The Journal of Antonio Montoya

Magnificat
by Anna Joujan

Holy. Holy. Holy is the Lord. The familiar catch of breath. The sting in the eyes. And the tears begin to flow with the falling rain. Or do the tears fall with the flowing rain. What is it in these words that I whisper that wrenches at my heart so? Why does Mary's prayer touch the core of my being, so many centuries after it was spoken?

I think it must be because I know that she was just a girl, just a human being, with a woman's heart like my own. And so, when I hear her wondering words, I can feel with her the emotion she must have felt. To bear the son of God-what wondrous mystery, what glorious honour! And she was, like me, just a young woman-much younger, in fact, than I am now. And so, no matter how often I hear the story and read her words, it still has the power to bring abrupt and unsought tears.

What a gracious God, to work wonders with such frail and faulty creatures as us!

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Anna G. Joujan was born in South Dakota, as a Canadian citizen, and was raised in Zambia, the child of missionary teachers. Since her family's move to the U.S., Anna spent her childhood and early adulthood traveling throughout the world thanks to various educational and work opportunities . . . France, China, Peru, and Jamaica being some of the stops in her journeys. Her undergraduate degree in French Literature led to a Masters in Information Sciences, and to work as a college and high school librarian, and a cross country coach. She has also returned to Zambia multiple times to teach for individual families and for local schools. All the while continuing pursuing her passions of writing, artwork, photography . . . and running to a fault. She blogs at Full of Grace.

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A three strand pearl necklace will be given away on New Year's Day. All you need to do to have a chance of winning is leave a comment here. Come back on New Year's Day to see if you won!

12 Pearls of Christmas Series and contest sponsored by Pearl Girls®. For more information, please visit www.pearlgirls.info

The Journal of Antonio Montoya by Rick Collignon takes place in the Sangre de Christos mountains but has a sense of timelessness. Ramona has isolated herself in her dusty hometown after returning from severl years away trying to find success as an author. She lives alone in her grandparents' house with no sense of purpose or intention until her brother and his wife die, leaving their son an orphan. When the boy's mother sits up in her casket at the graveside and tells Ramona to take care of Jose, Ramona thinks that her mind is starting to slip, but when she takes the boy home, they are greeted by her long dead grandparents who proceed to take care of the pair by cooking and irrigating the fields. Her grandmother gives her an old journal that pulls into the life of the mysterious Antonio Montoya. This book is nearly impossible to summarize. The story quietly unfurls in front of the reader, gently pulling him/her in to Ramona and Antonio's lives. Collignon's quiet prose captures the steady rhythm of small town life and how it can beat down the gentlest of souls. In the end, Ramona is changed by her discoveries in the journal, and the reader may share in her revelation.

Thank you to Unbridled Books for providing me with a copy of this book for review.

Today is another opportunity to sign up to win a pearl necklace from Pearl Girls. Just leave a comment here to be entered. For another contest, read my post from Monday and take a look at the picture, then submit your entry via email before 10 pm on Thursday, Dec. 24th.

Primal

A Soggy, Jolly, Holly Christmas
by Melody Carlson

One of my most memorable Christmases started out as a natural disaster. But isn't that a bit how a pearl is formed? An oyster's soft easy life is disrupted by the invasion of sand, but something good comes out of it. When I was eight, we experienced the worst flood in recorded Oregon history. It was only a few days before Christmas when our streets became shallow rivers and the governor proclaimed a state of emergency. My sister and I assumed the flood was simply our new water-world playground and didn't understand the seriousness of washed out bridges and downed power lines and submerged homes. But when we realized this flood was about to nix our usual three-hour trek to our grandparents' home near the coast, we were not happy.

Naturally, our mom, a single parent, protested the sensibility of holiday travel (most of Oregon's rivers were involved in the flood). But Christmas at Grandma's house was our favorite event of the year. And thanks to our persistence, Mom finally gave in. We piled into the car and headed out. Flood waters climbed higher the closer we got to the coast. And at one point the road behind us was closed and the one ahead was flooded and about to be closed as well. The state policeman told us we could cross "at our own risk." We followed a Volkswagen Bug into the water-then we actually watched the bug floating away! Of course, there was nothing to do besides plow on through the water, which appeared to be nearly two feet deep! Fortunately we had an old heavy Chevy that did not float away, but the water seeped in and pooled on the floors.

Fortunately, we made it safely to the grandparents. But once we arrived, we learned there would be no Christmas tree because the road to the woods was closed. Then my grandpa picked up his ax and led us outside where he chopped down his prize holly tree planted in the parking strip. I stared in horror, thinking Grandma was going to have a fit. But then he explained the city had told him to remove the tree for traffic visibility. So we had a twelve foot holly tree for Christmas. It was a little prickly decorating it, but with its shiny green leaves and red berries, it was the most beautiful tree ever! So what started out as a disaster turned out to be a soggy, holly, jolly Christmas after all.

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Melody Carlson, author of Limelight, Love Finds You in Sisters, The Christmas Dog, 86 Bloomberg Place, Diary of a Teenage Girl, The Carter House Girls, and much more... http://www.melodycarlson.com

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A three strand pearl necklace will be given away on New Year's Day. All you need to do to have a chance of winning is leave a comment here. Come back on New Year's Day to see if you won!

Primal by Mark Batterson is just the book to jump start your faith for the new year. Batterson is the pastor of National Community Church in Washington D.C. and has made a name for himself as a powerful author in his previous books, In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day and Wild Goose Chase. In Primal, Batterson wants readers to reconnect with the Lord the way early Christians did and express that love to the world. He emphasizes again and again the importance of readers' hearts breaking for those things that break the heart of God. I filled pages in my journal with powerful quotes like "At the end of the day, God isn't going to say, 'Well said, good and faithful servant.' ...God doesn't reward what we know. He doesn't reward what we say. He rewards the expenditure of energy." Batterson wants readers to use the gifts God gave them for the betterment of the Kingdom. Every chapter is truly inspirational and full of wisdom you want to share. Primal is the kind of book that you'll want to keep a copy of for rereading and then buy another copy to give away to spread the word.

Today is another chance to win a pearl necklace from Pearl Girls. Just leave a comment to be entered! I posted a contest yesterday with the chance to win four Christmas hardcovers. Read the rules and drop me an email with your best guess. Good luck!

Christmas Miracles

A Long Ago Christmas Memory
by Patricia Crisafulli

The old farm on a dirt road in the backwoods of northern New York State was described to me so many times, I can imagine the place, even though I never saw it: the big frame house with the wide porch, the pair of maple trees out front, and the barn in the back where my grandparents kept a cow or two, pigs and chickens, and a team of work horses.

That old house came alive for me in dozens of stories that my mother told, of how she and her sisters grew up there during the Depression. The stories had that long-ago feel not only because of the years that had passed, but also because of the era: tales of riding in a horse and buggy in the summer and a horse and sleigh in the winter. My grandfather owned an old Model A Ford, but the tires were patched beyond repair and there was no money for gasoline.

One story that has always stayed with me was of a particular Christmas in the early 1930s, a time my mother remember as the "depths of the Depression," and there was no money. In order to pay the interest on the mortgage, to keep the bank from foreclosing on the farm, my grandfather needed a relatively small sum. The amount I remember being told was $13, but for the little they had in those days it might as well have been $13,000.

Tested by trouble and sorrows, my grandparents relied on their deep and abiding faith. As Psalm 34 tells us, I sought the Lord, and he answered me, and delivered me from all my fears. The answer to their prayers was to be found right in their own backyard with gifts of the earth. My grandmother went into the woods to gather bushel baskets full of ground pine, with green sprouts like miniature boughs that spread in great patches along the earth. From willow branches she made hoops, around which she bound the ground pine to make wreathes.

She sat up all night making wreaths, enough to fill a large hamper basket, which my grandfather strapped to his back. At four in the morning, he hopped a ride on the milk train into Syracuse, where he went door-to-door selling wreathes. Night after night, my grandmother made wreaths, and day after day my grandfather sold them.

As Christmas approached, my grandmother had saved coupons that came in tins of coffee to get a Kewpie doll for her daughters. The only other things she gave them were mittens she knit herself.

Then on Christmas Eve, my grandfather came home from the last day of selling wreaths, exhausted but relieved. The farm was safe for another year. From what he had earned, he had a dime left over, which he spent on his beloved wife to buy her a powder puff. That night, my grandmother gave him her surprise: enough money from selling butter and eggs all year to buy four new tires for the Model A Ford.

Hearing this story as a child, my head was too full of the Sears & Roebuck "Wish Book" catalog to really comprehend it. As an adult, I try to fathom living with no money at all. What lingers in my heart, however, is the love of my grandparents for each other: the dashing young American soldier in World War I and the beautiful French girl he met overseas and then returned to her country to marry.

Many years, thousands of miles, and untold hardships later, that love continued. During a very dark December, they found a way together to keep the farm and the family together. And so it would always be for them.

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Patricia Crisafulli is a writer, published author, and founder of www.FaithHopeandFiction.com, a monthly e-literary magazine with stories, essays, and poetry to inspire and entertain.

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A three strand pearl necklace will be given away on New Year's Day. All you need to do to have a chance of winning is leave a comment here. Come back on New Year's Day to see if you won!

12 Pearls of Christmas Series and contest sponsored by Pearl Girls®. For more information, please visit www.pearlgirls.info

Christmas Miracles by Cecil Murphey & Marley Gibson is the perfect book to help you get in the right frame of mind for the holidays by reminding you of what Christmas is really all about. The authors have taken true stories from a variety of authors about their own Christmas miracles. Births, deaths, injuries, and poverty are themes all touched on here, each with their own message of hope and faith. I definitely recommend keeping a box of tissues handy while reading. The stories are overflowing with emotion and written to remind readers that Christmas is a time of miracles, starting with the first one over two thousand years ago with the birth of a baby boy in a manger who came to save the world. Some miracles in this story are of the huge, biblical variety, others are far smaller, more a matter of the heart, but each is a reminder that God loves each and every one of us.

Today is another opportunity for you to sign up for the chance to win a strand of pearls as described above. Just leave a comment and you're in! I'm also running two other contests this week: #1 Go to my post for Dec. 13th and answer one of the questions I ask by leaving a comment on that post. Contest ends Dec. 20th at 10 pm. #2 I'm giving away a copy of C.D. Baker's 40 Loaves. It's a daily devotional read in less than ten minutes that will change your life. To sign up for that contest, send me an email before 10 pm on Thursday, Dec. 17th. Good luck!

Pearl Girls

This is a repost from Sept 21.

Today I'm reviewing a book about the things that make us become pearls. Something that initially may feel like just grit in our shells/lives ends up being a blessing. I wanted to share a couple of stories about my Grandma and Grandpa Trever.

Grandma and Grandpa were not the fun grandparents. Their house was not filled with toys and junk food. At their house, we played Tiddly-Winks and put together puzzles; quiet, sedate activities. Even the foods we ate there were simple: plain Pringles, 7-Up, and vanilla ice cream (Grandma was living dangerously when she bought French Vanilla). Needless to say, as a small child, I didn't appreciate them as much as I should have.

When I reached my teens, I went through a personal hell that made me reach out and try to get to know these people who only listened to the Christian radio station and watched Little House on the Prairie and Father Murphy. I searched through their attic looking for pieces of their history that I could claim as my own, and I started spending more time with them, listening to their stories, watching their faces. It only took me fourteen years, but I finally woke up to these amazing human beings. Unfortunately, I only had my grandpa for another year. His death was one of the most traumatic events in my life, especially the auction that followed. The house was sold, along with most of the contents, as was their old car.

Fast forward two years. Grandma died nine days before Doogie was born, and I ached with guilt that I hadn't visited her in the nursing home as often as I should have, plus the guilt of being pregnant at just 17. My husband and I were struggling financially in the months after she was gone. He applied at every company in our area, and we even traveled to Milwaukee where he put in applications, but no one was hiring. In the midst of this, our car broke down, and we had no money for another one. At just the right time, my inheritance from Grandma's will ($500) came in, and we were able to buy a car. It was old and the size of a small yacht, but we were grateful to have it.

I didn't do a lot of driving at that point, so it was several months later when I was sitting down in the driver's seat that I noticed the dealer's maintenance sticker on the inside of the door: Ehlinger's Garage. Weird, I thought. That was the dealership in Suring, where my grandparents lived (we had bought the car in Cecil, about 20 miles away). Something made me get out and walk around the car where for the first time I truly noticed the WRVM bumper sticker on the rear bumper. Standing back and looking at the car, I realized that it looked familiar. I drove home with my hands shaking and called Dad, asking him to confirm my suspicions. I was right; I had purchased my grandparents' car with my inheritance from them.(If I remember rightly, Dad didn't mention it to me, because he knew how upset I would be.) What are the odds? But they weren't done taking care of me.

Fast forward another eight years. My marriage was at its end. Neither of us were happy, and we weren't just destroying each other, but our children as well. It had to end. I called my parents the night he left, and they came with comfort and support, but none of us knew how I would afford a divorce. I called around, and the cheapest lawyer I could find wanted a $1500 retainer. This was 1999. In 1989, when my grandpa died, his three children split up the various bonds he had purchased, including one they thought of as a "stinker." My dad, his brother, and sister didn't think that it would actually pay off, so they split it between them three ways so that none of them would take the entire loss. Ten years later and just a couple of weeks after my separation, the bond paid off early in the amount of $1500. Dad called me to say that Grandma and Grandpa Trever were paying for my divorce. Now I know that these godly people would never have wanted me to get a divorce, but at the same time, they loved me unconditionally and wanted me to be happy and to be able to take care of my children (none of whom they ever met).

I will never forget the squeak of the vinyl rocker Dad always sat in or the screech of the glider on the front porch that was only used in summer. I wish that I could taste Grandma's peanut squares or special Christmas punch, and I'll remember with pride how Grandpa said that I most certainly was a Trever because of my stubbornness . But I will hold tight to the fact that they loved me so much that they continued to take care of me, even after they were both gone.

I don't think of myself as a beautiful person very often, but when I do, I know that any beauty I have comes from the love of people like my grandparents who ensured that no matter how much grit I had to endure, I knew the love of God and family to get me through it.

Pearl Girls edited by Margaret McSweeney is an moving book filled with stories to encourage your heart. A pearl girl is any woman who has turned the grit of her life into something beautiful, and each one of the authors of the stories within this book is a true gem. The stories run the gamut from hilarious to heart-breaking to hopeful. It's not the kind of book you want to zip through in one reading, but to take time to savor each story and take in its full message. Stories of rape, abuse, and depression all offer hope to readers that there is beauty on the other side, beauty offered by God, friends, and family. Some stories will give readers perspective on their own lives, others offer comfort in the knowledge that we are not alone, but all will touch the heart. All proceeds will benefit a safe house in the Chicago suburbs and women and children with AIDS in Africa.

Remember I'm holding three contests this week. #1 is for the Pearl Girls tour. Leave a comment here saying you'd like to enter, and you're signed up to win a pearl necklace. #2 Read my post from Dec. 13 and leave a comment on that post responding to one of the questions I asked to be entered to win a copy of Lisa Harper's A Perfect Mess. #3 To win a copy of C.D. Baker's 40 Loaves, send me an email before 10 pm on Thursday, Dec. 17th. There are lots of chances to win before Christmas!

Pearl Girls

Today I'm reviewing a book about the things that make us become pearls. Something that initially may feel like just grit in our shells/lives ends up being a blessing. I wanted to share a couple of stories about my Grandma and Grandpa Trever.

Grandma and Grandpa were not the fun grandparents. Their house was not filled with toys and junk food. At their house, we played Tiddly-Winks and put together puzzles; quiet, sedate activities. Even the foods we ate there were simple: plain Pringles, 7-Up, and vanilla ice cream (Grandma was living dangerously when she bought French Vanilla). Needless to say, as a small child, I didn't appreciate them as much as I should have.

When I reached my teens, I went through a personal hell that made me reach out and try to get to know these people who only listened to the Christian radio station and watched Little House on the Prairie and Father Murphy. I searched through their attic looking for pieces of their history that I could claim as my own, and I started spending more time with them, listening to their stories, watching their faces. It only took me fourteen years, but I finally woke up to these amazing human beings. Unfortunately, I only had my grandpa for another year. His death was one of the most traumatic events in my life, especially the auction that followed. The house was sold, along with most of the contents, as was their old car.

Fast forward two years. Grandma died nine days before Doogie was born, and I ached with guilt that I hadn't visited her in the nursing home as often as I should have, plus the guilt of being pregnant at just 17. My husband and I were struggling financially in the months after she was gone. He applied at every company in our area, and we even traveled to Milwaukee where he put in applications, but no one was hiring. In the midst of this, our car broke down, and we had no money for another one. At just the right time, my inheritance from Grandma's will ($500) came in, and we were able to buy a car. It was old and the size of a small yacht, but we were grateful to have it.

I didn't do a lot of driving at that point, so it was several months later when I was sitting down in the driver's seat that I noticed the dealer's maintenance sticker on the inside of the door: Ehlinger's Garage. Weird, I thought. That was the dealership in Suring, where my grandparents lived (we had bought the car in Cecil, about 20 miles away). Something made me get out and walk around the car where for the first time I truly noticed the WRVM bumper sticker on the rear bumper. Standing back and looking at the car, I realized that it looked familiar. I drove home with my hands shaking and called Dad, asking him to confirm my suspicions. I was right; I had purchased my grandparents' car with my inheritance from them.(If I remember rightly, Dad didn't mention it to me, because he knew how upset I would be.) What are the odds? But they weren't done taking care of me.

Fast forward another eight years. My marriage was at its end. Neither of us were happy, and we weren't just destroying each other, but our children as well. It had to end. I called my parents the night he left, and they came with comfort and support, but none of us knew how I would afford a divorce. I called around, and the cheapest lawyer I could find wanted a $1500 retainer. This was 1999. In 1989, when my grandpa died, his three children split up the various bonds he had purchased, including one they thought of as a "stinker." My dad, his brother, and sister didn't think that it would actually pay off, so they split it between them three ways so that none of them would take the entire loss. Ten years later and just a couple of weeks after my separation, the bond paid off early in the amount of $1500. Dad called me to say that Grandma and Grandpa Trever were paying for my divorce. Now I know that these godly people would never have wanted me to get a divorce, but at the same time, they loved me unconditionally and wanted me to be happy and to be able to take care of my children (none of whom they ever met).

I will never forget the squeak of the vinyl rocker Dad always sat in or the screech of the glider on the front porch that was only used in summer. I wish that I could taste Grandma's peanut squares or special Christmas punch, and I'll remember with pride how Grandpa said that I most certainly was a Trever because of my stubbornness . But I will hold tight to the fact that they loved me so much that they continued to take care of me, even after they were both gone.

I don't think of myself as a beautiful person very often, but when I do, I know that any beauty I have comes from the love of people like my grandparents who ensured that no matter how much grit I had to endure, I knew the love of God and family to get me through it.

Pearl Girls edited by Margaret McSweeney is an moving book filled with stories to encourage your heart. A pearl girl is any woman who has turned the grit of her life into something beautiful, and each one of the authors of the stories within this book is a true gem. The stories run the gamut from hilarious to heart-breaking to hopeful. It's not the kind of book you want to zip through in one reading, but to take time to savor each story and take in its full message. Stories of rape, abuse, and depression all offer hope to readers that there is beauty on the other side, beauty offered by God, friends, and family. Some stories will give readers perspective on their own lives, others offer comfort in the knowledge that we are not alone, but all will touch the heart. All proceeds will benefit a safe house in the Chicago suburbs and women and children with AIDS in Africa.

I'm giving away two copies of Kiss Me Again by Barbara Wilson, a terrific guide to restoring intimacy within marriage. If you'd like to win, send me an email before 10 pm on Tuesday, September 22nd. I'll announce the winners here on Wednesday. Good luck!

Breathe

Amish Love

What’s all the hubbub about Amish fiction? Major media outlets like Time and ABC Nightline are covering it, and authors like Cindy Woodsmall are making the New York Times bestseller list regularly. What makes these books so interesting?

Check out the recent ABC Nightline piece here (http://abcnews.go.com/Nightline/story?id=7676659&page=1) about Cindy and her titles When the Heart Cries, When the Morning Comes, and When the Soul Mends. It’s an intriguing look at Amish culture and the time Cindy has spent with Amish friends.

And don’t forget that Cindy’s new book The Hope of Refuge hits store shelves August 11, and is available for preorder now.

Breathe by Lisa Bergren is the first in the Homeward Trilogy about the St. Clair siblings. This volume features Odessa, a beautiful consumptive heading to Colorado Springs to take a treatment at a special sanatorium. Her father has sent his last three remaining children West in the hopes that they will escape the family curse of tuberculosis that has taken the life of four other children. Odessa's life revolves around survival, just taking one breath at a time. Moira, her younger sister, has a passion for singing and attracts men like bees to a flower, including the dangerous Sheriff Reid Bannock. Older brother Dominic has lived his entire life trying to live up to his father's expectations, including starting a bookstore in the Springs, despite the desire to travel and see the world. Each St. Clair sibling is looking for their purpose in life, and they just may find it in this growing London of the West. Bergren packs action, treasure-hunting, romance and danger into this enjoyable historical fiction. Odessa and Bryce's romance is terrific; most romance novels strive to keep the couple apart as long as possible, using contrived circumstances that strain the reader's patience. Odessa and Bryce's relationship is the touchstone of the book. I did become frustrated with Nic on occasion; he seemed to deliberately set out to hurt himself and leave Moira in danger, but I think that's deliberate on Bergren's part. The reader's frustration with Nic mirrors his own with his life. I'm usually not a fan of the popular Western historical romance, but this story engaged me and makes me want to read the sequel about Moira: Sing.

I'm giving away a copy of River Jordan's Saints in Limbo this week. Drop me an email before 10pm on Thursday, June 4th to sign up!