20/20 Sunlight/Son-Light

The source is always the same, in degree, in size and in power, yet the effect on earth can be vastly different. 

Moments ago, the buds on the bush by my window glowed spring green, translucent as first light of the day shown through them.

Now their color deepens as the light moves from behind them to above.

The source of the light remains the same, but as the earth rotates, its effect on objects below is different.

Yesterday’s cloudless sky reflected my face clearly in the windowpane.  Today, there is just a thin misty vapor; no face, no reflection, no glowing leaves, only a grey fog drifting, and obscuring the unchanged light of the sun.

I consider and thank the Lord  for reminding me that though at times the twists and turns of life may cloud or blur my vision, His Son-Light is as certain, as strong and powerful, and even more unchanging than the sun.

Why Am I Afraid to Tell You Who I Am?

By Lisa Lickel

That biography—scares a lot of us new writers. Yet it's a vital part of your craft. Think about it: you fiction writers create characters all the time, but when it comes to using words to describe you panic. "I'm boring," I heard at a class I recently taught. "What if I don't have any publishing credits?" "Why does anyone care if I have any interesting hobbies?"

Let's visit the situation.

I'm a mystery lover and just dying to feed my passion this weekend. At the book store and I have $12.73 with me. Read the back of the potential book cover with me:

In one hand I have Bats In the Belfry, a cozy by Saint Gail; it's new to me, but book 2 in the Manse Murder Mysteries. Saint Gail was the daughter of a pastor, is married to one, and the mother of another. She has a master's degree in Momhood and likes to race stock cars on the weekend. Visit her website for More Momhood Racecar stories and sign up for her newsletter which is full of tips on how to murder someone without leaving a clue.

In the other hand I have Everybody Hated Roger, a cozy by Cec the Curmudgeon. I've never heard of him either, but I like the cover and it's the right length book and price. Cec the Curmudgeon is a stay-at-home househusband who only drives his Rabbit hatchback to church on Sundays. He pecks out his stories on his Royal Underwood by day and dreams up stories in Technicolor by night. He plans on getting e-mail someday so he can interact with his fans.

Um—not really a choice there for me. Saint Gail is going to have the more interesting story because she lives an interesting life. But the only thing she didn't have control over was being born a pastor's daughter. We all start somewhere, usually at ground zero. Putting yourself out there for the public is scary—there's just no getting around that, but authordom is show business, folks!  "I'm nobody - a PTA, mini-van driving soccer mom." Yeah, so? Bet you got a zillion stories of back seat and sideline humor. Pick a couple and focus on your momhood qualities. "There's no way my life is interesting. I drive semi-loads of shopping carts from one side of the country to another." (Quick hit: how many shopping carts to a semi-load? 500. Ask me how I know.) Well, golly-gee – there's another zillion stories about angels on your shoulder, traffic tales, dictating your books on tape. Pick something: "Semi driver Royal Underwood got his writing career off to a start while driving cross country, listening to stories of fellow travelers in untold diners, watching other long-haul goodbuddies deal with the loneliness on the road and meeting his future wife at a monster truck rally in Omaha." Now, that's interesting.

Anybody can be interesting. One of my favorite authors writes about his life in rural Wisconsin. How boring can a short bald guy who married late, lives on a run-down farm and is not-mechanically inclined, be? Here's the beginning of his bio: Raised on a small dairy farm, Perry equates his writing career to cleaning calf pens – just keep shoveling, and eventually you’ve got a pile so big, someone will notice. Perry further prepared for the writing life by reading every Louis L’Amour cowboy book he could get his hands on – most of them twice.

Yep – it's Michael Perry, author of several books; the first one was his take on moving back home and being an EMT.

Maybe you can't do better, but you can be just as good.

Me? Why, Lisa Lickel is a Wisconsin writer who lives with her husband in a hundred and sixty-year-old house built by a Great Lakes ship captain. Surrounded by books and dragons, she writes inspiring fiction. Her novels include mystery and romance, all with a twist of grace. She has penned dozens of feature newspaper stories, short stories, magazine articles and radio theater. She is the editor in chief of Creative Wisconsin Magazine and loves to encourage new authors. Find her at LisaLickel.com.

I didn't start out this way – took me a while to get there, and I'm still growing.

How about you?

How I Know I'm a Writer

By Shelly Akins

 

How do I know I’m a writer?  

I’m know I’m a writer because the words flow from my fingers onto the blank screen filling up the white spaces.  On those days, my message is clear, my descriptions brilliant, my characters do just what I tell them to. 
 

I’m know a writer because I sit down and do it even when the words don’t come easy, or I’m tired, or I feel like what I have to say isn’t worth anything, or when my characters act like the rebellious teenagers they are and refuse to follow my directions.  

I’m know a writer because I enjoy reading and learning from other’s writing both published authors and my critique group friends.  

 

I’m know I’m a writer because other people ask me about writing and take my opinions and advice seriously.  

 

I know I’m a writer because I have a story in my heart and I want to tell it to the world.

Location, Location, Adaptation

By Kristi Paxton

 As our two kids got older, we became smarter, and then thrilled when they asked us for advice on choosing first apartments—one in New York City, the other in Denver, Colorado.

At age 57, I couldn’t help but obsess about their choices, wanting to impart upon them my hard-earned real estate wisdom: location, location, location.

 In the end, each chose a place that was more value than location.

Frantic about this, I lost sleep over their picks until I woke up to one important fact: we all have a right to learn from our experiences.

 Our own first love nest was an ancient rented farmhouse, our backyard literally a stinking cattle feedlot, our entry decorated with three fly-covered pest strips fluttering like windsocks above the door.

We were in  Heaven

In a let-go-and-let-God moment, I notice a wren singing joyously atop a rotting birdhouse hung from the soffit above our deck—the kids will be fine.

New Life Marriage Weekend

by Brenda Lysak

I am in my third marriage that has less potential then the previous ones. How do I handle the pressures of running a business out of my home while simultaneously teaching and directing a Preschool? Do I turn to vigorous self help, via counseling, books? Fake it until I make it? Is it even reasonable to expect success in any of the above?

Awhile back I submitted the story of how I was miraculously born again by reading and rereading Romans chapters 1 through 6.  When I first became aware of the reality of my marriage, no potential for good, and plenty for evil, the thought of going through yet another unforgiveable divorce, paralyzed me with fear. I sunk into the depths of despair.

After I got tired of being in the pits I turned to the scriptures again. After all 2 Timothy 3:16-17 says;  The whole Bible was given to us by inspiration from God and is useful to teach us what is true and to make us realize what is wrong; it straightens us out and helps us do what is right. It is God’s way of making us well prepared at every point, fully equipped to do good to everyone.  I had already experienced miraculous faith to believe on God and be saved; wouldn’t his salvation include other levels, such as my marriage? So back into the word I went. I read huge portions every day. Soon I was out of the pits. I felt God speaking in my heart that everything was going to be alright if I would trust Him.

Over the next four or five years I vacillated between hope and despair, to the degree I was in or out of the Word. As the years rolled on I became aware of my husband’s downward spiral.  Through a friend I realized my role of enabling the situation. I was still here so he was comfortable, no need to seek God as he had when we met. I believe it was a direct answer to the cries of my heart when I stumbled onto Andrew Wommack’s ministry. He preaches a radical gospel. Because of the time I had spent in the Word it made sense to me. It suddenly made sense to be baptized in the Holy Spirit. I knew I needed God’s power to even be a light to others let alone to my husband. I was just too human, so frail I worried there was no difference between me and unbelievers except perhaps that they were happier then I! 

I vacillated through the years desperately wanting out of this marriage.  But what I really wanted was to experience God. I wanted to see firsthand his power in this impossible situation. I knew all too well the flatness of escape and all the host of other problems.

I began downloading and listening to various message series from Andrew Wommack’s web site.  While listening to the Authority of the Believer I was moved to move. I emailed a letter to my husband stating what I would need from him if he wished me to remain in the same house. I let him know that I was not going to be a part of this decent into evil anymore.  I emailed him because he would not let me finish a sentence or thought in person. He refused to hear anything I had to say.

His response was to look after details of separation immediately.  He stated that we may as well make everything legal and I agreed. The following Sunday I fell off the wagon of “I am not going to be depressed or full of fear for one moment. I am going to dream about my house, garden and the loveliness of living without all the negatives associated with my husband.”  But three days later I fell apart. My tears may have started with grieving but quickly turned into panic, fear, and self pity. About 10AM I received a call from Denis inviting me to lunch. That sounded nice, maybe there was hope yet. By noon my eyes were so purple that I certainly wasn’t going public with them. Denis called to warn me that he would be late. I informed him that I couldn’t go. He could tell I was crying. Usually he seemed strangely content with me in the land of despondency. I decided that he wasn’t worth tears and hadn’t fallen apart over him in months, maybe years. His response this time was a complete surprise.

He came home and announced that he would go to a New Life Weekend with me.  That was one of two choices for counseling that I had listed in my email.  I continued through the remainder of the day feeling very low even as I was handed a credit card to reserve hotel, tickets, and airfare. As the dollars began adding up for the weekend, I saw my husband mourn the loss of money. I stopped and said “if you are doing this to placate me so I have nothing to say about anything, you are wasting your money!” I had already reserved tickets for the conference. There was silence for awhile and finally he said, “go ahead and finish.”

The next morning I woke up feeling optimistic again. Suddenly I realized what an attack from Satan all my sadness on Sunday had been.  I realized how important it is to resist the evil one. This was a huge step towards overcoming another slippery slide into depression.  There are many roads to depression. I have mourned and mourned the loss of my marriage on a dozen different angles, I do not need to go there one more time in Jesus Name.

Well, Thursday found us enroute to Washington DC for Steve’s first, all Marriage conference weekend. I kept thinking how Denis had no idea what he was getting himself into. He was avoidant of any and all wisdom and locked away inside at the age of 60 since 14. He misunderstood his family sending him away to a better school. There was a language barrier at school which he interpreted as rejection and vowed never to let anyone hurt him again. He was incapable of empathy or compassion and very defensive. He could not sooth himself with people, instead escaped with work, and sports, on and off TV.  However, neither could I.

A few of my friends and relatives informed me they would pray for us. I asked for specific prayers that Denis would not feel uncomfortable at the conference for a minute and come home out of that stuck place where he was locked away.  Both of those impossible prayers were answered before the weekend was over.

When it comes to describing the quality of that weekend, words escape me. The level of wisdom, the way we were helped to discover it, the power of group therapy and the hope and comfort of eight weeks of follow up.  Experiencing it myself and observing Denis was a study in contrasts. I had been to a weekend before and therefore was accustomed to the format. I have also had some counseling throughout my life that I would say 99% has been God ordained. I love getting wisdom so the wisdom dispensed this weekend had a foundation to land on. Not so for Denis, everything was new. Usually he would feel drained and hate learning so much so fast. That was not the case here. For one thing there wasn’t this huge drop of knowledge. Instead, the root problem was discovered and then solutions were modeled. Immediately after, we discussed and practiced in group therapy.

Before the weekend was over I sensed a happiness and peace of mind in my husband for the first time since meeting him. I was still slowly thawing out and wondering how long this would last. In spite of my coolness he remained and remains in this place of peace and perhaps even joy.

This is the power that I crave. This can only be of God. If our marriage ever looks like a marriage, that will be a miracle because we have zero potential. (It appeared to me from group therapy that potential has nothing to do with marital success.) I am excited to be a part of Denis coming out of his locked away place. I feel God’s powerful love towards me, another miracle.

THE BUSY BEES/BE'S OF SUMMER

By Sharon Wilhite

Buzzzzzzz...Like the industrious bees buzzing around summer's blooms,
I buzz busily from duties to deadlines to summer activities, etc. etc.

Bees have instinctive rest times,
while I have to choose to slow down, to be calm and not habitually frenetic.

God reminds me that to"BE" spiritually minded is life and peace. (Romans 8:6)

He tells me to "BE" still and know that He is God. (Psalm 46:10)

To not "BE" weary in well doing (Galatians 6:9) I have to draw close to God and renew my strength daily from Him and His word. 

Let this be our best summer ever.
Busily "BEE-ING" Christlike...
quietly "BEE-COMING" Christlike.

(good website for slowing down and contemplating: aholyexperience.com.)

Facebook is a Vicious Circle--A Seven Sentence Example

By Charis Seeley

On Facebook, Mary did her laundry, Johnny is ‘Getting Ready 4 A Seriously Sick Night!’ and David posted a link about the new season of Survivor.

This reminds me that I’m too busy to watch the premier live, so I grab the remote and DVR all new episodes.

At my convenience, I watch the first few episodes, laugh at Russell and wonder if Phillip Shepherd is really so self-unaware.

I Google him on my smart phone, but while surfing CBS’ page, I accidentally touch an ad for JustFab.com.

JustFab loads and this website’s shoes are so fabulous I join and buy a pair of heels on the spot.

The shoes are amazing, and JustFab offers rewards points that turn into store credit when members they make a purchase or refer a friend.

So I post the link on Facebook.

Like Baby Bear

By Robin J. Steinweg

On Poppy Day Tom and I grocery shopped. We passed a Viet Nam vet in the entryway, poppies and an ice cream bucket with a slot cut in the lid on a card table. He was busy talking to some folks, so our poppy would have to wait.

On our way out, I shifted my grocery bags to dig in my purse for a donation. Tom took most of the food out to the car. The vet paused his talk with a lady to thank me, and I met his eyes as I responded, “Thank you.” As I did, the woman made an odd sound and nearly ran off. That was the last time I’m aware of that the vet stopped to breathe.

Our family has high esteem for war vets. Tom’s dad was wounded when in the Philippines and again on Okanawa, and my folks lost a couple of brothers-in-law to Hitler’s forces. I gave this man my respectful attention as he told of being stationed in Iceland (Greenland?), where the temperature was minus seventy-five degrees on a good day. He continued with a description of the vehicles that broke down and named all the mechanical parts it took to fix them.

I spotted Tom out in the car. The vet mapped out the terrain for a fifty mile circumference. Ten minutes and several SOS prayers it took before Tom got out of the car. I waved at him. He was coming to rescue me! I heard the automatic doors open behind me. The vet’s voice droned on. I turned to greet my hero, and he walked right past me to the community bulletin board. I sighed and nodded as the vet didn’t miss a beat. It took Tom five minutes to read every poster and ad. He came back toward me and this time I was ready for him. As he passed behind me I grabbed a fistful of jacket and refused to let go. He murmured, “We have frozen food, you know.” I whispered, “Help me,” but he didn’t hear me as the vet imitated an explosion. Tom took a step backward and my hand tightened its grip on his jacket. Something about an ice cave so dark it made your eyeballs ache. We both backed up a step, then two. Other people came and went. “An ordinary flashlight—Harriet, want to buy a poppy?—(Harriet flew out the door, calling, “Not today…”)—“Oh, tomorrow then, does she think I’m here every day, do you know what kind of flashlight we had to use?” Tom and I reached the door, which stood open because of the sensors. The recitation continued. My fingers had gone numb from clutching Tom’s jacket. I raised my voice, “We have frozen food melting.” No acknowledgment. We backed through the doors. Tom attempted, “Thank you, we need to go now.” We were several feet beyond the door now. “…the cavern was featured in a magazine…” “Thank you for serving our country,” I said, but he never hesitated. He was kind enough to speak louder so we could hear him right up until we started the engine.

Later I wondered how he could talk like that without stopping for breath. Maybe he’d learned circular breathing from trumpeter Wynton Marsalis. But more than that, how could someone be so completely insensitive to others as to talk them half to death? Then I recalled a neighbor lady from my childhood, and realized there is an opposite form of torture.

I was a young teen when I answered her phone call. Mom had told me to man the phone, as she’d been interrupted too many times that day. When I told her who it was, she shook her head rather wildly, whispered, “Tell her I went for a walk,” and abandoned me for the first and only time in my life. I picked up the phone and said, “I’m sorry, she was just going out the door.” Mrs. Schweigen said—nothing! I waited. Dead air. I looked at the phone and tapped it. “Are you there?” “Mm-hm.” Silence. “Um, I could have Mom call you back later, Ok?” “Mm-hm.” The quiet unnerved me. What should I do? I watched the kitchen clock. One minute. Two minutes. I’d been trained to respect my elders too thoroughly to hang up on her. I cast about desperately for another question to ask. I prayed Mom would return and rescue me from this deadly silence. I vaguely remember finally saying, “I’m sorry. I have to hang up now, I’m not allowed to stay on the phone this long. I’m so sorry, I’m hanging up now. Sorry. ’Bye.”

These incidents remind me of Goldilocks (except I could never be so rude as to walk into a stranger’s house uninvited!). Anyway, she found Papa Bear’s stuff too big, too hard, too hot, just too Too. Like the Viet Nam vet. Too many words. Mama Bear’s stuff was also too much—too big, too soft, too cold, too Too. Like Mrs. Schweigen’s too-few words. But Baby Bear’s things were just right.

That’s what I hope and pray my conversation will be. Not too much, not too little. Seasoned with the most satisfying amount of salt, the perfect mix of speaking, listening, sensitivity, caring for others. I want to be like Baby Bear! Just right.

Braggin' on God

A very special welcome to Twila Belk, our guest blogger for today!  Twila is the founder of the Quad-Cities Christian Writers Conference, where we bloggers connected.  She is also an author, speaker and personal assistant to Cecil Murphey.  Welcome Twila!

Hi, I'm Twila Belk, otherwise known as the Gotta Tell Somebody Gal. As you get to know me, you'll discover that one of my favorite things to do is brag on God. In fact, I've coined a new phrase - Braggin' on God. I'd like to invite you to brag on God with me.

Are you aware that there are benefits to braggin' on God? Let me tell you about them –

1. Braggin' on God helps us remember. And we need lots of help remembering, because we can tend to be forgetful - especially when facing unpleasant circumstances. The more we talk about God and brag on God, the more we remember who He is and how big He is. If we can remember what God has done for us in the past, we can trust Him for today and tomorrow. We need to revisit His goodness often.
   
   
2. Braggin' on God encourages others and gives them hope. If others hear us talk about God's faithfulness and goodness and provision and care and healing and love and all the wonderful things He does, they should be encouraged. They should be filled with hope by realizing that God is a big God and that He is fully able to do the same thing in their lives.
   
   
3. The best benefit of braggin' on God is that it glorifies Him. And that's why we were created in the first place! When we brag on God, we shine the light on Him. When we brag on God, He smiles. Big time.
   

I personally believe we should have braggin' on God parties instead of Tupperware parties. What do you think? It's a great thing to do.

Would you like to join the braggin' on God party?  I invite you, as the psalmist did in Psalm 105:2, to "Sing to Him, sing praise to Him; tell of all His wonderful acts." Let's hear your story.

Twila Belk, also known as the Gotta Tell Somebody Gal, is a popular speaker, writer, radio personality, and conference director who works full time with veteran author Cecil Murphey. She is the co-author of Because You Care with Cecil Murphey (Harvest House, January 2012) and author of Gotta Get 'em Fixed!. Her work has appeared in a variety of publications, including The Spirit of Christmas (St. Martin's Press, October 2011),  Christmas Miracles, and Disciplines 2009. She hosts the Cec and Me radio show, which airs live on Tuesday nights at www.toginet.com. Twila is a member of Advanced Writers and Speakers Association, Christian Booksellers Association, The Writers View, and Christian Humor Writers.

You can contact Twila at http://www.gottatellsomebody.com

Chariots of Fear

By Marie Tschopp

Have you ever wanted to smack someone upside the head?  I’ve wanted to, especially after reading passages like this:   

“Joshua replied, “If the hill country of Ephraim is not large enough for you, clear out land for yourselves in the forest where the Perizzites and Rephaits live.”  They said, “The hill country is not enough for us, and the Canaanites in the lowlands around Beth-shan and the valley of Jezreel have iron chariots—they are too strong for us.”  Joshua 17:15-16 NLT

What was the Israelites’ problem?   God miraculously brought them out of Egypt, led them by a pillar of fire by night and a cloud by day, caused water to flow from a rock, sent manna from heaven, and parted the red sea while destroying Pharaoh and his army in the process.  Yet, they still whined that ordinary men with iron chariots were too strong to overcome.  Sheesh! 

In retrospect, sometimes my faith journey isn’t much better than the Israelites.  For example, my husband injured his back this winter and couldn’t work.  The injury appeared as a Canaanite with an iron chariot, too strong to overcome.  (Insert a good head-smack here).   I knew better.  I’d seen the faithfulness of God too many times—times when there was more month than money, and the money stretched.  Times when I needed an encouraging word and the phone rang.  Times when the factories my husband worked for closed, and other employment opened.  Time after time, miracles dropped from the Father’s hand straight into mine, and this time was not different.  I shouldn’t have been afraid. 

Take it from me, if you should spy a Canaanite, don’t despair at the spinning wheels of his iron chariot.  Instead, recall the faithfulness of your Father and heed the exhortation from Joshua 17:18 “…you can drive out the Canaanites from the valleys, too, even though they are strong and have iron chariots.” 

If you have problems doing this, let me know.  It’s been a while since I smacked somebody. 

Pressure to be Perfect

by Lori Boruff – Hope101.net
 

Pressure to be perfect may push us one of two directions- overwork or under achieve. Some people strive for perfection with unlimited preparation and perspiration expecting everyone to do the same. Others throw in the towel before they try because they know it's not going to be perfect. Either way, results lead to dead dreams and unmet goals. How do you respond?

I believe accomplishing a task with excellence honors God. However, fear of rejection often becomes our driving force taking us in the wrong direction. Our self-worth mistakenly depends on our ability or inability to perform. We long for approval from others, even God.

God says it himself in Matthew 5:48 (NLT) - You are to be perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect.

Talk about pressure to be perfect!  It's tough enough living up to an imperfect earthly father's expectations let alone expectations of a flawless Heavenly father.

Don't be discouraged or defeated. A little understanding of the word perfect gives new perspective and passion.

Ironically, the modern meaning for “perfect” is imperfect from a biblical view. Webster's Dictionary defines it as having no defect or fault. Thus, the pressure humans put on themselves or others.

For the follower of Christ the biblical definition  means suited for a determined purpose. When God told his people to be perfect as he is, he meant “be fitted for your purpose, to fulfill your ultimate design, as fully as God is.” His command does not come with unbearable pressure or a set up for failure. It's inspiration to fulfill your God-given destiny.

You are already approved by God. Exhale! Obedience honors God. Exhale again! Now, allow him to use those imperfect experiences to move you into his perfect plan and purpose for your life.

God is my strength and power; and he makes my way perfect. 2 Samuel 22:33 (MKJV)

Carpe Diem

By Lisa Lickel

I live with a double whammy of health issues. It wouldn't even be a problem if we lived fifty years ago; and yes, I'll be celebrating the big 5-0 later this summer. There wouldn't be a problem because I wouldn't have known at least one of my genetic health problems and therefore wouldn't care. One of the conditions is controllable – with side effects that don't make me happy to be alive; in fact, I'm struggling to work off the result of the third medication trial. Ugh. I believe the conditions go hand in hand; therefore I choose to ignore the ignoble treatment of the controllable condition; the other issue has no treatment and no cure at this time.

That leads me to ponder what will get me first. The long-standing death at 54 of someone or two in every generation we can count? The controllable issue? The tired semi drive or drunk driver that crosses into my lane? The weather?

Honestly, who cares? I made my peace with God long ago. I raised two great kids who love the Lord and serve him with all their hearts. I published three novels by traditional means. I have made a difference around me in at least one person who was moved to a deeper relationship with God as a result of my work. I may not have the greatest witness, but I am assured that nothing will separate me and my Greatest Joy.

I choose these moments to mentor other writers; I choose these moments to give other writers a voice, a chance to succeed that may not come from any other source; I choose to leave a legacy that my children can be proud of. I choose to know God, to love the Lord, to relish the moments as if each were my last. To enjoy what which I have been given but also to look forward to what I cannot understand with my earthly mind and heart. To sing in righteous voice. To praise without a sin-filled backlight. To know fully, even as I am fully known. Hallelujah!

Finding Peace

By Jeannette Doran

Fear and anxiety! How they disturb our peace! To live in tranquility is everyone’s desire. Yet, how is that possible in today’s world? Just turn on the news and we see violence and anger exploding from every corner of our world. Can we keep these external events from destroying our inner peace? Do we realize that we allow ourselves to be swept away with issues outside of us that are sometimes minute ? This in turn can create overwhelming fear and anxiety.

If this happens so easily what do we need to do to guard our peace?

I have come to understand that when I focus on the beautiful in my surroundings quietness envelops my being. I like to call these God gifts. I delight in the dancing willow branches newly blossomed, in the greening grass and bare branches painted in yellows and green swaying with abandon.

The beauty of God surrounds us in creation. My solution is to focus on the positive and the loveliness. To choose what brings peace and not fear. It can be a holding on to a lovely thought as well as looking at a golden crocus amidst the brown leaves, the red tulips in bloom or feeling the gentle breeze on my face. I do whatever quiets my inner being and helps me rest there in peace in God’s presence. May we all learn to look at the beauty around us and find God’s peace in each moment.

The Hot Corner

By Marvin Ferguson

The veteran baseball player has been around for a long time. He started with the Boston Braves (1946). Before ending his career as a player with the Milwaukee Braves (1960), he entertained New York Giant, St. Louis Cardinal, and Philadelphia Philly fans.

 He was a successful manager, winning a pennant with the Giants (1962). More managing opportunities followed with the Kansas City Athletics, Cleveland Indians, Oakland Athletics, and San Diego Padres.

 During his baseball career he received many accolades—3x All Star selection, 2x World Series Champion, 1948 Rookie of the Year, and 1955 Lou Gehrig Memorial Award.

But I remember Al Dark best when he played third base with the Chicago Cubs. He fielded fast moving ground balls, caught sharp hit line drives, and made the long throw across the diamond look easy.

 He described the third base position as "The Hot Corner." Surely, it was a place where it was necessary to stay alert.

 Life is like living on "The Hot Corner." It's a do or die situation—a relationship with God. Either we're in the loop or not. There is no neutral middle of the road position. By doing nothing with our own life doesn't make our relationship with God right.

 Al Dark knew the importance about playing third base. Playing good defense helped win ball games. A poor performance and the team suffered losses.

Finding Hope from the Storm

By Kathryn Lang

The sun woke me up – caused by partial curiosity about what I would see out my window and a growing hope that I would be able to plug in the coffee maker to my battery backup. The devastation around me had not cleared up during the night but saying out loud that I have it bad becomes tough when I know that others around me were hurt so much deeper. It still hurt to see the limbs and debris that reminded me of the trees on the other side of the house.  Matters only got worse when the coffee issue did NOT get resolved. Strike two.

Thursday needed something normal after such a crazy Wednesday. It started at six in the morning with as close to a direct hit as I ever want to encounter. We left for shelter shortly after that first round cleared out. The three trees sitting on the house would have probably anchored us from being carried away, but my husband was worried about the structural integrity more than anything else. A crack in the kitchen and a crack in the boys’ bedroom hinted at some serious damage.

He and I drove back to see our property during one of the many breaks to check on everything or more to see if there WAS anything to check on. The highway was covered with downed trees that had not been there before. A second storm had struck our community. The factory a mile from us had been demolished.

It looked like everything for us was still in the same shape that we had left it. No electricity, a hole in the wall and three trees on the roof. Home sweet home.

We returned to hunker down for two more hours sheltered from the storms then we made the dark ride home. The stars were shining bright but they only seemed to add to the darkness. The town near our home was dark and the drive home was covered with debris. If you did not know your way by instinct then you were NOT going to find it by sight.

It will take months for us to recover from the storms that swept through on Wednesday, April 27, 2011. I walked around yesterday looking for some idea of what I could do and I am still looking. My to-do list includes a lot of boxing up and throwing out and hope.

Hope from the Storm

Faith – I hope that my attitude and actions show my faith in God. He did so much preparing our lives for the storms and sometimes we miss what He has done for what is coming when the storms hit.

Testimony – I hope that what happened that morning allows us to tell of God’s protection and guidance. We were in the roar of the storm, but no one was hurt and even they had a sense of calm during the chaos.

Praise – I hope that this storm draws an entire community together to praise the blessings that can come from the storm. It will take months for all the trees to be cleared, but many of the projects that we have talked about for years will be completed when the work is done. We made new friends and reconnected with old friends during the storm. The calls of concern and support were a reminder that we are not alone.

Determination – I know that I am called to write. Journaling became my only release and I continue to journal about the experience. God put a desire and a purpose in my heart when it comes to writing and I have to be determined to push beyond all of the distractions (no matter what their packaging) to reach the place.

The storms of life come unexpectedly and sometimes with great devastation. But the sun comes up the next day. See past the debris and destruction and dig down for your hope. Never let the things that are right now hinder you from experiencing the blessing of tomorrow.

Let the faith that is planted in your heart through worship, study and prayer grow a testimony that you share through your words. Praise the Hand that guides and be determined to stay focused on Him no matter how the waves try to toss you about.

Extreme Couponing

By Genaire Walker

Extreme Couponing anyone?  I recently became a fan of Extreme Couponing, the new show broadcast on TLC.   Though I watched my first episode quite by accident, something interested me about people who dedicated  considerable time honing a skill that allowed them leave a grocery store with $1,100 dollars of groceries for a mere $52 bucks. 

Intrigued, I began to research and implement couponing in my own home (albeit with a less “Extreme” and more pragmatic approach).  One would think after years writing ads, I of all people, should be immune to “buy it now” web blinkies and 60 second shameless plugs for products and paychecks.

My first month of couponing revealed otherwise.  Not only was I faced with a sobering reality check of my stewardship habits, it forced me to take a hard look at the small fox that has found its way into too many of our homes – the need for instant gratification.

Even I was not immune to a culture where instant gratification is the norm.   Today, everything from our account balances to our oatmeal must be available in only a moment.  Lightening fast Wi-Fi connections allow us to get email, locate friends, share pictures and tweet -- instantly.  It seems everything that surrounds us screams:  SEE IT NOW! HAVE IT NOW! DO IT NOW! 

Much like other areas in my daily walk; couponing requires a serious mental shift, and a lot of change.  Retraining has been challenging to say the least. Here are a few of the things I have learned so far:

·         Couponing requires patience. Instant gratification must be eliminated for success. Extreme couponers only buy when it is the most profitable.  This means getting control of self.

·         The successful couponer has lost a sense of entitlement. They live on what is available and what is on sale, instead of insisting on favorite products, brands or timing. 

·         Couponers think exponentially, plan carefully and act confidently.  (Imagine if more people exhibited faith in this way!)

·         The best coupon clippers realize blessings can be multiplied.  If one is a good deal, why not multiply it and have an abundance share?

One of the best tips I saw on couponing came from www.grocerycouponguide.com.  An article suggests taking $20.00  and practice using coupons to donate as much as possible to a local food pantry.  Not only does this practice bless others, but it retrains the mind to let go of brand loyalty and bad spending habits.   Realizing that the author was able to donate thousands of dollars worth of food for only a few hundred got me excited to try and bless others on my meager budget!

As with any reality TV show, some of the people on Extreme Couponing have gone way overboard; complete with family drama; OCD arrangements of coupons and stockpiles that border on hoarding.  But applied in moderation, there are some valuable concepts to be learned.

 I won’t even pretend that I am going to live for months on $1 per day; dumpster dive for newspapers, or fill my home to the roof with toilet paper and ketchup.   I will, however, allow God to make me more thoughtful, hopeful, grateful and giving --- and save a few bucks in the process.  Now that’s a sweet deal!

“Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness.”

-          2 Cor 9:10 - NIV

A Good Writer's Favorite Things

Learn everything you need to know about writing in two minutes and forty-five seconds. 
(To be sung to the tune of  "My Favorite Things." ) And a-one, a-two...

Show me, don’t tell me, write clearly concisely
Polishing, reviewing, re-reading, rewriting.
Sentences too long will never take wing

These are an editor’s favorite things.

Typewritten manuscripts with proper spacing,

Proof-read and re-read with accurate numbering

No run-on sentences with misspellings,

These are a publisher’s favorite things.

Authors with bios, a blog and a web site

Pictures professional, taken in good light,

Willing and ready to try anything

These are a marketer’s favorite things.

When you’re writing

Seems so frightening

When you’re feeling sad

Just simply remember these favorite things

And soon you’ll be feeling glad.

Use proper grammar, correct punctuation,

Be active, not passive, in all your creation.

Make sure each article tells just one thing.

These are a good writer’s favorite things.

“Don’t quit your day job, keep writing, keep trying”

Royalties, book lists and caffeine and whinning.
Words full of praise about all your writing,
These are a good writer’s favorite things.

Working at home in your bathrobe and PJs,

Feeling creative and smart on the good days,

Praising the Lord for the joy writing brings,

These are a good writer’s favorite things.

Tell your story,

For God’s glory!

Stop that feeling sad!

Just always remember these favorite things,

Trust God

And start feeling glad!

What’s Your Dream?

By Shelly Atkins

When we were little kids, we dreamed about the amazing things we would do when we grew up. Somewhere along the line, we gave up on these dreams. Maybe someone told us we didn’t really have the athletic talent an Olympic gold medal swimmer, or some one said hardly anyone makes it as a singer on Broadway. Or maybe it’s just not practical to jump on an airplane and travel the world. I mean, how would you make any money?

 And that’s what it boiled down to for me. I couldn’t possibly be a writer, how would I make any money. So I tried other practical things like teaching and journalisim. But those aren’t my passions. Not my dreams. Not what I wanted to be when I grew up. I’d lost my vision, my dream for my future. I was letting life take me on a journey without a map. I didn’t like the direction I was going, but felt powerless to do anything about it. I had lost my vision. 

Without vision, we wander around in the dark both literally (if we lose the ability to see with our eyes) and figuratively (if we loose the ability to discern with our hearts.) The dictionary defines vision as “the act or power of anticipating that which will or may come to be.” (from www.dictionary.com). Isn’t that faith?

A few months ago, someone on a social network I’m a part of asked the question, “If you could change your situation, the way you fill your days, what would you do?” The answer for me was simple: I’d quit my job and work as a freelance writer full time. 

But the first rule of freelacing is: DON’T QUIT YOUR DAY JOB.

I haven’t ever really been one to follow all the rules. The more I thought and prayed about quitting, the more I wanted to do it. But I was scared. What if all those fears I kept telling my self were true? All those fears that kept me in a job for years: What if I wasn’t good enough? What if I didn’t make any money? What if I quit and I hate freelancing? 

Last week I put in notice at my job at a local newspaper. I have a little over a month left. I feel free now to work on what I want to do, interview and research the things that interest me and fill my writing days with my own stories and ideas.

Quitting has taken a great leap of faith. But isn’t that vision? I have a vision now, I’m working on turning that vision into goals and setting steps to achieve those goals. I have a map and am dictating my own journey.

What’s your vision? Are you writing it down and working towards it? What do you need to get there?

Say it Now

By Helen Knueven

While I was doing some major organization in my office, I ran across an unmailed card.  It was addressed to my sister eight years ago.  Way too late to mail since she passed away about seven years ago.

“How did I luck out and get you for such a great sister and friend?  Thanks so much for listening to me the other day! Thanks for being you – that’s all you need to be!”

Tears welled up in me as I realized I never really said this to her. I hope that she knew while she was here how special she was to me! 

Why do I find it a huge challenge to have before me all at the same time: a card, a pen, an updated address book and a stamp?

Hours later as I was still organizing I found another card meant to be mailed to my mother-in-law.  I remembered how I spent hours wording and rewording it.  And here it lay unopened and unmailed!

Part of the card said, “After 40 years of marriage – you and Dad still light up the room!  Thanks for showing me what it means to ‘share your love’ with others.  You sure do! We are so lucky!”

It was just another Hallmark card that never fulfilled it’s purpose!  Mom has also passed away and I had not communicated my heart feelings to her.

I guess I would like to communicate one thing now while I have the chance: If it’s worth saying, say it now!

I have to believe that we say things with our lives that are never verbalized and are still felt.  But is there someone you appreciate far more than they realize?  Let them know in some way while you have the chance.  Maybe it’s a good friend that listens to you at critical times.   You won’t regret it and they won’t forget it.

The truth is most people hear more discouraging words than they do encouraging ones.  Even so, the power of one encouraging word is so impacting.

If you think I’m exaggerating, think back.  Can you remember an encouraging word someone said to you years ago?  Opportunites are time-sensitive, but when we take advantage of them, they can have lasting effects.

Of Coffee and Clutter

By Kristi Paxton

I fingered through a pile of magazines yesterday while waiting for my mammogram. “Good Housekeeping” was on top. Instead, I reached for “Men’s Journal.” I suppose this makes me ripe for gender counseling, but let me explain.

Men’s Journal’s cover promised topics about YellowstonePark, Training for a Triathlon and How to Build a Better Kitchen. Well OK, there was one lame title, “Golf Gone Wild,” but the full headshot of Jake Gyllenhaal more than made up for that slip-up.

In comparison, Good Housekeeping sported headshots of three movie stars aged 37, 44 and 55. Judging by appearance each had a personal trainer, a zillion dollars and a full-time makeup artist. Front page copy insinuated that women could be happiest at these advanced ages, and that sex and sit-ups (and cleaning house?) would guarantee it. I’m not buying.

Merely a title “Good Housekeeping” is enough to scare me off. In 1974, my boy-husband and I wanted to rent a dilapidated farm house and the landlord had only one qualifying question: “Is your wife a good housekeeper?” Granted, the 70s were unenlightened times, but I wanted to point and scream, “What about him?”

In 1994 and in full illumination of the women’s movement, I landed an interview for a coveted promotion. Same question. Shocked, I begged for clarification, “Are you asking about the organization of my office and safety of my workroom floor?” My interviewer replied, “No. How clean is your home? I can always judge a woman by how well she cleans her house.”If that question had been asked a male—well, that’s a moot point because it never has been asked of a male.

Today, I’m just using all of this as an excuse for not keeping an immaculate house and an excuse to rant about it. Most days I’d rather read a book, bake something yummy, paddle my kayak, attend boot camp or enjoy a root canal. Not clean house.

OK. I did peek inside the cover of that waiting room GH magazine and saw—buried in all the articles about glamour, sex and cleaning—one tiny title that caught my eye:“Good (enough) Housekeeping.”

Guess I’ll pick up the big chunks, do some laundry and enjoy a cup of coffee on the deck. Good enough!