This week's winners of A Bride of Honor by Ruth Axtell Morren are Sunny and Andrea Brown! Send me your snail mail addies, ladies!
Coming up next week is author Jenny B. Jones, who delighted me with her writing style.
Winners!
This week's winners of A Bride of Honor by Ruth Axtell Morren are Sunny and Andrea Brown! Send me your snail mail addies, ladies!
Coming up next week is author Jenny B. Jones, who delighted me with her writing style.
Surprises!
Today has been full of surprises!
Wonderful surprises, including reconnecting with an old friend.
Just now I saw that I'm guest blogging at the Internet Cafe about this favorite house plant of mine and why you need More Than A Splash. I'd love to have you join me there!
***Remember the book giveaway that's still going on with Ruth Axtell Morren! It's a wonderful book! The drawing is open until Saturday evening and I'll post the winner on Sunday.***
Wonderful surprises, including reconnecting with an old friend.
Just now I saw that I'm guest blogging at the Internet Cafe about this favorite house plant of mine and why you need More Than A Splash. I'd love to have you join me there!***Remember the book giveaway that's still going on with Ruth Axtell Morren! It's a wonderful book! The drawing is open until Saturday evening and I'll post the winner on Sunday.***
Mom's Cooking Up Love
***Remember the book giveaway that's still going on with Ruth Axtell Morren! It's a wonderful book! The drawing is open until Saturday evening and I'll post the winner on Sunday.***
Welcome to Fiction Friday! This has been quite a day here in Southern Illinois! They're saying we had an inland hurricane and there's lots of damage--snapped trees and electric poles and you can imagine the power outages. All that without a tornado, which is really strange. That was all happening while my parents were trying to leave--I'm so thankful they waited until after the storm passed and were able to zig zag their way out of here and onto the interstate!
This week Julie is hosting at The Surrendered Scribe! See ya there!
This is THE VERY FIRST story I wrote back when I picked my pen back up in January of 2007. When I entered it in the Faithwriters Weekly Writing Challenge I almost lost my lunch because I was so nervous. LoL. It was the queasy first step of an exciting journey for me.
**********
Cooking Up Love
“Mom!” I could tell by the tone of his voice what the question would be. He didn’t disappoint me. “What’s for supper, Mom? We’re starving!”
I didn’t even bother stifling my groan. I hate cooking and my family knew it well. Too bad you couldn’t live on baked goods alone! Being a cookie fanatic had taught me early on to enjoy baking. But cooking? Ugh. I could easily leave that to someone else. Too bad there was no one else willing to take it. In a house full of men, there was no competition in the kitchen, unless it was getting to the food first and getting the most.
A quick check at the time sent me to the fridge for the hamburger and onions. “Meatloaf, mashed taters, and broccoli.”
“Cheese sauce on the broccoli?” Andrew hedged.
“Any reason I should make a cheese sauce?” I’d planned on it, but they didn’t have to know that.
“I got an A on my Physical Science test,” he smugly informed me.
“I did, too!” Ron called out as he sauntered into the kitchen. Ron was a neighbor kid who spent as much time with us as he did at his own house. Both he and Andrew were 14 and I knew that Shane, my 13 year old, would be in next. As expected, he came in and made a bee-line for the cookie jar.
“Cheese sauce?” he mumbled as he popped a whole cookie in his mouth. “I got a 100% on that geography quiz. Why do we have to know all those capitals anyways?”
I exaggerated my sigh, “OK. I’ll make a cheese sauce. Just because you guys did good, not because I like to cook!” I felt I had to remind them in case they forgot.
“Yes!” They high fived all around, grabbed handfuls of cookies and flopped onto the couches in the living room.
“Man, you guys are so lucky!” I heard Ron say around a mouthful of cookie. “Not only does your mom cook for you, but she’s always got cookies or something for you to eat!” There was a slight pause as he swallowed, “She must love you an awful lot.” I could hear the wistfulness in his voice and my hands stilled, listening.
“There’s food at your house, too!” Shane replied.
“Your mom cooks!” Andrew mumbled around what must have been a whole cookie.
“That’s not cooking, and you know it!” Ron said. He must have finished his cookies since his mouth was empty. “She opens a box, turns on the oven, slides it in and presto. What she calls supper is served in 60 minutes.”
“It’s not that bad,” Andrew tried making him feel better.
“Not bad?” Ron groaned. “It’s not real food!” The couch groaned this time as he sprawled back and threw his leg over the arm. “Man, your mom really loves you and you can tell! Look at how much time she spends cooking for you! And she doesn’t even like to cook!”
I held my breath at that. He knew I loved my boys because I cooked for them? My heart squeezed. “And you complain about having to cook? If showing these boys you love them is as simple as cooking good meals and snacks for them it’s worth every minute of it!” Listening to the boys had reminded me why I cook day after day. I was cooking up a dose of love for my family.
“Mmm. You’re right, Ron.” Shane agreed with him.
“She wouldn’t spend so much time in the kitchen if she didn’t love us a whole lot.” Andrew added thoughtfully.
Wiping my hands I walked into the living room. “We’re having apple crisp for dessert, too, Ron,” I said as I leaned over the back of the couch to see this son of my heart.
“Yeah?” he asked with a goofy grin. “That’s my favorite!”
“Yeah.” I replied. “Because I love you, too. And because you helped me remember why it is that I cook day after day.” I dropped a kiss on his head, shared a smile with him, and went back to the kitchen, grateful for the chance to show my boys some more love.
“Forget about letting someone else do the cooking!” I thought as I chopped onions. “This blessing is mine. All mine. And I’m glad I don’t have to share it with anyone else!”
**********
Be sure to join us over at The Surrendered Scribe for links to more great fiction!
***Remember the book giveaway that's still going on with Ruth Axtell Morren! It's a wonderful book! The drawing is open until Saturday evening and I'll post the winner on Sunday.***
Welcome to Fiction Friday! This has been quite a day here in Southern Illinois! They're saying we had an inland hurricane and there's lots of damage--snapped trees and electric poles and you can imagine the power outages. All that without a tornado, which is really strange. That was all happening while my parents were trying to leave--I'm so thankful they waited until after the storm passed and were able to zig zag their way out of here and onto the interstate!
This week Julie is hosting at The Surrendered Scribe! See ya there!
This is THE VERY FIRST story I wrote back when I picked my pen back up in January of 2007. When I entered it in the Faithwriters Weekly Writing Challenge I almost lost my lunch because I was so nervous. LoL. It was the queasy first step of an exciting journey for me.
Cooking Up Love
“Mom!” I could tell by the tone of his voice what the question would be. He didn’t disappoint me. “What’s for supper, Mom? We’re starving!”
I didn’t even bother stifling my groan. I hate cooking and my family knew it well. Too bad you couldn’t live on baked goods alone! Being a cookie fanatic had taught me early on to enjoy baking. But cooking? Ugh. I could easily leave that to someone else. Too bad there was no one else willing to take it. In a house full of men, there was no competition in the kitchen, unless it was getting to the food first and getting the most.
A quick check at the time sent me to the fridge for the hamburger and onions. “Meatloaf, mashed taters, and broccoli.”
“Cheese sauce on the broccoli?” Andrew hedged.
“Any reason I should make a cheese sauce?” I’d planned on it, but they didn’t have to know that.
“I got an A on my Physical Science test,” he smugly informed me.
“I did, too!” Ron called out as he sauntered into the kitchen. Ron was a neighbor kid who spent as much time with us as he did at his own house. Both he and Andrew were 14 and I knew that Shane, my 13 year old, would be in next. As expected, he came in and made a bee-line for the cookie jar.
“Cheese sauce?” he mumbled as he popped a whole cookie in his mouth. “I got a 100% on that geography quiz. Why do we have to know all those capitals anyways?”
I exaggerated my sigh, “OK. I’ll make a cheese sauce. Just because you guys did good, not because I like to cook!” I felt I had to remind them in case they forgot.
“Yes!” They high fived all around, grabbed handfuls of cookies and flopped onto the couches in the living room.
“Man, you guys are so lucky!” I heard Ron say around a mouthful of cookie. “Not only does your mom cook for you, but she’s always got cookies or something for you to eat!” There was a slight pause as he swallowed, “She must love you an awful lot.” I could hear the wistfulness in his voice and my hands stilled, listening.
“There’s food at your house, too!” Shane replied.
“Your mom cooks!” Andrew mumbled around what must have been a whole cookie.
“That’s not cooking, and you know it!” Ron said. He must have finished his cookies since his mouth was empty. “She opens a box, turns on the oven, slides it in and presto. What she calls supper is served in 60 minutes.”
“It’s not that bad,” Andrew tried making him feel better.
“Not bad?” Ron groaned. “It’s not real food!” The couch groaned this time as he sprawled back and threw his leg over the arm. “Man, your mom really loves you and you can tell! Look at how much time she spends cooking for you! And she doesn’t even like to cook!”
I held my breath at that. He knew I loved my boys because I cooked for them? My heart squeezed. “And you complain about having to cook? If showing these boys you love them is as simple as cooking good meals and snacks for them it’s worth every minute of it!” Listening to the boys had reminded me why I cook day after day. I was cooking up a dose of love for my family.
“Mmm. You’re right, Ron.” Shane agreed with him.
“She wouldn’t spend so much time in the kitchen if she didn’t love us a whole lot.” Andrew added thoughtfully.
Wiping my hands I walked into the living room. “We’re having apple crisp for dessert, too, Ron,” I said as I leaned over the back of the couch to see this son of my heart.
“Yeah?” he asked with a goofy grin. “That’s my favorite!”
“Yeah.” I replied. “Because I love you, too. And because you helped me remember why it is that I cook day after day.” I dropped a kiss on his head, shared a smile with him, and went back to the kitchen, grateful for the chance to show my boys some more love.
“Forget about letting someone else do the cooking!” I thought as I chopped onions. “This blessing is mine. All mine. And I’m glad I don’t have to share it with anyone else!”
Be sure to join us over at The Surrendered Scribe for links to more great fiction!
***Remember the book giveaway that's still going on with Ruth Axtell Morren! It's a wonderful book! The drawing is open until Saturday evening and I'll post the winner on Sunday.***
with Ruth Axtell Morren
My parents are visiting this week, and as we went through some of their things in my shed I was carried back to Maine and our years there. So, it's really quite fitting that Ruth is here visiting at Patterings with me. I wish I'd thought to ask her if she has a Maine accent! Mine comes out when I'm reeeeaaally tired and when my parents are here. LoL Yesterday I had to translate for my dad--he couldn't say Packard in a way my husband could understand. *grin* We've gotten many laughs over the years for how we (still) say things...after all these years. ;-)
But anyway, here's our interview with Ruth. Don't forget she's giving away a copy of A Bride of Honor, so be sure to leave a comment!
Ruth, which book (published or upcoming) has been the most fun for you to write and which character is your favorite? Why?
It’s funny—excuse the pun—but “fun” wouldn’t be a word I’d use to describe my books or writing process—more like emotionally moving, because when I write, I usually get so involved in my characters, and their story, after all, is an emotional journey. But as to funny, it would have to be The Making of a Gentleman. This Pygmalion in reverse story had lots of funny moments because the hero, a pig-headed, uneducated man, with his share of charm, was pitted against a spinster with very little tolerance for his charm. I think I was inspired in part by Katherine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart in The African Queen.
I love how you weave faith into your books. What are some of the spiritual themes you like to write about?
Well, definitely, and probably foremost, is the them of a person’s journey to Christ, but I’ve also written about forgiveness and unfaithfulness (Dawn in my Heart); healing, both emotional and physical (The Healing Season); consecration (Lilac Spring). Often, too, the theme of coming to understand God’s love for us—and through this, being able to love and accept ourselves, is woven through my stories.
You've lived in different places throughout your life. Which place has been your favorite? What is it about that place that makes it your favorite?
Boy, you ask hard questions! Ever since really coming to Christ, I’ve been pretty content anywhere I’ve lived. Right now, I’ve moved back to coastal Maine, and despite its long and cold winters, I have to say I love it. The scenery is breathtaking and definitely inspiring to my writing. Last spring my daughter and I revisited Paris, which I hadn’t been to since my young twenties, and it was as lovely as always. There is probably no city like Paris. It was May and there were tons of American college kids walking around, and they reminded me so much of my own junior year in Paris.
My childhood was spent in Rockport, Maine, and my memories of those days are full of trees and stone walls and fishing and the ocean and blueberries and crunchy apples. What are some of the things you love about Maine?
The rocky coast, the intensity of the blue (like a midnight blue) of the ocean and the blue of the sky (cerulean maybe?). The smell of balsam fir. One winter we made Christmas wreaths for sale in our basement, and the aroma was heavenly! Of course, blueberries are great and those super tangy apples from gnarled trees that are about 100 years old. They make great applesauce and pie.
What is the quirkiest (or most fun) thing you have ever done?
My latest part-time job is making me do some quirky things. I’m working for the 2010 Census. It’s taking me to all kinds of places off-the-beaten track here in downeast Maine. Walking down rutted roads, because I’m afraid my car won’t make it back out, hoping I won’t run into a bear or coyote, just to see if there is a camp or other human dwelling down there, is one of the things.
How much of yourself do you write into your characters?
I think we all weave emotions we’ve experienced into our characters. That’s the only way to make them sound authentic. Their situations may be different, but the emotions are the same.
What is your most difficult writing obstacle, and how do you overcome it?
Last year was a year of transitions for me, and for the first time since I’d seriously begun to write (about 20 years now), I had lost the joy of it. I didn’t feel inspired, and for a while, I even thought maybe this was it. The Lord had allowed me to experience being a published writer, and now it was time to move on to something else. And then, one night it hit me: the problem was trying to write to an editor’s or a publishing house’s expectations. I needed to come back and write what was on my heart, regardless of how marketable it was. It has made all the difference in writing.
You're a wife, mother and writer, I'm sure among other things. How do you juggle all that you do? (and if you have a management tip, we'd love to hear it!)
A friend of mine recently commented with a mixture of envy and awe that I seemed to manage my time so well. I didn’t really know what to say, b/c I’ve never considered myself a super organized person. I know a lot of people I consider more organized. But as I thought about it, I realized the key for me was having a goal. One of my favorite Scriptures—especially during those long years of being an unpublished writer—is the one of running with patience the race that is set before us; that in due season we shall reap if we faint not. I told my friend afterwards that by having a goal or goals, it helps get me through all the other STUFF I have to deal with. Seeing a book in print, or reading a moving e-mail from a reader, or getting a great review makes all those hours sitting at a computer writing a story, then re-writing it; enduring editorial revisions ; proofing, etc., etc. all worthwhile.
So, keeping my eye on the end goal helps me keep on keeping on with the daily slog.
What is something the Lord teaching you right now?
Once again, it’s a question of trust. Trusting in Him for my teenagers, trusting in Him financially, trusting in Him for my health, trusting in Him for my next writing contract—I mean REALLY trusting Him. Not just praying to Him, comforting myself with a few Scriptures, and then turning around and worrying or fretting when things aren’t seemingly going my way.
Do you have any upcoming books? Can you tell us about your next book out?
I was pretty spoiled last year, 2008, when my publisher, Steeple Hill, decided to move up the publishing date on some of my manuscripts, and suddenly I had four books out in one year (the usual rate had been one a year). Now, it’ll probably be more like the old schedule. I won’t have anything out till April 2010, and that only a shorter book, a 2-in-1 anthology in a Love Inspired Mother’s Day anthology. But I have lots of ideas cooking…
How can readers keep up with you and your new releases?
The best way is through my blog, http://ruthaxtellmorren.blogspot.com since I don’t always have my website up to date. I’ll always post my latest bookcover on my blog.
If you missed it, there's an excerpt of Ruth's A Bride of Honor in yesterday's post. To purchase A Bride of Honor from:
Amazon
CBD
Don't forget to leave a comment to be entered in the book giveaway! The drawing will be open until Saturday evening and the winner will be posted on Sunday. Coming up next week is Jenny B. Jones.
But anyway, here's our interview with Ruth. Don't forget she's giving away a copy of A Bride of Honor, so be sure to leave a comment!
Ruth, which book (published or upcoming) has been the most fun for you to write and which character is your favorite? Why?
It’s funny—excuse the pun—but “fun” wouldn’t be a word I’d use to describe my books or writing process—more like emotionally moving, because when I write, I usually get so involved in my characters, and their story, after all, is an emotional journey. But as to funny, it would have to be The Making of a Gentleman. This Pygmalion in reverse story had lots of funny moments because the hero, a pig-headed, uneducated man, with his share of charm, was pitted against a spinster with very little tolerance for his charm. I think I was inspired in part by Katherine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart in The African Queen.
I love how you weave faith into your books. What are some of the spiritual themes you like to write about?
Well, definitely, and probably foremost, is the them of a person’s journey to Christ, but I’ve also written about forgiveness and unfaithfulness (Dawn in my Heart); healing, both emotional and physical (The Healing Season); consecration (Lilac Spring). Often, too, the theme of coming to understand God’s love for us—and through this, being able to love and accept ourselves, is woven through my stories.
You've lived in different places throughout your life. Which place has been your favorite? What is it about that place that makes it your favorite?Boy, you ask hard questions! Ever since really coming to Christ, I’ve been pretty content anywhere I’ve lived. Right now, I’ve moved back to coastal Maine, and despite its long and cold winters, I have to say I love it. The scenery is breathtaking and definitely inspiring to my writing. Last spring my daughter and I revisited Paris, which I hadn’t been to since my young twenties, and it was as lovely as always. There is probably no city like Paris. It was May and there were tons of American college kids walking around, and they reminded me so much of my own junior year in Paris.
My childhood was spent in Rockport, Maine, and my memories of those days are full of trees and stone walls and fishing and the ocean and blueberries and crunchy apples. What are some of the things you love about Maine?
The rocky coast, the intensity of the blue (like a midnight blue) of the ocean and the blue of the sky (cerulean maybe?). The smell of balsam fir. One winter we made Christmas wreaths for sale in our basement, and the aroma was heavenly! Of course, blueberries are great and those super tangy apples from gnarled trees that are about 100 years old. They make great applesauce and pie.
What is the quirkiest (or most fun) thing you have ever done?
My latest part-time job is making me do some quirky things. I’m working for the 2010 Census. It’s taking me to all kinds of places off-the-beaten track here in downeast Maine. Walking down rutted roads, because I’m afraid my car won’t make it back out, hoping I won’t run into a bear or coyote, just to see if there is a camp or other human dwelling down there, is one of the things.
How much of yourself do you write into your characters?
I think we all weave emotions we’ve experienced into our characters. That’s the only way to make them sound authentic. Their situations may be different, but the emotions are the same.
What is your most difficult writing obstacle, and how do you overcome it?
Last year was a year of transitions for me, and for the first time since I’d seriously begun to write (about 20 years now), I had lost the joy of it. I didn’t feel inspired, and for a while, I even thought maybe this was it. The Lord had allowed me to experience being a published writer, and now it was time to move on to something else. And then, one night it hit me: the problem was trying to write to an editor’s or a publishing house’s expectations. I needed to come back and write what was on my heart, regardless of how marketable it was. It has made all the difference in writing.
You're a wife, mother and writer, I'm sure among other things. How do you juggle all that you do? (and if you have a management tip, we'd love to hear it!)
A friend of mine recently commented with a mixture of envy and awe that I seemed to manage my time so well. I didn’t really know what to say, b/c I’ve never considered myself a super organized person. I know a lot of people I consider more organized. But as I thought about it, I realized the key for me was having a goal. One of my favorite Scriptures—especially during those long years of being an unpublished writer—is the one of running with patience the race that is set before us; that in due season we shall reap if we faint not. I told my friend afterwards that by having a goal or goals, it helps get me through all the other STUFF I have to deal with. Seeing a book in print, or reading a moving e-mail from a reader, or getting a great review makes all those hours sitting at a computer writing a story, then re-writing it; enduring editorial revisions ; proofing, etc., etc. all worthwhile.
So, keeping my eye on the end goal helps me keep on keeping on with the daily slog.
What is something the Lord teaching you right now?
Once again, it’s a question of trust. Trusting in Him for my teenagers, trusting in Him financially, trusting in Him for my health, trusting in Him for my next writing contract—I mean REALLY trusting Him. Not just praying to Him, comforting myself with a few Scriptures, and then turning around and worrying or fretting when things aren’t seemingly going my way.
Do you have any upcoming books? Can you tell us about your next book out?
I was pretty spoiled last year, 2008, when my publisher, Steeple Hill, decided to move up the publishing date on some of my manuscripts, and suddenly I had four books out in one year (the usual rate had been one a year). Now, it’ll probably be more like the old schedule. I won’t have anything out till April 2010, and that only a shorter book, a 2-in-1 anthology in a Love Inspired Mother’s Day anthology. But I have lots of ideas cooking…
How can readers keep up with you and your new releases?The best way is through my blog, http://ruthaxtellmorren.blogspot.com since I don’t always have my website up to date. I’ll always post my latest bookcover on my blog.
If you missed it, there's an excerpt of Ruth's A Bride of Honor in yesterday's post. To purchase A Bride of Honor from:
Amazon
CBD
Don't forget to leave a comment to be entered in the book giveaway! The drawing will be open until Saturday evening and the winner will be posted on Sunday. Coming up next week is Jenny B. Jones.
Meet Ruth Axtell Morren
First--I'm posting at Exemplify today...As Beautiful as Hephzibah! Do you know Hephzibah? *grin*
Today I'm happy to introduce you to Ruth Axtell Morren. The fact that she lives on the coast of Maine is pretty cool because when she was a little girl, she remembers driving through the area I lived in when we lived there, before we left Maine for Ecuador. Ruth gave me the privilege of reading her new release, A Bride of Honor, before it hit the shelves, and I have to admit--she completely surprised me with the twists and turns she threw in. Totally surprised me--yanno, the kind that make your mouth drop open! But it wasn't just the surprises she pulled out, it was the faith that she included. Faith wasn't just added as an after thought, it was an integral part of the story. This is a very enjoyable read that you really don't want to miss! Ruth is also doing a book giveaway--so leave a comment on this post or tomorrow's interview to be entered into the book giveaway. But as a special treat, she's giving away TWO books!
Ruth Axtell Morren discovered she enjoyed writing at about the same time she discovered she loved reading. By seventh grade she was devouring countless teenage romances, as well as Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden. From there, she moved on to Victoria Holt and Phyllis Whitney along with the classics, particularly the novels of the 19th century, from Bronte to Balzac.
It was natural to study comparative literature in college, where she could combine the literature and language of more than one country. She chose French and English and during her time at Smith College, she went to the Sorbonne for her junior year.
She has lived and traveled in various countries from the Canary Islands to the Netherlands, but probably the most time has been spent in the unspoiled downeast region of coastal Maine where she currently lives. It feeds her muse. When the fog rolls in, all she has to do is sit at her computer and she can be anywhere in the world as she works on her latest manuscript.
A Bride of Honor
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a lady of rank and distinction is no match for an impoverished preacher. Yet Damian Hathaway is entranced from the moment he spies Miss Lindsay Phillips entering his church. She doesn't appear any different from the other pampered society ladies—and she's betrothed to a gentleman of the ton. But Damian is determined to find the pure heart he's sure exists underneath all the ruffles and lace. The unlikely friendship formed by Damian and Lindsay is a revelation to them both, but is frowned upon by her parents—and Damian's parishioners. Torn between two worlds, the pair must trust that their love can bridge the divide—and conquer all.
Here's an excerpt of A Bride of Honor
London, April 1812
"'I have found David, the son of Jesse, a man after mine own heart'." Damien paused in the reading of the scripture and looked from the pulpit to the congregation below him.
St. George's Chapel was filled to overflowing. Not due solely to his preaching, unfortunately, although his flock had been growing steadily in the last few years since he'd been curate there.
No, it was not the service or his preaching that brought most people out this Sunday to morning prayer, but scandal.
Damien's glance strayed to the chancel where his sister sat beside her intended. Jonah Quinn, a man who'd escaped the gallows and been a fugitive from the law, had only last week received a royal pardon from the prince regent himself.
Overnight, Jonah, Damien and his sister had become objects of notoriety. The fashionable world from nearby Mayfair flocked to catch a glimpse of the man who'd escaped detection from the magistrates by hiding out in Damien's own parsonage.
A rustle of someone's prayer book pulled Damien's thoughts back to the sermon at hand. His business was not what had brought people into the house of God that morning, but what they would take with them when they left.
"How is your heart with God today?" As he asked the question, his gaze roamed over the congregation once again, stopping here and there to make eye contact with a parishioner. Most quickly averted their eyes.
His attention was caught by a young lady in the front pew. For a few seconds, he lost his train of thought. She was looking at him as if drinking in each word.
Clearing his throat, he looked back down at his notes, wishing all his parishioners listened so attentively.
"Is your heart condemning you when you come before the Lord in prayer?"
Damien's voice grew soft and there was little sound coming from the congregation. He continued to ask the probing questions, questions he himself had dealt with in his earlier life when he'd felt inadequate to fill the shoes of a preacher.
"God's word tells us that there is no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus." He grasped the sides of the pulpit, his voice rising. He no longer needed to look down at his notes as his words tumbled forth.
His attention returned time and again to the young lady. Her look never wavered. What had brought her this morning? She certainly didn't behave like those interested in the latest scandal. Not once had her glance drifted toward Jonah, unlike so many of the congregation.
The young lady was sitting beside an older woman. Damien recognized neither. Both were fashionably dressed. Were they part of the Mayfair crowd squeezed into the pews that morning?
As soon as the service was over, Damien went into the vestry to remove his stole and surplice, then made his way to the church's entry in his black cassock to greet the parishioners. Thinking of the moment he would face the young lady, he felt a brief qualm as he listened to the tap of his wooden leg against the hard floor. Would a flicker of distaste mar her pretty features? The worry was quickly gone. What did it matter what she thought? Chastising himself briefly for his vanity, he joined his sister and Jonah who were already at the door.
"Good morning, Reverend Hathaway. Wonderful sermon." He returned handshakes and greetings, thanking those who commended him on the sermon.
Many of those who were strangers hardly gave him a nod before turning an eager eye to Florence and Jonah. Damien glanced their way but saw at once that his future brother-in-law didn't need help from him. Jonah shook hands and smiled broadly at one and all, answering those who were bold enough to ask him about his pardon.
He chuckled, rubbing his muscular neck. "Aye, the noose was already nipping at me throat 'ere I was rescued. No, I never did ken who they were." His listeners' eyes popped open wide, their mouths hanging slack in wonder.
"Good morning, Reverend Hathaway."
Damien turned to greet an elderly parishioner. "Good morning, Mrs. Oliver. How nice to see you out again. How are you feeling this fine April morning?"
The white-haired lady smiled beneath the deep rim of her straw bonnet. "Praise be to God, I am feeling quite myself again. After you prayed for me, the rheumatism in my joints subsided." She patted his hand. "You were so kind to visit me while I was housebound."
"I am thankful to have you back among us."
With a last pat to his hand, she indicated the ladies behind her in the line—and Damien was caught by the large brown eyes of the beautiful young lady of the front pew.
With an effort, he pulled his focus from her and turned to the older lady, intensely aware of his deformity.
"I'd like to present you to my dear friend, Miss Yates," Mrs. Oliver went on in her friendly tone, oblivious to his inner turmoil. "And this is her young cousin, Miss Phillips, just returned to London from school."
He bowed to the older lady. "How do you do?" Everything about her indicated a lady of rank and distinction. Her dark cloak was edged in fur, her manner dignified.
Miss Yates inclined her head slightly, a genial look in her blue eyes. "Very well, thank you. I found your sermon most edifying. I look forward to visiting again."
Unable to resist the sincerity in her tone, he smiled. "You are always welcome. Please come any Sunday."
Damien tried to appear calm and untroubled as he prepared to bring his attention to Miss Phillips. It had been merely a trick of the light that had made her appear so ethereally lovely from his vantage of the pulpit, he told himself.
Nevertheless, a flush crept from the edges of his white clerical collar to his hairline as he turned to her.
The impact of her honey-brown eyes almost knocked him over. They were framed by lashes a shade darker. Tawny eyebrows created an arresting contrast to her golden hair.
She was even lovelier up close than she'd appeared in the pew. Blond curls framed a heart-shaped face. A finely chiseled nose curved up the tiniest bit at the end.
"How do you do?" he finally managed.
She murmured something indistinct and looked down.
He cleared his throat, searching frantically for something to say—anything to prolong the moment. But his mind had suddenly emptied of all lofty thoughts. He might never have preached an edifying sermon moments ago. "I'm honored you joined our humble congregation today." As soon as the words were out, his face grew warm. He sounded as if he were toadying for a compliment.
She looked up immediately. Her smile lit up the rich brown depths of her eyes and brought radiance to the delicate pink of her cheeks. "Oh, no, sir—it is we who are honored. I mean—that is to say…"
Her evident confusion eased his own agitation. "I hope you enjoyed the service."
"Oh, yes, sir—Reverend—" She stopped.
A kindred feeling stirred inside him as he realized how shy she was. She was very young, perhaps no more than seventeen or eighteen.
He forgot his own fears in his wish to put her at ease. "Hathaway."
"I beg your pardon, Reverend Hathaway."
He was unaccustomed to reacting so to a young lady, but then he'd never been so close to one so lovely, and so obviously of rank.
Before he could think of anything else to say—and conscious of the line of people waiting behind her—she said, "I… I enjoyed your sermon, Reverend Hathaway. Very much. I mean, I'm not certain if 'enjoyed' is the correct word…."
His mouth turned up at the corner in rueful understanding. "I hope you found it thought provoking at the least."
"Oh, indeed, yes! That is a much better way to put it. I… I've never heard preaching such as yours before. It… it wasn't comfortable, and yet—" she drew her dark eyebrows together "—it filled me with something I've never felt before."
The words were what every preacher wanted to hear. He tried to dismiss the thought that the pleasure he felt from the compliment was heightened by the fact that it had come from such a lovely young creature. To hide his confusion, he turned to his sister. "May I present my sister, Florence Hathaway, and her fiancé, Jonah Quinn."
She greeted both.
"Enjoyed the preaching, did you?" Jonah asked with a smile.
Again, she blushed, but did not lower her gaze as she had with Damien. "Yes, very much."
"Our Damien always preaches a good one. Warms the insides when it doesn't feel like a punch in the gut."
Her laughter joined Jonah's. "Oh, yes! That's it exactly."
Jonah winked at both ladies. "Why don't you come 'round for tea this afternoon for more of Reverend Hathaway's wit and wisdom?"
Damien was preparing to greet the next parishioner in line when Jonah's words stopped him. His eyes sought his sister's. Florence was rarely at a loss in any situation—she would know what to say. But Florence was looking at Jonah, stunned.
An awkward silence followed when Florence did not speak up immediately to second the invitation. Damien, who knew his sister so well, realized she must be feeling nervous about entertaining ladies of such distinction. As the silence stretched out, he knew he must say something. Except for the rector and his mother, they rarely entertained members of the ton in their modest parsonage.
Damien bowed his head toward Miss Yates. "We would be honored if you would visit us this afternoon."
"We should be delighted," the older lady replied immediately. "What time would you expect us?"
Florence seemed finally to remember her obligations as hostess. "Would four o'clock suit you?"
"Four o'clock would be perfect." Miss Yates touched her young companion on the elbow. "We must be going." She bowed to the three of them. "Until this afternoon."
Damien watched them continue down the church steps and across the lawn toward a fine-looking carriage, his mind in a daze. A liveried servant sprang down and opened the carriage door for them, confirming his supposition that they were members of the upper class. When the servant slammed the door shut, Damien noted that it was decorated with a blue-and-gold crest.
"Reverend Hathaway." The peremptory tones of another female parishioner yanked his attention back to the receiving line.
"Yes, Mrs. Cooper, how lovely to see you this morning…."
Lindsay sat in their coach as it carried them down St. George's Row along the northern edge of Hyde Park. Reverend Hathaway's sermon still echoed in her ears.
His words had seemed directed at her, exhorting her in a quiet, earnest way to become a true disciple of Christ. Church sermons had never been like this before. Sermons were usually dry, delivered in the elevated tones of a minister who seemed more concerned with his elocution than the text.
Never had she heard the scriptures in such a personal way, a way that demanded something of her even though she'd always lived according to the church's laws.
"What did you think of the Hathaways, my dear?" Beatrice asked.
Lindsay turned to the older lady, a distant cousin on her mother's side who had recently come to live with her father to oversee Lindsay's coming out. "Oh, most genial," she agreed wholeheartedly, although thinking about it now, she had to admit she'd hardly noticed the reverend's sister or her betrothed in her admiration for the reverend.
"Mr. Quinn certainly seemed genial, not at all what I expected."
Lindsay remembered the large, dark-haired man's friendly manner. "Oh?"
"I meant from all I'd heard about him."
"What do you mean?"
Beatrice's eyes widened. "Don't you know? He's a former convict."
Lindsay turned on the seat and stared at her cousin. "A convict?"
"Haven't you read the papers? He was awaiting his execution at Newgate when he was rescued by a gang of ruffians. For months he escaped the eyes of the law." Beatrice shook her head with a chuckle. "It turns out all along he'd been hiding away in a parsonage right here. The magistrates were in an uproar."
"You can't mean he was here… at St. George's?"
Her cousin nodded. "The very same."
Lindsay looked away from her cousin, her thoughts in a whirl, unable to reconcile the godly man who had delivered such a quietly convicting sermon with a man who would harbor a criminal.
"He could not have stayed hidden for so long if the reverend and his sister hadn't helped him," Beatrice confirmed for her. "And to think, in the course of aiding and abetting him, Miss Hathaway fell in love with him. It is to her he owes the royal pardon he received."
"Oh, my," she breathed, hardly able to grasp it.
"It was in all the tabloids," Beatrice continued. "Of course, I'm forgetting you've been away at school and have missed the goings-on here in London."
"Tell me all the particulars. It sounds wonderfully romantic!"
By the time Beatrice had finished a story that sounded more incredible than anything in her novels, they'd arrived at Lindsay's home on Grosvenor Square in the heart of Mayfair.
Despite the happy ending to the tale, Lindsay found it almost impossible to imagine breaking the law and hiding out from the authorities. "You know, I believe it's no coincidence Mr. Quinn gave himself up to the authorities. If I had been residing under the Reverend Hathaway's roof all that time, I, too, would have been convicted of any wrongdoing and made a clean breast of things."
"Yes, I imagine the Hathaways must have influenced Mr. Quinn greatly. Reverend Hathaway appears to have a true shepherd's heart."
After the last parishioner left, Damien, his sister and Jonah used the footpath behind the church to cut across the cemetery and apple orchard to the parsonage.
Damien glanced at his sister, wondering if she would
To purchase A Bride of Honor from:
Amazon
CBD
Don't forget to leave a comment to be entered into the book giveaway and come back tomorrow to get to know Ruth better!
Today I'm happy to introduce you to Ruth Axtell Morren. The fact that she lives on the coast of Maine is pretty cool because when she was a little girl, she remembers driving through the area I lived in when we lived there, before we left Maine for Ecuador. Ruth gave me the privilege of reading her new release, A Bride of Honor, before it hit the shelves, and I have to admit--she completely surprised me with the twists and turns she threw in. Totally surprised me--yanno, the kind that make your mouth drop open! But it wasn't just the surprises she pulled out, it was the faith that she included. Faith wasn't just added as an after thought, it was an integral part of the story. This is a very enjoyable read that you really don't want to miss! Ruth is also doing a book giveaway--so leave a comment on this post or tomorrow's interview to be entered into the book giveaway. But as a special treat, she's giving away TWO books!
Ruth Axtell Morren discovered she enjoyed writing at about the same time she discovered she loved reading. By seventh grade she was devouring countless teenage romances, as well as Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden. From there, she moved on to Victoria Holt and Phyllis Whitney along with the classics, particularly the novels of the 19th century, from Bronte to Balzac.It was natural to study comparative literature in college, where she could combine the literature and language of more than one country. She chose French and English and during her time at Smith College, she went to the Sorbonne for her junior year.
She has lived and traveled in various countries from the Canary Islands to the Netherlands, but probably the most time has been spent in the unspoiled downeast region of coastal Maine where she currently lives. It feeds her muse. When the fog rolls in, all she has to do is sit at her computer and she can be anywhere in the world as she works on her latest manuscript.
A Bride of HonorIt is a truth universally acknowledged that a lady of rank and distinction is no match for an impoverished preacher. Yet Damian Hathaway is entranced from the moment he spies Miss Lindsay Phillips entering his church. She doesn't appear any different from the other pampered society ladies—and she's betrothed to a gentleman of the ton. But Damian is determined to find the pure heart he's sure exists underneath all the ruffles and lace. The unlikely friendship formed by Damian and Lindsay is a revelation to them both, but is frowned upon by her parents—and Damian's parishioners. Torn between two worlds, the pair must trust that their love can bridge the divide—and conquer all.
Here's an excerpt of A Bride of Honor
London, April 1812
"'I have found David, the son of Jesse, a man after mine own heart'." Damien paused in the reading of the scripture and looked from the pulpit to the congregation below him.
St. George's Chapel was filled to overflowing. Not due solely to his preaching, unfortunately, although his flock had been growing steadily in the last few years since he'd been curate there.
No, it was not the service or his preaching that brought most people out this Sunday to morning prayer, but scandal.
Damien's glance strayed to the chancel where his sister sat beside her intended. Jonah Quinn, a man who'd escaped the gallows and been a fugitive from the law, had only last week received a royal pardon from the prince regent himself.
Overnight, Jonah, Damien and his sister had become objects of notoriety. The fashionable world from nearby Mayfair flocked to catch a glimpse of the man who'd escaped detection from the magistrates by hiding out in Damien's own parsonage.
A rustle of someone's prayer book pulled Damien's thoughts back to the sermon at hand. His business was not what had brought people into the house of God that morning, but what they would take with them when they left.
"How is your heart with God today?" As he asked the question, his gaze roamed over the congregation once again, stopping here and there to make eye contact with a parishioner. Most quickly averted their eyes.
His attention was caught by a young lady in the front pew. For a few seconds, he lost his train of thought. She was looking at him as if drinking in each word.
Clearing his throat, he looked back down at his notes, wishing all his parishioners listened so attentively.
"Is your heart condemning you when you come before the Lord in prayer?"
Damien's voice grew soft and there was little sound coming from the congregation. He continued to ask the probing questions, questions he himself had dealt with in his earlier life when he'd felt inadequate to fill the shoes of a preacher.
"God's word tells us that there is no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus." He grasped the sides of the pulpit, his voice rising. He no longer needed to look down at his notes as his words tumbled forth.
His attention returned time and again to the young lady. Her look never wavered. What had brought her this morning? She certainly didn't behave like those interested in the latest scandal. Not once had her glance drifted toward Jonah, unlike so many of the congregation.
The young lady was sitting beside an older woman. Damien recognized neither. Both were fashionably dressed. Were they part of the Mayfair crowd squeezed into the pews that morning?
As soon as the service was over, Damien went into the vestry to remove his stole and surplice, then made his way to the church's entry in his black cassock to greet the parishioners. Thinking of the moment he would face the young lady, he felt a brief qualm as he listened to the tap of his wooden leg against the hard floor. Would a flicker of distaste mar her pretty features? The worry was quickly gone. What did it matter what she thought? Chastising himself briefly for his vanity, he joined his sister and Jonah who were already at the door.
"Good morning, Reverend Hathaway. Wonderful sermon." He returned handshakes and greetings, thanking those who commended him on the sermon.
Many of those who were strangers hardly gave him a nod before turning an eager eye to Florence and Jonah. Damien glanced their way but saw at once that his future brother-in-law didn't need help from him. Jonah shook hands and smiled broadly at one and all, answering those who were bold enough to ask him about his pardon.
He chuckled, rubbing his muscular neck. "Aye, the noose was already nipping at me throat 'ere I was rescued. No, I never did ken who they were." His listeners' eyes popped open wide, their mouths hanging slack in wonder.
"Good morning, Reverend Hathaway."
Damien turned to greet an elderly parishioner. "Good morning, Mrs. Oliver. How nice to see you out again. How are you feeling this fine April morning?"
The white-haired lady smiled beneath the deep rim of her straw bonnet. "Praise be to God, I am feeling quite myself again. After you prayed for me, the rheumatism in my joints subsided." She patted his hand. "You were so kind to visit me while I was housebound."
"I am thankful to have you back among us."
With a last pat to his hand, she indicated the ladies behind her in the line—and Damien was caught by the large brown eyes of the beautiful young lady of the front pew.
With an effort, he pulled his focus from her and turned to the older lady, intensely aware of his deformity.
"I'd like to present you to my dear friend, Miss Yates," Mrs. Oliver went on in her friendly tone, oblivious to his inner turmoil. "And this is her young cousin, Miss Phillips, just returned to London from school."
He bowed to the older lady. "How do you do?" Everything about her indicated a lady of rank and distinction. Her dark cloak was edged in fur, her manner dignified.
Miss Yates inclined her head slightly, a genial look in her blue eyes. "Very well, thank you. I found your sermon most edifying. I look forward to visiting again."
Unable to resist the sincerity in her tone, he smiled. "You are always welcome. Please come any Sunday."
Damien tried to appear calm and untroubled as he prepared to bring his attention to Miss Phillips. It had been merely a trick of the light that had made her appear so ethereally lovely from his vantage of the pulpit, he told himself.
Nevertheless, a flush crept from the edges of his white clerical collar to his hairline as he turned to her.
The impact of her honey-brown eyes almost knocked him over. They were framed by lashes a shade darker. Tawny eyebrows created an arresting contrast to her golden hair.
She was even lovelier up close than she'd appeared in the pew. Blond curls framed a heart-shaped face. A finely chiseled nose curved up the tiniest bit at the end.
"How do you do?" he finally managed.
She murmured something indistinct and looked down.
He cleared his throat, searching frantically for something to say—anything to prolong the moment. But his mind had suddenly emptied of all lofty thoughts. He might never have preached an edifying sermon moments ago. "I'm honored you joined our humble congregation today." As soon as the words were out, his face grew warm. He sounded as if he were toadying for a compliment.
She looked up immediately. Her smile lit up the rich brown depths of her eyes and brought radiance to the delicate pink of her cheeks. "Oh, no, sir—it is we who are honored. I mean—that is to say…"
Her evident confusion eased his own agitation. "I hope you enjoyed the service."
"Oh, yes, sir—Reverend—" She stopped.
A kindred feeling stirred inside him as he realized how shy she was. She was very young, perhaps no more than seventeen or eighteen.
He forgot his own fears in his wish to put her at ease. "Hathaway."
"I beg your pardon, Reverend Hathaway."
He was unaccustomed to reacting so to a young lady, but then he'd never been so close to one so lovely, and so obviously of rank.
Before he could think of anything else to say—and conscious of the line of people waiting behind her—she said, "I… I enjoyed your sermon, Reverend Hathaway. Very much. I mean, I'm not certain if 'enjoyed' is the correct word…."
His mouth turned up at the corner in rueful understanding. "I hope you found it thought provoking at the least."
"Oh, indeed, yes! That is a much better way to put it. I… I've never heard preaching such as yours before. It… it wasn't comfortable, and yet—" she drew her dark eyebrows together "—it filled me with something I've never felt before."
The words were what every preacher wanted to hear. He tried to dismiss the thought that the pleasure he felt from the compliment was heightened by the fact that it had come from such a lovely young creature. To hide his confusion, he turned to his sister. "May I present my sister, Florence Hathaway, and her fiancé, Jonah Quinn."
She greeted both.
"Enjoyed the preaching, did you?" Jonah asked with a smile.
Again, she blushed, but did not lower her gaze as she had with Damien. "Yes, very much."
"Our Damien always preaches a good one. Warms the insides when it doesn't feel like a punch in the gut."
Her laughter joined Jonah's. "Oh, yes! That's it exactly."
Jonah winked at both ladies. "Why don't you come 'round for tea this afternoon for more of Reverend Hathaway's wit and wisdom?"
Damien was preparing to greet the next parishioner in line when Jonah's words stopped him. His eyes sought his sister's. Florence was rarely at a loss in any situation—she would know what to say. But Florence was looking at Jonah, stunned.
An awkward silence followed when Florence did not speak up immediately to second the invitation. Damien, who knew his sister so well, realized she must be feeling nervous about entertaining ladies of such distinction. As the silence stretched out, he knew he must say something. Except for the rector and his mother, they rarely entertained members of the ton in their modest parsonage.
Damien bowed his head toward Miss Yates. "We would be honored if you would visit us this afternoon."
"We should be delighted," the older lady replied immediately. "What time would you expect us?"
Florence seemed finally to remember her obligations as hostess. "Would four o'clock suit you?"
"Four o'clock would be perfect." Miss Yates touched her young companion on the elbow. "We must be going." She bowed to the three of them. "Until this afternoon."
Damien watched them continue down the church steps and across the lawn toward a fine-looking carriage, his mind in a daze. A liveried servant sprang down and opened the carriage door for them, confirming his supposition that they were members of the upper class. When the servant slammed the door shut, Damien noted that it was decorated with a blue-and-gold crest.
"Reverend Hathaway." The peremptory tones of another female parishioner yanked his attention back to the receiving line.
"Yes, Mrs. Cooper, how lovely to see you this morning…."
Lindsay sat in their coach as it carried them down St. George's Row along the northern edge of Hyde Park. Reverend Hathaway's sermon still echoed in her ears.
His words had seemed directed at her, exhorting her in a quiet, earnest way to become a true disciple of Christ. Church sermons had never been like this before. Sermons were usually dry, delivered in the elevated tones of a minister who seemed more concerned with his elocution than the text.
Never had she heard the scriptures in such a personal way, a way that demanded something of her even though she'd always lived according to the church's laws.
"What did you think of the Hathaways, my dear?" Beatrice asked.
Lindsay turned to the older lady, a distant cousin on her mother's side who had recently come to live with her father to oversee Lindsay's coming out. "Oh, most genial," she agreed wholeheartedly, although thinking about it now, she had to admit she'd hardly noticed the reverend's sister or her betrothed in her admiration for the reverend.
"Mr. Quinn certainly seemed genial, not at all what I expected."
Lindsay remembered the large, dark-haired man's friendly manner. "Oh?"
"I meant from all I'd heard about him."
"What do you mean?"
Beatrice's eyes widened. "Don't you know? He's a former convict."
Lindsay turned on the seat and stared at her cousin. "A convict?"
"Haven't you read the papers? He was awaiting his execution at Newgate when he was rescued by a gang of ruffians. For months he escaped the eyes of the law." Beatrice shook her head with a chuckle. "It turns out all along he'd been hiding away in a parsonage right here. The magistrates were in an uproar."
"You can't mean he was here… at St. George's?"
Her cousin nodded. "The very same."
Lindsay looked away from her cousin, her thoughts in a whirl, unable to reconcile the godly man who had delivered such a quietly convicting sermon with a man who would harbor a criminal.
"He could not have stayed hidden for so long if the reverend and his sister hadn't helped him," Beatrice confirmed for her. "And to think, in the course of aiding and abetting him, Miss Hathaway fell in love with him. It is to her he owes the royal pardon he received."
"Oh, my," she breathed, hardly able to grasp it.
"It was in all the tabloids," Beatrice continued. "Of course, I'm forgetting you've been away at school and have missed the goings-on here in London."
"Tell me all the particulars. It sounds wonderfully romantic!"
By the time Beatrice had finished a story that sounded more incredible than anything in her novels, they'd arrived at Lindsay's home on Grosvenor Square in the heart of Mayfair.
Despite the happy ending to the tale, Lindsay found it almost impossible to imagine breaking the law and hiding out from the authorities. "You know, I believe it's no coincidence Mr. Quinn gave himself up to the authorities. If I had been residing under the Reverend Hathaway's roof all that time, I, too, would have been convicted of any wrongdoing and made a clean breast of things."
"Yes, I imagine the Hathaways must have influenced Mr. Quinn greatly. Reverend Hathaway appears to have a true shepherd's heart."
After the last parishioner left, Damien, his sister and Jonah used the footpath behind the church to cut across the cemetery and apple orchard to the parsonage.
Damien glanced at his sister, wondering if she would
To purchase A Bride of Honor from:
Amazon
CBD
Don't forget to leave a comment to be entered into the book giveaway and come back tomorrow to get to know Ruth better!
Will the Real Patty
...please stand up?
Today's At the Well topic is Getting to know you--so here's some silly and serious things about me...in case you were wondering. LoL
Some silly bits that are the real me:
I'm a girl that drinks black cherry kool-aid from a china tea cup because it tastes better that way.
I think best with my fingers—with pen and paper or a keyboard.
I hear voices in my head. Characters telling me their stories or reading out loud to me as if they were telling me what to write. They can be really pushy people!
I hate noise which makes it tough since I have five homeschooled kids (ages 16 down to 7), so my mp3 player is always close at hand and ready to go with Mozart and Vivaldi.
I hate swimming but love scuba diving because it's so quiet down there.
I could happily live on cookies and bread and black cherry kool-aid and never cook again in my life.
My favorite meal to eat out is french fries and a chocolate shake, and if I'm really hungry, a hamburger.
I often wish for a magic broom that I could fly on.
Now, if you want something serious...
I fell in love with writing in the 2nd or 3rd grade when my teacher gave us a creative writing assignment. I felt as though I had been given a free ticket to the universe and from that point on stories have been part of my life—even through the years I tried pushing writing out of my life. Those were years full of babies and family demands when I couldn't justify spending time on something I couldn't see amounting to anything.
For fifteen years I tried to forget about writing. If it had been left up to me, I would have forgotten, but God wouldn't let go. He kept after me until I was absolutely miserable. Out of that misery was born a determination to obey God's leading, wherever that takes me. Most often my knees are knocking from fear but I'm holding tight to His hand. It was then I determined to learn all I could and leave the 'what to do with it' up to God. Since then He's astounded me time after time and has poured out blessings on me. And I'm still learning and holding tight to His hand.
My grade school days were spent on the coast of Maine, but I consider Ecuador, where my parents were missionaries for six years, to be my childhood home. The years spent in Ecuador were full of experiences that molded me into the person I am today. After graduating from the Alliance Academy in Quito, Ecuador, I attended Moody Bible Institute for two years, expanding on my strong Bible base. I left Moody with almost exactly what I went for: my Mrs. degree.
My husband, Jim, and I have been married 20 years this summer and we have five children that we homeschool. Life is full of family, writing and work. Holding everything together is my faith in God alone.
I was saved as a little girl of four or five, but because I couldn't remember the event, I prayed a second time, sometime before I turned 11. I needed a memory to hold on to and claim. I was near the blackberry brambles that were nestled in the bend of our driveway in Maine, and the blackberries were ripe. From that point on, I never doubted my salvation. In Ecuador, while in a boarding school for missionary kids, I grew tremendously as a Christian and made my faith my own. My parents weren't there on a daily basis to lean on, so I ran to God.
Today I delight in putting words on a page, knowing that my responsibility is to do my best and obey God. As I obey Him, He takes care of the 'what to do with' my writing. I'm actively involved with Faithwriters, an online writing community as well as in the Christian blogging community. I'm also a member of American Christian Fiction Writers.
Writing is a passion God has planted in me and I strive to use it for His glory and praise.
That's me. :) I'd love to hear about YOU!! Truly!
To meet more wonderful Christian ladies who are intent on following God, join us At the Well for links to their sites. We'd love to have you join us!!
Today's At the Well topic is Getting to know you--so here's some silly and serious things about me...in case you were wondering. LoL
Some silly bits that are the real me:
I'm a girl that drinks black cherry kool-aid from a china tea cup because it tastes better that way.I think best with my fingers—with pen and paper or a keyboard.I hear voices in my head. Characters telling me their stories or reading out loud to me as if they were telling me what to write. They can be really pushy people!
I hate noise which makes it tough since I have five homeschooled kids (ages 16 down to 7), so my mp3 player is always close at hand and ready to go with Mozart and Vivaldi.I hate swimming but love scuba diving because it's so quiet down there.I could happily live on cookies and bread and black cherry kool-aid and never cook again in my life.My favorite meal to eat out is french fries and a chocolate shake, and if I'm really hungry, a hamburger.
I often wish for a magic broom that I could fly on.Now, if you want something serious...
I fell in love with writing in the 2nd or 3rd grade when my teacher gave us a creative writing assignment. I felt as though I had been given a free ticket to the universe and from that point on stories have been part of my life—even through the years I tried pushing writing out of my life. Those were years full of babies and family demands when I couldn't justify spending time on something I couldn't see amounting to anything.
For fifteen years I tried to forget about writing. If it had been left up to me, I would have forgotten, but God wouldn't let go. He kept after me until I was absolutely miserable. Out of that misery was born a determination to obey God's leading, wherever that takes me. Most often my knees are knocking from fear but I'm holding tight to His hand. It was then I determined to learn all I could and leave the 'what to do with it' up to God. Since then He's astounded me time after time and has poured out blessings on me. And I'm still learning and holding tight to His hand.
My grade school days were spent on the coast of Maine, but I consider Ecuador, where my parents were missionaries for six years, to be my childhood home. The years spent in Ecuador were full of experiences that molded me into the person I am today. After graduating from the Alliance Academy in Quito, Ecuador, I attended Moody Bible Institute for two years, expanding on my strong Bible base. I left Moody with almost exactly what I went for: my Mrs. degree.
My husband, Jim, and I have been married 20 years this summer and we have five children that we homeschool. Life is full of family, writing and work. Holding everything together is my faith in God alone.I was saved as a little girl of four or five, but because I couldn't remember the event, I prayed a second time, sometime before I turned 11. I needed a memory to hold on to and claim. I was near the blackberry brambles that were nestled in the bend of our driveway in Maine, and the blackberries were ripe. From that point on, I never doubted my salvation. In Ecuador, while in a boarding school for missionary kids, I grew tremendously as a Christian and made my faith my own. My parents weren't there on a daily basis to lean on, so I ran to God.
Today I delight in putting words on a page, knowing that my responsibility is to do my best and obey God. As I obey Him, He takes care of the 'what to do with' my writing. I'm actively involved with Faithwriters, an online writing community as well as in the Christian blogging community. I'm also a member of American Christian Fiction Writers.Writing is a passion God has planted in me and I strive to use it for His glory and praise.
That's me. :) I'd love to hear about YOU!! Truly!
To meet more wonderful Christian ladies who are intent on following God, join us At the Well for links to their sites. We'd love to have you join us!!
Rendering to Caesar
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Render to Caesar the thing that are Caesar's and to God the things that are God's. ~Mark 12:17
Every quarter I pull out my tax files and cozy up to my adding machine where my fingers do the walking (and adding) for me. Because we are self-employed and I'm the office girl and the treasurer/secretary of our company, it's my job to do this. (It's also one of the ways that I am a helpmate for my husband. By doing the books and taxes for him, he's free to do other things. Oh, and I do not make the financial decisions, he does, I just do the bookwork and weekly finger work.) Doing the books is a fact of my life—and definitely not a favorite part! But I don't get hung up about paying taxes either. They're a fact of life.Politics is not something I tackle here, but I do have a few opinions. One of them is our responsibility to pray for our president—regardless of whether I agree with him or not. The other opinion I feel strongly about is paying taxes. We need to pay them. We need to pay to Caesar what is due him. The government is placed over us for many reasons (no, I don't agree with big government) and they do have a place in the big scheme of things. Anarchy has no appeal to me, so I pay my taxes and pray for our government.
But the government only gets my taxes. My life and my soul belong to God. Money is temporary. My soul is eternal. God has given me so much and I have the privilege of giving back to Him myself. Even with giving Him my life, there is no way I could ever repay what God has done for me. Michael W. Smith's song sums it up for me:
This is my desire, to Honor You
Lord with all my heart I worship You
All I have within me
I give You praise
All that I adore is in You
Lord I give You my heart
I give You my soul
I live for You alone
Every breath that I take
Every moment I'm awake
Lord have Your way in me
Lord I give You my heart
I give You my soul
I live for You alone
Every breath that I take
Every moment I'm awake
Lord have Your way in me
This is my desire, to Honor You
Lord with all my heart I worship You
All I have within me
I give You praise
All that I adore is in You
Lord I give You my heart
I give You my soul
I live for You alone
Every breath that I take
Every moment I'm awake
Lord have Your way in me
Lord I give You my heart
I give You my soul
I live for You alone
Every breath that I take
Every moment I'm awake
Lord have Your way in me
Lord I give You my heart
I give You my soul
I live for You alone
Every breath that I take
Every moment I'm awake
Lord have Your way in me
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