Fragile

Whenever I'm posting a status on Facebook, or even telling a story here, I'm always very careful not to use too many exclamation points. Even if I'm truly enthusiastic or excited about something, I don't want to use too many !!! because it appears juvenile or maybe even sarcastic. But the other day when Mia came home from school, she was telling me about her day (as usual), and it seemed like every single sentence out of her mouth should have been punctuated by an exclamation point." Mommy! Guess what happened at school today! I played with Bailey a game about the Cheetah Girls!" Even when she's sad or having a bad day, it's still worthy of an exclamation point." Mommy! I had the worst day of my life! I forgot to bring back my library book! Gabby and Bailey were mad at me!"

It made me think about how differently adults and children look at life. To a child, every day is a new opportunity for something completely wonderful to happen, and they are open to it. As adults, we tend to live our praying that nothing dramatic will happen, trying to remain safe. We want our lives to be filled with periods rather than exclamation points, and as our children age, we try to make them more like us. Settle down. Shhh, be quiet. Keep your voice down. Not now, honey.

But consider this: Jesus doesn't tell the children to be like adults, he tell his disciples to be more like children. For an answer Jesus called over a child, whom he stood in the middle of the room, and said, "I'm telling you, once and for all, that unless you return to square one and start over like children, you're not even going to get a look at the kingdom, let alone get in. Matthew 18:12

One day children were brought to Jesus in the hope that he would lay hands on them and pray over them. The disciples shooed them off. But Jesus intervened: "Let the children alone, don't prevent them from coming to me. God's kingdom is made up of people like these." Matthew 19:13

"Don't push these children away. Don't ever get between them and me. These children are at the very center of life in the kingdom. Mark this: Unless you accept God's kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you'll never get in." Mark 10:13

I think Mia may have something to teach each of us- live in the exclamation points! Life is filled with possibility! God loves you! Give it a try, and let me know how it works for you.

Fragile by Chris Katsaropoulos is an experiential novel about what pulls us together and apart. Amelia Geist saved herself for her childhood love, Tris Holloway, even though he has long abandoned her. Holly Schenk is just trying to make ends meet to take care of her two daughters alone, but she can't seem to want the right man. Tris, Amelia's love, is ready to retire, but his wife has tired of him and is cleaning out all remnants of their life together while he tries to find purpose in the last days of his job. Three very different people who are all struggling to feel love and be loved are all portrayed as fragile and vulnerable by Katsaropoulos. The narration jumps from one character to the next without notice right in the middle of a sentence which takes a little getting used to, but when the story picks up with the meeting of Amelia and Holly, it becomes natural, giving the novel a very organic and authentic voice. Amelia realizes that when she turned her back on love after losing Tris, she wasted much of her life. Holly is constantly seeking men who will only abuse and leave her while ignoring the good man right in front of her. Tris settled for his wife when all he really wanted was Amelia and is now paying for it in a bitter marriage. The stories are sad, but Katsaropoulos does a wonderful job of keeping the thread of hope alive in each of them, as though a happy ending is just around the corner. It's a small story with a large impact.

Thank you to Smith Publicity for providing me with a copy of this book for review.

Love Finds You in Bridal Veil Oregon

There's an interesting story in 1 Chronicles 19 about a misunderstanding turning deadly. King David has been ruling successfully for awhile, and when a king from a neighboring country, Nahash of the Ammonites, dies, David wants to give his regards to the successor, Hanun, Nahash's son, but he doesn't just send a nice sympathy letter, David sends an entire delegation.

Hanun, a new leader, is obviously insecure and worried about the stability of the throne, because when his advisers suggest that the delegation is really full of spies looking for fortifications and weaknesses so David can overthrow Hanun, the new king takes drastic action. He shaves the beards of the delegation and cuts their clothing to expose their buttocks, then sends them on home in disgrace.

When David heard of the humiliation of his representatives, he sent them out of town until their beards grew back so they could return with dignity. He didn't take any more action until hearing that the Ammonites, now realizing that they had really ticked off a major warrior king with thousands of troops at his disposal, had hired 32,000 troops to prepare to attack Jerusalem, which including hiring the Arameans from Aram Maacah, as mercenaries. After hearing about this army mounting against him, David prepared his own troops.

The three nations went to battle, and David's troops laid waste to both Ammon and Aram. The Arameans couldn't run away fast enough when they saw the strength of David's men, and the Ammonites scrambled right behind them. The Arameans quickly sued for peace, and at the end of the chapter it says that they wouldn't have anything more to do with the Ammonites after this. The Ammonites returned to their walled city and probably thanked God that it didn't end any worse that it did. David could have pursued them and laid siege to the city, but instead, he took his army and returned home.

Imagine David and Hanun as two women working in an office, we'll call them Davida and Hannah. Hannah is promoted to a new position within the company, and Davida stops by her office to offer her congratulations. Hannah thinks that Davida really wants the position for herself, so instead of accepting the warm words, she's sarcastic and rude. Davida leaves the office thinking that maybe Hannah needs a little more coffee to get her day off to a good start. But Hannah can't stop thinking about what she said to Davida, and she starts thinking about how she would react in their positions were reversed, and she starts to get angry and nervous about how Davida will retaliate. So the next day at work, she confides to Amy about how Davida is trying to steal Hannah's job. This starts a major whispering campaign within the office with people taking sides, and eventually the boss ends up getting involved because everyone is more focused on the battle royale than work. The three women are called into the boss' office where Hannah tries to get vicious, but Amy backpedals in fear. Davida's strong work ethic speaks for itself. In the end, Hannah is humiliated by her jumping to conclusions, and Amy won't even talk to her anymore, because she can't trust her to tell the truth. Davida returns to her cubicle triumphant in her knowledge that she was redeemed, but probably shaken by the actions of a woman she had only wished well.

This could happen anywhere, at the office, in church, at home. We misinterpret a casual comment, seeing insult where none was intended. We obsess over it, turning it over and over again, then recruit allies before firing an attack, only to be badly burned because it was all a mistake.

In 1 Chronicles, more than 40,000 men died because one man was afraid of what another man was thinking. How many times do we attack because we are afraid that someone else doesn't like us or is talking behind our back? Proverbs 29:12 seems to speak directly about Hanun: When a leader listens to malicious gossip, all the workers get infected with evil. But it applies to us as well. When we listen to lies and gossip, our thoughts become infected with evil.

This is a sin of which I have often been deeply guilty, but since reading this story, whenever I am inclined to see insult where there probably was none, I can't help but think of how Hanun reacted to perceived insult, and how David responded to a direct one. God calls us to be a people of peace, to turn the other cheek, and to pray for our enemies. David is well-known as a man after God's own heart, and as that's a title I want for myself (woman after His heart), I must imitate David, not Hanun, and I call for you to do the same.

Love Finds You in Bridal Veil, Oregon by Miralee Ferrell is a thoroughly enjoyable addition to the Love Finds You series. Margaret Garvey thought her chance at love had disappeared four years ago when the man she loved, Nathaniel, left town without her, but Andrew has been reawakening those emotions. However, the secrets she discovers her father had been holding until his death will shake both relationships. Throw in a murder in the small logging town of Bridal Veil, Oregon and a couple of runaways and Margaret is pulled in several directions. Readers will enjoy the suspense as to which man Margaret will choose that is maintained throughout the first half of the novel, as well as how closely Margaret's struggle with faith is tied to her trust in her father. The story about the children isn't as strong, Sammie annoyed me to no end, and the end seemed a bit too tidy. Ferrell does a great job of portraying life in the Northwest with its focus on logging and family. It's the strong characterization of Margaret that makes the novel shine.

Thank you to the author for providing me with a copy of this book for review.

Spring's Renewal

This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing Spring's Renewal

Avon Inspire (April 2010)

by Shelley Shepherd Gray



ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Since 2000, Shelley Sabga has sold twenty-six novels to numerous publishers. She has written a seven book contemporary series for Avalon books. She also published The Love Letter, a western for Avalon. Five Star Expressions published Suddenly, You in February of 2007. This novel is a historical western set in the mountains of Colorado.



Shelley has written nine novels for Harlequin American Romance. Cinderella Christmas, her first novel with them, reached number six on the Waldenbooks Bestseller list. Her second book with them, Simple Gifts won RT Magazine’s Reviewer’s Choice award for best Harlequin American Romance of 2006. The Mommy Bride, was chosen by Romantic Times Magazine as one of their TOP PICKS for May, 2008.



Under the name Shelley Shepard Gray, Shelley writes Amish romances for Harper Collins’ inspirational line, Avon Inspire. HIDDEN and WANTED the first two novels of her ‘Sisters of the Heart’ series, were chosen to be Alternate Selections for the Doubleday/ Literary Guild Book Club. FORGIVEN, book 3, has received glowing reviews. Avon Inspire will release four novels by Shelley in 2010.



Before writing romances, Shelley lived in Texas and Colorado, where she taught school and earned both her bachelors and masters degrees in education. She now lives in southern Ohio and writes full time. Shelley is married, the mother of two teenagers, and is an active member of her church.



ABOUT THE BOOK

Tim Graber arrives in Sugarcreek to help his aunt and uncle with spring planting. At first, Tim doesn't fit in with his many cousins and their crowded lifestyle. But when he meets Clara Slabaugh, the local school teacher, he understands why the Lord brought him to Sugarcreek.



Clara is shy and quiet. Scarred from a fire when she was small, Clara has resigned herself to living alone and caring for her mother, who tells her that no man will ever see past her scars, and that Clara needs to keep teaching in order to make ends meet.



Her father passed away years ago, and her mother depends on her. But the scars mean nothing to Tim. He appreciates her quiet nature and her wonderful, loving way with children. Yet Tim has a sweetheart back home in Indiana. As these two hearts struggle to determine their path, tragedy strikes, and every other worry seems insignificant in comparison.



Though they now face a life they never imagined, will Tim and Clara have the faith to step out and risk everything for a chance at true love?



If you would like to read the first chapter of Spring's Renewal, go HERE.

Spring's Renewal by Shelley Shepard Gray is the second book in the Seasons of Sugarcreek series. Clara has resigned herself to living a quiet life in her Amish community. She finds fulfillment in her teaching job, but taking care of her demanding mother exhausts her strength. After being badly scarred by a fire as a child, Clara has largely been ignored by the men of Sugarcreek, an attitude her mother only reinforces by telling her that without physical beauty, she'll never catch a husband. Tim Graber has come to town to help out a cousin with farm duties, fulling expecting to marry Ruby Lee when he returns home to Indiana, but the quiet grace of Clara captures his heart and makes him reconsider the future. Bonnet fiction is a rapidly growing genre, and Gray is a shining star in the movement. Her characters are always three-dimensional and her stories poignant and heart-warming. Clara is an unusual Amish character in that while she has strong faith, she also wants a life that fulfills her soul. She isn't going to allow anyone to take her dreams away from her. The reader gets the impression that even without the romantic part of the book, this novel would still be a beautiful story about Clara's independence and learning to love herself. I can't wait to read the next in the series.

Angel's Den

Today is a terrible pain day, one of the worst I've had in a month or more, so I'm just going to dive right into the review.

Angel's Den by Jamie Carie is a historical romance set at the dawn of the 19th century. Emma believes she's marrying the man of her dreams in Eric Montclaire, but her illusions are quickly shattered when she discovers that his face of an angel hides a soul black as night. She withdraws from society and her family in order to hide the all too frequent bruising left from his angry tantrums, and she comes to fear for her very life when she discovers his history of murder and violence. Luke Bowen worked on the Lewis & Clark company until his father died unexpectedly, forcing him to give up his place as cartographer. Montclaire hires him for a new expedition out west, but Luke struggles with his feelings for the beautiful Emma, especially after witnessing her suffering. Carie is top notch at historicals, getting all the right details and language. Each era she tackles, she brings to brilliant life. The focus here is on Luke and Emma's growing but forbidden feelings for each other while they try to keep true to their Christian faith. The attempt to rouse sympathy for Montclaire falls a bit flat, and the epilogue is a tad too jolly for the mood of the rest of the book and it disregards both characters desire to see more of the world. I also wish that more time had been spent on the actual journey with Luke recording more detail about the birds and animals he saw. Those small flaws aside, it's a powerfully moving novel of a woman facing spousal abuse in an era that didn't recognize it as a crime. Emma's depression, anger, and fear makes the novel a must read.

Thank you to B&H Publishing for providing me with a copy of this book for review!

No Greater Love

It was quite a weekend. It was junior prom at Oconto Falls High School, so Molly has been wound like a top for the last month. It was all worth it to see her looking like a movie star in one of the most gorgeous dresses I've ever seen, with her hair and make-up done. Doogie's girlfriend Bre is a junior too, so it was a big day for them as well. I don't think I've ever seen him look so handsome. He's lost about 50 pounds since this time last year, and he let me do his hair just a bit. It really hit me that he truly is an adult now.

It was one of those days that makes it easy to be a proud mom. Being the mother of two teenagers definitely keeps me dying my hair to cover the gray on a regular basis. Drama, heartbreak, back-stabbing friends, sinking grades, fear of the future, it's all part of our daily life. So it's nice to have a day when they are all cleaned up and looking their best. Mia kept the day balanced though. She was a bit jealous of the attention focused on her siblings, plus of Molly's dress, so she was more than a little cranky. In today's picture you can see the longing and melancholy in her eyes. I know that before I can take a breath it will be her I'm buying an incredibly expensive dress for and arguing with about tanning and shoes, but I'm not in any hurry! 

No Greater Love by Kathi Macias is the first book in the Extreme Devotion series about Christians around the world facing the ultimate test of faith. In 1989 South Africa is still under apartheid. No one knows that better than Chioma. Now a servant on the Vorster farm, she watched her parents slaughtered by the white authorities for insurrection, then her brother murdered by friends of the Vorster's son Andrew. She's tried to fight her feelings for Andrew, but his knowing blue eyes force her to see him as more than just the color of his skin. After yet another tragedy, Chioma lives on the run, hiding with rebel forces known as the ANC. Meanwhile, the Vorsters, Anana and Pieter are forced to reconcile their deep faith with apartheid and how it has affected their family. Macias does a wonderful job portraying the complicated emotions of the Vorsters as they struggle with their faith, as well as with Chioma's wavering loyalty. She puts the reader in the middle of a story that can have no happy ending, but forces us to sympathize with Chioma's suffering as well as the Vorster's confusion. Macias makes the characters come to life and refuses to take the easy way out. It's a powerful novel that will force readers to think deeply about what true faith looks like.
Thank you to Pump Up Your Book Promotion Virtual Book Tours for providing me with a copy of this book for review.

Word Sabbath - OFHS 2010 Prom

Tattoos on the Heart

Yesterday I experienced something that I haven't since high school; I was made to feel like I didn't matter by another woman. In high school, that was a daily experience, and it's one of the reasons that I don't have a lot of fond memories of high school. Yesterday was different. I had to work with a few other moms from the elementary school, and one of them decided that for some reason, I wasn't worthy of her attention or time, so she excluded me from conversations and occasionally condescended to me. I don't know just why she made that determination; maybe because I don't attend her church or have the right last name or know the right people. Whatever it was, it was enough to spoil my day. I drove home trying very hard to remember that I have an identity in God that is undeniable, and nothing that woman can do or say could ever change that, but it's hard to just shake it off.


It reminded me of a verse I read this last week: They tripped over what little they knew about him and fell, sprawling. And they never got any further. Mark 6:4 The verse refers to when Jesus returned to his home town of Nazareth to preach to the crowds. At first the people were amazed by his teaching, but then they remembered that he was the son of Joseph, the carpenter, and how they had watched him grow up. Because of this knowledge, they disregarded his message and couldn't see him as any more than a neighborhood boy. They missed out on their chance to hear words of salvation from the Savior himself, because they couldn't get past his origins.

How many times do we completely disregard a person because of where they were born/who their parents are/what they do for a living/what their last name is/etc? We dismiss any value they have and miss any message we may need to hear. When I was younger, I faced this a lot as a teenage mom. People would look at Doogie, then me, do the mental math, and come to the conclusion that I was less of a person. I think we need to look past a person's past to see who they really are: a child of God. Every single person you meet is a child of God and His beloved. That's the message from today's book review.

Tattoos of the Heart by Father Gregory Boyle is the kind of book I want to press into the hands of everyone I know to make them read it and love it as I do. Boyle is the creator of Homeboy Industries which employs gang members in Los Angeles. Originally a bakery, it has grown to a silk screening business, graffiti removal business, plus more. They provide counseling, tattoo removal, and a wide range of other services for the entire community. Boyle fills the book with an assortment of anecdotes from the hilarious to the outrageous to the tragic. While reading, I kept sharing different stories aloud with my husband, because they are so stunning, I just had to share them. The message that Boyle wants his readers to get is that every single one of these gangbangers, no matter how hardcore, are in need of love, and to know that they have personal worth and value. He has faced a lot of prejudice in his dealings with them, and to the average reader, some of these people are truly frightening, but Boyle makes them always human and fragile. He speaks their language and gives them the opportunity to get a job, and to shatter the limitations imposed upon them by a variety of societal conditions. Boyle doesn't just share the "success" stories, but he wants to change the reader's definition of success. It can't be measured by a number of jobs or education, but by the number of hearts changed permanently by an organization who pours out the unconditional love of God. I dare you to read this book and not be moved by the stories within. Try not to cry as a mother loses yet another son to senseless violence.  Don't smile when reading as a former gangbanger shares how he reads stories with his children each night before bed. These stories will tattoo themselves onto your heart.

Thank you to Free Press Publicity for providing me with a copy of this book for review.

The winner of a copy of The Sword by Bryan M. Litfin was Rhoda Reinhold. Congrats to Rhoda!

Love Will Keep Us Together

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 authors are:

Anne Dayton and May Vanderbilt

and the book:

Miracle Girls #4: Love Will Keep Us Together: A Miracle Girls Novel

FaithWords (April 30, 2010)

***Special thanks to Miriam Parker of Hachette Book Group for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Anne Dayton graduated from Princeton and has her MA in Literature from New York University. She lives in New York City. May Vanderbilt graduated from Baylor University and has an MA in Fiction from Johns Hopkins. She lives in San Francisco. Together, they are the authors of the Miracle Girls books, Emily Ever After, Consider Lily, and The Book of Jane.

Visit the authors' website.

Product Details:

List Price: $9.99
Reading level: Young Adult
Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: FaithWords (April 30, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0446407585
ISBN-13: 978-0446407588

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

The whole world has gone maroon. The bricks are maroon, the dress code is maroon, and even our peppy tour guide’s hair is dyed a deep maroon. -

“Hi, I’m Kiki, and I’m a real student here.” She grins from ear to ear as she walks backward across the giant lawn. “Welcome to the home of the Harvard Crimson.”

Pardon me. The whole world has gone crimson . The parents and prospective students around me press forward, following after our tour guide, but I slowly edge toward the back, hoping the rest of my family doesn’t notice.

The Great McGee Family College Tour is finally winding down, and not a moment too soon. We started off last week at Duke, then drove up to see Johns Hopkins, Penn, Princeton, Columbia, and Yale. This morning we got up early to do MIT, and if I can survive a little longer, we’ll check Harvard off the list and only have Cornell to go. Dad and I talked Mom out of Dartmouth. Way too much snow.

I thought it would be fun to tour colleges, but I didn’t realize everybody was going to ask me the same question again and again: “What do you want to do with your life, Riley?” Or sometimes they stick to, “What’s your passion, Riley?” And I haven’t figured out how to answer them. Somehow, “I have no earthly idea” doesn’t seem to be what they’re looking for.

“We are now entering the famous Harvard Yard.” The group falls silent, almost reverent, and Kiki stops on the other side of the crimson-bricked archway and waits while we file through. As she recaps the history of the university, which involves a bunch of dead white guys—just like every other school, Mom spies me slouching low at the back of the crowd.

“Isn’t this beautiful?” She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “I could really see you being happy here, Riley.” I nod because it’s easier than trying to explain. “Did you know the Latin word veritas on the seal”—she holds out a brochure for me—“means truth?” She flips the brochure open and starts paging through photos of students sitting under autumn trees.

I put my pointer finger over my lips, then point at Kiki. Mom nods and jogs back to my brother, Michael, who has Asperger’s syndrome, or high-functioning autism. Mom and Dad have done a ton of work to help him with his social skills, but he’s still prone to legendary meltdowns. After the scene he caused at MIT this morning, she’s been watching him like a hawk.

“This really seems like a good one.” Dad comes up behind me in a sneak attack. I glance across the group and see Michael pulling on Mom’s hand, trying to get over to a statue of a seated man. “These kids seem like your kind of people.”

Dad and I look around the yard at the students hauling mattresses and carrying plastic crates stuffed with junk. A group lounges on the steps of one of the historic buildings, drinking from eco-friendly metal thermoses.

I shrug and pull my short hair into a pathetic ponytail. Not my best look, but it’s sweltering today.

“Do you like it better than Princeton?”

I try to avoid his stare, but he follows my eyes until I give in and focus on him. In the weak afternoon sunlight, I notice that the gray patches at his temples are spreading through his warm brown hair, like two silver streaks down his head.

“I don’t know. Princeton was fine.” Princeton is Ana’s thing, her dream. All I could think about the entire time I was there was, How did she choose this school? How did she know it was for her? Is there a feeling you get? Is it like how I knew about Tom?

Kiki climbs a few steps up to an old brick building and claps excitedly. “Massachusetts Hall is special for two reasons.” She beams at our group and holds up one finger. “First, it’s the oldest building on campus, dating back to 1720.” Everyone in our group oohs, and Mom whispers something to another mother. “And”—Kiki makes eye contact with the prospective students in her pack—“it’s a freshman dorm! Let’s go take a look, shall we?”

We walk in a tight-knit pack up the stairs and down the third-floor hallway. Loud music pours from the rooms, the beats clashing. Finally we stop at a dorm room with two neatly made beds and two tidy desks with crimson folders emblazoned with the Harvard seal. I realize there’s nothing real about this room or this choreographed moment, like almost every moment of every college tour we’ve taken. How am I supposed to get a feel for the campus with these phony experiences?

As Kiki begins explaining dorm security, I slip out of the room and try to collect my thoughts. This is merely a minor case of butterflies, nothing more. I’m sure everybody gets them when touring colleges. I’ll call Ana, and she’ll talk me through this.

I rummage through my purse, searching under all the brochures and school spirit junk until my fingers find my phone’s smooth edges.

Wait, I can’t call Ana. She loved every second of her college tour. When she came back from the East Coast a few weeks ago, she couldn’t stop talking about Princeton’s amazing science labs. Plus, she already knows beyond a shadow of a doubt she wants to be a neonatal surgeon. She had open-heart surgery as a baby and has always felt called to follow the path of the doctors who saved her life.

Zoe would totally get it. I scroll through my contacts, all the way down to Z .

But maybe it isn’t fair to call Zo. Her parents are doing a little better, but money is still tight. She didn’t get to go on a college tour this summer, and I’m not really sure there’s any money put aside for her education. I’d be a jerk to call and complain.

I scroll back up to Christine. She’s headed to New York next year to become a painter. All she’s ever wanted is to get out of Half Moon Bay. We’ve always understood each other in that way.

But as I’m pressing the button for her name, I remember that today is Tyler’s birthday and she was going to surprise him with a scavenger hunt through town.

That leaves one person. I find his name and quickly punch the button. “Pick up, pick up,” I chant quietly. A voice in my head reminds me I shouldn’t be calling my ex-boyfriend, the only guy I ever loved, the one who went off to college and left me behind, but I try to quiet it. All these months I’ve been strong and not e-mailed him, not called him, but I don’t have anyone else right now.

“Hey there.” Tom’s deep voice is a little scratchy, like he just woke up, and it sends a shiver down my spine. The guys at Marina Vista still sound like chipmunks. “How… What’s up?” he asks.

Technically the breakup a few months ago was mutual—technically. I want to talk to him, but it’s just as friends. He’s already gone through the whole college application process, so he’ll help me get my head on straight.

“I hate Harvard.” A woman glares at me as she passes down the hall. I lower my voice. “Well, I don’t hate Harvard—that’s not it. My parents love it, and the teachers all love it. Actually, everybody loves it except me.”

“What are you talking about?” He yawns loudly.

“I’m on my college tour, standing in the hallowed halls of Harvard right now. Well, a dorm hallway anyway.” Two girls pass me, talking loudly. “They want me to go here, but it doesn’t feel right.”

“So don’t apply. You’re not like everybody else.”

I bite my lip. It’s such a Tom thing to say and exactly what I need to hear. After months of not talking, he still knows how to make me feel better. Tom always put the Miracle Girls on edge, but they never got to see this side of him, the big heart hidden inside his chiseled chest.

The noisy tour group pours out of the dorm room, and Kiki ushers them toward the exit at the end of the hall, pointing at some posters on the wall. Mom spots me on the phone and motions for me to rejoin the group.

“It’s funny that you called,” Tom says. “I actually wanted to tell you something.”

The tour group files into the stairwell. Dad lingers for a moment, frowning, and then goes with them.

“I’m transferring to UCSF and moving back to San Francisco.”

“What?” I press my finger to my ear, trying to block out the noise in the hall. That can’t be right. I’ve just gotten used to him being in Santa Barbara, which isn’t that far, but far enough for him to feel really and truly gone from my life.

“Santa Barbara wasn’t working out, and now I can live at home and save some cash.”

My heart begins to pound.

“I miss my old friends, you know—crazy blond girls who call me out of the blue and stuff. I miss… talking.”

My pulse drums loudly in my ears.

Mom peeks her head back in the door and widens her eyes at me. “You’re missing everything!”

“I—” I wave at Mom. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll call you later.” I snap the phone shut before he can respond and chuck it back into my purse. He’s coming back? I lean my head against the wall to keep it from spinning.

“Riley!” Mom plants her hands on her hips.

“Coming.” I jog over to her lingering in the stairwell. I file in at the back of the group and wind down the few flights of stairs with Mom hot on my heels. I can’t think about Tom now. I’ll deal with that later, once I’m back home and I’ve had time to wrap my mind around the fact that he isn’t gone, that his voice almost sounded like it used to before we drifted apart.

We re-enter the Harvard Yard, the sun stinging my eyes, and Kiki yammers on and on about the different types of architecture, pointing out stuff like Doric columns and neoclassical facades.

It’s not that Harvard isn’t beautiful. The campus is historic and hallowed and dripping in ivy, and there’s no question that it’s one of the best colleges in the country. If I went here, I’d get a great education, have opportunities I’d never get anywhere else, and meet all kinds of new, fascinating friends….

My mind flashes to Half Moon Bay, the faces of the Miracle Girls.

I can’t believe that in a year this is going to be my life. This could be my freshman dorm, but looking out over this crowded lawn, I can’t picture it. I try to imagine myself lounging in the courtyard, heading to fascinating lectures, eating in the dining hall, but my brain refuses. The only life I can imagine is at Marina Vista, hanging out with the girls, being close when Michael needs me.

Mom grins at me as Kiki explains how the meal plans work.

They think I want to go to Harvard, but I don’t. They think I’m excited about this, but I’m scared out of my mind. They think they know the real Riley McGee, but even I haven’t met her. They think I have it all figured out, but I’m totally lost.

So much for veritas .

Copyright © 2010 by Anne Dayton and May Vanderbilt

Love Will Keep Us Together by Anne Dayton & May Vanderbilt is the fourth and final book in the Miracle Girls series. Riley McGee, Supergirl, finally gets to carry her own title. Readers have seen her through the eyes of her friends, now she can tell her own story. At the beginning of her senior year, the pressure is finally starting to weigh her down. Her parents have dreams of her attending Harvard. Her friends want to go to USC with them, but Riley has no idea what she wants to do with her life. Ex-boyfriend Tom reappears wanting to rekindle their romance, but fellow youth group member Ben  strikes something in Riley that she didn't even know existed. Senior year is a tough time for any teen, but it's incredibly difficult for Riley who has always achieved perfection. Straight As, cheerleader, and she takes good care of her brother Mike who has Asperger's. She's never really had a chance to need anyone or ask for help, so when Riley faces the confusion and fears of moving to adulthood, she has no one to turn to. Riley was hard to relate to in the previous books; she always came across as Miss Perfect, so seeing her heartache and pain makes her very sympathetic for teens and their moms. She's also struggling with faith and church in a way that many will relate to as well. I am truly sad to see the end of the Miracle Girls, but the authors end it just right.

A Corpse at St. Andrews Chapel

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:

Mel Starr

and the book:

A Corpse at St. Andrew’s Chapel

Monarch Books (February 19, 2010)

***Special thanks to Cat Hoort - Trade Marketing Manager - Kregel Publications for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Melvin R. Starr has spent many years teaching history, and has studied medieval surgery and medieval English. He lives in Michigan.



Visit the author's website.


Product Details:

List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Monarch Books (February 19, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1854249541
ISBN-13: 978-1854249548

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

I awoke at dawn the ninth day of April, 1365. Unlike French Malmsey, the day did not improve with age.

There have been many days I awoke at dawn but remembered not the circumstances three weeks hence. I remember this day not because of when I awoke, but why, and what I was compelled to do after. Odd, is it not, how one extraordinary event will burn even the mundane surrounding it into a man’s memory.

I have seen other memorable days in my twenty-five years. I recall the day my brother Henry died of plague. I was a child, but I remember well Father Aymer administering extreme unction. Father Aymer wore a spice bag about his neck to protect him from the malady. It did not, and he also succumbed within a fortnight. I can see the pouch yet, in my mind’s eye, swinging from the priest’s neck on a hempen cord as he bent over my stricken brother.

I remember clearly the day in 1361 when William of Garstang died. William and I and two others shared a room on St. Michael’s Street, Oxford, while we studied at Baliol College. I comforted William as the returning plague covered his body with erupting buboes. For my small service he gave me, with his last breaths, his three books. One of these volumes was, Surgery, by Henry de Mondeville. How William came by this clumes I know not. But I see now in this gift the hand of God, for I read de Mondeville’s work and changed my vocation.

Was it then God’s will that William die a miserable death so that I might find God’s vision for my life? This I cannot accept, for I saw William’s body covered with oozing pustules. I will not believe such a death is God’s choice for any man. Here I must admit a disagreement with Master Wyclif, who believes that all is foreordained. But out of evil God may draw good, as I believe He did when he introduced me to the practice of surgery. Perhaps the good I have done with my skills balances the torment William suffered in his death. But not for William.

I remember well the day I met Lord Gilbert Talbot. I stitched him up after his leg was opened by a kick from a groom’s horse on Oxford High Street. This needlework opened my life to service to Lord Gilbert and the townsmen of Bampton, and brought me also the post of bailiff on Lord Gilbert’s manor at Bampton.

Other days return to my mind with less pleasure. I will not soon forget Christmas Day, 1363, and the feast that day at Lord Gilbert’s Goodrich Castle hall. I had traveled there from Bampton to attend Lord Gilbert’s sister, the Lady Joan. The fair Joan had broken a wrist in a fall from a horse. I was summoned to set the break. It was foolish of me to think I might win this lady, but love has hoped more foolishness than that. A few days before Christmas a guest, Sir Thomas de Burgh, arrived at Goodrich. Lord Gilbert invited him knowing well he might be a thief. Indeed, he stole Lady Joan’s heart. Between the second and third removes of the Christmas feast he stood and for all in the hall to see offered Lady Joan a clove-studded pear. She took the fruit and with a smile delicately drew a clove from the pear with her teeth. They married in September, a few days before Michealmas, last year.

But I digress.


I awoke at dawn to thumping on my chamber door. I blinked sleep from my eyes, crawled from my bed, and stumbled to the door. I opened it as William the porter was about to rap on it again.

“It’s Alan . . . . the beadle. He’s found.”

Alan had left his home to seek those who would violate curfew two days earlier. He never returned. His young wife came to me in alarm the morning of the next day. I sent John Holcutt, the reeve, to gather a party of searchers, but they found no trace of the man. John was not pleased to lose a day of work from six men. Plowing of fallow fields was not yet finished. Before I retired Wednesday evening John sought me out and begged not to resume the search next day. I agreed. If Alan could not be found with the entire town aware of his absence another day of poking into haymows and barns seemed likely also to be fruitless. It was not necessary.

“Has he come home?” I asked..

“Nay. An’ not likely to, but on a hurdle.”

“He’s dead?”

“Aye.”

“Where was he found?”

“Aside t’way near to St. Andrew’s Chapel.”

It was no wonder the searchers had not found him. St. Andrew’s Chapel was near half a mile to the east. What, I wondered, drew him away from the town on his duties?

“Hubert Shillside has been told. He would have you accompany him to the place.”

“Send word I will see him straightaway.”

I suppose I was suspicious already that this death was not natural. I believe it to be a character flaw if a man be too mistrustful. But there are occasions in my professions – surgery and bailiff – when it is good to doubt a first impression. Alan was not yet thirty years old. He had a half-yardland of Lord Gilbert Talbot and was so well thought of that despite his youth Lord Gilbert’s tenants had at hallmote chosen him beadle these three years. He worked diligently, and bragged all winter that his four acres of oats had brought him nearly five bushels for every bushel of seed. A remarkable accomplishment, for his land was no better than any other surrounding Bampton. This success brought also some envy, I think, and perhaps there were wives who contrasted his achievement to the work of their husbands. But this, I thought, was no reason to kill a man.

I suppose a man may have enemies which even his friends know not of. I did consider Alan a friend, as did most others of the town. On my walk from Bampton Castle to Hubert Shillside’s shop and house on Church View Street I persuaded myself that this must be a natural death. Of course, when a corpse is found in open country, the hue and cry must be raised even if the body be stiff and cold. So Hubert, the town coroner, and I, bailiff and surgeon, must do our work.

Alan was found but a few minutes from the town. Down Rosemary Lane to the High Street, then left on Bushey Row to the path to St. Andrew’s Chapel. We saw – Hubert and I, and John Holcutt, who came also – where the body lay while we were yet far off. As we passed the last house on the lane east from Bampton to the chapel we saw a group of men standing in the track at a place where last year’s fallow was being plowed for spring planting. They saw us approach, and stepped back respectfully as we reached them.

A hedgerow had grown up among rocks between the lane and the field. New leaves of pale green decorated stalks of nettles, thistles, and wild roses. Had the foliage matured for another fortnight Alan might have gone undiscovered. But two plowmen, getting an early start on their day’s labor, found the corpse as they turned the oxen at the end of their first furrow. It had been barely light enough to see the white foot protruding from the hedgerow. The plowman who goaded the team saw it as he prodded the lead beasts to turn them.

Alan’s body was invisible from the road, but by pushing back nettles and thorns – carefully – we could see him curled as if asleep amongst the brambles. I directed two onlookers to retrieve the body. Rank has its privileges. Better they be nettle-stung than we. A few minutes later Alan the beadle lay stretched out on the path.

Laying in the open, on the road, the beadle did not seem so at peace as in the hedgerow. Deep scratches lacerated his face, hands, and forearms. His clothes were torn, and a great wound bloodied his neck where flesh had been torn away. The coroner bent to examine this injury more closely.

“Some beast has done this, I think,” he muttered as he stood. “See how his surcoat is torn at the arms, as if he tried to defend himself from fangs.

I knelt on the opposite side of the corpse to view in my turn the wound which took the life of Alan the beadle. It seemed as Hubert Shillside said. Puncture wounds spread across neck and arms, and rips on surcoat and flesh indicated where claws and fangs had made their mark. I sent the reeve back to the Bampton Castle for a horse on which to transport Alan back to the town and to his wife. The others who stood in the path began to drift away. The plowmen who found him returned to their team. Soon only the coroner and I remained to guard the corpse. It needed guarding. Already a vulture floated high above the path.

I could not put my unease into words, so spoke nothing of my suspicion to Shillside. But I was not satisfied that some wild beast had done this thing. I believe the coroner was apprehensive of his explanation as well, for it was he who broke the silence.

“There have been no wolves hereabouts in my lifetime,” he mused, “nor wild dogs, I think.”

“I have heard,” I replied, “Lord Gilbert speak of wolves near Goodrich. And Pembroke. Those castles are near to the Forest of Dean and the Welsh mountains. But even there in such wild country they are seldom seen.”

Shillside was silent again as we studied the body at our feet. My eyes wandered to the path where Alan lay. When I did not find what I sought I walked a few paces toward the town, then reversed my path and inspected the track in the direction of St. Andrew’s Chapel. My search was fruitless.

Hubert watched my movements with growing interest. “What do you seek?” He finally asked. It was clear to him I looked for something in the road.

“Tracks. If an animal did this there should be some sign, I think. The mud is soft.”

“Perhaps,” the coroner replied. “But we and many others have stood about near an hour. Any marks a beast might have made have surely been trampled underfoot.”

I agreed that might be. But another thought also troubled me. “There should be much blood,” I said, “but I see little.”

“Why so?” Shillside asked.

“When a man’s neck is torn as Alan’s is there is much blood lost. It is the cause of death. Do you see much blood hereabouts?”

“Perhaps the ground absorbed it?”

“Perhaps . . . . let us look in the hedgerow, where we found him.”

We did, carefully prying the nettles apart. The foliage was depressed where Alan lay, but only a trace of blood could be seen on the occasional new leaf or rock or blade of grass.

“There is blood here,” I announced, “but not much. Not enough.”

“Enough for what?” the coroner asked with furrowed brow.

“Enough that the loss of blood would kill a man.”

Shillside was silent for a moment. “Your words trouble me,” he said finally. “If this wound,” he looked to Alan’s neck, “did not kill him, what did?”

“T’is a puzzle,” I agreed.

“And see how we found him amongst the nettles. Perhaps he dragged himself there to escape the beasts, if more than one set upon him.”

“Or perhaps the animal dragged him there,” I added. But I did not believe this for reasons I could not explain.

It was the coroner’s turn to cast his eyes about. “His staff,” Shillside mused, “I wonder where it might be?”

I remembered the staff. Whenever the beadle went out of an evening to watch and warn he carried with him a yew pole taller than himself and thick as a man’s forearm. I spoke to him of this weapon once. A whack from it, he said, would convince the most unruly drunk to leave the streets and seek his bed.

“He was proud of that cudgel,” Hubert remarked as we combed the hedgerow in search of it. “He carved an ‘A’ on it so all would know t’was his.”

“I didn’t know he could write.”

“Oh . . . . he could not,” Shillside explained. “Father Thomas showed him the mark and Alan inscribed it. Right proud of it, he was.”

We found the staff far off the path, where some waste land verged on to a wood just behind St. Andrew’s Chapel. It lay thirty paces or more from the place where Alan’s body had lain in the hedgerow.

“How did it come to be here?” Shillside asked. As if I would know. He examined the club; “there is his mark . . . . see.” He pointed to the “A” inscribed with some artistry into the tough wood.

As the coroner held the staff before me I inspected it closely and was troubled. Shillside saw my frown.

“What perplexes you, Hugh?”

“The staff is unmarked. Were I carrying such a weapon and a wolf set upon me I would flail it about to defend myself; perhaps hold it before me so the beast caught it in his teeth rather than my arm.”

Shillside peered at the pole and turned it to view all sides. Its surface was smooth and unmarred. “Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “Alan swung it at the beast and lost his grip. See how polished smooth it is . . . . and it flew from his grasp to land here.”

“That might be how it was,” I agreed, for I had no better explanation.

As we returned to the path we saw the reeve approach with Bruce, the old horse who saw me about the countryside when I found it necessary to travel. He would be a calm and dignified platform on which to transport a corpse.

We bent to lift Alan to Bruce’s back, John at the feet and Shillside and me at the shoulders. As we swung him up Alan’s head fell back. So much of his neck was shredded that it provided little support. I reached out a hand to steady the head and felt a thing which made my hackles rise.

“Wait,” I said, rather sharply, for my companions started and gazed in wonder at me. “Set him back on the road.”

I turned the beadle’s head and felt the place on the skull which had startled me. There was a soft lump on the skull, just behind Alan’s right ear. This swelling was invisible for the thick shock of hair which covered it. I spread the thatch and inspected Alan’s scalp, then showed my discovery to reeve and coroner.

John Holcutt was silent, but Shillside, after running his fingers across the swelling looked at me and asked, “How could a wolf do this?”

A Corpse at St. Andrews Chapel by Mel Starr is the second book in the Hugh de Singleton, Surgeon series. This mystery picks up shortly after the events of The Unquiet Bones in 1365 as Hugh continues in his role as bailiff for Sir Gilbert of Bampton. His duties lead him to investigate the mysterious death of a beadle. His search soon leads him through many midnight forays, discovering poaching, infidelity, and maybe even love. Starr has written, for me, the perfect mystery. Hugh is a wry, often self-deprecating character who teases the reader with hints of what is to come. There's lots of period detail about life in the 14th century without ever becoming pedantic. Each character in the story is deserving of their own novel. Hugh has a strong faith in God, but he's always questioning it and himself and the way people worship, so he's discussing it feels completely natural and true to the story. Starr drops just enough hints throughout the book to allow the reader to guess at the motive and criminal without being obvious. I can't say enough good about this series! I wish Hugh a long and successful career as bailiff and surgeon so that I never run out of reading material.

Don't forget to drop me an email or leave a comment for your chance to win a copy of Bryan M. Litfin's The Sword! Contest ends at 10 pm on Thursday!

The Sword

 

This week, the


Christian Fiction Blog Alliance


is introducing


The SwordCrossway Books (April 30, 2010)by


Bryan M. Litfin





ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Bryan Litfin was born in Dallas, but lived in Memphis, Tennessee and Oxford, England, where he discovered that the house of his favorite author, J.R.R. Tolkien, was only five doors down from his own. Bryan still enjoys epic adventure stories, as well as historical fiction. However, most of his reading these days is taken up by academia.



After marrying his high school sweetheart, Carolyn (a true Southern belle), he went on to study for a master’s degree in historical theology at Dallas Theological Seminary. From there he went to the University of Virginia, taking a PhD in the field of ancient church history. He is the author of Getting to Know the Church Fathers: An Evangelical Introduction (Brazos, 2007), as well as several scholarly articles and essays.



In 2002, Bryan took a position on the faculty at Moody Bible Institute in downtown Chicago, where he is a professor in the Theology Department. He teaches courses in theology, church history, and Western civilization from the ancient and medieval periods.



On the morning of January 6, 2007, Bryan woke up with an epiphany. Having finished writing his primer on the ancient church, he had the idea of trying his hand at fiction. The thought occurred to him that the writer of speculative fiction typically has two options. He can create an imaginary land like Middle Earth (which offers great creative freedom but is unrealistic), or he can delve into genuine history (which is realistic, yet limted to what ‘actually occurred.’) However, if a writer were to create a future world as in the Chiveis trilogy, it could be both realistic and creatively unlimited.



This little dream stayed in Bryan’s mind while he researched how to write fiction, and also researched the European landscape where the novel would be set. He planned a trip to the story locations, then went there in the summer with a buddy from grad school. Bryan and Jeff rented a Beemer and drove all over Europe from the Alps to the Black Forest with a video camera in hand. With that epic setting fresh in his mind, Bryan returned home and began to write.



Today Bryan lives in downtown Wheaton in a Victorian house built in 1887. He is blessed by God to be married to Carolyn, and to be the father of two amazing children, William, 11, and Anna, 9. For recreation Bryan enjoys basketball, traveling, and hiking anywhere there are mountains (which means getting far away from the Midwest – preferably to his beloved Smokies).



ABOUT THE BOOK

This novel of page-turning action and adventure poses the question, "If a society had no knowledge of Christianity, and then a Bible were discovered, what would happen?"



Four hundred years after a deadly virus and nuclear war destroyed the modern world, a new and noble civilization emerges. In this kingdom, called Chiveis, snowcapped mountains provide protection, and fields and livestock provide food. The people live medieval-style lives, with almost no knowledge of the "ancient" world. Safe in their natural stronghold, the Chiveisi have everything they need, even their own religion. Christianity has been forgotten—until a young army scout comes across a strange book.



With that discovery, this work of speculative fiction takes readers on a journey that encompasses adventure, romance, and the revelation of the one true God. Through compelling narrative and powerful character development, The Sword speaks to God's goodness, his refusal to tolerate sin, man's need to bow before him, and the eternality and power of his Word. Fantasy and adventure readers will be hooked by this first book in a forthcoming trilogy.



Visit the book website at The Sword to see amazing videos and a wealth of information about the trilogy!



If you would like to read the first chapter of The Sword, go to HERE

The Sword by Bryan M. Litfin is the first book in the Chiveis Trilogy. 400 years after the world has fallen apart due to plague and nuclear war, small pockets of humanity are reestablishing civilization, but it's more similar to the Middle Ages than the 20th century. In mountain kingdom of Chiveis, the people work the land and serve three gods under the leading of the major god Astrebril.  Teofil is the renowned leader of the Fifth Regiment of the kingdom of Chiveis, well respected for his fighting ability. Anastasia is from Edgeton, a city on the edge of the kingdom, who is well known for her beauty, singing, and skill with a bow. The two are thrown together and the sparks quickly fly, but they are distracted by learning about the god Deu who was worshiped by the Ancients and used the cross as his symbol. Denounced as evil by the High Priestess of Astebril, Deu has long been forgotten until a book of his sacred writings is discovered, and everyone who comes into contact with it finds their lives completely changed. I'm not normally a fan of fantasy, which The Sword has hints of, but the unusual premise had me hooked from the first page of history which convincingly describe the fall of civilization. While many of the characters are stock characters from fantasy series, the story is compelling and very fresh. It's fascinating imagining what it would be like for people who had never heard any stories from the Bible to encounter them the first time. How would they react? Would they see the same things readers do today? I also commend Litfin for refusing to give in to cliches. The small story of Rosetta's horse and foal shatters the illusion that Litfin is writing about some make believe version of God. This story has the potential of becoming an epic within the Christian fiction community. I look forward to reading the next story.

I'm giving away a copy of The Sword this week in my book contest. To enter, just send me an email or leave a comment here before 10 pm on Thursday, April 25th. I'll announce the winner here on Friday, April 26th. Good luck!

Word Sabbath - Mia's Dance Recital

Forget Me Not

I've been watching What Not to Wear a lot lately. It's on twice a day on TLC, so I try to catch both episodes. I absolutely adore watching Stacey and Clinton tear apart someone's wardrobe, see the frustration and rebellion, then the final shot when the person is smiling, dressed in beautiful clothes and feels like they've been given a new lease on life.

Two years ago, I had packed on a lot of weight with the prednisone and was headed back up to a place I hadn't been in ten years ago. I started losing that weight, but it kind of stalled. I always seem to plateau with my weight at the same place. I remember years ago when I started dropping some major weight, from my all time high of 320+, I got stuck in that place and it took a lot of exercise and devotion to get past it. This time it took two weeks of a liquid diet to push me over the hump.

I'm proud to say that I've dropped 25 pounds since the first of the year, and almost 50 pounds from the scary place of two years ago. I always shop at thrift stores, so for awhile I used to buy whatever fit, and while it may have fit, it really wasn't pretty. Now that I'm watching What Not to Wear, I'm taking Stacey & Clinton's rules along with me, and I've been picking up some pieces that really make me feel good where I wear them.

I only have two pair of jeans. One is my everyday all the time pair that is incredibly comfortable. The other was a bit snugger and for going places where I wouldn't have to sit for long periods of time. This week Jesse told me that my everyday pair of jeans is too big. They are hanging on my body. So today I put on the "tight" pair, only to discover that they fit like the other pair used to. It was an amazing feeling. Just going to the grocery store and running my errands today, I didn't feel like I was just blending into the woodwork, and it felt good!

I'm still weeding stuff out of my wardrobe, but I'm having a lot more fun shopping now that I have a better idea of what looks good on my body AND because I feel better about my body. I actually weigh less now than I did at my wedding! I'm actually watching more closely what I put in my body now, because I don't want to go back to feeling fat and ugh all the time. Less soda, less junk food, more healthy choices, and because of my surgery, smaller portions. It's all working together to help me feel better about myself than I have in a very long time.

Forget Me Not by Vickie Hinze is the first book in the Crossroads Crisis Center series. Benjamin Brandt still hasn't recovered from the murders of his wife Susan and son Christopher three years ago. He's abandoned the crisis center they had built together as well as his faith in God in order to pursue every lead to find the murderer. He's stunned when a woman calling herself Susan and wearing his dead wife's necklace shows up at the crisis center claiming that she was carjacked, beaten, and now has amnesia. They're going to have to work together to save her life and just maybe solve the murder of Ben's wife. Hinze has taken a predictable plot and turned it on its ear. Throwing in bioterrorism and the crisis center elevates the story above your average romantic thriller. The plot is thickly layered with the bad guys double crossing each other which keeps the tension high. It's a quick read with likable characters and a compelling plot. I can't see what crisis pops up at the center next.

Thank you to WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group for providing me with a copy of this book for review.

The winner of this week's book contest is Belinda Lane. Congrats to Belinda and be sure to stop back on Monday for a new contest!

She-Rain

twiI'm blogging extra late today, so I'm skipping the niceties and diving right into the review.

She-Rain by Michael Cogdill is a powerful story of the 1920s that will leave readers considering the nature of love. Frank Locke has lived his life with more despair and tragedy than ten other boys his age. His father is addicted to paregorics, and his mother too often faces his fists. The grandparents who guide his life giving it foundation and faith die while he's still a young man, leaving him to make his way. Mary Lizbeth has suffered even worse than Frank, and their shared pain pulls them together in a bond that seems irrevocable, until a violent act sends Frank running for his life and spilling onto the doorstep of sheltered Sophia. Sophia and Frank share a loss that binds them together as well and will change them both forever. Cogdill writes the book that every author intends when they sit down to write the Great American Novel. Filled with quotes that will touch the reader's very soul, every word seems carefully chosen, pulling the reader into the mountains of North Carolina where a child suffers for the sins of the parent. Beautifully written, impossible to put down, Cogdill will leave readers thinking about how true love makes each of us better, never leaves us the same and that "love is the only thing you earn by givin' it all away."

Thank you to FSB Associates for providing me with a copy of this book for review!

The Three Things

Today I wanted to share with you some quotes and Scripture that I wrote in my journal. Each one touched my heart in some way; I hope they do the same for you.


[Don't] be so preoccupied with getting so you can respond to God's giving. -Matthew 6:31

Feelings have a crucial role in life, but they must not be taken as a basis for actions or character change. That role falls to insight, understanding, and convictions of truth which will always be appropriately accompanied by feeling... many sincere, professing Christians suffer in their walk with God because they made a commitment prompted by a feeling of 'need' and not by insight into how things are with God and their soul. -Dallas Willard

You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule. -Matthew 5:3

The person in right standing before God through loyal and steady believing is fully alive, really alive. -Habakkuk 2:4

Catastrophe doesn't introduce anything new into our lives. It simply exposes the moral or spiritual reality that already exists but was hidden beneath an overlay of routine, self-preoccupation, and business as usual. -Eugene Peterson in the introduction to Joel from The Message

You talk about God, the God-of-the-Angel-Armies, being your best friend. Well live like it, and maybe it will happen! -Amos 5:4

Real faith is always increased by opposition, while false confidence is damaged and discouraged by it. -J.B. Stoney

Walking by faith might be thought of as putting on "Bible glasses" so everything you see is filtered through the lens of God's Word. -Catherine Martin

Love that goes upward is worship; love that goes outward is affection; love that stoops is grace. -Donald Grey Barnhouse

When life is heavy and hard to take, go off by yourself. Enter the silence. Bow in prayer. Don't ask questions: wait for hope to appear. Don't run from trouble. Take it full face. The "worst" is never the worst. Why? Because the Master won't ever walk out and fail to return. If he works severely, he also works tenderly. His stockpiles of loyal love are immense. He takes no pleasure in making life hard, in throwing roadblocks in the way. -Lamentations 3:28-33

Sloppy work in God's name is cursed. -Jeremiah 48:10

No one who hopes in [God] ever regrets it. -Isaiah 49:27


You're blessed when you're content with just who you are - no more, no less. That's the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that cannot bought. -Matthew 5:5

The Three Things by Kent B. Mickelson is one man's look at the three things that make up God: love, truth, and grace. An engineer who has struggled with mental illness, Mickelson has a deep faith and love in God and he wants to share that with readers who may be questioning their own faith or even wondering why anyone would have faith in Him at all. While there are some places that need an editor's touch, Mickelson carries through and will touch readers' hearts with his honesty about his own faith journey. Sometimes as an engineer, he uses examples that the average reader will not be able to follow (I don't even know what a bootstrap loader is on a computer, so using it as a metaphor left me confused). Mickelson spends a lot of time focusing on inspiration by the Holy Spirit as well as the nature of grace. Again, an editor could have put similar thoughts together in more coherent thoughts. The wordy spots are worth getting through for the deep message of faith Mickelson shares with his readers.

Thank you to PR by the Book for providing me with a copy of this book for review.

Today's picture is one my mom took on Easter, and it was just too gorgeous not to share!

Forest Gate

Some nights when I read the Bible it's just words. I don't feel a connection to them and my soul doesn't feel any different when I close the pages. Some nights I feel incredibly inspired and find myself jotting down almost every other verse, and when I'm done, my mind races with all that I've learned. Other nights are like last night: I felt deeply convicted, and every turn of the page only served to drive the knife deeper into my heart.

Jesse and I left our former church almost a year ago. I didn't talk about it here because I felt so hurt by what had happened there, it was too difficult to share. After burning out of two church in about three years, we just stopped attending church altogether. There was a church in the Falls that we talked about visiting, but we were so fearful of being hurt again, the idea was tabled indefinitely. Until an odd set of circumstances suddenly demonstrated that we were absolutely to go to that church.

Mia's been attending Wednesday night Awana's, and we've been attending irregularly as a family for the last couple of months. I went to a Bible study, and Jesse went to one, and I was just blown away by terrific it was. While I am still gun-shy enough to refuse to call it "my" church, I am willing to say that we'll be regulars.

In the year since we have attended church, I am ashamed to admit that we did not tithe to any church. God called me on the carpet for it last night.

"Because while you've run around, caught up with taking care of your own houses, my Home is in ruins. That's why. Because of your stinginess. And so I've given you a dry summer and a skimpy crop. I've matched your tight-fisted stinginess by decreeing a season of drought, drying up fields and hills, withering gardens and orchards, stunting vegetables and fruit. Nothing—not man or woman, not animal or crop—is going to thrive." Haggai 1:10-11

God was angry with the Israelites because after they returned from their exile, they were so busy rebuilding their own homes, they weren't taking the time or money to restore the Temple, which God called his home. Because they were stingy with their giving to God, he was going to be stingy in giving to them. They would face a drought that would not allow anything in the land to thrive. The people had no one to blame for it but themselves.

Pastors often give sermons encouraging their parishioners to tithe, and it's usually so that the church can survive. While that is a good reason to tithe, God lays it out far more clearly.

'I own the silver,
   I own the gold.'
      Decree of God-of-the-Angel-Armies.Haggai 2:8

"Do honest people rob God? But you rob me day after day.
   "You ask, 'How have we robbed you?'
   "The tithe and the offering—that's how! And now you're under a curse —the whole lot of you—because you're robbing me. Malachi 3:8-9

Everything I have, every single item in my home and life has been a gift from God. It all comes from him, and when I refuse to tithe, I am stealing from him. It's so hard to even type those words, because it feels too harsh, but that's how he sees my inaction, so I need to change my perspective so that I feel the same way.
It's not just our money that God expects us to tithe.

If any of these survivors fail to make the annual pilgrimage to Jerusalem to worship the King, God-of-the-Angel-Armies, there will be no rain. If the Egyptians don't make the pilgrimage and worship, there will be no rain for them. Zechariah 14:17

God was letting the Israelites, and the rest of the world, know that anyone who failed to come to the Temple to worship him would face drought. A drought of faith would bring a drought of rain. God wants our worship as well, and while I did worship at home by reading my Bible and praying, I deprived him of my worship in song and in support of others.

Jesse and I have faced an enormous amount of challenges this past year, and I can see now that our lack of tithing and worship to the Lord caused him to cut down on the blessings he pours out on us. I've seen an amazing amount of blessings during this time, but I wonder just how much better it could have been had we loved him as we ought.


Bring your full tithe to the Temple treasury so there will be ample provisions in my Temple. Test me in this and see if I don't open up heaven itself to you and pour out blessings beyond your wildest dreams. Malachi 3:10

That is a wonderful promise, but I have to keep up my end of the deal, with my money, my worship, and my time. Whatever I give, I know that he will match beyond anything I can imagine. I can't wait to see what the next year holds.

Forest Gate by Peter Akinti is a shattering look at life as a Somali refugee in London. James and Meina struggle to find a new life after the suicide of her brother, his best friend. The young men had made a pact, but when James' rope didn't snap his neck, he realized that life was worth fighting for, and he survived. The two recreate the days leading up to the tragedy as they slowly fall in love. Meina is a strong young woman who has already been "married" six times by her greedy aunt before she was rescued and brought to London. James faces unimaginable humiliation and horror in his life. Too smart to fit in with his drug dealing brothers, and always at risk of attack by the police or rival gangs, he's been forced to disengage from day to day life. This dark tale is almost unreadable at times for the stark horror it portrays, but the message of hope is powerful.

I wouldn't recommend this book to my average Christian fiction reader. It's definitely NC-17, but it will give mature readers something to think about.

Thank you to Free Press Publicity for providing me with a copy of this book for review.

I'm running a new book contest this week. Forget Me Not by Vickie Hinze is a suspenseful thriller about identity and love. If you'd like the chance to win, just drop me an email or leave a comment here before 10 pm on Thursday, April 15th. I'll announce the winner here on Friday, April 16th. Good luck!

The Secret Holocaust Diaries

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:

Nonna Bannister

and the book:

The Secret Holocaust Diaries: The Untold Story of Nonna Bannister

Tyndale House Publishers (March 4, 2010)

***Special thanks to Vicky Lynch of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Nonna Bannister was a young girl when World War II broke into her happy life. She went from an idyllic early-twentieth-century Russian childhood, full of love and comforts, to the life of a prisoner working in labor camps—though she was not a Jew—eventually bereft of her entire family. But she survived the war armed with the faith in God her grandmother taught her and a readiness to start a new life. She immigrated to America, married, and started a family, keeping her past secret from everyone. Though she had carried from Germany the scraps of a diary and various photographs and other memorabilia, she kept it all hidden and would only take it out, years later, to translate and expand her writings. After decades of marriage, Nonna finally shared her secret with her husband . . . and now he is sharing it with the world. Nonna died on August 15, 2004.

Visit the author's website.



Product Details:

List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 336 pages
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers (March 4, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1414325479
ISBN-13: 978-1414325477

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:



The Secret Holocaust Diaries by Nonna Bannister with Denise George and Carolyn Tomlin is an important record of a tragic era in human history. Nonna Lisowskaja was born into a prominent Russian family who thrived on their history as well as the arts. Her parents doted on both her and elder brother Anatoly, but she was born at a dangerous time. Russia had recently come under control of Joseph Stalin and families like hers were being rooted out and killed as dissidents. Nonna began a diary at the age of nine that takes her from Communist Russia into the German occupation, the dissolution of her entire family, and eventually separated from her mother who was placed in a concentration camp. She survived the war and came to the United States determined to leave her tragic past far behind her. She married Henry Bannister, and even he never knew the secrets of her life until she finally revealed it to him and her children through her translations of her childhood  diaries. Nonna has a warm and engaging writing voice that pulls the reader into every scene from a forbidden Christmas celebration with her grandmother at their dacha to the brutal murder of a Jewish infant entrusted to her care. You can't help but admire Nonna's strength that takes her through circumstances that would destroy many others, and it's obvious that the faith her grandmother imparted to her carried her through the worst of times. This is one of those rare stories that truly earns the label amazing and deserves all of the accolades it has earned.