Monday, August 31, 2009

Coming Attractions

The other day Mia noticed a flock of birds whirling around in the air while we were in the van. I found myself quoting my Grandpa Trever by telling her that meant fall was on its way. It reminded me of a note I made in the little calendar I keep by my side of the bed. A few years ago, Jesse's Uncle John said that six months to the day after the first thunderstorm is supposed to be the first frost. Back on February 26 of this year, we had our first of the year, which is really early for our area, so I made a note on August 26 to see if Uncle John's folk wisdom would prove true. While we didn't have frost on August 26, a few areas north of us saw some last night (the low temperatures actually set a few records) and are expected to see it again tonight! While it wasn't exactly six months to the day, it was only about five days off!

Doogie is settled into his room on campus at UW-Superior. His dad took a couple of pictures, so I'm putting them up today. Note the case of Coke (that's my boy!) and the boxes of Cookie Crisp (I sent those up with him). It's a huge change for all of us, but thanks to God's gentle working on my heart, it's one I'm greeting with anticipation instead of anxiety.

Coming Attractions by Robin Jones Gunn is the second book in the Katie Weldon series. It's always hard picking up a book that comes near the end of a series you are unfamiliar with, as it was for me with Katie and her friends, but Gunn keeps the exposition to just the necessary minimum. Katie is gearing up for her college graduation and considering a life with her long-time crush and new boyfriend (finally!), Rick. But their plans seem to keep running in different directions, and with Eli giving her looks of more than friendship, Katie has no idea just what her future may hold. Katie is a fantastic character and completely refreshing in that she doesn't beat herself up trying to live for other people but listens to the Holy Spirit and starts to live the life of adventure He has for her. So many books aimed at young adults feature characters that flail around wildly frustrating the readers with stupid choices and actions, but Katie is just the opposite (although I get the impression that this attitude is a new one for the character). Her faith is amazing, and her character wonderful. The connection between Eli and Katie is electric, and I dare the reader to get through the final pages without tearing up! I hope that Gunn isn't finished with Katie, because I'd love to read more.

I'm taking Mia into school this afternoon to meet her new teacher and see her classroom. I'm not sure which one of us is more looking forward to school starting tomorrow!

Saturday, August 29, 2009

The Knight


My birthday was much better than I had expected it to be. I was dreading it all week because of the association with Doogie going off to college, but God gave me a new way to look at his leaving the nest. Doogie left me on Thursday, August 27; nineteen years to the day that I moved out of my parents home (to marry his dad). There's an odd kind of serendipity to it, and that realization changed my focus from what I'm losing to an anticipation about what the future will bring. I can't wait to see what God will be writing on the pages of my son's life!

Jesse bought me exactly what I had asked for: Charles Spurgeon books! I got Morning by Evening and Prayer and Spiritual Warfare. Spurgeon is my faith hero; I've been wanting some of his books forever and already started highlighting them! I also received five books in the mail yesterday, which made for more fun.

This afternoon my mom called me with big news; the local thrift store was holding a bag sale: all the clothing you can fit in a paper bag for $6.99. Over the years, I've perfected my bag packing skills (rolling them tightly is a vital aspect) so that one paper bag will fill a 13 gallon garbage bag! $18.17 bought 66 items of clothing, including several name brand (Aeropostle, American Eagle, Old Navy, Abercrombie & Fitch, etc) items. Mia even got a silky Disney Princess bathrobe. There is little that I love more than a good sale like that! =)

The Knight by Steven James is the third book is the exciting Patrick Bowers series. FBI Agent Bowers uses his unique geographic profiling skills to track down the most violent of criminals. He'll have to use all of his abilities to find a sadistic murderer who is killing people for a twisted story before Bowers and his stepdaughter Tessa become the next victims. This riveting thriller never lets up for a second. From tense courtroom drama to intense action scenes, every page zips by. I love how James has given Bowers an unusual ability, making him stand out from the overloaded FBI action genre. Bowers relies more on his brain than his brawn to outwit criminals, but he's a bit clueless about matters of the heart in interactions with Tessa and possible new love interest Cheyenne. If you're going through withdrawal this summer because of repeats on Criminal Minds, Numbers, CSI, etc, Patrick Bowers will satisfy your need for a smart and scary suspenseful thriller.

Available August 2009 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.

Friday, August 28, 2009

The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!


Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:


Sweetgum Ladies Knit For Love

WaterBrook Press (June 2, 2009)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:




RITA Award–winning Beth Pattillo combines her love of knitting and books in her engaging Sweetgum series. An ordained minister in the Christian Church, Pattillo served churches in Missouri and Tennessee before founding Faith Leader, a spiritual leadership development program. Pattillo is the married mother of two children. She lives and laughs in Tennessee.

Visit the author's website.


Product Details:

List Price: $13.99
Paperback: 368 pages
Publisher: WaterBrook Press (June 2, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1400073952
ISBN-13: 978-1400073955

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


One


Every Tuesday at eleven o’clock in the morning, Eugenie Carson descended the steps of the Sweetgum Public Library and made her way to Tallulah’s Café on the town square. In the past, she would have eaten the diet plate—cottage cheese and a peach half—in solitary splendor. Then she would have returned to her job running the library, just as she’d done for the last forty years.

On this humid September morning, though, Eugenie was meeting someone for lunch—her new husband, Rev. Paul Carson, pastor of the Sweetgum Christian Church. Eugenie smiled at the thought of Paul waiting for her at the café. They might both be gray haired and near retirement, but happiness was happiness, no matter what age you found it.

Eugenie entered the square from the southeast corner. The Antebellum courthouse anchored the middle, while Kendall’s Department Store occupied the east side to her right. She walked along the south side of the square, past Callahan’s Hardware, the drugstore, and the movie theater, and crossed the street to the café. The good citizens of Sweetgum were already arriving at Tallulah’s for lunch. But Eugenie passed the café, heading up the western side of the square. She had a brief errand to do before she met her husband. Two doors down, she could see the sign for Munden’s Five-and-Dime. Her business there shouldn’t take long.

Before she reached Munden’s, a familiar figure emerged from one of the shops and blocked the sidewalk.

Hazel Emerson. President of the women’s auxiliary at the Sweetgum Christian Church and self-appointed judge and jury of her fellow parishioners.

“Eugenie.” Hazel smiled, but the expression, coupled with her rather prominent eyeteeth, gave her a wolfish look. Hazel was on the heavy side, a bit younger than Eugenie’s own sixty five years, and her hair was dyed an unbecoming shade of mink. Hazel smiled, but there was no pleasantness in it. “Just the person

I wanted to see.”

Eugenie knew better than to let her distaste for the woman show. “Good morning, Hazel,” she replied. “How are you?”

“Distressed, Eugenie. Thoroughly distressed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Eugenie truly was dismayed, but not from worry over Hazel’s discomfort.

“Yes, well, you have the power to calm the waters, ”Hazel said with the same false smile. “In a manner of speaking, at least.”

Since Eugenie’s marriage to Paul only a few weeks before, she’d learned how demanding Hazel could be. The other woman called the parsonage at all hours and appeared in Paul’s office at least once a day. Although Eugenie had known Hazel casually for years, she’d never had to bother with her much. Eugenie couldn’t remember Hazel ever having entered the library.

“How can I help you?” Eugenie said in her best librarian’s voice. She had uttered the phrase countless times over the last forty years and had it down to an art form. Interested but not enmeshed. Solicitous but not overly involved.

“Well, Eugenie, you must know that many people in the church are distressed by your marriage to Paul.”

“Really?” Eugenie kept the pleasant smile on her face and continued to breathe evenly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, not me, of course,” Hazel said and pressed a hand to her ample chest. “I’m perfectly delighted. But some people… Well, they have concerns.”

“What concerns would those be?” Eugenie asked with measured calm.

Hazel glanced to the right and to the left, then leaned forward to whisper in a conspiratorial fashion. “Some of them aren’t sure you’re a Christian,” she said. Then she straightened and resumed her normal tone of voice. “As I said, I’m not one of them, but I thought I should tell you. For your own good, but also for Rev. Carson’s.”

“I see.” And Eugenie certainly did, far more than Hazel would guess. Eugenie wasn’t new to small-town gossip. Heaven knew she’d heard her share, and even been the target of some, over the last forty years. She’d known that her marriage to Paul would cause some comments, but she hadn’t expected this blatant response.

“I’m mentioning it because I don’t think it would be difficult to put people’s fears to rest,” Hazel said. Her smug expression needled Eugenie. “I know you’ve been attending worship, and that’s a wonderful start.” Hazel quickly moved from interfering to patronizing. “The women’s auxiliary meets on Tuesday mornings. If you joined us—”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Eugenie answered. She was determined to keep a civil tongue in her head if it killed her. “I have to work.”

“For something this important, I’m sure you could find someone to cover for you.”

Eugenie tightened her grip on her handbag. In an emergency, no doubt she could arrange something. But this wasn’t an emergency. It was manipulation.

“Hazel—”

“Particularly at this time,” Hazel said, barely stopping for breath. “With all the losses we’ve had in these last few months… Well, our community needs leadership. Our church needs leadership.” She gave Eugenie a meaningful look.

Eugenie paused to consider her words carefully. “It has been a difficult summer,” she began. “Tom Munden’s death was so unexpected, and then to lose Frank Jackson like that. And now, with Nancy St. Clair…”

“So you see why it’s more important than ever that you prove to church members that their pastor hasn’t made a grave mistake.”

“I hardly think that my attending a meeting of the women’s auxiliary will offer much comfort to the grieving.” Nor would it convince anyone of her status as a believer. Those sorts of people weren’t looking for proof. They were looking for Eugenie to grovel for acceptance.

Hazel sniffed. “Don’t be difficult, Eugenie. You’re being unrealistic if you expect people to accept you as a Christian after forty years of never darkening the door of any sanctuary in this town.”

“I’ve always felt that faith is a private matter.” That was the sum of any personal information Eugenie was willing to concede to Hazel. “I prefer to let my actions speak for me.”

“There are rumblings,” Hazel said darkly. “Budget rumblings.”

“What do you mean?”

“People need to have full confidence in their pastor, Eugenie. Otherwise they’re less motivated to support the church financially.”

Eugenie bit her tongue. She couldn’t believe Hazel Emerson was standing here, in the middle of the town square, practicing her own brand of extortion.

“Are you threatening me?” Eugenie asked, incredulous.

Hazel sniffed. “Of course not. Don’t be silly. I’m merely cautioning you. As a Christian and as a friend.”

Eugenie wanted to reply that Hazel didn’t appear to be filling either role very well, but she refrained.

“I’ll take your concerns under advisement,” she said to Hazel with forced pleasantness. “I’m sure you mean them in the kindest possible way.”

“Of course I do. How else would I mean them?”

“How else, indeed?” Eugenie muttered under her breath.

“Well, I won’t keep you.” Hazel nodded. “Have a nice day, Eugenie.”

“You too, Hazel.” The response was automatic and helped Eugenie to cover her true sentiments. She stood in place for a long moment as Hazel moved past her, on her way to stir up trouble in some other quarter, no doubt. Then, with a deep breath, Eugenie forced herself to start moving toward Munden’s Five-and-Dime.

She had known it would be difficult, stepping into this unfamiliar role as a pastor’s wife. Paul had assured her that he had no expectations, that she should do what she felt was right. But Eugenie wondered if he had any idea of the trouble Hazel Emerson was stirring up right under his nose.

True, she hadn’t attended church for forty years. After she and Paul had ended their young romance, she’d blamed God for separating them. If Paul hadn’t felt called to the ministry, if he hadn’t refused to take her with him when he went to seminary, if she hadn’t stubbornly insisted on going with him or ending their relationship…

Last year she and Paul had found each other again, all these decades later, and she’d thought the past behind them. But here it was once more in the person of Hazel Emerson, raising troubling questions. Threatening Paul. Forcing Eugenie to examine issues she’d rather leave unanswered.



As the head of the Sweetgum Knit Lit Society, Eugenie had taken on responsibility for the well-being of the little group several years before. Since Ruthie Allen, the church secretary, had left for Africa last spring to do volunteer work, the group had experienced a definite void. It was time for an infusion of new blood, and after careful consideration, Eugenie had determined that Maria Munden was just the person the Knit Lit Society needed. What’s more, Maria needed the group too. The recent loss of her father must be quite difficult for her, Eugenie was sure. And so despite having had her feathers ruffled by Hazel Emerson, Eugenie walked into Munden’s Five-and-Dime with a firm purpose.

“Good morning, Maria,” Eugenie called above the whine of the door. For years she’d been after Tom Munden to use a little WD-40 on the hinges, but he had insisted that the noise bothered him less than the idea of a customer entering without him knowing it.

“Eugenie! Hello.” Maria straightened from where she stood slumped over the counter. She had red marks on her forehead from resting her head in her hands, and her nondescript shoulder length brown hair hung on each side of her face in a clump. Eugenie had come at the right time. Maria was in her early thirties, but her father’s death seemed to have aged her ten years.

Maria came around the counter. “What can I help you with today?”

“Oh, I’m not here to buy anything,” Eugenie said, and then she was dismayed when disappointment showed in Maria’s eyes. With the superstores of the world creeping closer and closer to Sweetgum, mom-and-pop shops like Munden’s were living on borrowed time. Even if Tom Munden had lived, the inevitable day when the store closed couldn’t have been avoided.

“What did you need then?” Maria’s tone was polite but strained.

“I have an invitation for you.”

“An invitation?”

Eugenie stood a little straighter. “On behalf of the Sweetgum Knit Lit Society, I’d like to extend an invitation to you to become a part of the group.”

Maria’s brown eyes were blank for a moment, and then they darkened. “The Knit Lit Society?”

“I can’t think of anyone who would be a better fit.” Eugenie paused. “If you don’t know how to knit, one of us can teach you. And I know you enjoy reading.” Maria was one of the most faithful and frequent patrons of the library. “I think you’d appreciate the discussion.”

Maria said nothing.

“If you’d like some time to think—”

“I’ll do it,” Maria said quickly, as if she didn’t want to give herself time to reconsider. “I know how to knit. You won’t have to teach me.”

“Excellent,” Eugenie said, relieved. “Our meeting is this Friday.”

“Do I have to read something by then?” Lines of doubt wrinkled Maria’s forehead beneath the strands of gray that streaked her hair.

Eugenie shook her head. “I haven’t passed out the reading list for this year. This first meeting will be to get us organized.”

Relief eased the tight lines on her face.

“We meet at the church, of course,” Eugenie continued. “Upstairs, in the Pairs and Spares Sunday school room. If you’d like, I can drop by here Friday evening and we can walk over together.”

Maria shook her head. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” She paused, as if collecting her thoughts, then spoke. “I’m not sure why you asked me to join, Eugenie, but I appreciate it.”

“I’m delighted to have you. The others will be as well. ”Mission accomplished, Eugenie shifted her pocketbook to the other arm. “I’d better be going. I’m meeting Paul for lunch at the café.”

Like most of Sweetgum, with the possible exception of Hazel Emerson, Maria smiled at Eugenie’s mention of her new husband. “Tell the preacher I said hello.” Maria moved to open the door for Eugenie. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

Eugenie lifted her shoulders and nodded with as much equanimity as she could. After years of being the town spinster, playing the newlywed was a novel experience. She hoped she’d become accustomed to it with time—if she didn’t drive away all of Paul’s parishioners first with her heathen ways.

“Have a nice afternoon,” Eugenie said and slipped out the door, glad that at least one thing that morning had gone as planned.


After Eugenie left, Maria Munden halfheartedly swiped her feather duster at the back-to-school display in the front window. Hot sunshine, amplified by the plate glass, made sweat bead on her forehead. What was the point of dusting the same old collection of binders, backpacks, and two-pocket folders? She’d barely seen a customer all day. She turned from the window and looked around at the neat rows of shelving. The five symmetrical aisles had stood in the same place as long as she could remember.

Aisle one, to the far left, held greeting cards, gift-wrap, stationery, office and school supplies. Aisle two, housewares and paper goods. Aisle three, decorative items. Aisle four, cleaning supplies and detergent. Aisle five had always been her favorite, with its games, puzzles, and coloring books. Across the back wall stretched the sewing notions, yarn, and craft supplies. Everything to outfit a household and its members in one small space. The only problem was, no one wanted small anymore. They wanted variety, bulk, and large economy size with a McDonald’s and a credit union. Not quaint and limited, like the old five-and- dime.

From the counter a few feet away, Maria’s cell phone buzzed, and she sighed. She knew without looking at the display who it would be.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Maria, you have to do something about this.” Her mother never acknowledged the greeting but plunged into a voluble litany of complaints that covered everything from the state of the weather to her older sister Daphne’s management of the farm.

“Mom?” Maria tried to interrupt her mother’s diatribe. “Mom? Look, I’m the only one in the store right now. I’ll have to call you back later.”

“Where’s Stephanie? She was supposed to be there at nine.”

“I don’t know where she is. ”Maria’s younger sister, the baby at twenty-five, was AWOL more often than not.

Maria heard the shop door open with a whine of its hinges, not too different from her mother’s tone of voice. She looked up, expecting to see her younger sister. Instead, a tall, dark-haired man entered the store. He took two steps inside, then stopped. His eyes traveled around the rows of shelves, and his lips twisted in an expression of disapproval. The hairs on Maria’s neck stood on end. The stranger saw her, nodded, and then disappeared down the far aisle, but he was so tall that Maria could track his progress as he moved. He came to a stop in front of the office supplies. Someone from out of town, obviously. Probably a traveling salesman who needed paper clips or legal pads. Maybe a couple of blank CDs or a flash drive. Maria had dealt with his type before.

“Bye, Mom,” she said into the phone before clicking it shut. From experience, she knew it would take her mother several moments before she realized Maria was no longer on the other end of the line. Such discoveries never seemed to faze her mother. She would simply look around the room at home and find Daphne so she could continue her rant. Maria tucked the cell phone under the counter and moved across the store toward the stranger. “May I help you?” Upon closer inspection, she could see that his suit was expensive. So were his haircut, his shoes, and his aftershave.

His head turned toward her, and she felt a little catch in her chest. His dark eyes stared down at her as if she were a lesser mortal approaching a demigod.

“I’m looking for a fountain pen,” he said. He turned back toward the shelves of office supplies and studied them as if attempting to decipher a secret code.

A fountain pen? In Sweetgum? He was definitely from out of town.

“I’m afraid we only have ballpoint or gel.” She waved a hand toward the appropriate shelf. “Would one of these do?”

He looked at her again, one eyebrow arched like the vault of a cathedral. “I need a fountain pen.”

Maria took a calming breath. A sale was a sale, and the customer was always right—her father’s two favorite dictums, drummed into her from the day she was tall enough to see over the counter.

“I’m sorry. Our selection is limited, I know. Which way are you headed? I can direct you to the nearest Wal-Mart. You might find one there.”

At her mention of the chain superstore, the man’s mouth turned down as if she’d just insulted him. “No, thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” she said, practically gritting her teeth. She resisted the urge to grab his arm and hustle him out of the store. Today was not the day to try her patience. In two hours, assuming Stephanie showed up, Maria was going to cross the town square to the lawyer’s office and do the unthinkable. At the moment, she didn’t have time for this man and his supercilious attitude toward Sweetgum.

“I need directions,” he said, eyeing her dubiously, as if he thought she might not be up to the task.

“Well, if you’re looking for someplace nearby, I can tell you where you need to go,” she said without a hint of a smile.

He looked away, as if deliberating whether to accept her offer. Honestly, the man might be extraordinarily good-looking—and wealthy, no doubt—but she would be surprised if he had any friends. He had the social skills of a goat.

The hinges on the door whined again. Maria looked over her shoulder to see another man entering the shop.

“James!” The second man grinned when he caught sight of the stranger at Maria’s side. “You disappeared.” The newcomer was as fair as the first was dark. “We’re late.”

“Yes,” the stranger replied with a continued lack of charm.

“But I needed a pen. ”He snatched a two-pack of ballpoints from the shelf and extended them toward Maria. “I’ll take these.”

Maria bit the inside of her lip and took the package from his hand. “I’ll ring you up at the counter.” She whirled on one heel and walked, spine rigid, to the front of the store.

“Hi.” The second man greeted her with cheery casualness. “Great store. I haven’t seen anything like this in years.”

It was a polite way of saying that Munden’s Five-and-Dime was dated, but Maria appreciated his chivalry. Especially since his friend obviously didn’t have a courteous bone in his body.

“Thank you. ”Maria smiled at him and then stepped behind the counter to ring up the sale on the ancient register. She’d pushed her father for years to computerize their sales—not to mention the inventory—but he’d been perfectly happy with his tried-and-true methods. Unfortunately, while he’d been able to keep track of sales and stock in his head, Maria wasn’t quite so gifted.

The tall man appeared on the other side of the register. “Three dollars and thirty-two cents,” she said, not looking him in the eye.

He reached for his wallet and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. Maria refused to show her frustration. Great. Now he would wipe out all her change, and she’d have to figure out a way to run over to the bank without anyone to watch the store. She completed the transaction and slid the package of pens into a paper bag with the Munden’s logo emblazoned on it.

“Hey, can you recommend a place for lunch?” the blond man asked. He glanced at his watch. “We need a place to eat between meetings.”

“Tallulah’s Café down the block,” Maria said. Even the tall, arrogant stranger wouldn’t be able to find fault with Tallulah’s home cooking. People drove from miles around for her fried chicken, beef stew, and thick, juicy pork chops. “But you might want to go soon. The café gets busy at lunch.”

“Thanks.” His smile could only be described as sunny, and it made Maria feel better. She smiled in response.

“You’re welcome.”

The tall man watched the exchange impassively. Maria hoped he’d be gone from Sweetgum before the sun went down. Big-city folks who came into town dispensing condescension were one of her biggest pet peeves.

“C’mon, James,” the blond man said. “I have a lot of papers to go over.” He nodded toward his friend. “James here thinks I’m crazy to buy so much land in the middle of nowhere.”

Maria froze. It couldn’t be.

“Oh.” She couldn’t think what else to say.

“We’d better go,” the tall man said, glancing at his watch. “Thank you. ”He nodded curtly at Maria, letting her know she’d been dismissed as the inferior creature that she was.

“But I thought you wanted—” Before she could remind him about his request for directions, the two men disappeared out the door, and Maria’s suspicions—not to mention her fears— flooded through her.

She should have put two and two together the moment the first man had walked into the store. A stranger in an expensive suit. In town for a meeting. Looking for a fountain pen to sign things. Normally Maria was good at figuring things out. Like where her father had put the quarterly tax forms and how she and Stephanie could manage the store with just the two of them for employees.

What she hadn’t figured out, though, were the more complex questions. Like how she had come to be a small-town spinster when she hadn’t been aware of time passing. Or how she was going to keep the five-and-dime afloat even as the town’s economy continued to wither on the vine. And she certainly had no idea how she was going to tell her mother and sisters that she, as executrix of her father’s will, was about to sell their farm, and the only home they’d ever known, right out from under them.

“Welcome to Sweetgum,” she said to the empty aisles around her, and then she picked up the feather duster once more.

With my birthday today and Doogie leaving for college this week, I didn't get a chance to finish reading this book, but I'll post my review as soon as I do!

Even though I technically didn't review it, Dawn Harris still wins a copy of it, plus every other book I reviewed this week (and one tomorrow) for guessing closest to the time of my birth. I was born at 4:59 am on August 28, 1973, and Dawn guessed 5:23 am, giving her the closest guess! I'm also giving small prizes to Diane Milson who shares 8/28/73 as her birthday and Teri Heimke who has 8/28 but not 73 for her birthday. Thank you to everyone who entered. My next contest will be starting on Sept. 7th.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Is Your Ghost Holy


This is one of those days where I had a lot I needed to do, and if I think about it, I know that I actually did get some things done, but I feel like I've spent more time spinning my wheels! So I'm diving right into my review in hopes that I can a few more things done today. (By the time I was completely done with this post, I had talked to Mom, Dad, and Jesse on the phone, checked on the muffins in the oven twice before taking them out, emailed Molly about buying a car, gave muffins to the kids to eat, and took a potty break! Like I said, just one of those days)

Is Your Ghost Holy by Shay Bills is a eye-opening look at real Holy Spirit filled life. Bills, an anointed woman of God, pulls no punches when speaking about the power of the Holy Spirit (Ghost in King James Bibles). Each short chapter reads like a fiery sermon designed to make readers squirm in their seats with conviction and raise their hands to the heavens with joy. I can always judge the impact of a book by how many quotes I find myself jotting into my journal from it. Bills feels deeply about the state of her readers' hearts, and it shows. "There are people assigned to you by God who cannot see Him because you refuse to die the death of the cross, which is the will of the Father, so that others might have aright to the Tree of Life." Bills' book will lead readers directly to that Tree.

There are only a few hours left to submit your entry for my book contest this week. I'm giving away a stack of books, including the one above, to the person who can guess closest to exact minute I was born on August, 28, 1973. Send me an email before 10 pm tonight to enter!

Today's picture is another one of my all favorites. It's me with my Grandma & Grandpa Trever.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Plain Pursuit

Today was one of those days that force you to make a choice: laugh or cry.

I had my annual exam that all women dread, and while I was waiting for the doctor to come in and sitting there wearing nothing but a open-backed gown and my vulnerability, I heard my phone start playing my ringtone for Molly. I hopped off of the table sideways, keeping my backside facing the wall, picked up the phone and said, "I can't talk now. I'm naked in the doctor's office waiting for my Pap smear." She choked out an "Okay."

I waited another 15 minutes on the table, plenty of time to push back all of my cuticles, clean under my fingernails, pray to God for courage and telling Him that I was trusting everything into His hands...twice, and inspect my pedicure.

When the doctor finally arrived, he brought with him a female student doctor. I okayed having her in the room, but I didn't realize that she was going to do most of the actual examination herself. Let's just say that student doctor + speculum = OUCH! Several painful seconds later, the doctor took over, and I was able to breathe again.

But I walked out of the appointment with a smile on my face. Why? Because he said that the lump in my breast was nothing to worry about.

School supply shopping at Wal-Mart must be one of the inner rings of Hell! Both kids I shopped for required solid color folders, but Wal-Mart doesn't sell solid color folders! Instead, they sell folders with skulls and roses that say, "Love Kills Slowly." Seriously! (I don't care how cool Ed Hardy tattoos are, there's no way my first grader is carrying a folder to school that says that!) And the entire store was out of glue sticks! I walked out and hour and a half later and $80 poorer with a smile on my face. Why? Because the lump was nothing to worry about!

I've been on an emotional roller-coaster for the last few weeks between my Uncle Howard's illness, and then getting John's diagnosis. When I discovered a lump, I could hardly breathe. I called the doctor and made the appointment and then started praying. After my thousandth nervous breakdown in front of Jesse, I was forced to explain, but I didn't want to worry anyone else in the family in hopes that it wouldn't be anything at all. And praise God! It wasn't! It's funny how its discovery colored my entire life with fear for two weeks. And a clean diagnosis released me to breathe again. It ensured that no matter what happened today, I could laugh it off.

It's another lesson I'm learning this summer: to trust it all to God all the time and stop living in fear of the maybes.

Plain Pursuit by Beth Wiseman is the second book in the Daughters of the Promise series, following Plain Perfect. Lillian, from the first book, has settled into the Amish life with new husband Samuel, stepson David, and daughter Anna. When her Englischer friend Carley needs a place to stay for a few weeks and find some peace, Lillian invites her to stay with her family. Carley's working on an article for her newspaper about the Amish lifestyle, but she runs into some roadblocks after meeting Dr. Noah. Noah treats David after a strange fall that leads to a serious diagnosis for the boy, but because of Noah's history with the Plain People, he can't continue to treat David. Carley's investigative instincts tell her that there's a story here, but finding it may put her friendship with Lillian at risk. Wiseman presents a well-rounded view of the Amish people, focusing in this book on shunning or meiding which can be difficult for non-Amish to understand. Noah and Carley are both forced to consider how their actions impact those around them. Wiseman's series is a terrific entry in the growing Amish genre, and readers will appreciate the recipes she includes in the back of each book.

This is another book in the growing stack that will go to the lucky reader who can guess the exact minute of my birth on August 28, 1973. Make you best guess, and email it to me, make sure you specify am or pm! The contest ends on Thursday night at 10 pm.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Rose House & The Confidential Life of Eugenia Cooper

In defense of Martha:

Last night while reading through Neb Hayden's amazing devotional When the Good News Gets Even Better, I studied the three versions in the Gospels about Mary of Bethany pouring the perfumed oil over Jesus. It's a beautiful story of humility and love for Mary's Savior. While the disciples were distracted and focused on Jesus taking an earthly throne and declaring himself Messiah so he could save Israel from their Roman occupiers, Mary had spent time at Jesus' feet and knew that he was going into the city to die. She understood his words and knew his death was coming soon.

Hayden makes a small condemnation of Martha, Mary's always busy sister based on John 12:2 A dinner was prepared in Jesus’ honor. Martha served, and Lazarus was among those who ate with him. Two little words: Martha served, and Hayden makes the assumption that she, like the disciples, still doesn't see what's going on.

Now I absolutely adore Hayden's book, so don't think that I am dismissing the rest of this amazing book, but I think that just maybe he got Martha's motivations wrong.

This poor woman has been getting a bad rap for over 2000 years. Used as an example of missing the point when it comes to Jesus, there are even books about her, including Joanna Weaver's terrific Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World.

But I think that maybe we should give Martha's serving another look. Afterall, when Jesus arrived after the death of Lazarus, Martha said that she always knew that he was the Messiah, the Son of God. She obviously had spent less time worrying about her clean house and listened to the message Jesus had been teaching. Consider this: maybe she and Mary had purchased the nard together, maybe Mary's outpouring of love was really a gift from both of them. And while Mary gave her lavish show of devotion, Martha quietly served, because in making a warm, delicious meal she was showing her love as well.

Yesterday Doogie came over for a farewell supper. Jesse and I can't afford the hotel room to go with him up to Superior this weekend, so I decided to make him a special meal and cake. He spent much of the afternoon here, and I knew that every moment with him was precious, but what did I do? I cleaned. I washed clothes, hung them on the line, and put them away. I baked his cake. I straightened the bathroom. Why? Because the pain of his departure was so keen that I couldn't spend too much time near him or I burst into tears (no, I am not handling the empty nest thing well, pray for me). I focused my energy elsewhere to distract me, but I also worked hard baking a cake to show him my love.

Last week, we received news that Jesse's cousin John's cancer has returned. He's been in remission for less than a year only to discover that the abdominal cancer was back. What's worse is that tests showed that he also has Stage 4 colon cancer. It was missed last year and has now progressed to a terrifying state. I ache for them and want to show the whole family my love, but I'm not the kind of person who always knows the right words to say or who can offer real comfort just by their presence. I know where my gifts lie, so what am I doing for the family? I'm serving...food. Tonight I doubled my recipe for supper and dropped half off with them along with some chocolate cake. That's how I deal with pain and how I show my love.

Could Martha have been doing the same thing? When I picture the scene in their house in Bethany, I see this: Jesus sitting with his disciples, they are chatting, but the joy that was present in their earlier meals is gone. A dark pall hangs over them. Mary approaches and drops to her knees in front of Jesus. As she opens the bottle and pours the perfume over his feet, conversation stops. She takes her hair and gently rubs the oil into his feet, and Jesus' eyes fill with love for her act of devotion to him. Martha quietly brings another bowl of figs and places it on the rug in front of them, but the bowl is dropped just a bit, because her eyes are locked on her sister. At the sound, Jesus' eyes move from Mary to Martha to see her tear-filled eyes meet his, and he smiles, because he knows.

He knows our heart, and he knows why we serve. It may not be in a way that others recognize, but it is filled with love.

Rose House
by Tina Ann Forkner is the second book in the La Rosaleda series following Ruby Among Us. I do recommend reading the first book in this series, because there is a great deal of emphasis on the hope that Rose House offers. Lillian Diamon visits Rose House shortly after the death of her husband and twin children, but after being followed by mysterious men, she cuts her visit short. She doesn't return for four years, but when she does, she discovers that someone has painted a picture of her in the moment of her deepest grief. At first, she is angry at the intrusion, but upon meeting the mysterious artist, Truman, she finds herself drawn to him. Before she can make room for him in her heart, she has to release the grief at her loss and the bitterness at her sister's part in it. This book just didn't work for me as well as Ruby Among Us. The various plots didn't knit together neatly, and the purpose for the antagonist's murderous rage is never really disclosed. I didn't understand why he didn't just leave Lillian and Geena alone, no deep dark secrets were exposed to explain it. The romance between Lillian and Truman is the saving grace of the novel, but there is too little of it. Forkner is a terrific author, and I'm sure that her next book will be again evidence of that.

The Confidential Life of Eugenia Cooper by Kathleen Y'Barbo is the most fun I've had reading a romance novel in a long time! Eugenia "Gennie" Cooper wants just a little adventure in her life before getting married to her father's choice, so when the opportunity for a trip to Denver posing as a governess arrives, she can't help but take it. Working in the Beck household is a little more adventure than she had bargained for however. Charlotte, her ten year old charge, has been allowed to run wild for five years without a mother's influence. I stayed up until 3 am finishing this book, because I just couldn't put it down! Every time I thought I'd come to a place I could put it aside until morning Y'Barbo threw another monkey wrench into the works! This refreshing novel kept the best of romantic cliches and turned the rest on their head. I loved it!

The contest for all of the books I review this week (including these two) is going until 10 pm Thursday. To win, just send me an email with your best guess to what time I was born on August 28, 1973. The best guess so far is just 24 minutes off!


Monday, August 24, 2009

The Buzzards are Circling but God's Not Finished with Me Yet

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!


Today's Wild Card author is:


and the books:


The Buzzards are Circling, but God is Not Finished with Me Yet

David C. Cook; New edition (August 1, 2009)
AND


God Has Never Failed Me, but He’s Sure Scared Me to Death a Few Times

David C. Cook; New edition (August 1, 2009)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Stan Toler resides in Oklahoma City, OK and is an international speaker and seminar leader. For several years he served as Vice-President and taught seminars for Dr. John Maxwell's INJOY Group, a leadership development institute. Toler has written over 70 books, including his best sellers, The Five Star Leader, Richest Person in the World, The Secret Blend, his popular Minute Motivator Series; and his latest book, ReThink Your Life. His books have sold over 2 million copies worldwide.


Visit the author's website.

Product Details:
The Buzzards are Circling, but God is Not Finished with Me Yet:

List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 208 pages
Publisher: David C. Cook; New edition (August 1, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1434765946
ISBN-13: 978-1434765949

Product Details:
God Has Never Failed Me, but He’s Sure Scared Me to Death a Few Times:

List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 256 pages
Publisher: David C. Cook; New edition (August 1, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1434765954
ISBN-13: 978-1434765956

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTERs:



©2009 Cook Communications Ministries. The Buzzards Are Circling, but God’s Not Finished with Me Yet by Stan Toler. Used with permission. May not be further reproduced. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

When Your World Crumbles, You Don’t Have to Be One of the Crumbs

(You Can Survive Your Situation)


David Hopkins felt as though the eyes of a thousand demons penetrated his soul as he walked across the campus of Emmanuel College in Franklin Springs, Georgia. Thousands of beady-eyed buzzards arrogantly shifted along the bare tree limbs as if they were waiting for him to drop dead and furnish their lunch. My friend Dr. Hopkins, the college president, said his skin crawled as he thought about the six years of torture that had come from the predators who arrived each October and lingered until April, infesting the college property.


With the crunch of his every footstep on the leaf-strewn ground, he relived the staff’s repeated efforts to scare away the birds. Devoted employees tried banging pots and pans—and even firing warning shots into the air. Nothing worked. And killing the ebony beasts was against the law. According to local officials, the tormentors were endangered. Destroying them would result in a hefty fine. The cold autumn wind tearing at the trees seemed to mock Dr. Hopkins, and he was certain one swooping buzzard grinned with glee!


Indeed, the buzzards seemed a metaphor for the spiritual warfare of the last six years. As the winged menaces invaded the school, year in and year out, David’s wife almost died of cancer. He suffered from the sometimes-fatal Crohn’s disease. The college, in the throes of necessary but difficult change, struggled for financial survival. Dr. Hopkins wondered if and when the buzzards would smell the death of the college and swoop. He shook his fist toward the feathered foes and declared, “You won’t win!”


Yet just when it looked like he was finished, twenty-five prayer warriors arrived on the campus to pray for the college—and for the rapid departure of the carnivorous creatures. The next day, Dr. Hopkins received a call from a donor who said, “I’ll give one hundred sixty thousand dollars toward the construction of a new science building.” Another donor called and said, “We’ll give five hundred thousand dollars toward the new science building!” What’s more, his wife was declared cancer free!


President Hopkins told me that he was so happy about the news that he nearly floated home. That’s when he made a startling discovery. As he looked around, he noticed the trees were void of those dark adversaries. No buzzards! Gone! Gone! Gone! For no apparent reason, they had vanished! At that moment, he recalled Abraham’s sojourn from Ur to the Promised Land. Abraham had paused to worship and to offer a sacrifice to God as a sign of His covenant. (It should be noted: The buzzards came down to steal Abraham’s sacrifice before he could seal it. Abraham had to shoo the winged predators away!)


Someday, you’re going to spot buzzards circling in your spiritual No-Fly Zone. There is going to come a time when you’re hit with a crisis, one that you didn’t see coming. And it may cause your whole world to crumble like an old cookie under a big sledgehammer. But take heart; you don’t have to be a crumb in the midst of the crumbling.


WORLD CRUMBLING IS NOT AN OLYMPIC SPORT


The Old Testament character Job reminds us: “Man is born to trouble as surely as sparks fly upward” (Job 5:7). It’s a fact of life. We didn’t inherit curly hair, brown eyes, and a propensity to arthritis from Adam. We inherited trouble. Adam’s disobedience to God started a chain reaction of suffering and sorrow that won’t be broken until the eastern sky splits and the Savior returns. The Bible says, “In Adam all die” (1 Cor. 15:22).


So our family tree is more like a prickly cactus than a pristine maple. But how does it play out in the landscape of life? What is it that makes our world come tumbling down like a planetary Humpty

Dumpty? There are several factors that can play a part in the world crumbling times.


LIFE CHANGES


We are spiritually and emotionally vulnerable when we face changes in the routine of our lives. Vocational, housing, relationship, physical, or financial changes—all may reduce our stability to zero (to put a new slant on the fog report!). In the Old Testament, Abraham faced unsettling uncertainty when God called him to leave his homeland and take his family to a new country.


He responded obediently, but I’m sure there was a king-sized knot in his stomach when he packed his luggage: “By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going” (Heb. 11:8). The phrase did not know where he was going is key to what he must have felt. Everything familiar would soon be set aside, and he would leap like a skydiver into the unknown.


The focus on Abraham comes from the patriarchal emphasis in Bible times. But think about how his family must have felt. They would have to leave familiar department stores and playgrounds, forfeit soccer team membership, subscribe to a new cable television service.


Sad farewells.


Financial uncertainty.


Strange roads.


This wasn’t going to be a picnic for Abraham’s family.


Change never is a picnic, but it happens. Sudden layoffs. Diving stocks. Rising gas prices. A doctor with a somber face, holding an alarming medical report in his hands. And when change does happen, our world often crumbles.


Happiness is inward and not outward; and so it does

Not depend on what we have, but on what we are.

—Henry Van Dyke


DELAYED PROMISES


Look again at Abraham’s life story: “By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God” (Heb. 11:9–10).


Abraham was looking forward to the city.


So, where’s the city? All he saw was desert. No skyscrapers here, just dusty tent dwellings at the end of a long travel days spent looking at the backside of a camel.


This was supposed to be the Promised Land. But for Abraham, it must have looked like it was mostly land and little promise. For the moment, milk and honey looked more like curds and whey.


Delayed promises are world-crumbling situations. We gather together the hopes and pledges of the Bible like a pile of prescriptions from an immediate-care clinic. We haul out our inheritance claims. We thumb through the Rolodex of advice from near and far. “Just a little while.” “Sunday’s coming.” “Somewhere over the rainbow …”


But we’re used to instant coffee and microwave popcorn. Delayed promises? We’ve been promised a celestial city, but we can’t see it for the storm clouds. The realization sets in and causes our hearts to

break. We’re stuck in the now, like Abraham and his family, trying to eke out an existence in an unfurnished Promised-Land apartment.


PERSONAL PROBLEMS


Abraham also had to look for a promise beyond the horizon of personal setbacks: “By faith Abraham, even though he was past age—and Sarah herself was barren—was enabled to become a father because he considered him faithful who had made the promise. And so from this one man, and he as good as dead, came descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sand on the seashore” (Heb. 11:11–12).


Wouldn’t it be awful to face life when you’ve already been declared “as good as dead”? Maybe you have!



The buzzards of age and infirmity had been in a holding pattern over Abraham’s life. God had made the promise: Abraham’s descendants would be as numerous as the stars. But Abraham couldn’t see the stars because of the smudges on his trifocals. His family would become as numerous as the sands, but the sands of his own hourglass had settled quicker than an elephant in a lawn chair.


We’ve all been there. Personal difficulties crowd out our hopes of a tomorrow. We can’t do that because of this. “If only I could…” “I just wish I didn’t have to …” “If it weren’t for…” We dialogue with life, wishing we could erase the effects of time. Personal difficulties swarm around us:


Grudges that poison us

Jealousy that gnaws at us

Loneliness that isolates us

Inadequacies that paralyze us

Finances that bind us

Sorrows that plague us.


SUDDEN TRIALS


Abraham’s life would have been so much different if it weren’t for that day. He had been sailing along—working out the issues of a new home, bringing his family to a consensus, driving fresh-cut stakes into the promises of the new land. Then, the Scriptures say, “God tested Abraham” (Gen. 22:1).


A sudden trial arrived like a five-hundred-pound gorilla. God was applying a litmus test to Abraham. He wanted His protégé to see that faith works when we face that day. God told Abraham to take his son to a remote place and prepare an altar of sacrifice—and then sacrifice his son, his only son, back to God. Leaving his servants behind, Abraham took the materials for the altar, along with his only son, and began the longest journey of his life. The trip from Ur was a piece of cake compared to these few steps.


Even as they walked together, the questions began to fly: “Father, where’s the sacrifice?” Abraham’s heart was pounding. He was committed to obeying God’s command: to make his own son that sacrifice. Abraham replied, “God will provide.” But deep in his heart the doubts must have swirled like an oak leaf in a whirlpool.


That day—that sudden testing time in the life of the patriarch that would be unlike any other day. “By faith Abraham, when God tested him, offered Isaac as a sacrifice. He who had received the promises was about to sacrifice his one and only son” (Heb. 11:17). Abraham passed the test. He trusted God beyond what common sense or his own will would have led him to do. Then God instructed Abraham not to lay a hand on his son and provided a ram for Abraham to sacrifice.


Perhaps you’ve had a day like that. Life is pretty uneventful, then suddenly everything changes. A sound f metal crushing metal. A telephone call. A knock on the door. An ambulance siren. We who are children of promise suddenly face a horrendous situation. Something is expected of us. Not one of us is exempt.


I’M HAVING A “WHOLE LIFE” CRISIS


Our reactions to world-crumbling events vary. Sometimes we feel helpless. For the most part, we’re used to being in control of things. But when life is suddenly out of our control, a sense of vulnerability sets in. Until now, we’ve been able to fix most everything else, but we can’t fix this. It’s just out of reach, like that burned-out light bulb in the twenty-foot ceiling chandelier. We can see it, and we know that changing it would make a difference. But without some assistance, we’re powerless. Sometimes we feel abandoned. Alone in the hospital room, waiting for loved ones. Alone at the table that once was also occupied by a spouse or parent. Alone in a courtroom hallway, waiting for the lawyer. Alone. Abandoned. “Why me, Lord?” we inquire. But often, heaven is silent—not because there isn’t any concern up there, but because we make such loud groaning noises down here that we cannot hear the still, small voice of assurance.


Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through Experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, Vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success achieved. —Helen Keller


Sometimes we feel worthless. World-crumbling events have a way of sucking the self-esteem out of our lives. Our pride and dignity are temporarily gone. Our once-secure finances are tenuous. Our once strong

bodies are frail. Our once-happy homes are in shambles. Our once-respectful children have rebelled. We feel about as significant as an eyelash on a mosquito.


Sometimes we feel ashamed. Sometimes we have made a personal contribution to the world-crumbling situation. We’ve been players, not just bystanders. Sometimes we make wrong choices. We cross the line. The pain in our foot comes from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. We stand in our self-made ruins and weep over what should have been, or what might have been, if only we had kept the law of God or if only we had let our conscience give the final answer.


One day, Jesus came across a man who was a poster child for world-crumbling events:


Jesus went up to Jerusalem for a feast of the Jews. Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie—the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years.


When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, “Do you want to get well?”


“Sir,” the invalid replied, “I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me.”


Then Jesus said to him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.” At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked. (John 5:1–9)


For thirty-eight years of his life, this man had been carried, pulled, or pushed to the pool beside the sheep gate on the northern side of the Jerusalem temple. There the unnamed man, with so many unnamed others, waited to be healed.


The invalids believed that an angel of the Lord occasionally stirred the waters in the pool and the first person to step into the water would be healed.


This poor man had never made it. Though he had helpers to transport him and put him close to the edge of the pool, he had never been first in. This day was no exception. It was “miracle time,” and he was tardy.


Time after time, he was toenail close to a miracle. But still, he went to the pool!


Think of the cruelty. A heavenly messenger makes a house call every now and then but brings only enough healing power to cure just one person: the first one in.


Jesus saw and approached this man. He learned about the man’s plight, and the Lord healed him. And the fact is, when our world crumbles, Jesus never fails to see it, and He is never far away.


God believes in me,

Therefore my situation is never hopeless.

God walks with me,

Therefore I am never alone.

God is on my side,

Therefore I can never lose.

—Anonymous


©2009 Cook Communications Ministries. God Has Never Failed Me, But He Sure Has Scared Me to Death a Few Times by Stan Toler. Used with permission. May not be further reproduced. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1
Pinto Beans and Fried Bologna—
Now That’s a Feast of Faith


We do not know what to do. (2 Chron. 20:12)


Growing up in the hills of West Virginia impacted my life tremendously. My dad was a coal miner, and we lived in a coal-mining community—Baileysville, an unincorporated town. Of course, most towns in West Virginia are still unincorporated. And the population of Baileysville was down to sixty as of 1994, so I guess it will never be incorporated! In fact, it’s so small that Main Street is a cul-de-sac. But it is my hometown!


Californians love to brag about being able to go to the mountains to snow ski and the ocean to sunbathe in the same day. Well, in Baileysville, we had our own definition of the good life. If you lived on the side of the mountain, you could cross the river anytime, any day, on an old-fashioned swinging bridge!


My Saturdays were spent at the Wyoming Company Store. While Mom and Dad made purchases with coal-mining dollars, I took charge of watching my brothers, Terry and Mark. That wasn’t difficult if you knew what to do. We eagerly peered at the black-and-white television sets in the furniture department. Programs such as Fury, Sky King, and My Friend Flicka seemed so real to us!


Our small white frame house was located on the side of Baileysville Mountain. We had a well nearby that provided ample water and a pot-bellied coal stove to keep us warm (as long as you remembered to put the coal in it!).


I have heard that someone can be described as a “redneck” if his bathroom requires a flashlight and shoes. Well, our house had three rooms and a path to the little house out back. But it was our home, and I loved it—no matter how pink it made my neck.


One of the saddest days of my childhood was a Saturday morning when we returned home from a visit to the company store to see our tiny home engulfed in flames. We lost everything. I cried for days.


Years later, Pastor Richard Grindstaff told us that as the house burned to the ground, Dad put his arm around him and said, “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. Blessed by the name of the Lord!”


Put the Road Kill on the Table, and Call the Kids for Supper!


By the time I was eleven years old, we had moved to Columbus, Ohio, in search of a better life. My dad, only thirty-one years old, had already broken his back three times in the coal mines and was suffering from the dreaded miners’ disease, “black lung.” But we were happy and almost always had pinto beans, cornbread, and fried bologna for supper. (That’s right, only later did we call it dinner!)


Christmas Day 1961 will always be one of the most wonderful, life-changing days in my memory bank. It had been a long, hard winter with lots of snow and cold weather. Times were tough! Dad had been laid off from construction work, our food supply had swindled to nothing, and we had closed off most of the house in order to cut down our high utility bills.


This epiphany really began Christmas Eve when Mom noted that we had no food for Christmas Day and no hope of getting any. That was difficult for me to understand. We were used to mom calling out, “Pinto beans, cornbread, and fried bologna. Come and get it!” But now we didn’t even have that. There was no food in the house!


Mom suggested that it was time for us to accept a handout from the government commodities department, so—reluctantly—Dad loaded Terry, Mark, and me into our old Plymouth, and we headed downtown. When we got there, we stood in line with hundreds of others for what seemed like hours, waiting for government handouts of cheese, dried milk, flour, and dried eggs. Ugh! The wind was cold, and the snow was blowing as we stood there shivering. Finally, Dad could stand it no longer.


“We’re going home, boys. God will provide!” he said. We cried, yet we completely trusted Dad’s faith in God.


That night, we popped popcorn and opened gifts that we had ordered with Top Value trading stamps which Mom had wisely saved for that purpose. Perhaps some of you are too young to remember Top Value stamps. Back then, almost all grocery stores gave out trading stamps for purchases made. You could save the stamps and fill up Top Value Books for redemption. In my day, Top Value provided a catalog that listed the number of books needed for a gift item. So Mom saved stamps all year long, counted the bounty by November 1, and let us Toler boys pick out our Christmas presents.


Terry got a transistor radio. (He hadn’t realized that we had no money to purchase a battery!) I had ordered a miniature Brownie Kodak camera. (That wasn’t smart, since we couldn’t afford film, either!) And baby brother Mark got a small teddy bear. While none of the gifts was a surprise to us, Mom had carefully and lovingly wrapped each one to be opened Christmas Eve. We were grateful to have anything!


Everyone slept well under Grandma Brewster’s handmade quilts that night. While we were fearful of the prospect of the next day without food, we were just happy to be together as a family. (Little did we know that Dad would be in heaven by the following Christmas.)


On Christmas morning, we were all asleep in Mom and Dad’s bedroom when suddenly, we were startled by a loud knock and a hearty “Merry Christmas!” greeting from people who attended the Fifth Avenue Church. There stood Clair Parsons, Dalmus Bullock, and others with gifts, clothes, and a thirty-day supply of food. (Yes, dried pinto beans, cornmeal, and a huge roll of bologna were included!) Since that day, I have always believed that God will provide, and that God is never late when we need a miracle!


We must bring the presence of God into our families. And how do we do that? By praying.

—Mother Teresa


One of my favorite Bible stories is in 2 Chronicles 20:12. King Jehoshaphat of Israel found himself in what appeared to be a hopeless situation. He cried out to God, “Our God … we have no power.… We do not know what to do.” King Jehoshaphat had just discovered three new enemies. Unfortunately, all three were lined up against the tiny nation of Israel, and King Jehoshaphat realized that he was powerless without God’s help. That’s the way we felt in the Toler home. The good news for all of us is the same as it was for King Jehoshaphat. God can and will make up the difference.


Seek the Lord


Alarmed, Jehoshaphat resolved to inquire of the Lord, and he proclaimed a fast for all Judah. The people of Judah came together to seek help from the Lord. (2 Chron. 20:3–4)


Jehoshaphat asked God a significant question: “Are you not the God who is in heaven?” (2 Chron. 20:6). In other words, he was saying, “God, if You can take care of this universe and bring order to it, then You can provide for me.”


He asked God another question: “Did you not drive out the inhabitants of this land?” (2 Chron. 20:7). He was reminding himself of God’s faithfulness in the past. I am beginning to realize that my faith today anchors to the faith that my dad passed on to me with his wisdom: “God will provide.” And provide He did for the Tolers!


After Dad’s death, God sent a wonderful Kentucky stepfather, Jack Hollingsworth, into our lives. He saw to it that each son of William Aaron Toler had plenty of pinto beans, fried bologna (by the way, he is an expert at cooking it!), cornbread, and a college education. All three boys later became Nazarene ministers.


Confess Your Need


We have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. (2 Chron. 20:12)


If you want God’s help, you must confess your need! The world in which we live is a world of independence. We are taught to look out for “No. 1,” to do our own thing, to think for ourselves, and to trust in our own abilities. King Jehoshaphat reminded the children of Israel that “Me-ism” doesn’t work here! He confessed that they were inadequate against the three enemies they faced: “Power and might are in your hand” (2 Chron. 20:6).


When I need God’s provision, I look up and confess, “God, I am incapable, but You have all the resources for my miracle!”


Focus on God, Not Your Problem


We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you. (2 Chron. 20:12)


King Jehoshaphat gave his people a formula for deliverance: “Get your eyes off the problem! Your focus must be on God!”


Living in Oklahoma during tough times as an adult has also strengthened my faith in God. In the mid-1980s, I watched many banks fail; in fact, the FDIC closed so many banks in my hometown of Oklahoma City that I wore a T-shirt that said, “I bank with RDIC!” Agriculture diminished, and oil rigs stopped pumping. But even in the most difficult situations, a simple faith in God and a calm reassurance in the face of insurmountable obstacles resulted in victory.


I will always remember sitting at a table in the Oklahoma City Marriott hotel restaurant on Northwest Expressway and listening to my friend Melvin Hatley, founder of USA Waste Management Company, talk about the collapse of the oil industry and the failure of the old First National Bank downtown. Tears flowed freely, and yet his faith took hold as he discussed God’s history of faithfulness. His calm assurance, founded and grounded in a dynamic faith, made all the difference! Today, Melvin is a testimony of the phrase “Tough times don’t last, but tough people do!”


Trust and action always work hand in hand. For example, you know the story of Wilbur and Orville Wright. On December 17, 1903, they made history. They defied the law of gravity and flew through the air. Many forget that the concept of flying did not originate with the Wright brothers. In fact, several years before the brothers flew their motorized plane at Kitty Hawk, scientists had discovered that flying was possible. While others remained skeptical, the Wright brothers believed the formulas and designed their own plane. When they achieved “first flight,” they demonstrated the importance of trusting the facts and taking action in order to experience results.


The same is true for Christians. We can know a lot about God and the Bible, but until we relax in faith and believe in the promises of God, we will be disappointed.


I love the story that my former professor Dr. Amos Henry used to tell about D. L. Moody. Apparently, Moody was on a ship crossing the Atlantic Ocean one night when it caught on fire, and all on board formed a bucket brigade to pass ocean water to the scene of the fire. One man in the line turned and said, “Mr. Moody, don’t you think we should retire from the line and go down and pray?”


“You can go pray if you want to,” Moody replied, “but I’m going to pray while I pass the buckets.” What great insight! God wants to see if you mean business, so pray while you work.


Just think, if Jesus had thought prayer was the only thing He needed to do and had remained on His knees in the Garden of Gethsemane instead of getting up and following God’s plan for His life, there never would have been a Calvary.


Relax in Faith


One of the great things about faith is that it helps you persevere. There’s a story about two men who were climbing a particularly difficult mountain when one of them suddenly fell down a crevasse five hundred feet deep.


“Are you all right, Bert?” called the man at the top of the crevasse.


“I’m still alive, thank goodness, Fred,” came the reply.


“Here, grab this rope,” said Fred, throwing a rope down to Bert.


“I can’t grab it,” shouted Bert. “My arms are broken.”


“Well, fit it around your legs.”


“I’m afraid I can’t do that either,” said Bert. “My legs are broken.”


“Put the rope in your mouth,” shouted Fred.


So Bert put the rope in his mouth and Fred began to haul him to safety: four hundred ninety feet … four hundred feet … three hundred feet … two hundred feet … one hundred feet … fifty feet … and then Fred called out, “Hey, Bert, how are you doing?”


Bert replied, “I’m fine … Uh oh!”


Don’t let go of the rope, my friend! As Dr. Steve Brown says, “Tie a knot and hang on!”


You will not have to fight this battle. Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the Lord will give you. (2 Chron. 20:17)


It’s interesting that this particular verse is the middle verse of the entire Old Testament. It is like a pregnant pause for the believer. This concept, “stand firm,” is like going into the batter’s box during a World Series baseball game with a great pitcher on the mound, digging in, and saying, “I don’t care how fast you throw that ball, I’m anchored here, and you can’t move me!” King Jehoshaphat said, “Stand your ground and remain calm—God is going to help us.”


Of course, that’s easier said than done. Harmon Schmelzenbach, a missionary to Africa, often holds audiences spellbound with his story about a huge python that uncoiled itself from the rafters and then wrapped itself around his body while he was kneeling to pray.


The python is known for its ability to kill its victim by squeezing it to death. Schmelzenbach states that Isaiah 30:15 instantly flooded his mind: “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.” With the huge snake wrapped around his body, he testified that he felt the calm assurance that God was in control. Harmon remained perfectly still and prayed like never before!


If he had moved a muscle, no doubt the giant python would have constricted and killed him. But Schmelzenbach reports that the snake slowly uncoiled itself and went back to the rafters. I don’t know if Schmelzenbach now prays with one eye open or not, but one thing’s for certain: No one can convince him that there isn’t power in the promises of God.


We can depend on God. Did you know that we have more than seven thousand promises in Scripture to stand on? Not only that, but you can stand on the character of God! God has never lost a battle. Why not resign as general manager of the universe, eat a bowl of beans and cornbread, and relax in faith?


Give God Thanks Before Your Miracle


King Jehoshaphat began to appoint those who could sing. “As they began to sing and praise, the Lord set ambushes against the men of Ammon and Moab and Mount Seir who were invading Judah, and they were defeated” (2 Chron. 20:22). Do you get the picture? Three armies of bloodthirsty warriors with overwhelming strength and weaponry lined up against tiny Israel, and the king called the choir to sing! Talk about faith. That day they claimed victory!


God is faithful now in the twentieth century, just as He was in the days of ancient Israel. During the Second World War, the Allies experienced a very difficult time. The British had just suffered a terrible defeat at Dunkirk, losing almost all of their military supplies during the evacuation of their soldiers. France had been conquered, and the United Sates had not yet entered the war. The island nation of England stood alone against the Axis powers.


Prime Minister Winston Churchill knew he had to bolster the courage and the determination of his people. He needed to make a speech—an inspiring speech—that would rally the citizens. On Sunday evening, June 2, 1940, Churchill was in his Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street. His secretary, Mary Shearburn, was poised at the typewriter. Dictating, Churchill paced from the fireplace to the velvet-draped windows and back again. Slowly his speech emerged onto the typed page. Often he would rip the sheet from the machine only to begin anew. It was late, and the room was cold in the night air. The prime minister’s voice had now grown hoarse and faint. His head bowed, and he sobbed, for he did not know what to say. Silence. A minute passed, maybe two. It seemed like an eternity. Abruptly his head rose and his voice trumpeted; he spoke as a man with authority. The thought descended upon him, as from an angel above: “We shall never surrender!”


Perhaps those words did come from an angel. Who knows? All we know is that God is faithful. Regardless of how scary or how seemingly hopeless our mission may be, He does not forsake us. All we have to do is trust—placing our fears and our failures in His hands. He will not let us down.


Back in 1850, during the California Gold Rush, a young man from Bavaria came to San Francisco, bringing with him some rolls of canvas. He was twenty years old at the time, and he planned to sell the canvas to the gold miners to use for tents. Then the profits from his sales would finance his own digging for gold. However, as he headed toward the Sierra Nevada Mountains, he met one of the gold miners. When he told the miner his plans, the miner said, “It won’t work. It’s a waste of your time. Nobody will buy your canvas for tents. That’s not what we need.”


The young man prayed within. Then he got his answer.


The gold miner went on: “You should have brought pants. That’s what we need—durable pants! Pants don’t wear worth a hoot up there in the diggings. Can’t get a pair strong enough.” Right then, the young man from Bavaria decided to turn the rolls of canvas into pants—blue pants—that would survive the rigors of the gold-mining camps. He had a harness maker reinforce the pockets with copper studs, and the pants sold like hotcakes!


By the way, the name of the young man from Bavaria was Levi Strauss. And he called the new pants “Levi’s”! So far, about 900 million pairs of Levi’s have been sold throughout the world, and they are one of the few items of apparel whose style has remained basically unchanged for more than 130 years.


It is amazing that a style of pants could endure for over a century. How much more incredible is the unwavering faithfulness of God. I’ll never forget the simple hope in His faithfulness that I learned at home. My own father modeled that faith in God before us, trudging home in the snow from the coal mines, face darkened with coal dust, lunch bucket jangling, whistling the old tune “His Eye Is On the Sparrow.”

Why should I feel discouraged?

Why should the shadows come?

Why should my heart be lonely

And long for heaven and home?

When Jesus is my portion?

My constant friend is He.

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me!

—Civilla D. Martin


Yes, the God who sits on a throne in heaven is interested in you! If He tends to the lilies of the fields and attends the funeral of a baby sparrow (and He does), He surely will provide for you!


The Buzzards are Circling but God's Not Finished with Me Yet by Stan Toler is a deeply insightful look at trusting the will of God told with a light touch. Toler must have taken Mary Poppin's advice "A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down" to heart, because he packs lots of humor as well as wisdom in this terrific book. Toler encourages readers not to give up when everything seems pointless, because God has a purpose for where we are and a plan for getting us out if we trust him. This book came to me at just the right time. I was struggling with some sadness and anger, and Toler's words shined God's light right into my heart, giving me hope. He utilizes the classic pastor technique of tell a funny story, use it to lead into a deeper truth and then before you lose your reader, tell another funny story, and it works! Don't let Toler's humorous touch mislead you, this is a book with a powerful message of hope and trust in the Lord.

Friday is my birthday, but I'm giving one of my readers the present: a copy of every book I review this week, including this one! To sign up, send me an email before 10 pm on Thursday, August 27th giving your best guess as to exactly what time I was born on August 28, 1973. Make sure you include am or pm! Good luck!

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Happy Birthday to me, but the presents are for you

One of my favorite pictures, despite the unusual attire.

One of my all time favorite pictures. Dad had a stock car he was working on in the shed for the first ten years or so of my life. I loved to crawl inside and pretend that the checkered flag was waving for me! I even had a helmet that fit!

My kindergarten picture.

I'm not sure how old I was in this picture, and I can't remember the name of this cat. (Mom, help?) My Grandma Valley had made me the bathrobe for Christmas (Mia has it now), and my dad gave me a Stihl Chainsaw hat. I loved that hat so much, I wore to bed!

I was born on my great-grandfather Charles Valley's 86th (could be 85th or 87th) birthday, so we often celebrated together. I think this was my sixth birthday.


This is the first day of school going to second grade. Next to me is Poco, the best dog ever.

I wanted to share some of my favorite pictures of my childhood with you in honor of my upcoming birthday on Friday. I am throwing a party of sorts, but you get the presents! I'm giving a copy of every book I review this week (at least five) to the person who can guess closest to the minute that I was born on August 28, 1973. To make your guess, send me an email before 10 pm on Thursday, August 27th. I'll announce the winner and correct time then. Good luck!

Saturday, August 22, 2009

The Believer

Today I had one of those moments that made me realize just how amazing my daughter really is. I picked Molly up from work last night, and as much as I hate to admit it, we've been fighting since she walked in the door. Lots of subjects: ignoring her little sister, school clothes, yearbook photo, cleaning her room, etc. I hate weekends like this, because I've missed her all week. I don't want to spend the weekend arguing with her, and I know she doesn't either, but we can't seem to help ourselves.

An ongoing fight has been over school shopping. Mia received a whole new wardrobe because she shot up 2-1/2" and outgrew nearly every item in her closet this summer. Molly's still her sweet little size 4, but wants equal treatment, and no amount of motherly logic seems to work.

She sorted through her closet and dresser, getting rid of two garbage bags of clothing that doesn't fit/isn't the right style/was purchased by well-meaning grandmothers. We both went through the remaining items to determine what she really did need for school. She was seriously disappointed with my verdict of socks, underwear, and maybe two pairs of jeans.

After all of the drama, I sat down at my laptop to take a breather, and I see in my email a notification from Facebook: Molly Kallies has tagged you in a photo. I was a little confused, but clicked to see it. It was one of those Facebook photos made up of 12 different blocks of descriptions (your best friend, best smile, nice hair, etc) that teens tag with the names of the person they think fits each description. I put my mouse over each square interested to see who Molly matched to each (I agree, Deanna Rybka does have the best hair!), but I didn't find my name until the bottom block which was labeled "the prettiest girl I know." My heart locked in my throat and my eyes immediately filled with tears. I was stunned; my 16 year old beauty, who hangs labeled me the prettiest girl she knows in front of all of her friends.

I haven't even been able to tell her thank you or give her a hug, I'm just so moved by her sweetness. Especially when I think that while she was putting up that pic on Facebook I was nagging her to finish her room. (Just two more pictures Mom, hang on!) It was a greatly needed blessing today. Maybe I'll spring for three pair of jeans after all.

The Believer by Ann Gabhart is the second novel by the author about the Shaker community in 19th century Kentucky. Elizabeth Duncan's world has crashed around her. Her father died suddenly, leaving her to care for her brother and sister alone, with no way of providing for them, except for the sinister offer of marriage from their landlord. Her father had talked often of a Shaker community a couple of days journey away, about the peace he found there and how they would take in anyone asking for help. Rather than marry the odious landlord, Elizabeth and her siblings travel to Harmony Hill seeking shelter and safety through the winter. Before she even sets foot in the small town, Ethan, a member of the community, is struck by her beauty. Despite both of their attempts, circumstances continue to force them together making it more and more difficult to disguise the growing feelings inside that run contrary to everything the Shakers believe in. I was unfamiliar with the Shakers, but Gabhart portrays their communal lifestyle with an even hand. The community makes beautiful furniture and is well-known for their seeds and herbal medicines. Their fierce devotion to celibacy and isolation from the world made them vulnerable to Pharisaical leaders. Gabhart really makes this entire community come to life, but the true star of the book is Elizabeth and Ethan's romance. Elizabeth makes some unexpected choices that make this book stand far above most historical romances. I really loved this terrific book.

This morning Jesse, Mia, and I went to a free rummage sale. Yes, everything really was free! I picked up a few things for Mom and I to sell on eBay, like a reverse painted picture of the Statue of Liberty in a big old oval frame, a Munising wooden bowl, Fire King mugs, and a complete baby afghan's worth of granny squares. The squares just have to be sewn together, and the pattern is a very pretty pink and burgundy. All for free! Plus they had face-painting and balloon animals for kids. Mia was made into an adorable bunny, complete with ears they attached to her headband.