|One of the most peaceful places I've been to. The Baltimore River in Michigan's UP.|
Sunday, July 30, 2017
“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all He has done. If you do this, you will experience God’s peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.” Phil 4:6-7 (New Living Translation)
As my husband was leaving for work this morning at 5:30, and I was in bed reading, he admonished me to go back to sleep. But as all of us know who suffer from insomnia, that is not a command we can obey. We can’t just shut off our brains, or the pain, or whatever it is that’s keeping us awake. It’s better to get up and face the day and fight through the fatigue. Okay, that’s probably not the best way to do it, but that’s what I end up having to do.
Yes, I know that God has granted me His peace, I know that Jesus Christ guards my every moment, both waking and sleeping. But sometimes, a person still just cannot sleep. To which all I can say is, this too shall pass.
Lord, Heavenly Father, thank You for Your Faithfulness. Thank You for sending Your Son to be by my side in every trial. And Lord, if it be Your will, let me get a good night’s sleep tonight. Amen.
Friday, July 28, 2017
I’ve been reading “On Writing” by Stephen King. The book opens with not one, not two, but three forewords. I think that only a writer of King’s caliber can get away with that. Most articles on writing which I’ve read suggest you jump right into chapter 1, skipping a foreword or a prologue or anything else which slows down the beginning of the action. I would tend to agree, often skipping the five pages of acknowledgements until after I’ve read the book (even though my new novel begins with a prologue, but it couldn’t be helped). I do however want to know what’s in the author’s head, what or who inspired them and where this story came.
Which is why I ended my novel with “Why I wrote this book”. Here is an edited excerpt from it.
“The first time I traveled to Africa was on a mission trip with my daughter in 2006. Neither one of us ever imagined we would return. Yet, in 2010, my daughter, trying to find her role in life, volunteered in Kenya for six months, traveling throughout the country and working in a variety of capacities. It was while she was gone, that Kenya resurfaced in my mind and I started writing a memoir of our first trip. It was also during that time that I dreamed about a young boy living in the bush of Kenya. That dream would become the opening scene of this book.
“In my multiple travels to Kenya, I’ve been to the magnificent Rift Valley and have met various Maasai people living there. The adults have all been gracious and hospitable, and the children ridiculously friendly.
“It is my wish that in reading this book you not only grow closer to God, but that you are inspired to make a difference either at home or in a third world country.”
This picture is from our first trip to Kenya and one of these boys is who I see when I think of the boy in my novel. The picture’s not included in the book, but I hope that from my description of him, this is who you see in your head.
“Where the Sky Meets the Sand” is available as an ebook and as a paperback for preorder. I’ll let you know when I get my own supply if you want a signed copy.
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
A week ago, I shared pictures and memories of a day outside exploring with my brother and sister. Today, you get to hear about another such day, only this time with two old friends. We only get together a couple times a year, but have been doing it for 20 years. A third friend was supposed to join us but something came up. Next time, Barb.Linda wanted to see waterfalls, and since I knew where some were that she had never been to, I volunteered to play tour guide. And Joy was just along for the ride.
At least the wildlife wasn’t bothered by the people.
Finally we stopped at my favorite waterfalls. Haven’t been there in many years, coz it is a bit of a hike into it.
Linda was game for the trail, though we didn’t realize how muddy it was going to be.
Maybe not the biggest waterfall in the UP, but to me, the most peaceful. I’ve blogged about it before. O-Kun-De-Kun falls fills me with memories. Good times.
Sunday, July 23, 2017
Betty had asked Jenny if she attended a local church.
“No, why?” Jenny had answered before giving it any thought.
“Sometimes it helps make things easier. Gives you a direction, a place to turn when you are hurting.” Betty rested her hand on Jenny’s arm. “I can suggest a few, if you have a preference of denomination.”
“No … um … there’s definitely no denomination.”
“You could come with me some Sunday. I could pick you up.”
Jenny’s eyes narrowed. “Is this part of your job? Are you supposed to convert me or something?” Betty had been so upfront with her so far and Jenny felt she could trust her. Why was she pulling the whole church thing now?
“It’s not part of my job.” The woman laughed. “It’s part of me. I couldn’t say I was a Christian if I didn’t reach out to nonbelievers. At least try to reach them.”
My novel, “Where the Sky Meets the Sand”, was released in ebook version last week and will be available in paperback after September 1. This is a short excerpt from chapter 14. When I write a scene like that, I feel like a hypocrite. Have I shared my faith with others? Have I tried to reach out to the lost? A loud “no” reverberates in my head when I ask myself that.
Yet, people tell me that I reach others with my writing. I suppose that is true, to a certain extent at least, but I always feel that I should be doing more.
What I have to remember though, what I have to tell myself, is that God made me the way I am for a reason. Yes, sometimes I need to get out of my comfort zone and actually talk to people, which is a struggle because I’m very shy, insecure, and introverted. I think that’s why I’ve always wanted to be a writer, so I can live like a hermit and not leave my house.
I seem to have gotten off track.
What I really mean to say is that God grants us each gifts, whether it is healing the sick, feeding the homeless or preaching the gospel. Our job is to share those gifts with others, with those in need. Once in a while, though, we will be asked to stretch ourselves, to offer to others things which cost us something, whether monetarily, physically or emotionally. At those times, all we can do is ask for God’s guidance and strength, and then march on to do what we have to do.
Heavenly Father, thank you for granting me so many gifts and I pray for your guidance in using these gifts to benefit others. Amen
|Sometimes we have to march through the mud, whether it's comfortable or not.|
Friday, July 21, 2017
This is going to be another, short quick post, with more pictures than anything else.
This is my Uncle Robert and Aunt Helen (my mom's brother and sister), taken around 1920.
My Aunt Helen marrying Uncle Bob in 1942. His brother was their best man and her cousin was their maid of honor. The best man and maid of honor had gotten married in 1939. So brothers married cousins. Right?
My Aunt Helen's kids in 1955.
My Uncle Robert with his wife and kids also in 1955.
This is my family, in 1959, before I was born.
I don't want to go into lengthy detail, but I've lost four of the relatives in these pictures in the last five months. As I post this, I am heading off to the funeral of one of them. One of my favorite cousins, Gail. Here she is at her wedding in 1970. Have you ever seen a happier bride?
Holy cow, and here's a really sad fact, if I 'm counting right, out of all these pictures, only six of these people are left. I think I'll quit going through the old family photos for a while.
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
I spent a couple hours on Saturday with my brother and sister on our mom’s property. It brought back a lot of memories, but the best part was creating new memories with my surviving siblings, who I don’t spent nearly enough time with.
The grave of our dad’s dog Mac. Very sad, huh?
Last we hunted down the famous Big Rock. I scared up a deer on the way there.
Can you spot my brother photo-bombing me in the upper right corner?
This twenty acres was once an open field. My brother says he remembers the last time Dad hayed it, then they planted the Norway in about 1962.
When they were farming it, as in most farms in Wisconsin, all the largest rocks were gathered together in one pile.
My sister Pat and I spent hours as kids just sitting on our rock pile, me on the round rock to the right and Pat somehow perched on the pointy rock on the left. I’ve always told my husband that I want to bring those two rocks home with me, but he just gives me a scathing look.
The grave of our dad’s dog Mac. Very sad, huh?
Good memories – both old and new.
Sunday, July 16, 2017
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” Matthew 6:25-27 (New International Version)
It seems to me, then, that the number one key to finding happiness is to keep it simple, do the best you can, then move on and be thankful for what you have. And in the end, remember that God’s got it covered.
I was going over some of the notes I took at Lifest last week. Yes, I carry a small notebook with me and write down things that people say which inspire me. Or that was the idea.
Tiffany Thompson, one of my favorite speakers at Lifest each year, talked about what psychologists claim makes people happy. Number one thing was gratitude, and not necessarily just feeling grateful, but the actual act of searching (and hopefully finding) things which you are grateful for.
Next was sleep, but it’s not about getting enough sleep; it’s about not worrying about it. A lot of people (ok, always me) get to bed late, and right away are thinking “I have to get up early in the morning and now I’m not going to get enough sleep and I’m going to be shot all day.” Instead of thinking, “oh, well, I’ll get whatever sleep I can tonight and tomorrow is going to be just fine”.
Third was decision-making. And again (maybe you are starting to see a trend), it’s not about making the right decision; it’s about just making it. Another huge stumbling block for me. I will obsess for days before I am able to make the tiniest, inconsequential decision. “I need a new pair of work shoes, but I really need to wait until they go on sale, but when will that be? And am I going to get to the store while the sale is still on? What if they go on sale right after I buy them? Do you think the store would refund the difference if I took them back when they did go on sale? I’ve always worn white shoes to work, but everyone else is wearing colored ones? Think it would be okay if I wore colored ones too, or would I just be following the pack by doing what they do?” And it goes on and on. Holy cow! Just buy the stupid shoes. Who cares if they cost ten dollars more this week. The amount of stress you are causing yourself is costing your mental health way more than ten bucks!
The last thing which I wrote down was exercise. And you guessed it. It’s not about getting in those 30 minutes four days a week, it’s about doing whatever you can do that makes you feel good. I still wish I could start running again, but my Achilles tendon is still killing me. I need to get over that and accept the fact that I’m not meant to run and just do exercises which make me feel good.
Or that’s what I got out of what Tiffany had to say.
Friday, July 14, 2017
I don’t know why, but I found these pictures of my grandpa, working on the roads, so fascinating. Back when these were taken – I’m guessing the early 1940s – these trucks and machinery were probably pretty cool. He-man stuff. Larger than life for a lot of people. It's a wonder the equipment we've used over the years.
I’m not the one who circled grandpa there in the middle.
I never met either of my grandpas. My dad's dad died shortly after they moved to America. And this one - my mom's dad - passed away three years before I was born.
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
As you may or may not know, my first novel, “Where the Sky Meets the Sand”, is in the process of being published. I don’t have a date yet when it will be available, and I suppose that’s why I haven’t been spreading the word as much as I should.
It is the story of an American woman and an African boy. When I first started writing it, I switched back and forth between not only the woman’s and boy’s point of views, but about five other people as well. It became rather cumbersome and confusing. I had to cut out some of the various character’s stories, but didn’t delete them entirely. Those words, those other perspectives, remain on my laptop. I thought that maybe, in prelude to the release of the book, I would start sharing some of those scenes here.
The boy’s point of view
The boy didn’t know how long he lay on the floor of his mother’s hut. He knew that she was working around him, cooking meals, making chai tea. He knew that sometimes she knelt next to him and poured goat’s milk, mixed with cow’s blood, down his throat.
The bleeding had stopped but the pain continued to pound through his entire body. He was afraid that he would never be able to walk again. He was more afraid that no one in his tribe would speak to him again.
Then one night, when everyone was fast asleep, he rolled unto his belly and pushed himself up onto his knees. He rose on wobbly legs and took a tentative step. He discovered it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Walking actually helped, it made him feel alive again, it forced him to breath.
In silence, he filled a cloth bag with several pieces of chapati, the flat fried bread which they ate at most meals, and some strips of dried meat. He tied the bag along with the knife to his side and reached for a long stick which was leaning against the wall outside.
He knew what he had to do.
|These boys, from my first trip to Kenya in 2006, were the physical inspiration for the boy in the story.|
Sunday, July 9, 2017
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. (1 Corinthians 13:13a, New International Version)
I know you’ve seen those words before. I know I’ve blogged about them before, probably several times. Usually when we see this verse, "love" is the word we focus on. Coz the next words read, But the greatest of these is love.
Today however, the greatest is hope.
As you read this, I am heading home from another Lifest. On Thursday night, Bob Lenz, the founder of Lifest, spoke on the main stage about hope. He posed the question, when things are bad, really bad, how does a person find hope.
When you lose your job, when you are hit with unforeseen bills, when you are diagnosed with an incurable cancer, when your spouse leaves you, when any of these things – or worse – happen to a loved one. When you find yourself in a hole of sadness, where there is no way out. Where you have lost all hope.
Where can you possibly find hope? Right where it’s always been, between faith and love.
Lord God, Jesus Christ, thank You for always giving us hope. In the darkest of times, You are the Light which will always shine. Amen.
Friday, July 7, 2017
I was looking at previous blog posts as well as pictures from my trip to Kenya this spring, and just realized that it has been three whole months since I was there. In some ways, it feels like it was yesterday and in others, it seems like a lifetime ago. Also, as hard as it seems to believe, I have only posted a fraction of the pictures I took.
Last time I wrote about Hell’s Gate National Park, we were still in the gully. I had traversed a seemingly insurmountable obstacle, but I still had a lot of hiking ahead of me.
The beauty, however, continued to make it worthwhile.
This is the wall I slid down and sustained my visibly worst injury, scraping all of the skin off my left elbow and a small patch off of my left side.
Took it like a champ. I am still just plain too old for this nonsense.
The very last wall to climb. I took a rest before clambering up this one. It was no worse than rocks I’d climbed in search of waterfalls back home, but it had been a long morning. Yes, it was still morning; our day was not nearly over.