to agents and editors and I want to make the most of my time at the conference.

I know God is with me no matter what happens and for that I'm humbled and blessed. Thank You, Lord, for holding my hand. I'll be squeezing Yours tight next Thursday night.

Until the next time...

Looking back...

2009-11-11T09:49:00.000-08:00

I'm in Michigan now--Mt. Pleasant, Michigan, to be precise--and having a wonderful time. My days have been spent in the company of my son, his wife, and my little grandson, my sister and her husband (with whom I'm staying at the moment), my niece and nephew and their husband and girlfriend, respectively, and a dear friend with whom I share a long, meaningful, and sometimes downright ridiculous history.

Karen drove up to Mt. Pleasant yesterday and we spent hours laughing, catching up on our current lives, reminiscing about our former lives (we're both divorced and spent many years as single moms), and sharing nuggets of wisdom we've acquired since we last saw one another this past April. There's nothing like admitting to an old, dear friend just how silly we were in our younger (more brilliant) years, talking about the things we would have done differently if we had half the wits back then that we have now, and congratulating one another on how well our kids turned out despite our poverty, lack of parenting skills, and hectic schedules during their formative years.

Some things never change and for that I'll be eternally grateful.

Until the next time...

The march of seasons

2009-09-16T16:43:00.000-07:00

Alaska's summer--though cool, colorful, and filled with abundant daylight--is far too short. Already the temperatures are dropping and soon we'll see the first snowfall of the winter. In the meantime, however, we're enjoying a glorious autumn and I'm going to take advantage of every sun-filled day. Yellow is the primary fall color up here; from our patio we can see the gold-tinged mountains behind us. One of these days I'll wake up to a dusting of snow on the peaks and before long, the entire mountain range will be blanketed in white.

I hope I never grow so accustomed to the glories of nature in this part of the world that I forget how lucky I am to be living, even temporarily, where towering mountains, icy blue glaciers, magnificent wildlife, and breathtaking water vistas are the norm.

Until the next time...

Head over heels...

2009-07-24T06:27:00.000-07:00

Another week in Kentucky has passed--and far too quickly. In just a few days, I'll be flying back to Alaska and although I have sorely missed Darice and the pets (and by extension, Ron, who is still in Korea), it will be wrenching to leave Dennae and Richie and my little boys again. They don't know I'll be returning in December to stay with them for an extended period of time. Without a clear concept of the passage of time they'd probably drive their parents insane with questions. So for the time being, I'll be leaving them with the promise that I'll return as soon as I can.

Dustin and Hunter have been going to the YMCA each morning and spending the day in lots of fun activities, but Cannon has stayed home with me while Dennae sleeps. He's an active, inquisitive, and very intelligent little boy and I find it's quite a challenge to keep up with him. It didn't help matters any that I took a tumble in front of the local Cracker Barrel last Sunday morning and hurt both legs and my face badly. I've been hobbling around ever since and chasing after a 2-year-old has been even tougher than usual. But I'll heal and days like the ones I've been spending here in Kentucky are too few and far between to worry about a few aches and pains.

Until the next time...

Back in Kentucky

2009-07-17T09:36:00.000-07:00

I'm in Kentucky now visiting Dennae, Richie, Dustin, Hunter, and Cannon for three weeks. It's been wonderful and I'm already dreading saying goodbye. I depart Kentucky and head back to Alaska on July 29th. After that, Darice will be leaving for Mississippi for a few months to finish up her degree at MSU and about six weeks later, Ron will be returning home from Korea. Things will be a bit strange in our household for the next few months, but life is like that once in a while.

I'm amazed at the way the boys have grown and changed--Cannon, in particular. Since it's been a year since I last visited them, they've all grown taller and even more handsome than they were the last time I saw them. I surprised Dustin and Hunter at the YMCA and I was humbled and tickled pink to see how excited they were to see me again. Even little Cannon recognized me--that's due, I'm sure, to his seeing me on the webcam over the past few months.

I continue to work on the book. It's nearly finished, although the editing will never stop. Sooner or later, though, I'll have to say "that's it" and let it go. Changes can always be made later; right now, I need to finish it the best way I know how and send it out to agents and editors. I pray it will find a home. As soon as this one is finished, I'm going to start on another. But I'm a first-class procrastinator and saying I'll do something is a far cry from actually doing it. I pray everyday for the diligence necessary to do the work that God has planned for me.

Until the next time...

Writing for the Soul

2009-03-20T11:25:00.000-07:00

I've been in Anchorage, Alaska, for nearly eight months now and its beauty still astounds me. The mountains, now covered completely in white, surround the area and every time I look out a window here on Elmendorf Air Force Base, I'm reminded of God's great kindness in providing His children with all His natural creations. I don't suppose I'll ever grow accustomed to seeing towering mountain peaks, watching bald eagles as they soar overhead, or moose as they strip bare tree branches or wander slowly across the street and yards. Spring is coming and soon we'll be on the lookout for bears. While I wouldn't relish an up-close-and-personal encounter with one, I do hope I see several in their natural habitats (at a safe distance, of course) before I leave this state for good.

I attended the Writing for the Soul conference in Colorado Springs last month and it was phenomenal. Gathered together were writers from all parts of the United States--some from other countries--whose goal is to write for God's greater glory. I learned so much and enjoyed the company of my fellow Craftsman students once again. We were able to spend a lot of time with Jerry B. Jenkins and as usual, he was charming, funny, open, and extraordinarily helpful. That man is definitely devoted to the task of training Christian writers. We were also treated to an hour-long meeting (just the Craftsmen) with Karen Kingsbury, another great writer in the Christian genre. What a wonderful opportunity! I was fortunate in that several editors and an agent asked for my book proposal and first three chapters. I'll be sending that out to each of them shortly and will then begin the process of waiting for their responses.

I pray the Lord will guide me in writing what He would have me write. I count my blessings constantly and know that it's only through His goodness and mercy that I'm able to spend all my time writing. He has provided me with a loving home, fantastic children (and their spouses), and precious grandchildren--the least I can do is to honor Him with any skill He has given me to use while on earth.

Until the next time...

Learning from the best...

2008-12-04T11:09:00.000-08:00

About three weeks ago, I attended the Christian Writers Guild Craftsman residency as part of the course I'm taking with them at the moment. This year-long Craftsman course follows the two-year Apprentice and the one-year Journeyman courses, both offered through the Guild, which is owned now by Jerry B. Jenkins. There are ten of us in this first of all Craftsman courses and it was a real pleasure to meet the others and get to know those who have the same dreams I do--to write for the Lord and to write to the best of our abilities. We bonded immediately and are looking forward to seeing one another again in February when we attend the Writing for the Soul Conference in Colorado Springs.

Another fantastic aspect of this five-day residency (aside from the wonderful lodgings, great location, and scrumptious meals) was meeting Jerry B. Jenkins, John Perrodin, James Scott Bell, Chris Fabry, and McNair Wilson. Sitting down one-on-one (on three separate occasions, no less) with the author of the Left Behind series (as well as over 150 other books) was a humbling, thrilling, fun, and learning-filled experience. Who'd think that I would be trading opinions, jokes, stories about our kids and grandkids, and ideas about the plot of my novel with the man who authored the greatest Christian fiction series of all time? Certainly not me. But there I was. The individual meetings with Jerry, and other great authors--Jim, McNair, Chris, and John--gave me memories to last a lifetime (I know, it's cliche) and enough knowledge to ponder for the next fifty years. Learning from the best places certain expectations on my work. I have no excuses now.

Until the next time...

Settled in...

2008-11-22T18:18:00.000-08:00

It's been several months since I've written anything here. We moved safely (albeit not without our problems) to Anchorage, Alaska, in early August. We're now living on Elmendorf Air Force Base in a beautiful home. My son-in-law has been in Korea for nearly three months now, so the clock is ticking on that year-long tour.

Winter sets in early up here and this year was no exception. Our daylight hours are limited now to about five per day and that will continue to decrease until the first day of winter. After that, it's all downhill to spring! It began snowing earlier this afternoon and is still coming down lightly. Although this wasn't the first snow of the season, it did come in time to cover up some of the dirty stuff along the side of the road. There are outdoor Christmas decorations appearing here and there on base and the new fallen snow is a beautiful, fresh backdrop to the glowing lights.

I'm afraid Christmas may be a lonely proposition this year for my daughter and me. With her husband in Korea and the rest of our loved ones living in Michigan, Kentucky, and Florida, we're looking at spending the holidays in a quiet way. I'm still looking for a church up here and I'm hoping to find one before the holidays. Perhaps I'll find some friends there who are interested in celebrating the birth of our Lord in our home. I'll keep praying.

Today is also my daughter's birthday! She was born on Thanksgiving Day and I can't think of anything I could be more thankful for than another precious child!

Until the next time...

Old Home Week

2008-07-06T13:10:00.001-07:00

I do believe that if I never see a cardboard box again, it'll be too soon. In the past week, we've packed dozens of boxes of our belongings and frankly, I'm beginning to think we have too much stuff.

The past few days have been eventful in other, more pleasant ways, too. I reconnected with an old friend, one I haven't spoken to, nor seen, in years. We talked for a long time, exchanging news of our families and mutual acquaintances, what we're up to now, and how life has treated us for the past few years. It was a wonderful way to touch base with someone who was a very important part of my life and who, though distance and circumstances may keep us from ever speaking with or seeing one another again, remains an important part of my past.

I also wrote a lot this week and was blessed with God's guidance about something that's been bothering me for a long time. I love it when I find His direction in unexpected places, when He speaks to me through others--oftentimes repeatedly, in case I don't get the message the first time! I believe He wants me to be patient and to rely on His timing, rather than on a timeline I feel is appropriate. So my goal for the next few weeks is to exercise patience, watch for His guidance, and read His Word.

Until the next time...

The clock is ticking...

2008-06-30T16:45:00.000-07:00

The time is near. Soon we'll be bidding farewell to Mississippi and traveling on to Ron's next base. Anchorage, Alaska, here we come! Although packing up our belongings and moving from the house that's been our home for the past three years is wrenching, and leaving our loved ones in Michigan, Kentucky, and Florida is tough on the heartstrings, we're nevertheless anticipating our new home and the adventures that await us with high hopes and great expectations.

We're driving cross-country, then traveling the Alcan Highway into Canada for a couple of days, and back into the U.S. when we cross the Alaskan/Canadian line. I can't imagine the scenery that awaits us as we travel westward, then turn north toward our 49th state. We lived there before moving to Mississippi and it is truly one of God's greatest masterpieces.

This time, rather than living in the middle of the state near Fairbanks, we'll be on the coastline. Over 60% of the state's population lives in Anchorage and many of the same restaurants and stores that exist in the lower 48 can be found there as well. Although I'll miss seeing the northern lights as often as I did the first time I lived in Alaska, I'm sure the lower part of the state has enough beauty to delight me constantly.

I also look forward to continuing to write for the Lord, to greater inspiration and a renewed sense of responsibility toward fulfilling the purpose of my life. God has moved me (literally) in directions I never dreamed of when I was younger. I've seen more places, had more adventures, and been blessed in ways too numerous to list. I can't understand His generosity, but I will do my level best to live up to His expectations.

Until the next time...

Mission Impossible? Never!

2008-06-21T17:18:00.000-07:00

Who am I? What am I doing here? Do I have an assignment in life, a mission to perform? These and other questions are ones that, sooner or later, all human beings begin to ponder. I'm no exception.

My sister, Shelley, and I had an interesting email exchange today on that very topic. One of the characteristics I've always admired about my younger sister (younger by a mere thirteen months, mind you) is her drive. Shel has an enduring sense of direction; she sets a goal and attains it by literally writing down a list of things that must be done in order to reach that goal--and then doing them, one by one by one. It doesn't matter if it's as mundane as writing a shopping list or as complex as creating her own web site. It gets done because she gets it done. Despite a grueling painting schedule in her own art studio and gallery exhibitions of her work all around the country, multiple family fun-stuff occasions, her husband's heavy international business travel, a magazine-worthy herb and flower garden maintained strictly by the two of them, a huge house and no household help (other than her husband), three grown children (two in college, one married and forging her own career), and being in the late stages of developing an art residency along the rocky coast of Maine, she's also accepted a teaching position with Central Michigan University to teach art. I'd feel like Stretch Armstrong; she feels like the Energizer Bunny.

What does all this have to do with questioning who we are and what we're doing here? Everything. The point is, despite all the roles she plays in her life, Shelley knows who she is. Rather than being confused by the vigorous obligations of her busy life and getting lost in the drama and hub-bub of being so active in each one of them, she is instead invigorated by the pull and tug of the things she loves to do. She draws strength from what others might find exhausting; she grows and learns and stretches and succeeds because she dares to try.

Yes, she gets tired and there are times when she probably wonders if she'll get it all done. But she's made provisions for those times--she plans. She writes it down, reads it, does it, and then crosses it off her list. It sounds so simple and in theory, it is. The trick, of course, is in actually doing those four things and that's something Shel picked up on early in life. There's no way she could succeed as spectacularly as she has (and continues to do) if she didn't organize and then act on it. In order to do that, she has to know who she is and what she--with all her strengths and weaknesses, both her assets and her hang-ups--is capable of doing.

Successful writing is a similar proposition. We writers can dream and doodle and talk and participate in forums and form writing groups and read books and call ourselves writers all we want, but if we don't write, we aren't successful. If we don't know who we are, we can't do what we're supposed to do. And if we don't do what we're supposed to do, we're not fulfilling our mission or completing our assignment.

Bottom line: Knowing who we are + doing what we do best = fulfilling our dreams.

Until the next time...

The new and improved DeeTales!

2008-06-18T20:03:00.000-07:00

This is the inaugural post of my newly-designed, highly-improved, class-act blog. Many thanks go to George and Ashley Weis of Tekeme Studios for all their help in creating a blog design that so accurately reflects my wishes and the "feel" I wanted for my blog. I asked for a "writerly and Christian" design and they hit it spot-on. Not only were they incredibly friendly and easy to work with, but their professionalism and creativity were first rate. I highly recommend them and their studio to anyone looking for anything remotely associated with a web site, blog, copywriting, or any other professional needs along that line.

Thanks a million, George and Ashley! I will definitely be a repeat customer and look forward to working with you in the future when I need my web site and business cards designed.

Until the next time...

Lazy days of summer

2008-06-03T13:26:00.001-07:00

It's been a while since I've posted, but it's been time well-spent. Our week with 15-month-old Cannon is now behind us--aside from all our wonderful memories and tons of photos we need to have developed. Darice and Ron returned him to his mom this past Saturday and swapped him for his two older brothers. Dustin and Hunter will be staying for a full two weeks.

Already, we've had a blast. The boys have been swimming in their pool, played on the playground behind our house, ridden their bikes, had a movie and popcorn night, and had a little friend from down the street come to our house to visit. They played with our kitties, Maestro, and Mac the Bunny. Darice cleaned out the under-the-stairs closet so they can use it for their playroom/fort/toy stashaway. Frankly, they have it made. They're sleeping on a queen-sized inflatable mattress; they have lots of room and it's cushy and cozy. They've been very good about going to bed when we tell them to... and they're just as good about getting up in the morning. Early. Very, very early. But we wouldn't trade this time with them for any amount of sleeping-in time.

No, these are special days, days that will pass as quickly as water through a hose. At this moment in time, they think coming to visit Grandma and Aunt Darice and Uncle Ron is just the neatest thing imaginable. There will come a time, I know, when they will have little time for any of us. Sports, girls, friends, school, other activities, and just plain growing up will usurp the precious time we spend with them now. I will not forget a moment of it; I will keep these long, hot, lazy days of a Mississippi summer spent in the company of my grandsons in my mind and my heart for all time.

Until the next time...

Quality time

2008-05-22T04:40:00.000-07:00

This Saturday, we'll be picking up our next-to-youngest grandson, Cannon, for a weeklong visit with Grandma and Aunt Darice and Uncle Ron. While his brothers, Dustin and Hunter, have visited us here many times, Cannon is just now getting to the age when he can be away from Mom for any length of time. We'll see how it goes. I'm looking forward to lots of giggles and hugs, sloppy kisses and sleepy cries. Whatever happens, though, we'll love being able to spend the uninterrupted time with him and relish the opportunity he'll have to feel at home at our house, to get to know us for more than a day or two at a time, and to show off all the things he's been learning at home. Mom tells me he's learned how to crawl out of his crib and other assorted escape measures that 15-month-old little boys (and girls) are thrilled to master. Even though he won't get more than a foot away before we scoop him up, he'll have the fun of knowing he did it--that he got one past us! There will be long walks and playground stops, splashing in the pool and going for rides, visiting the stores and getting a bite to eat somewhere.

Most of all, however, I'm looking forward to the quiet times when I can hold him and rock him and savor the oh-so-fleeting moments when he thinks being held by Grandma is the greatest thing in the world (short of being held by Mama, of course!). Those times, as do all precious times with our children and grandchildren, fly away at the "speed of growing up," that fastest of all phenonema experienced by little girls and boys the world over.

Then, a week from Saturday, we'll drive back up to our rendezvous point and swap little Cannon for his two brothers, who will begin their annual two-week summer visit at our house. They're old hands at visiting us here in Mississippi, so they no doubt have their itinerary all planned--if it's anything like it's been for the past few visits, it'll be an exhaustive one! But as with all wonderful things in this life, it's well worth the effort, time, money, short nights, long days, and skewed schedules just to have them with us.

Thank You, Lord, for giving us Dustin and Hunter and Cannon and Tyler to love and cherish, and for allowing us to help out their parents once in a while by having them spend quality time with us. We promise we'll do our part to see to it that these youngsters (and any others who may come along someday) are raised as children of You, our Heavenly Father.

Until the next time...

The countdown begins...

2008-05-18T16:57:00.000-07:00

Life has taken on a new urgency in the past few days. Orders to McChord Air Force Base have been changed, and although my son-in-law is still going to Korea for a year, my daughter and I will be living in Anchorage, Alaska, rather than Tacoma, Washington, while he's gone. When he returns, he'll be stationed at Elmendorf Air Force Base. We're all excited at the change in orders and looking forward to living once more in the land of awe-inspiring natural beauty. We'll be leaving on August 1st.

Before we moved to Mississippi, Darice and Ron completed a 4-year tour at Eielson AFB, near a small town called North Pole, Alaska, and just a few miles south of Fairbanks. I lived with them during their last year there. Eielson was a beautiful base, too, and the wildlife and scenery were breathtaking. But living in Anchorage will afford us a lot more of the comforts to which we've grown accustomed--malls, more restaurants from which to choose, warmer winters (although snowier than in the center of the state), a Barnes and Noble :-) and "up close and personal" views of the mountains. It will also be a bit easier to fly home from Anchorage than it was from Fairbanks, although it's still a hike back to Michigan, Kentucky and Florida! We'll make the necessary adjustments and arrangements, though, and hope to see our loved ones as often as possible.

The creative side of me is also thrilled to be moving to Alaska. Nothing invigorates me more than witnessing the awesome beauty of God's hand. In addition to being surrounded by mountains, water, and wildlife once we arrive in Anchorage, we have the trip out there to look forward to! Yes, it'll be a long one--about ten days, we calculate--but the experience will be well worth the sore bottoms and aching backs we might suffer from being in the car for hours on end each day. I've never driven across the United States or up through Canada on the ALCAN Highway. My excitement mounts daily as I think about the sights and sounds of a journey across the United States. God has truly been good to me!

Until the next time...

Family Time

2008-05-01T06:11:00.000-07:00

Through the wise and ingenious efforts of my daughter, Darice, she and I will be driving to Kentucky tomorrow to meet with not only Dennae and her family, but my son and his wife, their 8-month old son, and my children's father and his second wife. This will be the first time in at least twelve years that I have had all three of my children in the same room with me--let alone with their father, too! Add to that happy mix the presence of all four of my grandsons and you've got a recipe for lots of fun and food, hundreds of pictures, and a weekend full of laughter, talk, and reminiscing.

My son and his wife haven't yet met Hunter and Cannon, nor have Darice and Dennae met Derek and Renee's son, Tyler. These four little boys will be meeting for the first time and I expect a good time will be had by all. As you can well imagine, I'm brimming with excitement at the thought of cuddling four little boys and hugging my grown children--all in the same day!

I pray for safe travel for all of my loved ones, for loving family time, for renewed appreciation of one another's opinions, decisions, goals, and for a weekend of fun and frivolity! Thank You, Lord, for my children, their spouses, and their children. Thank You for bringing me to a point in my life where this is even possible, and I ask that this be just the first of many more face-to-face reunions that our family is able to have in the years to come.

Until the next time...

Family Ties

2008-04-16T19:59:00.000-07:00

After a wonderful five-day visit, my dad left this morning (accompanied by his wife) to return to their home in Florida. He arrived last Friday and then his wife drove on to visit her daughter in Tennessee. She returned Tuesday afternoon and after spending the night, they took off early this morning.

For those few days, my dad and I enjoyed one another's company, shared memories, laughed, ate, cried, watched movies, and talked--a lot. We reminisced about family vacations, Mother (who died nearly six years ago), other loved ones, and our upcoming move to Washington. We shared silly jokes, took drives around the town and looked at beautiful historic homes with their yards awash in full-bloomed azaleas, shared breakfasts at McDonald's, and discussed cheesecake recipes.

Most of all, however, we reaffirmed our love for one another and for my brother and sister, all our children and grandchildren, and for my mother. We tightened those family ties and reinforced the bonds of love and memories that keep families together, no matter how far we may be from one another or how seldom we can visit.

Thank You, Lord, for giving us this time together and for those loved ones, on earth or in Heaven, we call family.

Until the next time...

On the move again...

2008-03-31T14:09:00.000-07:00

Tacoma, Washington, here we come! Or more precisely, McChord Air Force Base just outside Tacoma, north of Olympia and south of Seattle, here we come. Ron was finally informed of the whereabouts of his next base, the one we'll be moving to this summer and that Darice and I will be living on, or close to, for the year he's in Korea.

The next few months are going to be busy ones. Not only is Darice trying to finish up some classes at Mississippi State University, but I'm embarking on a very ambitious path for my writing--one that will take enormous chunks of time and even more determination, thought, and dedication to the task-at-hand. Of course, Ron will be working his normal shift, as well as preparing for the move to his new duty station. There's a ton of outprocessing paperwork to be completed when a member of the military moves from one assignment to another. During all of this, we'll be packing our belongings, dividing them up into what we can't live without when we first get there and what we can get along without for however long it takes our furniture and other household items to catch up with us.

Hopefully, we're up to the challenge. The move is tentatively scheduled for some time in July. This is old stuff for Darice and Ron; they've moved to new duty stations several times. But for me, it's a relatively new procedure and I have to admit it's exciting. I'm looking forward to new surroundings, a cooler climate, gorgeous scenery, and an unfamiliar community to explore.

Until the next time...

If you ask me...

2008-03-21T14:14:00.000-07:00

The last few days have been blessedly busy. A dear friend from Michigan drove all the way down here to Mississippi to visit me and we had a blast. Karen and I go back a long, long way. We worked together in the same office, married in 1970, became single parents in 1977, and had our children (two for her, three for me) one after another--starting in 1972 and working our way through 1976. To top it all off, our divorces were final during the same month of the same year.

There are other similarities in the twisting and turning paths our lives have taken, but one of the most interesting is that we're both writers. Karen and I even co-authored a newspaper column at one time. It was called "If You Ask Me..." and it appeared on Saturdays; she wrote it one week, I wrote it the next. But our shared column wasn't the only thing we wrote. Every spare minute of our adult lives, I believe, has been spent either jotting something down, observing others (and thinking of ways to incorporate their quirky ways into our latest work), reading, or actually sitting down and composing. We've helped one another with grammar, punctuation, wording, editing, titling--you name it, we've discussed it. We survived failed marriages, worked fulltime while raising little children in single-parent homes, and managed to stay one step ahead of the bill collectors when we were young and poor.

These last few days flew by. We laughed until our sides hurt at the crazy things we did (and thought) as idealistic young, single moms, and marveled at how well we turned out despite the frazzled lives we lived. We spent hours reminiscing, catching up with the events that transpired since we last saw one another. We reconnected in a way that emails and phone calls, as nice as they are, just can't do.

She's off to Gulf Shores now, and after that she'll travel to Tuscaloosa and then on up to Louisville to catch up with other old friends she holds dear. Karen may be a little on the crazy side, but that's exactly why I love her--and why her other friends cherish her friendship, as well. She shows me how to laugh in the face of adversity, how to cry when it's the only thing to do, to laugh when it's the best thing to do, and to be a friend under all circumstances. She brings out the best in me.

Thanks, Karen, for loving me enough to drive all this way for a visit and for reminding me once more what real friendship is all about. If you ask me, you're the best that ever was.

Until the next time...

New directions...

2008-03-10T16:36:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I need a new direction, something new at which to take aim. I found that very thing a couple of days ago and I'm very excited about it. For a long time now, I've need a kick in the pants to reignite my passion for not only writing, but for submitting what I've written. For whatever reason, I've lost my confidence and stopped submitting pieces altogether. That's a very unsettling thing to happen to a writer, especially one who feels the days and months and years whizzing by at light speed.

Oh, I've written. Not a day goes by that I don't write something, and on most days, it's quite a bit. But I don't take it any further than that and that's not my purpose in this life. I firmly believe that I am to write for God; that He has called me to this passion and inspires me to do what He asks of me. The problem seems to be that I'm ignoring His direction--if not purposely, at least through pure laziness. I have the time, I have the equipment, I have the ability. What I don't have is an excuse for not submitting my work for publication on a timely and regular basis. As of right now, that's changing.

Until the next time...

Ties that bind...

2008-03-01T10:39:00.001-08:00

If home is where the heart is, then my heart is scattered in chunks across the nation. Some of it lies in Michigan, another chunk is in Kentucky, yet another in Florida. Still more pieces reside in Indiana and Georgia. My friends and loved ones aren't located in one handy place where I can keep tabs on them in person. No, the passage of time and circumstances beyond our control have sent us in different directions--geographically, at least. Emotionally, we are bound together with a long "bungee cord" of love that stretches as far as it needs to in order to keep us tethered. Whenever one of us needs a helping hand or emotional support or just feels the need to spend time in someone's company, a gentle tug on the cord is all it takes to bring us back together.

There's no place on this earth--or in the heavenly world beyond--where that cord can't reach. On earth, it keeps us bound; to the eternal kingdom above, it keeps us connected. There will come a time when I'll shimmy up that cord straight to Heaven and then watch my loved ones from above while they tug and pull and keep themselves bound not only to one another, but also to me, other loved ones in paradise, and to our Heavenly Father.

Until the next time...

Making the switch..

2008-02-21T10:33:00.000-08:00

The clock continues to tick and in about 48 hours, I'll be meeting Darice and Ron at a Cracker Barrel where they will "make the switch" with Richie. In other words, we're meeting about midway to save everybody involved a drive longer than absolutely necessary. Since we're in the middle of another ice storm here in Kentucky, I'm praying for safe, dry roads on Saturday morning.

Although I've been able to maintain this blog, contribute to the Christian Writers Forum blog, and email my loved ones from here, it's been difficult to sit down and actually write. A household with four cats, two young boys, a one-year-old baby, and two working parents (one working third shift) creates a noisy, sometimes chaotic environment in which to concentrate for any length of time. It's darned near impossible, in fact. I'm looking forward to getting back into the writing groove and resuming some normalcy in my life. I've grown accustomed, I guess, to having my days largely to myself, being able to do just as I please (when I please), and not adhering to the schedules of schools, babies, or places of employment. Call me spoiled, but I've reached a point in my life where doing what I feel like doing or what I'm inspired to do at the moment has become very important to my well-being--not to mention avoiding bronchitis, stomach bugs, colds, sinus infections, and big bruises from falling down in the kitchen at night. Frankly, I need to get home just to stay in one piece!

Making the switch from full-time grandmother back to full-time "me" might be a welcome change, but it's no substitute for little boy hugs and slimy kisses, for checking three beds at night to make sure everyone's covered up and cozy, or waking up before dawn to big grins and happy giggles. I'm going to miss this place.

Until the next time...

Harvest

2008-02-18T12:28:00.000-08:00

I can handle a lot of things--and I have. Two failed marriages, health and financial problems, the usual child-rearing scenarios and a multitude of other problems too numerous and mundane to mention are among the hassles I've experienced over time. Since they haven't killed me, I assume they've made me stronger.

But one thing I can't handle is betrayal. The loss of trust it creates is incalculable; the pain, heart-wrenching; and the ever-widening circle of suffering it triggers goes on forever. Who knows where a betrayal will end or when the pain will subside? Who can calculate the cost or measure the true repercussions? Certainly not us human beings. We're so limited in our thinking, in our capacity to see the big picture, to project our actions into the future and see just how, and who, we've hurt by our actions that we can only guess at what our behavior will ultimately harvest.

Being betrayed is bad enough. Watching your child being betrayed would be unthinkable. I know for a fact that it would bring out the very worst in me; perhaps that is yet another nasty side effect of this kind of treachery--in addition to the initial agony, it also causes others to sin against their fellow man and more importantly, their Heavenly Father. Our thoughts, if voiced aloud, would no doubt betray us and reveal the very real feelings of anger and blame and deep disappointment we would naturally feel--as loving, caring parents--on our child's behalf.

I pray I never face that situation.

Until the next time...

Time well-spent

2008-02-11T10:47:00.000-08:00

It's true what they say: Time flies when you're having fun! It's been a week since I've posted and those seven days have flown by. But we've been busy here in Kentucky and the past few days have been well-spent.

We held a combined birthday party this past Saturday for Hunter, who turned five on February 7th, and his baby brother, Cannon, who will turn one year old on the 21st. It was a gala event with lots of family members in attendance, two birthday cakes (both puppy-themed), colorful balloons, and presents galore. It was well worth all the preparation that went into it and even though the boys may not remember the specifics, they'll grow up with the full knowledge that their mommy and daddy love them so much that they'll go to great lengths to make their birthdays memorable. The same thing will happen when Dustin turns seven in May.

I've been so busy having fun with the boys that I've neglected my writing and this blog. It's always been my intention to use this personal blog to glorify the Lord in any way possible and when I neglect it, I feel as though I've lost an opportunity to tell of His faithfulness and love. The fact that I'm in Kentucky and capable of helping out with the day care for my grandsons is proof of His unfailing love. He knows better (even than I do) of my love for the boys and my need to be useful. I want to be the best mother, mother-in-law, daughter, sister, and grandmother I can possibly be, but sometimes money, distance, and time restrictions don't allow as much participation as I would like. This opportunity to spend a long period of time with the boys has truly been a God-send!

By the time my visit ends here in Kentucky, I'll be ready to go back home to Darice and Ron and resume my life there with them and the pets. I'll need some rest, no doubt, but I'm doing surprisingly well and I give all the credit for that to the Lord. He's given me all the strength I've prayed for. He knows how I want to appear to my grandchildren, i.e., thriving, useful, caring, capable and loving. I don't want them to remember me for my physical limitations (as invisible as they are), but for what I was able to do with them. I want them to recall how we played and laughed and worked together, how we shared jokes and told stories and cuddled. I want them to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that their Grandma Harper loves them (and their little cousin, Tyler) as much as I love their parents--and that God loves them even more!

Until the next time...

Making hay in Kentucky

2008-02-04T11:25:00.000-08:00

I've been in Kentucky for nine days. Each of those days has brought its sorrows (in the form of aches and pains and a horrible cold) and joys (just about everything else). My dream of being a hands-on grandma has come true and it's just as wonderful as I imagined it would be.

While I won't be here beyond February, this month will give me a chance to do all the things I've dreamed of doing for (and with) three of my four grandsons. Being here for them first thing in the morning, all through the day, and right up to the last thing at night have been goals of mine since I first learned I was going to be a grandmother. Helping them with homework and valentines, planning birthday parties, supervising playtime, making forts out of kitchen chairs and blankets, reading books, and sitting on the floor playing with cars--all of these are worthy and longed-for activities for a grandma who doesn't have a chance to do these things anytime she gets the urge. No, I have to make hay while the sun shines and I've got a lot of hay piled up--and a lot more ready to be baled.

By the time I return home to Mississippi, I fully expect to be exhausted, sore, and sad to leave my grandmothering days behind for the time being. But until then, I'm bound and determined to do what I can to make joyful memories for my little boys.

Until the next time...

Time flies and blessings flow...

2008-01-28T10:52:00.000-08:00

After a very pleasant drive from Mississippi, I am once again in Kentucky. For the next month, I will have the great pleasure of taking care of three of my precious grandsons. Aside from much colder weather than we were having in Mississippi, my transition to Kentucky living has been a smooth one.

While I'm here, both Hunter and Cannon will have birthdays; Hunter turns 5 and Cannon will be a year old. It doesn't seem possible that twelve months have passed since I was here at this time last year, helping out Dennae when she was ordered to complete bedrest by her doctor. On February 21st, Cannon was born. And here we are, one year later. Time does certainly fly, but I've found that it does that whether or not you're having a good time! Fortunately for me, and thanks to the Good Lord, I have been having a good time. My life is filled with one blessing after another and the chance to be with three of my four grandchildren is wonderful!

Now if I could just find a way to get the fourth one down here!

Until the next time...

Turnabout

2008-01-24T12:40:00.000-08:00

What a difference a day makes! Yesterday I was down and out because I'd decided I couldn't provide daycare for my three grandchildren. I reversed that decision last night and today I'm feeling good about it. I'll still have to be careful not to overextend myself--this body of mine is still rebelling against anything remotely "glutenified"--but as this is a lifelong affliction, I'll have to learn to live with it under any and all circumstances. And this won't be the two-month-long situation that I first envisioned. I have doctor's appointments and other obligations here at home to bring me back after a month, but at least I'll be doing what I can.

I'm praying that my decision is the best for everyone concerned. While I'll miss my daughter and son-in-law with whom I live, and my brand new baby kitty, Maple (along with our other pets), I'm looking forward to the opportunity to spend unlimited time with my grandsons and to make a lasting impression on them. Cannon, the youngest of this particular family (I have yet another lovable grandson, Tyler, who is only five months old), is going to be a year old on February 21st. He's getting ready to take his first steps and I want to be on-hand when he does.

I was blessed to be able to spend ample time with both Dustin and Hunter when they were babies. In fact, we lived under the same roof for a good share of their first years. That hasn't been the case with Cannon and although I know that actually living with your grandchildren is not a benefit that most grandparents have, I would like to have that same bonding experience with the youngest of the three boys. I want to be a positive influence in his life and starting when he's young will help me to do that. I firmly believe that grandparenting can be (and often is) done very well long-distance, but if I have a chance to spend time with him during his formative months, well, so much the better.

I'm trusting, as always, that the Lord will guide my steps and that I'm doing what is best for not only my grandsons, but for my children and me, as well. Juggling responsibilities, good intentions, realistic expectations, and distance is not easy. Throw in the desire to be a good grandparent and a helpful parent, and it really gets complicated.

Until the next time...

Down and out...

2008-01-23T14:32:00.000-08:00

I was very sad today. I had to tell my youngest daughter I couldn't go to Kentucky to help out with childcare for my three beloved grandsons for the next couple of months. Oh, I had a good reason--I'm so sick I can barely get my head off the pillow and I can blame that on accidentally "glutening" myself a day or so by eating soup in a restaurant. Being a newbie to this Celiac stuff, I didn't take the proper precautions against eating even the tinest amount of gluten--or food that could have gluten in it. I gambled and lost.

What does that have to do with not being able to babysit for the next couple of months? Just that I can't trust my body not to betray me again and nobody needs a grandma hanging around who's so sick she can't do what she's there to do in the first place. If there's one thing I know I can do, without a shadow of a doubt, it's that I can be a wonderful grandma to my grandsons. But I can't be wonderful if I feel cruddy. I can't help others if I can't help myself. I can't be Wonder Woman when I'm busy wondering what's making me sick this time.

That's a problem with me--trying to be Wonder Woman. I spent so many years promising myself that I would be a "hands on" grandma when my grandchildren came along (and up to this point, I've done just that) that I didn't allow any margin for error, or distance, or illness. I didn't count on being human. I thought I could do it all. I can't. I thought I could put aside my aches and pains, postpone my doctors' appointments, or take my meds and just not think about my ailments without serious repercussions. I'm slowly learning just how wrong I was.

Of course, my daughter understands completely and the boys don't even know their grandma let them down. Perhaps it's better this way. Maybe spending that length of time with them when I was feeling sick and miserable would put a different spin on their view of Grandma.

I think maybe God knows a lot more about me than He's letting on. I need to listen more and plan less. I need to ask for His guidance instead of relying on my desires. I need to take care of myself before I can take care of anyone else.

But it still made me sad.

Until the next time...

Waiting it out...

2008-01-21T11:27:00.001-08:00

I have had a cold now for a good two weeks. This isn't just your run-of-the-mill-sniffles type cold; no, this is a box-of-tissues-a-day cold. This is a "how on earth can my head produce so much gunk in such a short period of time" cold. This one has got me down.

I have a variety of things wrong with me, but because they're not life-threatening and don't cramp my style at all (thank goodness my style isn't Olympic hurtling or Mt. Everest-climbing), for the most part, I can ignore them. I take my meds, they do their job, and everyone's happy--particularly the drug companies. But this cold is different. Nothing I do for it puts a dent in its super-human ability to produce massive amounts of fluids. All I can do is stem their flow and wait it out.

Sometimes life is like that. We can't stop the dam from breaking, but we can slow it down and maybe channel its flow to a better place. We can't obliterate crime, but we can make sure we don't participate in it and take precautions to prevent our being victims. We can't stop sin from ruling our world, but we can take refuse to let it rule us and take heart that it's a temporary reign, that a sinless, disease-free, crime-free eternity awaits those of us who believe in Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior.

It's comforting to know that in Heaven, I won't have this cold, no matter how long it seems to be taking to pass. Sometimes I think the best part about suffering inconveniences is that we feel so darned good when they're behind us. If that's the case, I'm looking forward to feeling downright euphoric in a few days!

Until the next time...

Special delivery

2008-01-18T12:05:00.000-08:00

I am so incredibly blessed! The postman just delivered a package to me--a very special one from my sister. Earlier this week she mentioned she had sent me a "mid-winter pick-me-up" and did she ever!

When I opened it, I discovered an adorable pair of orange slipper socks with colorful flowers and sparkly beaded centers, the perfect desk calender (Book Lover's Calendar for 2008), a copy of David Baldacci's Wish You Well (she knows how I love his writing), a tube of my very favorite (and very special) Sally Hansen peppermint foot creme, and a delicious-smelling Village Candle. (Well, I'm sure it smells delicious, although at the moment I can't smell a thing. But anything called "Angel Kisses" has to smell heavenly, doesn't it?!) And to top it all off, she sent me four pocket-packs of tissue. Now that might sound odd, but Shelley knows my constant need for tissues--at my bedside, in my bathroom, on my desk, around the house, and especially in my purse. I never have enough. She couldn't have sent anything more practical or useful or desired, for that matter.

And how does she do it? How does she know exactly what I need, what will comfort me, amuse me, inspire me, be useful to me? Because she loves me and she listens. She really and truly listens. She has amazed me time and again with her ability to give me things I thought no one knew I wanted but me. She doesn't shrug her shoulders and sigh, "I just don't know what to get her anymore." No, she constantly comes up with delightful gifts--either unexpectedly, like this one, or at Christmases or birthdays, or "just because." Shel astounds me with the way she shows me that she loves me, with the way she respects my needs and my wants and recognizes even those little things I know I don't need or deserve, but just would love to have.

Shelley is of the "use it up and get some more" school. No setting things up on a shelf because they're too pretty to use or to burn or scribble on or fill up with notes and ideas. Nope, she believes things should be enjoyed for what they are and when they're all gone--well, there are plenty more where they came from. She lives every moment of her life with a zest that few people can match. She appreciates the sights and sounds and smells and textures of all things. She delights in serving her family and guests delicious meals and then showering them with comfort and luxury and a feeling that you're the most special person in the whole wide world.

That's a gift--not only a gift that God has bestowed upon Shelley, but one that she uses freely to make others feel loved, appreciated and thought of. And all that love and thoughtfulness was tucked into my box today, surrounding all my wonderful gifts. I wonder if the mailman had any idea just what a special package he was delivering?

Until the next time...

Hard Lesson Learned

2008-01-15T15:24:00.001-08:00

After settling back into writer mode after my foray to the north to visit my daughter, her husband and the three young'uns, I found myself in a dilemma. A bad one. My trusty laptop, the machine I carry with me everywhere--Florida, Michigan, Alaska, Kentucky, Mississipppi--has died. I have a nice new one now, thanks to the knowledge and generosity of my daughter and son-in-law, and I love it. But I need some things that are still encased in the hard drive of my old computer and it simply refuses to boot up. Although I have those documents (supposedly) on a thumb drive, I can't seem to get it to open up and transfer to the new computer. So I'm resigned to being plagued with computer problems until my old one is somehow cured long enough for me to retrieve my things or someone figures out what to do with this reluctant thumb drive. That could be tomorrow or it could be five years from now. Let's hope it's somewhere between those two extremes.

I learned a very valuable lesson, though. I need to back up absolutely everything I write--every single day. I've heard the warnings, commiserated with those who have had similar problems, and thought about what would happen if that fate befell me... well, it has. And just thinking about backing up documents isn't good enough. I have to do it. Often.

Not all is lost, though. I know there's someone out there who can tease that information out of my laptop and I do have the majority of my work safely settled onto the hard drive of my new machine, thanks to a CD I burned a few months ago. If anyone reads this, I hope my disaster will serve not only as a hard lesson for me, but as a warning for others.

Until the next time...

Road trip...

2008-01-10T10:15:00.000-08:00

The new year has been good to me so far. I returned a couple of days ago from a short visit to Kentucky for the purpose of delivering the bunkbeds and dresser that we bought for Dustin, Hunter and Cannon (and, of course, for spending time with my family). Those beds are now set up and being used by two very grateful and excited little boys. Their baby brother will no doubt have some fun with them when he gets a little older. Right now, his world revolves around Mommy and Daddy and his brothers--new bunkbeds and a boring new dresser in the bedroom he shares with Dustin and Hunter are of no consequence to a ten-month-old!

What made this visit a bit different from several other visits I've made to Kentucky from Mississippi was that I made the trip alone. Darice wasn't able to accompany me this time (the new term at Mississippi State started), so the driving was entirely up to me. Now I've driven many, many miles during my lifetime. I've made numerous solo trips over the years and despite the long list of things that can go wrong, the Lord has blessed me every time with a safe ride. The weather may not have been ideal, the traffic might have been busier than I would like, I may have gotten lost or forgotten to buy gas until it was a downright emergency, but all in all, I've emerged unscathed from my miles on the road alone.

This trip was no different. Despite being a bit leery at the outset, my confidence rose with each passing mile. I had forgotten just how much fun a road trip can be! The weather on the way up was fantastic--sunny skies, dry roads, lighter-than-expected traffic. The return trip was overcast and dreary, but despite dire predictions of nasty storms for the entire length of my journey, I didn't encounter any. (They hit later that night.) I listened to (and sang along with) the radio, watched the passing scenery, and kept a close eye on my map. I made the necessary bathroom stops and picked up a cup of coffee or iced tea once in a while and still made good time. Before I knew it, I was at my destination.

But I know I wasn't really traveling alone. I may not have had another person sitting in the passenger seat, but I know I had divine company in the form of ministering angels and the Holy Spirit Himself. I know just as sure as I'm sitting at my computer this very moment that the Lord was with me as I drove up and back, just as He will be with anyone who asks for His presence.

Thank You, Lord, not only for a safe journey, but for riding along with me.

Until the next time...

Countless blessings

2007-12-31T19:43:00.000-08:00

In my time zone, 2008 is two hours and 14 minutes away. 2007 is quickly slipping through my fingers and all that I planned to do this past year has either been accomplished or it's on the list for next year. Regardless of my victories or failures in that area, I've had a good year.

Two grandsons were born--Cannon Dennis Hedges and Tyler Henry Gordon. One lives with his brothers Dustin and Hunter in Kentucky; the other lives in Michigan by himself (well, as far as kids go, that is). I traveled a lot this year--to Michigan, Kentucky and Florida; we enjoyed reciprocal visits from loved ones from all of those states, as well. I got a new kitty, Maple, and she's brought untold joy to this household. All in all, it was a great year for our family and I look prayerfully forward to another healthy and happy twelve months in 2008.

I accomplished some things with my writing, although not nearly as much as I should have or that I am capable of doing. That will change in 2008. I was diagnosed with yet another ailment, but I've chosen to look at this new medical problem as a way to become healthier in all other aspects of my life. We will be moving to another base (as yet unknown) this coming summer and we're happily anticipating a new state, home, and community in which to live and prosper.

I've stayed in touch with a couple of cherished old friends; hopefully, we'll have a chance to visit one another this coming year. We've made new friends on this base and are thankful for their company, support, and friendliness. Nothing makes the military life easier than making friends around the world.

God has been extraordinarily kind, generous and loving with my family this year. I praise Him for His power, glory and everlasting love and thank Him endlessly for the many blessings He bestows upon me and my loved ones every minute of the day. I thank Him for my loved ones, for their guidance and love, their humor and support. Without them and our Heavenly Father, I would be less than nothing. And of course, none of the above-mentioned wonderful events and/or people and relationships during this past year (or any of the fifty plus before that) would have been possible without His constant presence in my life.

I can hardly wait for 2008 and the glorious things the Lord has in store for me! Opportunities abound and I know that God has countless blessings ready to pour upon me and those I love. Thank you, Heavenly Father!

Until the next time...

Glutton-free at last!

2007-12-28T09:37:00.000-08:00

The Christmas season--for those of us in this household, at least--is over for another year. Yes, the New Year's activities are still looming, but we don't do much to mark that holiday, preferring instead to take it easy, catch up on things, and look forward to starting anew. Besides, it's time for me to begin my yearly ritual--planning, designing, beginning, and ultimately abandoning my latest diet. Celebrating on New Year's Eve would only serve to pile on another pound or two!

This year, though, I believe the Lord has taken that out of my hands. About two weeks before Christmas, I was diagnosed with Celiac disease, which means I'll be eating a gluten-free diet for the remainder of my days. Although I missed eating all the luscious holiday goodies, knowing that I would have been desperately ill during the entire holiday season makes me realize that finding out beforehand was indeed a blessing. Yes, it will be a challenge to eat without consuming any wheat, rye, barley or oat products ever again, but the benefits far outweigh any disadvantages. As soon as I began my gluten-free diet, I noticed immediate results. Besides the obvious advantage of feeling better, my body can now heal from the ravages of consuming gluten all these years and I'll no doubt be a healthier person all around. Who knows, I might even lose a few pounds in the process.

The Lord does indeed work in mysterious ways!

Until the next time...

Over the river and through the woods...

2007-11-27T11:50:00.000-08:00

The autumn season is quickly fading as the swirl of Christmas celebrations, decorating, shopping, and hopefully, worshipping, surrounds us full force. Our combined Thanksgiving and Christmas celebration with my youngest daughter, Dennae, and her husband, Richie, and their three boys (Dustin, 6, Hunter, 4, and Cannon, 9 months) was held this past weekend. They drove 400 miles from Kentucky to be with us and could stay for only 36 hours. But we made the most of those hours and created yet another wonderful set of memories.

I cherish the times I have with my family members, as we're scattered all over the place now. Michigan, Kentucky, Florida, Mississippi--all hold loved ones and each one is quite a distance from the others. It's a long trip, no matter who's doing the traveling or which direction we're heading. In our case, it's literally "over the river and through the woods," to get to grandmother's house (that would be me). In fact, there are many rivers and many forested highways between me and the ones I love, but the Lord continues to provide the ways and means for us to be together.

I often remind myself that it wasn't so long ago that families were separated by the westward movement and many never saw their loved ones again. Traveling by covered wagon or overland by train or stagecoach was a whole lot different from today's transportation methods. Not only was it time-consuming, but the dangers along the way were daunting. Today's transportation, though frustrating, time-consuming (in our eyes, at least) and often expensive, does afford us the opportunity to visit our loved ones frequently. I'll take that over waving goodbye to the back end of a covered wagon any day of the week!

The Lord has been generous, as always, with His bounty during the past twelve months. Our family has been mightily blessed with the addition of two little boys--that makes four grandsons now--and my brother was married earlier this year. Our collective health continues to be good and our lives continue to be filled with the good things our Heavenly Father provides. I look forward to what He has in mind for us next year.

Thank You, Father, for giving us hope for the future, for all You have done for me and my loved ones this year, and for all that You will do for us this coming year. May we continue to be aware of Your unmnatched power, glory, kindness, and love, and live our lives accordingly. Thank You for giving us the means and the time to spend precious occasions with each other. In Your glorious Son's name, I pray. Amen.

Until the next time...

Looking up

2007-11-17T17:13:00.000-08:00

We're barely into the holiday season and although I hate to admit it, I'm no better than the folks I complain about who force the season upon us by advertising, displaying goods, and decorating their stores far too early. We too have "hurried up" the season this year by putting up the tree and decorating the house before the month of December (or even the last week in November, for that matter) has arrived.

Our purpose is noble: my daughter, Dennae, and her husband Richie, and their three little boys will be arriving for our Christmas celebration at the end of next weekend, during what is traditionally known as the Thanksgiving weekend. Due to conflicting work and college schedules, the only time we could get together as a family to celebrate Christmas was during the 4th weekend of November, so that necessitated the early decorating. To further mess up our holidays, we had our Thanksgiving meal yesterday with friends here on base, a full week before the actual holiday. Again, the demands of life forced us to celebrate early, so I'm a week closer to Christmas (mentally, that is) than I would be if things were moving along in a normal manner.

Thankfully, though, there are other things going on at the moment to keep my attention focused on what's really important about this time of year. The big news in the world of astronomy lately is the presence of Comet 17P/Holmes and I've had a great time watching for it on several clear nights here in Mississippi. Although my interest in astronomy has been lifelong, I haven't done much about it until lately and even now, I haven't even reached what could be termed amateur level. What I can't see with the naked eye or through my son-in-law's binoculars doesn't get seen, but thanks be to our Heavenly Father, there's plenty up there to be admired even with no equipment.

Although I know there's no connection between the two events, knowing that shepherds in the field and wise men from the East witnessed a bright star glowing in the nighttime sky over two millenia ago, and that millions of star-watchers across the world are watching the progress of a glowing Comet Holmes today, makes me wonder if God isn't trying to get our collective attention. The earth is so full of breathtaking scenery, countless species of life, and untold mysteries that it boggles my mind. To know that the sky above (of which our planet is merely a pinprick in the vastness of the space) is filled with millions of galaxies and billions upon trillions of stars, planets, moons and other celestial glories is beyond my comprehension. Exploring the beauty of our tiny home in the Milky Way would be enough to keep a human being busy for countless lifetimes. The wonders of our universe, which we're learning about at a faster pace than ever due to our modern technology and voyages into space, will keep us busy for an eternity.

I look forward to learning all there is to know about our lovely world and the breathtaking heavens above while I'm still here on earth. But all that pales in comparison to what I will undoubtedly encounter during eternity when I compare notes with my fellow stargazers--the shepherds of the field and the wise men from the East. All that and Jesus too.

Until the next time...

A holiday mourned

2007-11-04T11:51:00.001-08:00

Halloween has come and gone for another year, and before the candy wrappers hit the ground, the stores had their Christmas decorations up. They had long since displayed their Christmas ornaments, trees, wreathes, paper and ribbons for sale and their Halloween decorations were priced at 50% off six weeks before October 31st! We literally had no time to catch our collective breath before we were swept away into the mad commercial tide of the holiday season.

I remember when the Christmas season began the day after Thanksgiving, which was a holiday in and of itself. Nowadays, Thanksgiving is sandwiched in-between Halloween and Christmas with no importance attached to it whatsoever. The Christmas season, now a full two months long, takes up a full one-sixth of our calendar year! No wonder we don't feel any excitement when we see the stores decked out in holiday sparkles. No wonder we're sick to death of the decorations, the music, the food, and the ever-invasive commercialism long before we ever celebrate the day itself.

And when I say "celebrate," I'm using the word loosely. For far too many Americans, Christmas season means gifts, parties, alcohol, an excuse to eat sweets, and a chance to buy a refrigerator, car, or other ridiculously-non-Christmas-related item as a gift. Everything from plumbing supplies to cruises to appliances, cars, and life insurance are all touted as the perfect Christmas gift, the ultimate expression of love.

Bah humbug!

I want to revisit the past; I want to see our country treat Christmas as it should--a celebration of the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I want us to marvel at the love of our Heavenly Father in sending His Son to us as a man; a Man Who experienced life as we do, Who can relate to everything we feel, do, worry about, love or hate. I want to hear "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem" as often as I do "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer." I want to revel in the promise of peace on earth, good will toward man.

I want Christmas back.

Until the next time...

Long distance love

2007-10-31T08:30:00.000-07:00

It's Halloween and once again, I'm going to miss watching my grandsons trick-or-treat. Living 400 miles from them (and their parents) is at once a blessing and a problem. Certainly, it's much easier to visit them now than it was when we lived in Alaska. Yet driving eight hours for a visit and then driving another eight hours to return home takes a chunk out of a weekend! So pictures and phone calls will have to do in the meantime.

That's not such a bad thing, though, when you think about it. Just think what the homesteaders traveling west or the pilgrims crossing the ocean to America's shores would have given to have email, telephones, cell phones, digital cameras, video capabilities on their phones, cameras and computers--let alone the much more efficient postal service we have today! Millions of families are spread from one side of this country to the other, or even across the world, for that matter, and yet, thanks to today's technology we can stay in touch daily.

No, I wouldn't trade a real hug for a picture or a phone call. Never have, never will. But I will be grateful for the many blessings with which God has seen fit to bless us. He knew that families would start to move away from one another and in His great love, He provided for that by giving us the technology and the products to help us stay in touch.

So I'll be tickled the next time I hear "Hi Grandma" on the phone or open some pictures on my computer or read a letter from one of my loved ones, because I'll know they're not the only ones saying "I love you." If I listen carefully and pay close attention, I'll also hear the quiet voice of God saying, "I've always loved you."

Until the next time...

Time to leash up

2007-10-28T08:48:00.000-07:00

Fall has definitely arrived! After several days of relentless rain, overcast skies, and cool days and nights, we're back on track with sunny, blue skies and slightly warmer temperatures. Don't get me wrong--the rain was welcome and so were the cool days and downright chilly nights. They made "being inside looking out" just that much more enjoyable--I always think it's cozy to look outdoors at the rainy (or snowy) weather and be glad I can be inside where it's warm and welcoming. But crisp days and clear skies make walking around the base just that much easier (and drier) and that's exactly what I should start doing.

Down here, I put on the extra pounds during the summer months, not the winter, as do most people. The reason for that turnaround is that during the summer it's too hot and humid down here for me to get outside and do any walking; it's all I can do to gasp and grunt to and from the car once or twice a day. But when the nicer weather comes along--and we're definitely there now--I can walk with ease and breathe in the cool, crisp October air. That's when I get in my much-needed exercise--when I can breathe easily and walk with the newfound confidence that I won't embarrass myself by fainting dead away!

So after I do my computer work, I'll be leashing up Maestro, our black lab, and taking a walk around the streets of our neighborhood. Maestro will appreciate the added exercise--and so will my hips!

Until the next time...

Boo!

2007-10-23T11:05:00.001-07:00

The suffocating heat and humidity just might be behind us for a while down here in Mississippi. We're looking at a high of 64 today--a cold snap in these parts--and not much higher for the next few days. It rained yesterday and it's been drizzling off and on out there today. It's a much-appreciated rainfall, however, as the streams, lakes, rivers and ponds are very low and the vegetation in dire need of moisture, so I'm sure there'll be no complaining. Besides, it's great fall and Halloween weather, all the more reason to stay warm and cozy.

Speaking of Halloween, we were "boo'ed" last night! The doorbell rang, but when Ron went to the door, no one was there. Instead, a Halloween-stickered gift bag was sitting on the porch and when we examined its contents, we learned we'd been "tagged" by a mystery friend. The enclosed poem told us that we were to spread the fun by "booing" two more families, anonymously and under the cover of darkness. Another piece of paper with "We've been boo'ed!" printed on it was to be attached to our front door, so would-be booers wouldn't inadvertently boo us a second time. The bag contained candy and Halloween-themed items--a kitchen towel, one of those long-handled candle lighters (and candles), stickers, and decorations. Since we had only 24 hours in which to spread the "boo," Ron and I jumped into the van and drove into town to buy our surprises while Darice continued to study for her exam today. (She pouted, but decided she couldn't take the time away from her studying to do the shopping. She'd help with the actual booing.)

An hour later, Darice, Ron and I were all in the van, driving around in the dark. After making sure our intended booees hadn't already been tagged, they sneaked up to their front porches, rang the doorbell, dropped the bag, and ran like crazy to the van which was parked a block over. Ron and Darice did the "sneaking, ringing, dropping and running like crazy" part (in the rain, no less), while I kept watch in the van. It was exhilarating and great fun for all of us; the difference was that they were soaking wet when we returned home and I was dry as a bone!

If all goes as intended, our two victims will each boo two more families and on and on and on, until theoretically, at least, the entire base will have been booed by Halloween! What a wonderful (and non-threatening) way to celebrate a time of year that's morphed in recent years into a season that's far from child-friendly. We can all have innocent fun without calling up demons or spreading the worship of anyone other than our Heavenly Father.

Thank You, Father, for neighbors and friends who think enough of us to sneak up in the dark, drop a bag of goodies, and include us in an innocent game of "Boo! You're it!" during this time of year. Please help us to celebrate Halloween with appropriate fun and festivities. In Your Precious Son's name, I pray. Amen.

Dance of the trees

2007-10-19T08:52:00.000-07:00

We had some scary weather yesterday, particularly deep into the night. After an afternoon and evening spent watching the skies for signs of severe thunderstorms and tornadic activity, we went to bed wondering if anything would materialize while we were away from the Weather Channel. I slept fitfully and with my windows open just a crack so I could hear the wind if it started up. And later that night, it did.

I stood in my bedroom in the dark and watched the trees bow and sway like multi-armed dancers in a ballet of gigantic proportions. No sheets of rain barred my view from the window, no lightning filled the sky, no thunder bellowed overhead. It was just me, the wind, and the dancing trees. I didn't know whether to be enthralled or terrified.

I tore myself away from the performance and went downstairs to turn on the television. No warnings, no watches; only storms to the east of us that marched in a northeasterly direction. They seemed to be dwindling in strength and I hope they were; I pray I wasn't watching the progress of destructive winds and flooding waters that would envelop other innocents as they slept.

Please, Lord, watch over Your children night and day as they weather the mighty forces of nature that could destroy them or their property. Be with those who have lost loved ones and homes in storms that we are helpless to stop or turn. Thank You, God, for your loving protection in times of peril. In Jesus' name, I pray. Amen.

The speed of love

2007-10-14T15:36:00.000-07:00

It's been a week since I've written anything here and in that time, I've hugged, cuddled, kissed, scolded, chased and bathed my two wiggly grandsons countless times. We also giggled, horsed around, cooked, cleaned, wrestled, ran, played games, baked cookies, drew pictures, colored masterpieces, rode bikes, splashed in the pool and made up stories. Needless to say, I'm sore and exhausted. And then, very early this morning, as Dustin and Hunter (along with their parents and little brother Cannon) left our house to return to their home in Kentucky, we hugged one another and cried.

We packed a lot of different activities into those two weeks--some of them fun, some of them drudgery (lots of laundry, for instance), and some of them nothing more than the ordinary events of day-to-day living. Mostly, though, we spent our time making memories.

Now that they're all home safely, I can look back on our visit with clearer (although puffy and red-rimmed) eyes, rather than through my emotional "grandma vision." I realized this afternoon, after drying my eyes and blowing my nose for the tenth time in as many minutes, that there's nothing to be sad about. The past two weeks comprised just one visit in a long string of happy times to come. I've tried hard to be a hands-on grandma since Dustin arrived six years ago and I think I've done a good job so far. Even though I feel a terrible emptiness whenever we say goodbye, I know it's only for a short time and that we'll be together again soon. Although Dustin, Hunter and Cannon have lived in Kentucky since birth, I've lived either in Michigan, Alaska or Mississippi during that time. It's always been a long haul to get to them (or vice-versa) and as a result, our visits are fewer than I would like. But we do the best we can with the circumstances under which we live and I think we're doing a pretty darned good job of maintaining a loving, close and vibrant relationship despite the distances we must travel to do so.

Now I have a fourth grandson and he lives back in Michigan. Once more, I'll find ways to be as close to him as I can possibly be. I'll visit and he'll visit and one way or another, there will always be a way to love one another, even if it's from many miles away.

Michigan, Mississippi or Kentucky--what difference does it make when hearts travel at the speed of love?

Two kids and a kitten

2007-10-07T10:50:00.000-07:00

It's been a busy week. With two little boys (and a new kitten) residing with us at the moment, the pace has picked up considerably from what this 3-adult family is accustomed to! But it's a wonderful busyness and a precious time for all of us.

Dustin and Hunter will be going home to Mom and Dad and baby brother Cannon next weekend, but Maple the kitten will be staying here with us. By the time the boys return to Mississipi to visit Grandma (me), Aunt Darice and Uncle Ron around Christmas time, she'll still be a kitten, but a longer, heavier and more cat-like kitten. Right now, she's a tornado with fur--a kitten phase I remember well when all our other cats were in the "I'm brand new to this exciting world and I can't wait to discover every little thing about it" stage. They're fun to watch, but coupled with the boys' rambunctious ways, we've been (oddly enough) completely exhausted when we go to bed each night.

We've divided our time between indoor and outdoor pursuits--playing with toys, games, cats (2 adults, plus the little one), a dog and a bunny indoors, and playing in the pool, on the playground and riding bikes outdoors. Why those two have not fallen in a heap and taken a nap right on the pavement is beyond me--it's certainly something I've considered doing! But God has graciously given me healthy, happy grandsons (and a kitten with equal energies) and I wouldn't trade a moment of the time we're able to spend with them for a good night's sleep or a quiet day. I can sleep any old time, but trading hugs and listening to "Grandmaw, Grandmaw" (they've got a wonderful southern drawl) a thousand times a day is something I won't be able to do once they're gone.

That is... until the next time!

Back home in Mississippi

2007-10-04T14:16:00.000-07:00

I'm back in Mississippi now. I left my newest grandchild behind in Michigan in the capable hands of his parents and upon my return, rejoined my daughter and son-in-law here on Columbus Air Force Base. Less than 24 hours later, Darice and I were on our way to Owensboro, Kentucky (400 miles to our north) to visit my middle child and her family. We squeezed in all the love and laughter we could for the next twelve hours and then returned with Dustin, 6, and Hunter, 4, for a two-week visit. Baby Cannon, now a little over 7 months old, is too young to spend any length of time away from mom and dad, but his big brothers will be with us for a total of two weeks while their school is on fall break. We're enjoying every single minute with them.

It was a bittersweet departure from Michigan, as I had a wonderful time with both my son's family and my sister and her husband. The memories will last a lifetime and I'm grateful for all their gracious hospitality while I was visiting. I'm looking forward to the next visit and I've barely unpacked my bags! Somehow, during the past thirty days, I've managed to visit my sister and her husband and four of their children, my brother and his wife, all three of my grown children, their spouses and all my grandchildren! That's not bad, considering we're scattered from Michigan to Mississippi via Kentucky.

Mississipppi is still hotter than the dickens and believe me, I'm more than ready for a change in the weather. When I left Michigan, the temps had cooled delightfully and the colors were already appearing in the woods and alongside the road. Here, fall takes its time coming, stays only a short while and disappears into a rather dull, albeit mild, winter. I must admit that I enjoy the warmer winters and early springtime weather here in Mississippi, but long for the colorful fall weather and the crisp, cold winters of Michigan. I never thought I'd hear myself say this but I even miss the snow! Perhaps Mississippi will break its no-snow streak and give us a few inches this year--preferably around Christmas time!

Until the next time...

Baby kisses

2007-09-26T19:23:00.001-07:00

My very thoughtful sister drove me to Howell this afternoon for one last visit with my son Derek, daughter-in-law Renee, and month-old (today!) grandson, Tyler. I fly back to Mississippi this Saturday and there just wasn't enough leeway in Derek's work schedule to permit a visit up here to Mt. Pleasant from their place. So Shelley offered to drive me back there again (a four-hour round trip) so we could visit again (and take pictures).

It was a wonderful day for driving. The sun peeked out from behind low-hanging dark clouds, making it look colder than it really was. Although the temperatures probably reached 70 today, it felt and looked more like a late fall day. The trees are definitely turning shades of gold, bronze, and red--the treelines along the newly-cut cornfields will soon be fully ablaze with color. At the moment, they're an interesting blend of what I call "old green" and "new autumn."

Seeing Tyler and his parents again was a bittersweet occasion. I held him for a long time and watched him alternately smile and grimace as he dreamed his way through the afternoon. When he awoke, it was with a mighty howl. He continued howling until his mama got that bottle ready and I managed to get him calmed down enough to take it in his yowling little mouth. Halfway through, partially sated and sleepy once more, he threatened to nod off again. I struggled to keep him awake long enough to finish the bottle. Together, we finished the task, traded a few baby kisses, and then Tyler--safe and warm and with a full tummy--drifted off once more in his grateful grandma's arms.

A little while later, we said our goodbyes. Even though I know Derek and Renee will stay in close touch with me, as they always do, and keep me stocked with pictures of their little pride and joy, I will miss knowing I am only two hours away from him. Mississippi seems a long way away when I realize that I'm not only leaving my sister and her husband and my son and daughter-in-law behind, but the newest member of our family, my beloved little Tyler, as well. There will be many, many other times, of course, to visit and spend time together and I know that I can always fly up here (or drive) and be here again in a matter of hours.

But I'm already missing those precious baby kisses.

Until the next time...

Falling leaves and football

2007-09-22T13:13:00.000-07:00

Michigan is known for a lot of things--the manufacturing of cars and furniture, growing cherries, apples, corn and a multitude of other crops, the Great Lakes, the Mackinac Bridge and Upper Peninsula, Mackinac Island and the Grand Hotel, the Detroit Tigers and Lions, Michigan State University, University of Michigan, Kendall School of Art and Design, Western, Eastern and Central Michigan Universities. I could go on and on.

But what I will take away from this most recent visit with my sister and her husband, at least from the standpoint of revisiting Michigan, is the weather.

Anybody who knows me knows I hate humidity and high heat. That's not unique, I know; millions of people dislike uncomfortably high temperatures and the inevitable stickiness and heavy air. Michigan has its share of those days and I remember them well. But one of the things I had forgotten (and I do this time after time after time, even though I grew up and spent over a half century in this state) is the indecribably beautiful weather during the fall months.

Today is one of those picture-perfect days for which Michigan is justifiably well-known. The trees are now changing colors in earnest, seemingly overnight, and the mellow yellows, reds and oranges are growing brighter and more distinct by the hour. Today's mild and sunny temps, cool breezes, and azure skies overhead are perfect for just about anything kind of outdoor activity. We just came from Mt. Pleasant after a foray into town for some groceries and it's abuzz with college students and other Central Michigan University fans who are gathering in great hordes for the football game this afternoon.

They couldn't ask for a better day to cheer on their team. I wouldn't want to be one of the football players, weighed down with padding and covered from head to toe in skin-tight, hot uniforms, but hey, I wouldn't want to be a football player under any circumstances whatsoever. I'm sure they've played in more uncomfortable conditions and there are many reasons and rewards that spur them on. I just know that the fans in the stands are in for a gorgeous day to sit, stand, cheer, eat, drink, sing, and enjoy another of God's generous creations--a perfect Michigan fall day.

I'm glad I was here to revisit the grandeur of a Michigan autumn. I'm sure I'll enjoy the cooler days and nights in Mississippi when I return home; the residents of that deep southern state certainly deserve a break after the unrelenting summer months. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I will tuck away the exhilaration of a late September day in Michigan: leaves drifting downward on the lilting breeze, acorns pelting us from swaying branches towering overhead, the chittering of squirrels, the gobble of wild turkeys, and a doe, elegant in her tan coat and long legs munching her way through the forest of falling leaves. There are the pungent smells of marigolds and mums, damp earth and ripe apples, pine trees and yes, even the last rose of summer--all vivid reminders that even in the waning days of life, there is great beauty and an abundance of natural pleasures to be savored.

Until the next time...

Starry, starry night

2007-09-19T09:12:00.000-07:00

I visited the universe last night.

It was late and I was already sitting in bed in my pajamas, reading, when my sister came downstairs and said she had a surprise for me. And did she ever!

We walked outside and were greeted by the rush of wind dancing through the canopy of trees lining their driveway and the road that runs past their house. As we walked beyond the decorative lighting placed discreetly in and around the gardens and forest that surround their home, we were soon in a tunnel of trees. The darkness enveloped us completely as we continued our nocturnal jaunt.

We wandered slowly, our hushed voices accompanied only by the whispering wind above us. We traveled deeper into the Michigan forest, cocooned by the blackness until we reached the cul-de-sac where the road widened out and circled back upon itself.

My sister said, "Look up," and I did. The trees had receded and the skies opened up before me and the glory of billions upon billions of stars glittered above me. I had traveled in a matter of minutes from the common and familiar comfort of my bed to the spectacular and humbling showcase of God's handiwork. I was mesmerized. I slowly turned around and around, my head thrown back, my arms extended outward for balance, and gazed at the panorama of endless inky black heavens punctuated by uncounted stars that shimmered and reflected the light of the half moon.

It is a memory I will never forget--my sister and I, enjoying the wind and the dark and the quiet stillness of a star-filled night--together.

Thank You, Lord, for creating the earth and the heavens and all they contain. Thank you, Shel, for loving me enough to make a memory with me that I will treasure forever.

Until the next time...

Staying in touch

2007-09-18T11:48:00.000-07:00

My time in Michigan is waning. I arrived on Friday, August 31st and will depart on Saturday, September 29th. I've been here 19 days and have 11 days remaining. It's true that time flies when you're having fun--or visiting a generous, loving, and hilarious sister and her handsome (and equally generous, loving and hilarious) husband, along with other precious relatives, namely my brother, and my son, his wife and their new son, Tyler. I can't believe that it's almost time to climb aboard that plane and head for home.

While I will miss my loved ones here in Michigan, I have others waiting for me in Mississippi, as well as grandsons in Kentucky (along with their parents, another daughter of mine and her husband) who will be visiting me down there soon. I am blessed beyond words to have loved ones surrounding me. They don't all live next door, as I would obviously prefer, but they do live within flying or driving distance. It's not as though they have disappeared under the canvas dome of a covered wagon and are driving off into the dusty distance, their fate to be determined by the perils they meet along the way. Those days, fortunately, are in the past and for the most part, we are able to stay in touch even over vast oceans and long distances.

Today's communication methods allow us numerous ways to stay in touch with our families and friends and I'm tickled pink to take part in every one that I'm able to. Handwritten letters are, of course, the very best (I'm old-fashioned in that way), but email, phones, cellphones, instant messaging and even computer videos and digital cameras give us ways to stay in touch with loved ones as never before. Yes, in-person visits are always best and a handwritten letter is something that can never be replaced by an email, but today's relentless, often vicious pace doesn't always give us the time to do either one as much as we'd like. In the meantime, communicating in any way possible is certainly better than nothing and the importance of staying in touch with loved ones and friends has never been more critical. Even while we are busy with the tasks at hand, with taking care of our immediate family or making a living, our need to "be" with those who love and understand us grows more intense.

I, for one, will never give up staying in touch with my family. I might not be able to visit them as often as I'd like (or have them visit me), but just knowing that they want to is enough. When times allows and as God ordains, it will happen. In the meantime, I will be content with the many and varied ways I can keep them in my life.

Until the next time...

A Joyful Commission!

2007-09-11T13:58:00.000-07:00

I'm back in Mt. Pleasant with my sister and her husband after a 4-day visit with my son and his wife and their first child, Tyler. I spent hours holding, feeding, changing and just watching my newest (and fourth) grandchild as he lay in my arms. We had a few heart-to-hearts during his alert times and I think a little of my wisdom sank in. After all, what better way to learn about life than in the arms of a grandmother who thinks you're one of the four sweetest, most incredible, and handsomest grandchildren in the history of all humanity?

Tyler may not know at the moment just how much I love him, but that will come in time, just as he'll eventually understand how much his parents adore him and what they would (and ultimately, will) sacrifice for his well-being. He and my other grandsons are fortunate, as they were all born to parents with good sense, a sincere work ethic and values beyond reproach. They have supportive grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins to love and guide them, to help provide them with the many things, both tangible and intangible, that children born in this day and age so desperately need to succeed as healthy individuals.

Someone has said that babies are God's way of saying the world should go on. True, but I also believe that the each new child born into this life is a declaration of God's clear expectation that we, His children, will graciously accept this most precious of all blessings; that we will take this tiny soul, this wondrously intricate being that He has gloriously housed in the most delicate of bodies, and raise him in the ways of the Lord.

What a commission! What a wonderful responsibility! What a joyful duty! Thank You, Lord, for sending Tyler into this world and for making him a part of our lives.

Until the next time...

Golden Days

2007-09-05T14:58:00.000-07:00

My sister is an artist--and an excellent one at that. Her workplace, Golden Apple Studio, is bright, airy, and stuffed to the gills with impressive (and huge) canvasses displayed on the walls, leaning along the perimeter of the room and standing on gigantic easels that flank the windows. Many of these same paintings have spent considerable time on display in art galleries and exhibits, garnering several awards and bringing her much-deserved recognition. She is well-respected in her profession and devoted to her passion, that of expressing important, often hidden truths of the human experience through fine art. Although she is skilled in photography, drawing, watercolors and other artistic mediums, her favorite (at the moment, at least) is oil painting. She spent eight years preparing herself, earning two associate's degrees, a bachelor's degree, and ultimately, a Masters of Fine Arts degree from one of the nation's most prestigious colleges of art and design. During those busy years, she worked full-time, raised three children and still managed to achieve the rank of Valedictorian of her graduating class. She's quite a woman.

Before I arrived for my visit up here, I told her that one of my goals was to spend time writing in her studio while she worked on the second painting in her latest series. We're doing that now. I can smell her oil paints, hear the background music she plays to keep her company, and furtively watch her from the corner of my eye as she creates another impressive piece of work. To me, the images she painstakingly creates on canvas appear as if by magic. But I know her method is far from magical. There's an incredible amount of preparatory work that goes into each painting (which is always part of a far larger series of paintings) before she ever paints a stroke. From her carefully crafted "thoughts statement," a precursor to her final "artist's statement," to the dozens of reference photographs she takes of her subjects (her beautiful daughters often pose for her), to stretching and building her own canvases and preparing the surfaces, to mixing the oils and the many other things in-between (of which I have no knowledge), Shelley creates deeply-moving, provocative, insightful, and beautifully-wrought images. Her use of color is outstanding; her skill in painting the human figure is almost eery in its perceptiveness. I love the eyes of her subjects--so expressive, such windows to the often walled-off interiors within. Just beautiful.

My sister and I both love to create; I write, she paints. We both express ourselves in the ways we know best and use the methods with which we are most comfortable. But as I sit here at my computer, fumbling for words, I can't help but be amazed that the little girl who once smacked me right between the eyes with one of those thick, kindergarten-sized crayons while we were supposed to be napping, would someday master the use of those crayons (and charcoal and pencils and pens and film and watercolors and oils) in much more productive, beautiful and useful (not to mention less violent) ways.

I honestly don't know how she does it; I'm just glad she does. And it's funny how her work still hits me right between the eyes... only now it doesn't leave a black and blue mark and I don't have to tattle on her.

Until the next time...

Transitions

2007-09-03T10:45:00.000-07:00

I'm in Michigan! My flights to Lansing were uneventful, aside from the sad fact that traveling by air these days no longer affords us even the tiniest measure of convenience, let alone pampering. If simply getting on board isn't enough to wear you out, the small quarters and lack of food (aside from what they offer to sell us at exorbitant prices) will certainly do you in.

I had three flights in all--one short one from Tupelo to Memphis, a longer one from Memphis to Detroit, and a final short hop from Detroit to Lansing. I received nothing on either of the short flights and had one cup of coffee on the longer flight (no refills), but managed to talk the flight attendant into a cup of ginger ale to drink with the cookies I bought at the airport.

Needless to say, I was starving by day's end and arrived in Lansing ready to eat the first piece of roadkill we came across. Luckily, the highways were clear of rotting raccoons and putrid possums, so I was spared that humiliation. My sister and I had a wonderful meal at Cracker Barrel later that night and since then, I've been fed like a queen. And while I'm not exactly salivating at the thought of retracing my air miles on the way home, I'll stock up on snacks. I'll survive.

The weather in Michigan is superb this time of year. Late summer days are giving way to the cooler temperatuares and lower humidities so typical of autumn in the north. Although the trees have not yet begun to change colors, there are signs everywhere that summer is packing up her colors and waving goodbye, and that fall is marching toward us at a good clip, bringing along her own version of nature's palette. My sister and husband have an incredible garden in their front yard, one that rivals any garden I've ever seen, including those featured in magazines. Even in its last days, the muted colors of fading summer flowers and the bright tangerine-hued marigolds and ruby red mums transform the garden from a riot of color to a graceful display of subtle, earthy hues.

The change of seasons does a lot for me in terms of creativity, as well. The crisp fall days are my favorite time of year--and my muse's chosen time to visit. Perhaps my head is cleared by the seasons' beauty and the change in temperatures, etc. Whatever the reason, I feel more inspired in the fall, much like a child returning to school after summer break. In any event, I will embrace my newfound enthusiasm for writing and try to put it to good use. I think our Lord would want it that way. I thank Him every day for a new chance to do His work and every night I apologize for not living up to His expectations. But inevitably, I wake up the next morning with a clean slate spread out before me; another day in which to do the work He wants me to do and to live my life in a manner that will glorify Him.

Thank You, Lord, for giving me a new opportunity every morning to use the gift You have granted me for the purpose of completing the work You have assigned to me. I pray that my personal transition from summer to fall, and eventually to winter, will be as beautiful as the changing of the seasons. In Jesus' Name I pray. Amen.

Until the next time...

Sweet Maple

2007-08-29T17:38:00.001-07:00

Life just keeps getting better and better! In addition to the birth of my latest grandson Tyler this past Sunday, I also have a new kitten to call my very own. Maple (a gift from my daughter and son-in-law with whom I live) joined our family just a couple of days prior to Tyler's arrival and has adjusted very well to the tempo of her new home.

Maple, who is a beautiful 3-month-old calico, is a graduate of the local humane society and spent a couple of days at the vet's office getting checked out before we introduced her into our household. We have other pets and as committed owners, we feel it's in everybody's best interests to keep our pets healthy. She received a clean bill of health and is now home, making her presence known as the new kid on the block. The other pets, while a little leery of the unrelenting energy and spirit of this newest arrival, are nevertheless accepting her with good grace. Maple will have a very happy and, hopefully, long life with us.

The very special events of the past few days remind me that God's presence can be seen in all things--from the tiniest of kittens to the miracle of a child's birth; from the sparkle and spunk in a little cat's eyes to the wonder and glory of seeing your child for the first time. He is the Creator of all that we see, hear, feel, taste, smell, love, hope for, marvel over, and dream of. He is our beginning and our end. He is all that we as individuals need to survive and humanity's only hope of becoming anything worthwhile. He is the Father of all creation--from shining seas to sapphire skies, from valley floors to snowcapped peaks, from desert blooms to grassy plains, from the middle of the earth to the far reaches of Heaven.

And of course, last--but certainly not least--from kittens to kids.

Until the next time...

Welcome, Tyler!

2007-08-26T14:12:00.000-07:00

Hallejulah! My fourth grandson (and the first child of my son and his wife) arrived today at 7:45 a.m.! He weighed 7 pounds, 13 ounces and was 22 inches long, has a lot of brown hair, and according to Derek (his proud father), looks like his mother, Renee. Tyler Henry and his mom are both doing well, although there were some tense moments as his heartrate lowered alarmingly and then rose quickly as both he and his mom developed a fever. But all seems to be well now--of course the hospital personnel are keeping a close eye on him--and although Renee is tired and in some residual pain, she, too, is on the way to recovery.

There's no real way to describe my joy, so I won't try. Anyone who's had a child or grandchild understands how I'm feeling and those of you who are still waiting for that joyous moment have something magnificent to look forward to. I am in awe of the great love our Father has for His children and the countless and wonderful ways in which He expresses that love. A new grandchild--in fact, any new child--is a blessing beyond compare and one of His most precious gifts.

I can't wait to meet Tyler. I'll be leaving for Michigan this coming Friday, so I'll be holding my fourth grandson and congratulating his proud, but exhausted parents in person very soon. Thank You, Lord, for Your many blessings, for Tyler's safe delivery, and for the continued recovery of both baby and mom.

Until the next time...

Providence

2007-08-22T08:36:00.001-07:00

It's 94 degrees out there today, according to my online weather site. But with the air so thick I could snip it into little pieces with a pair of scissors, I beg to differ. (Must have been a typo--someone forgot to put the "1" in front of the "94". There, that's more like it!) The air's so heavy that the fumes from the jet fuel don't seem to have anywhere to go, so they're hanging around my back door--well, probably everyone else's, as well--burning my eyes and stinging my nose. I'm afraid to light the stove for fear of setting off a base-wide explosion!

As much as I complain about the heat and humidity here in Mississippi (and believe me, I complain a LOT), there are billions of people in the world with far more serious concerns with which they must deal day in and day out. Deadly concerns. Matters of life and death; dreadful occurrences like hurricanes, floods, tornadoes, earthquakes, cave-ins, disease, accidents and the ever-present wars around the world--civil, national, religious, cultural and racial. If all those people had to worry about was some uncomfortable heat, oppressive humidity, and unpleasant odors, they'd be out of their minds with relief and joy.

I have no idea why the Lord allowed me and mine to live in this free country, to enjoy a life of comparative ease. Yes, we've seen our share of heartache; disease has taken its toll and death has visited far more often than we want. We've gone through family strife, job loss, divorce, financial problems, health problems, miscarriages, and many other types of upheaval. But even at their worst, our lives are still better than the majority of human beings on this earth. I thank God every day for His Providence.

I hope I never become so accustomed to my wonderful life that I forget those who are suffering every minute of every day, that I remain acutely aware of my daily blessings, and those of my family members, and that I never forget those in need. My relative prosperity and easy life are not rewards that God has given me, but rather a responsibility to pass along the wealth and my knowledge of His Word and His Plan for my life and for the lives of every other human being on this planet.

Until the next time...

I'm on baby watch!

2007-08-21T06:29:00.000-07:00

It's another glorious late summer day in Mississippi, but it's supposed to reach 100 degrees and it's only 8:30 a.m., so it's anybody's guess as to how long I'll maintain this cheery outlook. We'll see. Hopefully, I'll be able to see past the heat and humidity and appreciate the wonderful things that happen today simply because God wills them into existence.

My fourth grandson is getting ready to make his debut! My daughter-in-law's doctor noticed early signs of labor at yesterday's appointment and has, tentatively, set one week from today as the target date to induce labor if the baby doesn't come on his own before that. He's going to be a big one--ultrasound tests measured him at 7 lbs, 14 oz. a week ago and he still has a few days for a growth spurt.

I won't make it in time to be there for the birth, but I'll be arriving shortly thereafter and I can hardly wait to meet the newest member of our family. It will be wonderful enough just to be able to spend time with Derek and Renee, but to also have a new baby to hold and cuddle and love--well, that's pure joy! Add to that the excitement of spending a month in the company of my fabulously-talented artist sister and her handsome husband and you've got a recipe for blessing after blessing after blessing!

Until the next time...

Bugged

2007-08-19T16:00:00.000-07:00

I spent today catching up on things I've been unable to do for the last few days. A vicious stomach bug sent me to the doctor late last week and I've yet to conquer the little creature completely, but I'm getting closer! I imagine I'll be feeling fine in a matter of days.

In the meantime, I've had plenty of time to write lists (one of my specialties), prioritize my objectives and consider which things in my life are most important to me. Some things--God, my children, their spouses and children and my other family members--are no-brainers. That will never change. My love for Him and for them never waivers, only grows stronger with each passing day.

There are other things, however, that flit in and out of my life with the regularity of the sun's rising and setting each day. One day I'm completely committed, gung-ho and wildly exuberant about a project (generally a writing project); the next I'm discouraged, disgruntled and just plain disinterested. Part of this is normal behavior during the creative process, I'm sure. Some of it can be explained by the horrible heat and humidity, as well as my unexpected stomach blues, both of which have forced me to stay inside the house for days on end.

But some of it is just plain laziness on my part. When a project reaches the part I call my "trudge through times," my interest wanes and I look for something new and exciting to occupy my mind. I want the fun of coming up with ideas, developing characters and dreaming up plot lines, but I balk at the hard work of actually putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and getting the job done. It doesn't help matters any that I'm a perfectionist and will edit 'til the cows come home. At the very least, that tendency to go over and over my work slows me down and sometimes even stalls my creative engine entirely. Not good.

It's surprising how often my daily Bible reading addresses a problem I'm having at the time, and this situation is no different. I see His Word on the topic of perseverance wherever I turn. But that's the way God works and I don't know why I am continually amazed when I see my situation spelled out in front me as I read His Word or click on an email or newsletter to which I subscribe. He wants me to know these things; He wants to communicate His love to me. He wants me to know which way to go, when to persevere, when to turn in a new direction. Although it's amazing to me that He takes the time to place His Word in my path at just the right time, He nevertheless does.

I don't have to understand this happy circumstance to appreciate it, though. I just need to pay attention.

Until the next time...

The countdown begins

2007-08-14T11:48:00.000-07:00

Two weeks from this Friday, I'll be flying to Michigan for the birth of my fourth grandson and an extended visit with my sister and her husband. I've already begun writing lists of things to do before I leave (finish a couple of assignments, doublecheck my prescriptions), clothes to pack (September in Michigan will, thankfully, be cooler than September in Mississippi), and which toiletries I absolutely MUST bring with me and those that can be bought once I arrive. By the time my plane leaves on Friday, August 31st, I should be in good shape. It might take until three seconds before take-off, but I'll accomplish everything I need to do to make this a successful trip.

Too bad I can't say the same about my final trip. Although I putter around making plans, deciding again and again and again that I need to give more to the church, send donations to worthy charities and start being the Christian I profess (and really want) to be, far too often I fall short of my good intentions. Because I have no itinerary for this final trip--no schedule to let me know how much longer I have until I leave, no estimated time of arrival or flight numbers to commit to memory--I must make plans as if I'm going to leave moments from now. And who knows? I just might.

There is a travel guide available to me, however. It might not tell me just when I'm leaving on this trip, but it DOES tell me what I can do to make sure I'm properly prepared for my final destination. It's my Bible and even though I read it every night, if I don't pay attention to what I'm reading, I'm as clueless as I would be if I forgot to print off my flight itinerary and found myself wandering around the airport asking uniformed attendants, "Which way to Lansing, Michigan?" Because I never know when I'm going to take off on this final journey, it behooves me to start paying closer attention to my guidebook. If I have questions, I can always ask God, or His Son, or the Holy Spirit. They're always ready and willing to listen to a lost traveler, to give precise, heartfelt directions. Unlike the airlines, They're foolproof, They never lie, and They'll be there to meet me at the gate.

And maybe best of all, there'll be no need to make those pesky return trip reservations. My final journey will be one-way.

Until the next time...

Missing a great lady

2007-08-09T12:50:00.001-07:00

My mother would have been 81 years old tomorrow. She died five years ago this month--on August 11th, just one day after her 76th birthday. At the time, she and my dad lived in Florida and all of us children still lived in Michigan. One by one, we called her on the 10th to wish her a happy birthday, none of us realizing it would be the last time we would ever speak to her. The following morning, she became ill; she died later that evening in the hospital where she'd been taken by ambulance earlier in the day.

As was my custom when we talked on the phone, I closed the conversation that last time by saying, "I love you." She always responded in kind, but this time, I remember being a little surprised by her response. She said, "No, I love YOU." They were the last words she ever spoke to me.

Would I have remembered that inflection in her voice, that emphasis on "you" if she had not died the next day? I like to think so. After all, I took mental note of it at the time it happened. But had she not died, there would have been other conversations, other words and thoughts and laughter to dilute the impact of what turned out to be the last thing she said to me. They may have been lost forever, drowned in a sea of conversation that, although still precious to me, may have stolen the specialness of that moment from me forever.

I like to think that God, Who knew this was the last time I would ever speak to my mother, put those words in her mouth and opened my ears and mind to make special note of them. So frequently in this frantic society in which we live, our busyness prevents us from remembering the important things. I thank God that He guides us in watching for those special times, listening for those precious words, and noting those special acts of love that could otherwise be swept away by life's swift current.

I love you, Mother. And I miss you terribly.

Until the next time...

Middle of the night blues

2007-08-06T02:15:00.000-07:00

It's 4:15 a.m. on Monday morning. For some reason, I awoke about 90 minutes ago and have been unable to get back to sleep. It wouldn't matter so much except I have an 8:15 a.m. doctor's appointment and must get up by 6:30 in order to get there on time. I went to bed knowing I had to get up early and I think I got myself all frazzled just worrying about missing the alarm clock. When I was working, I arose early every weekday morning and I never had any problems. I'll no doubt fall asleep thirty minutes before the alarm goes off.

It's lonely in the middle of the night. Even though I know that my daughter and her husband are across the hall sleeping in their bedroom, I feel all alone. It's a strange, sad feeling to be awake when others, even those who are close by, are fast asleep. It takes me back to being a young child--around 7th grade, I believe--when I had panic attacks. They happened on Sunday nights, in particular, probably brought on by a dread of Monday mornings, a malady from which many people suffer. If I wasn't asleep by 9:00 p.m. and I heard the theme song from Bonanza drift in to my bedroom from the living room, it would literally take my breath away. If I was still awake by 10:00 p.m. when I heard the refrains of the next television show (I can't remember just what it was at the moment), or Heaven forbid, hear my parents switch the television off and get ready for bed themselves--well, by then I was in a full-blown attack and there was NO way I was going to get to sleep that night. Inevitably, I awoke the next morning, signaling to me that I had indeed finally slept.

But that was no comfort to a young girl lying in the dark feeling all alone and scared of something that had no face, no form. In fact, there was nothing in particular that I was afraid of. It was just not being asleep like the rest of the world was, of being wide-awake in a fast-asleep world. Scary stuff for an 11-year-old.

Not much better at this age.

Until the next time...

Good news travels fast!

2007-08-05T10:12:00.000-07:00

My oldest grandson, now six years old, went back to school last week. "My teacher's a first grade teacher," he said to me that evening. His days of being a lowly kindergartner are behind him now. His younger brother will be starting his second year of pre-school this week, and their baby brother, a little over five months old, is mastering the skills of sitting up, drooling, and stuffing things--anything--into his mouth. Their uncle and aunt (my son and his wife) are expecting their first, another boy, at the beginning of September. If and when a baby girl is ever born into this wild bunch of little critters, I hope she's a strong one!

It seems like just yesterday that I dashed from mid-Michigan to Fort Campbell, Kentucky, on the day of Dustin's birth. I found out at an Indiana rest stop that I could slow down my pace; I wasn't going to make it in time for his birth. In the middle of my frantic "Are you okay? How are the pains?" at the payphone just outside the restrooms, I heard my daughter's quiet, tired voice say to me, "He's here, Mom. He's born. He's beautiful." I walked on air back to my car. I was a grandmother! The goofy grin on my face and the wild whooping and hollering I did after I heard her words kept the other reststoppers at their distance, but I didn't care. I was finally a grandma. I had a grandchild. My daughter had a son. Life was good. God was great. No, God was stupendous!

I'll be on my way north soon--hopefully, in time for my fourth grandson's arrival. I'll be flying this time, so there won't be a repeat of my interstate indoctrination to grandparenthood. Still, I have a cellphone now, so if you happen to be in an airport on the way to Michigan in about a month, listen for a wild cry of happiness. It might just be me.

Until the next time...

Seeing the light

2007-08-01T12:42:00.001-07:00

When I went out to check the mail a few minutes ago, the light from the sun reflecting off the concrete driveway nearly blinded me. How on earth can the pilots stand it? I wondered, as I listened to the roar of aircraft overhead. Well, for one thing, Deb, they're not standing down here in front of a mass of white cement, dumb enough to come out into a hot (and I mean HOT) Mississippi afternoon without sunglasses. No doubt they are prepared for all eventualities. They train for their jobs and they learn from their mistakes.

Apparently I don't. I've lived here long enough to know that you don't walk barefoot on cement during the day down here, nor do you venture outdoors on a sunny day without sunglasses. Yet I did both. By the time I trotted to the end of the driveway to the mailbox, the soles of my feet were scalded and I was navigating by memory alone. I trekked back to the front door through the crunchy grass--which was cooler, but no more comfortable than the driveway that paralled it--hoping the spider I'd spied (and said nasty things about in my one of my posts) hadn't decided to follow me home and lurk about waiting for The Dummy to come outside.

On my dash to the door, I noticed the herbs my daughter and I planted this spring. Even though they're planted in pots and displayed on our potting bench in the shade, most of them are shrivelled and hurting. Looking back on it, it probably would have been kinder if we'd put our tiny, fresh, and fragrant plants--straight from the loving arms of the local Lowe's gardening section--directly into the oven to broil for... oh, say eight or ten hours, rather than submit them to the burning rays of the mid-summer Mississippi sun. What flourishes in someone else's garden in some other state will not necessarily do as well in conditions similar to the inside of an industrial-grade furnace. I hope, for their sake, that I have learned my lesson.

No one--plant, animal or human--likes to live in conditions that don't allow them to flourish. The difference between plants and animals and us humans is that we get to choose, for the most part, the environment in which we exist. If we aren't comfortable, we do something about it. They, on the other hand, are dependent upon us to do whatever is best for them.

I'll try to do better next year.

Until the next time...

Creepy crawlies

2007-07-31T10:33:00.001-07:00

My daughter and I took the dog for a walk around the housing area here on base last night. Even though it was past 10:00 p.m., the humidity, along with alternating chorus of tree frogs, bull frogs and cicadas, made it sound and feel like a rain forest.

Five minutes into our walk, we came across an armadillo ravaging the front yard of one of our friends; we chased it and it skedaddled out of there. But thirty seconds later, it was joined by two others who came charging out of the darkness. "It's a herd!" I cried to Darice. We quickly walked the other direction, but they weren't interested in us. They just wanted to cross the street without getting smashed to smithereens and get back to the safety of wherever it is they live. From the look of things along the highways in Mississippi, not many armadillos make it across the road down here. I'm proud of our three. They made it home without a scratch and are free to destroy and plunder another yard tonight.

Two blocks over we ran across a spider roughly the size of New Jersey, followed a few feet later by a huge cockroach skittering across the pavement. I told my daughter to walk quickly. I didn't want them picking up our scent and following us home. If they did, I was dutybound to grind them into dust. For their sakes, I hoped they would continue to do whatever it is they do out there in the wild and leave the human beings alone. So far, so good.

My daughter turned to me and said, "This hasn't been a 'warm and fuzzy' walk, has it?" She was right. Most of our lives we've had to look out for something covered in fur, not scales; four-legged, not eight; and small, like a June bug, not a giant crustacean-like creature that crunches when you run over and over and over him with the car. (Not that I'd do that, mind you.) In Alaska, where we lived prior to being assigned to this base, we had to constantly be on the lookout for moose. In Michigan, where I grew up and where my children were raised, it was the deer, racoons and possums. I guess every state has its natural hazards, but dodging creepy-crawlies is a new one for me. I'll have to get used to it.

But when it comes with its own armor--well, you've got to wonder what its intentions are.

Until the next time...