Real Freedom

I saw on the Foxnews that the last survivor of the flag raising at Iwo Jima died and was given a nice memorial. Such a price so many paid for our freedom and the privilege to live in the USA. I am sooo grateful. I’ll write more about that kind of freedom another day, but tonight I am thinking of freedom in another way altogether.

My beautiful sister, Gail Kathleen, died 12 years ago today, and we buried her on the 4th of July. I spent all afternoon today looking at family photos trying to find the perfect one of her, and decided this was my favorite even though she was just 17. Though only 58 when she died from Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, she accomplished what she was placed on this earth for. She raised 3 beautiful, intelligent children, and took great care of my dear mother. She had a green thumb and grew beautiful flowers and she taught me to sew. I was crazy about her and thought she was incredibly beautiful with her green eyes and black hair. She made the best cup of coffee and pot of red beans and rice this side of the Mississippi, as well as sweet ice tea and cold slaw. Her pecan pie was this side of Heaven. She was fun to shop with and chat with about the days events over coffee on a wintry afternoon while stew simmered on her stovetop. Her home was warm and inviting, and she always had her stereo on playing gospel music or Tijuana Brass. She loved music and that loved was passed down to her daughter.

The best gift Gail ever gave me was the gift of Jesus Christ. My mother taught me about God, how he cared for me and read the Bible, so I believed in Christ when I was 9 yrs. old. But it was only when I was 17, did I realize while spending time with Gail that I came to understand what that really meant. Gail loved the Lord and told me that Christ died for me, and that when I died, if I believed in what He had done on the cross, then I would live eternally with Him and my loved ones in Heaven and never die. I was attending a little country church during that time, and after reading much scripture for myself, a great joy burst in my heart when I read, “For God so Loved the World that he gave his only Son, that whoever believed in Him, would have everlasting life.” That’s it! The truth was very simple. Soon I was baptized and started on this wonderful journey of being a believer, or Christian, as some would say. Gail was the one that lead me to my faith.

Now, I was incredibly sad when she died so quickly after receiving the “cancer” news and surgery, but I believe it was the gift of peace from the Holy Spirit that kept me from crumbling at that gravesite and of course, the prayers of my praying friends. Her Freedom came in the wee morning hours of a terrible thunderstorm of which she had feared all her life. How ironic that God would send his Angels to carry her home to Heaven at that exact time, exemplifying to her that she would never have to fear anything again with no more suffering, but one day a new body! We celebrated that 4th of July after her funeral by doing what she loved—going down to the beach on Hwy 90 in Gulfport to watch the fireworks. How appropriate to celebrate her life and freedom with the freedom that we cherish today as fireworks exploded against the inky black sky!

Searching For a Rainbow

Have you ever had a time when you weren’t sure of your place in the world? Ever want to be some place other than your job, or feel lonely when surrounded by people? Have you ever felt like you really were not number one is someone else’ eyes? For certain, I am not unique in feeling this way. It’s like someone looking outside their den window, and seeing the same tree everyday, but then one day they don’t see the tree at all because they are so use to it being there. Too consumed with their own job, and demands of life, people miss out on relationships all the time with spouses, friends and family, because of self-centeredness.

Maybe it’s because we focus on ourselves, and loose sight of what’s right in front of us, being offered, rather than make a effort to genuinely care about another’s dreams, hopes and desires. How often do we dare yield a large part of ourselves to show someone that they matter more than anything else? Far too often we assume we know what the other person is thinking, and we believe we know more than they do about what was said in a conversation or an email taken the wrong way.

There’s a yield sign for traffic that I face every day to turn into our office parking lot. I have the right of way because the sign clearly states other drivers are to yield to U-turn traffic and it is the only way into our office park. Several times in the last few weeks, a man in a black Mercedes would not yield to me, almost hitting me. One day last week, he yelled--I blew my horn, but he proceeded to turn in front of me, then jerking his car over into my lane nearly coming to a complete stop as it if to scare me, all the while, shooting me the bird. Really nice man, I thought sarcastically. Quickly, I pointed in the direction of the yield sign that he had. Let me tell you, it unnerved me, and I was shaking by the time I got to my desk. Road Rage, nothing more, very real. Who knows, he may have made good his threats, because he was yelling and gesturing expletives at me. This was the same man who had done this to me several times this year.

This past Thursday morning, I couldn’t believe that we wound up at the intersection again at the same time. I shivered, he was moving fast, but apparently he had decided to acquiesce to let me turn into the office park, for whatever reason, barely giving me a second thought. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Life is about yielding to others, like it or not, especially if you have taken offense at something you thought someone meant, and you were entirely wrong. I have yielded all my life to almost everyone, but today I want to take care of me and my heart, and not be in constant worry about how someone perceives who I am. I’m longing to be held close to someone’s heart, that genuinely cares about my needs and dreams. I suggest you listen to your heart. As for me, I’m looking for a Rainbow…..

Where Willows Grow

My favorite book this summer so far, without doubt! Kim, I simply loved this book!

First of all, I loved this setting, drought stricken Kansas, (much like Atlanta right now) but in 1936. Genuine and good-hearted characters made me care about Anna Mae and Harley who are trying to survive the drought and pay for taxes, but just barely scrapping by to hold their farm together. With a baby on the way and their 5 yr. old Marjorie to feed, Harley leaves in hopes of finding work to send money back to Anna Mae, despite her strong protests. My heart swelled with love for these "salt of the earth" people. Anna's strong faith and God's continual provision gave her hope in their helpless situation, regardless of the outcome. When months go by and Anna doesn't hear from Harley, she remains steadfast, even though her heart is breaking. Complicating matters further, her childhood friend, Jack fancies himself in love with her, and sets out to convince her that Harley will never return.
It was hard for me to put this book down, and turn out the light because I wanted to find out how Anna would handle each turn of events that plagued her. Very convincing plot and well crafted, real characters made this book so appealing. Don't miss it!

Summer Reading

I have finally taken the time to review Lightning and Lace, by DiAnn Mills, though I read the book well over a month ago. Shame on me, but that’s what happens when you have several books you’re reading, along with my writing buds manuscripts. Throw in work, choir, family and everyday things that clutter our lives and it’s hard to find time. Sorry, DiAnn. Enough said.

This is the third book in the Texas Legacy series and a most enjoyable one. After meeting the characters in books One and Two, I felt like I knew them personally, and couldn’t wait to see how the final book compared. Not surprising to me at all, was a marvelous story of grief, faith, love and mystery as DiAnn wove the threads neatly together focusing on struggling widow, Bonnie Kahler, and her angry, troubled son, Zach. Travis Whitmore, the new preacher hiding his own past, becomes a pivotal force in helping Bonnie’s son find direction after his father’s death.

Mills has written a fast-paced, and another exciting adventure, full of emotion and surprises. I suggest this one as a very pleasant summer read for your vacation.

SPECIAL DAY

This past weekend was a family celebration as our granddaughter, Maggie (Mary Magdalene Christine), celebrated her First Communion at St. Teresa’s in Grovetown, GA. Maggie is eight years old and the first child of our daughter, Sheri and our son-in-law, Bobby, who watched with pride. Maggie was named after my mother, and what a joy in our life she has become!

Looking quiet grown up but with childhood innocence, she walked down the church aisle in her beautiful dress and veil, representing the bride of Christ, with small her hands prayerfully folded in reverence. What a precious picture she made with her wonderment of taking communion and what it represented. Children are so wonderful and Jesus had a special love in his heart for them. “But Jesus called for them (children) saying, “Permit the children to come to Me and do not hinder them, for the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these.” Luke 18:16 NASB

Afterward, the grandparents, Godparents, priests, aunts, uncles and friends filled their beautiful home with love, laughter and chatter to enjoy a delicious Italian lunch of baked ziti from Mimo’s restaurant, topped off with dessert of a very large white cross cake trimmed with white roses. Everything was delicious! Later, Maggie excitedly unwrapped her gifts then appreciatively passed them around the den, so we could all ooh and ahh.

Everyday throughout our lives, we are making memories for our children and grandchildren, either good or bad. It is certainly better to remember all the good events in our lives that we have celebrated. Like this one that Maggie will always hold dear in her heart and memory.

“Let us rejoice and be glad and give glory to Him, for the marriage of the Lamb has come and His bride has made herself ready.” Rev. 19:7 NASB

I LOVE SWEET ROMANCE!

Sunday afternoon I enjoyed lying in my chaise lounge for hours reading a sweet romance book. There was a stiff breeze stirring the leaves around, and I watched a variety of birds nibble at the birdfeeder. The humidity was less than 35% and for Atlanta, that is spectacular with the temperature of about 76 degrees. An awful lot was on my heart, so being able to totally abandon myself selfishly to reading a good book, and mindless wandering of the mind, I discovered, is good for the soul and for healing the body.
I wondered as I return back to my sweet romance book, whatever happened to the popularity of that genre of writing?
Well, I’m here to tell you that it is alive and well on planet earth. Despite the racy novels of sex, language and violence that cover the shelves at the bookstores, women especially enjoy a good read of sweet, old fashioned romance, where sex is insinuated but not spelled out graphically, be it modern day, or transported back in time to another era. Like my novel, for instance. It’s sweet, and romantic without gratuitive sex. I leave that for the imagination. Which brings me back to the book that I am reading, At Odds With Love, by Betty Neels. A divine love story of a damsel in distress. The pure warmth of the crackling fire, scones and hot tea, place me slap in the middle of the England, and I feel that I’ve come home. The author uses description in such a way that every page is vivid and leaps off the page. This book was written in 1993 and it’s a simple little Harlequin paperback, probably out of print. All I can say is, that is delightful, heart-warming, and don’t we all sometimes just want to read a good sweet romance, much like the Hallmark movies? Well, I do, and my writing buddy, Kelly, said that I must read some of Betty Neel’s books, because I write much like her, she loaned one to me. I’m not even finished with it and I’m singing her praises!
The Mayo Clinic said that one of the top ten ways to reduce stress, is reading a good book, or a good movie which will redirect our thoughts from unproductive worry. Now who can argue with that? If you’d like to learn more about Betty Neels and her 130 popular books visit this website, http://www.mykeep.com/authors/neelsb.html.

Columbine Trail

A long time ago, my brother, Jess who wrote novels, said to be careful who I allow to read my manuscript. In fact, only a few should have that privilege. Pretty much, I've only let my critique partners read my first unpublished book. It has been written into a screenplay, and I have signed an option to that effect. Last week once again, it was requested by a well known producer for a TV movie. That's requested, folks, not sold. You bet I was excited, but in the long run, it may not be optioned. Where am I going with this? Well, back to the warning--I let someone outside of my critique group read the script, and before they were even a few pages into it, they told me that my story was predictable! Death to a writer's ego and hopes!! I asked the person, how could you know? There are a couple of sub-plots and a surprise, but you haven't read them yet. Predictable to me, means the guy's gonna get the girl, maybe a cat and mouse game, but what separates different love stories from being the same ole thing, is what goes on in between, and what challegenes they will face to reach their ultimate goal. Well, I've learned my lesson, Jess, and I won't do that again. But if anyone has read this far and would like to read what my novel is about, keep reading. I refuse to lose hope, and my second book is half-way completed, with my third idea and title simmering. After all, if a screenwrite saw much promise and it has been requested twice for submission, how far off can I be? See what you think below.

There’s a saying in the Old West that “A Man don’t have thoughts about women till he’s 35. A’fore then, all he’s got is feelin’s.” For me, the wit and wisdom of the Old West provide an endless treasure store of great story potential. My story, Columbine Trail, is unique because it chronicles the hardships of the first attempt by a female of a working ranch to move cattle from the Yampa Valley to Denver, Colorado. The main character relies on her faith in God for strength and guidance, which ultimately shapes her character and her future. Here's a brief synopsis:

In 1892, a cattle drive is no place for a
woman. Yet delicate southern belle,
Crystal Clark, is forced out of her
comfort zone. She will brave the dangers
of the Colorado Yampa Valley with the
strength of her faith and her determination
to succeed. Crystal is not the perfect Christian,
but God ultimately shapes and refines her
character as she battles the harsh realities
of managing a ranch, personal tragedies, and
her growing feelings of her engaged handsome
foreman.

Luke Weber is used to managing drovers,
cattle, and his own time. He thinks
Crystal is beautiful, but green as a spring leaf
on an aspen tree. He has never given
God free rein in his life and has no place
for a tenderfoot, no matter how much
she occupies his thoughts. But suddenly,
the tenderfoot is his boss, and he must
choose between the cattle baron’s daughter
and the spunky southerner.

Columbine Trail is the romantic story of a
female’s first attempt to move cattle from the
Yampa Valley to Denver. This story reveals
God’s refining touch on the lives of two
headstrong people in everyday challenges,
from managing big life issues to controlling
tempers, will and desire.

I'd enjoy any and all comments. You can do that anonymously if you choose to; it's not hard to do. I'm tougher that you think-a regular Steele Magnolia!

TRICIA GOYER BLOG TOUR

I am happy to host a blog tour for a great writer whose newest book is out.

Tricia Goyer has written Valley of Betrayal about the Spanish Civil War.

I was priveledged to read her novel, Dawn of a Thousand Nights, last year and the newest novel is book one of the Chronicles of The Spanish Civil War series. Tricia lives in MT, a place near and dear to my heart.

The Story Behind the Novel:

A few years ago when I was researching for my fourth World War II novel, Arms of Deliverance, I came across a unique autobiography. One B-17 crewmember I read about claimed to make it out of German-occupied Belgium after a plane crash due, in part, to his skills he picked up as a veteran of The Spanish Civil War. Reading that bit of information, I had to scratch my head. First of all, I had never heard of the war. And second, what was an American doing fighting in Spain in the late 1930s? Before I knew it, I uncovered a fascinating time in history—one that I soon discovered many people know little about. This is what I learned:
Nazi tanks rolled across the hillsides and German bombers roared overhead, dropping bombs on helpless citizens. Italian troops fought alongside the Germans, and their opponents attempted to stand strong—Americans, British, Irishmen, and others—in unison with other volunteers from many countries. And their battleground? The beautiful Spanish countryside.
From July 17, 1936-April 1, 1939, well before America was involved in World War II, another battle was fought on the hillsides of Spain. On one side were the Spanish Republicans, joined by the Soviet Union and The International Brigade—men and women from all over the world who have volunteered to fight Fascism. Opposing them, Franco and his Fascist military leaders, supported with troops, machinery, and weapons from Hitler and Mussolini. The Spanish Civil War, considered the “training ground” for the war to come, boasted of thousands of American volunteers who joined to fight on the Republican side, half of which never returned home.
Unlike World War II, there is no clear line between white and black, good and evil. Both sides committed atrocities. Both sides had deep convictions they felt worth fighting and dying for.
Loyalists—also know as the Republicans were aided by the Soviet Union, the Communist movement, and the International Brigades. If not for the weapons and volunteers from these sources their fight would have ended in weeks rather than years. While many men fought side by side, their political views included that of liberal democracy, communism and socialism. The Catholic Basque Country also sided with the Republic, mainly because it sought independence from the central government and was promised this by Republican leaders in Madrid.
Nationalists—or Francoists were aided mainly by Germany and Italy. The Nationalist opposed an independent Basque state. Their main supporters were those who believed in a monarchist state and fascist interests. The Nationalist wished for Spain to continue on as it had for years, with rich landowners, the military, and the church running the country. Most of the Roman Catholic clergy supported the Nationalists, except those in the Basque region.
During the Spanish Civil war, terror tactics against civilians were common. And while history books discuss the estimated one million people who lost their lives during the conflict, we must not forget that each of those who fought, who died, had their own tales. From visitors to Spain who found themselves caught in the conflict, to the communist supporters, Basque priests, and Nazi airmen . . . each saw this war in a different light. These are the stories behind A Valley of Betrayal.

If you'd like to read to read the first chapter click on the link below. http://triciagoyer.blogspot.com/2007/02/its-here-its-here.html

For Tricia's website, click here. http://triciagoyer.com/

Step Into Spring

Don’t you just love springtime? Atlanta has been experiencing a taste of spring with cold nights but gradual warming during the day. Daffodils are nodding their yellow faces in the gusty breezes, and redbud trees have just started to pop out with pink blossoms, while the Bradford pear struts her white finery like a bride waiting for her groom. The South is a magnificent place to be this time of year with bright yellow forsythia bushes as bright as the sun, however, the best is yet to come –delicate dogwood and the many varieties of azaleas. This painting is one that I did a while back, but it makes me think of my mama. She loved flowers, and always had a small patch of brilliant red and yellow cannas and a myriad of other flowers in front of her tiny apartment in Gulfport, MS. She taught me a lot about nature, flowers and trees. She also loved growing vegetables in earlier years. My mama was a strong influence in my life, and was keenly intelligent. She could spot a fraud a mile away. She had little education but was able to express a deep sense of her love of nature, and was grateful that God had created such a beautiful world for us to live in. She inspired this painting. Since spring is Tuesday, I wanted to share it. This particular one hung in the gallery at Johnson Ferry Baptist Church along with the caption below. You can read more about the gallery, and view another of my paintings at this website. http://www.jfbc.org/glimpses_gallery/artgallery/with_flash/html/index.html

TITLE: My Peaceful Garden-As a child of an alcoholic father there were many times when my brothers, sisters and I weren’t sure of our future or even our next meal. My mother would open her Bible and read to us the scripture, Matthew 6:28, “…see the lilies of the field…” That verse has stayed with me throughout my life to trust our Heavenly Father for our needs, when we stay obedient to him.
TYPE OF WORK: Acrylic

SCRIPTURE: Matthew 6:28- “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all His splendor was dressed like one of these.”

REMEBER TO FORGET

Deb Raney’s latest romance is aptly named for a heroine who must forget her previous life, and a hero’s struggle with the haunted memory of his wife and child. In true romantic style, Deb has written a sweet love story surrounded by delightful characters set in a small fictional town, but so very believable that you long to live there.
The town of Clayburn is filled with such comfortable peace and likeable citzens so strong in their faith, that Maggie glimpses what real happiness could be like, and is desperate to have. With a taste of suspense and mystery, Maggie stretches beyond herself to embrace faith, and a second chance at life and love. A touching story that will surely capture your heart, and you’ll find hard to forget that.

Gift of Love

My life has never been busier, and in the midst of it all, Sarah Beth Lott entered our world on January 18th. She came a few days before my birthday and was indeed a gift of love between my son, Jared and his wife, Amy. As always, I am awed by a new baby and consider it one of the greatest miracles that God has created. What could be more delicate and infinitely made? What grandparent would not love this tiny 5 lb. 6 oz. baby that decided to arrive 3 wks. early? What dreams and desires must her parents have for her already? What tenderness pulls on the hearstrings when I hold her close and breathe in her sweet baby smell? Sweet Sarah is what I call her and she has captivated my heart. This is the baby of my baby--what an odd feeling...flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.
This is the 4th grandchild for us and I was so excited when I first saw her, that the nurse thought it was our first grandchild. No! Each one is uniquely and divinely made. God knew each one before they were born. That's incredible enough to bring tears to my eyes. So here's to Sweet Sarah and to my other equally precious grandchildren, Maggie, Angelina, and Peter. I love you all! Mimi --Isaiah 44:24