How I was SUMMONED by a news article from long ago....

There is a story behind every story: behind every one that is true; behind every one that is fictional. One just has to decide how far back to go....

I'm the chubby one on the left.... Bab nestled with sisters.

I met Bab when we were little girls. Our mothers were friends in high school, and they did their best with writing letters and planning a family gathering once a year, usually in the summer. Bab and I ended up at the same out-of-state college; and after graduation, like our mothers, exchanged a letter now and then, a Christmas note, a birthday card. 

Retirement brought opportunities for travel and when in Arizona, Bab and I reconnected. She shared a story from long ago and suggested that I put it in a book. Not wanting to tackle another book, I shrugged off her suggestion. However, soon after returning home, the news articles from this past story were in my mailbox. I read them and was hooked.

The book, SUMMONED, is an anthology which includes the novelette, "Summoned" and six other short stories--most inspired by real-life events.

The Prologue to "Summoned" follows:

Prologue

The phrase hit and run fled in muted tones up and down the halls, lingered by the lockers and restrooms, and scuttled at the end of the day onto the buses on a cold winter day. As a senior in high school, I couldn’t stop thinking, what a horrible way to die--out on a country road, staring up at the stars, unable to move, and wondering how God could allow this to happen. Strangers found eighteen-year-old Michael lying along the side of County Road B 20. Whoever ran over him must have known him, or so everyone said. Otherwise, his arms wouldn’t have been crossed over his chest lying so neatly by the roadside.

 I run my fingertips over the rough edges of his grave stone and consider how his death and the secrets behind it continue to plague his family and friends.

Curiosity over Michael’s circumstances provided an atmosphere of confusion for months although we stopped talking about it. One spring day in the school library, I pulled the book, “What’s In a Name?” from a dusty shelf and found Michael. Derived from the Hebrew designation, it belonged to one of the seven archangels—the one closest to God and responsible for carrying out God’s judgments. The name means, Who is like God? –a rhetorical question implying no one is like God. This new knowledge only scattered my perceptions, or should I say, misperceptions.

At the time of Michael’s misfortune, I did not know that my own life would also end tragically and unresolved.

Click on amazon.com or barnes and noble link above to get a better look...
A book signing event which includes a book talk and books for sale will be held soon.

Burdens to Bare? Or... Everyday Easter

I awoke at 4:30 on Easter morning with a smile. Not really needing to get out of bed yet, I spent time with Jesus. There were few requests... just me mainly praising Him for His grace, His love, the price He paid so that I might have life eternally.

--my morning thoughts on Good Friday were of a different nature: "Burdens to Bear." We all have them, and they're not fun. They range from tiny irritating things to issues that you think at the time will literally do you in. You and I could each make out a list right now, or if you're like me, they very easily come to you in the middle of the night when you would rather be in cozy sleep.

The sense of burden hit me in another way that morning when reading a "Mornings With Jesus" devotion by Susanna Aughtmon. She wrote of the "heart wrenching work Jesus' Father had asked him to do--to save the world. To take on every sin for all of mankind for all of eternity."

Again... to take on every sin for all of mankind for all of eternity....

Can you imagine the sense of burden Jesus carried?
I can only begin to fathom such a thing.

But because I can only begin to understand the price he paid, I determined that morning to try harder not add to the burden myself with anything I consider little or anything I consider big.

My eye-rolling when showing disrespect would be a "little" thing.
My lack of trust and a worrisome attitude would be a "big" thing.

The poster-sized sheet in my room has Psalm 140:23 written in my own handwriting.
I posted it a couple of weeks ago.
It took on new meaning....

Search me O'God and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts. Point out anything in me that offends you, and lead me along the path of everlasting life.

HE IS RISEN.
HE IS ALIVE.
SO, WE, TOO HAVE THIS PROMISE
Easter is not past.
It should be a beginning of our own story each and every day we wake up.

Prayer: Heavenly Father, thank you for sending your Son, Jesus, to carry our burden. May we everyday live EASTER and be thankful for your lovingkindness, your grace, forgiveness, your uncensored love. Amen and amen...

Ears to Hear and Eyes to See

There's an early morning humming, a whooshing, a gentle howl as the wind buffets buildings, wires, twigs, and leaves. Lawn remnants tumble and end up in a neighbor's hideaway. Tree branches and shrubs twist indecisively--this way or that? Robins take refuge; deer huddle in nearby woods; bunnies hover under the woodpile. The cardinal my dad made from scraps of wood, its blue button eyes the color of his, watches with interest from his perch on the deck rail.Rainfall sprinkles, smears, and then pelts windowpanes and glides downward leaving the glass cleaner than any purchased product could imagine. On the street, a stream evolves and hurries to the nearest culvert--soon to mingle with the Cedar River.... And another journey begins.

Elizabeth Eaton writes, "It isn't possible to be whole apart from the rest of creation. We miss the divine all around us and deny the intimate presence of God within us. ...Human beings are part of creation. Human beings are connected to everything in the cosmos. Human beings are connected to God..."

Whether you are beholding a rainfall, the sun rise or set, a rainbow, the various creatures created by God...  Whether you are listening to the wind, a child's sweet babble, a cardinal whistle.... Keep in mind that we are connected to Creation; we are connected to God. 



Ears to hear
Eyes to see
Connected to Creation
Connected to God
Awesome thing, isn't it? 

Journalism 101, 1967

Ten to fifteen of us assembled in a forgotten classroom, in a declining building on a small college campus, 1967, for Journalism 101. The professor was aged, white beard touching his top shirt button, his hair wispy and untamed. The floorboards creaked; I found a seat in the middle of everyone else and blended. I hoped for an easy class.

After the first session, I was hooked on the way of words: using them to evoke emotions, convey nuances. Learning that word order within the sentence makes a difference. Knowing that sometimes less is more. Striking verbs, using magical adjectives, and understanding the reality of an unworthy adverb.

Within a short time, I had poetry published in the college periodical and a national anthology. It was a humbling and vulnerable awakening as I was putting words on paper with my name below. It kind of said: this is me.

Finding a job, starting a teaching career, getting married, running a household, and both overwhelmed and overjoyed with the births of four children, the creativity was put on hold. In fact, I never even thought of writing.

However, I was in to reading and often thought: I can write a better book than this. Forty years after the Journalism 101 class, I sat down at my Gateway and let my fingers fly. Ten pages, twenty pages, thirty pages, and then a roadblock.

Dear God, If I'm to write a book, I need some help. I remember the prayer offered somewhat facetiously, but nevertheless, uttered. After the prayer, I never knew what twists and turns the story-line would take; it just came to me every time I sat down to type. There was no master plan, but it fell into place.

It's been almost ten years since that first book came out and it's been a journey of learning and living, living and learning--about lots of things--not just writing, editing, publishing, marketing. But living and life.

This last book, SUMMONED, available soon, is an anthology consisting of a novelette and several other shorter narratives. Most are inspired by true stories. This is where the living comes in or we could just say life happens.

Praise be to God.

Grapes of Wrath and the Abels

John Steinbeck's THE GRAPES OF WRATH is a story of the Joad family. Forced from their farm during the Depression, they headed to California with thousands of others to pursue a dream and ended up as migrant workers.

Both of my parents experienced the Depression in different ways. However, they raised a family who always had plenty.

Nevertheless, there is an Abel family photo that reminds me of the Joad family. Maybe, it's the black and white muteness, maybe it's the expression on our faces of being just a little bit worn out.

The shirts my brothers and I are wearing were made by Mom. The jeans, although store-bought, were patched by Mom. The rugs inside our house were made from carpet bag rolls and coal kept our house warm in winter months. Our bellies were full of a harvest from the garden adjacent to the house. Our minds were filled with scripture read by Dad after a supper meal. We were a unit. We worked as a family. Chores were divided, purposefulness was not a issue; we didn't understand the word "boredom." There were no gadgets to entertain or bombard our eyes and ears. The activities were mainly family focused: Farm Bureau potlucks, a church picnic at a camp, after-lunch family softball games, and times with grandparents.

Although there were fights, the bonds existed for practical and spiritual sustenance. We were a unit and our unit was part of something greater which we understood when we ventured off to school each fall and headed to church every Sunday.

I got thinkin' how we was holy when we was one thing, an' mannkin' was  holy when it was one 
thing. An' it only got unholy when one mis'able little fella got the bit in his teeth an' run off his own way, kickin' an' draggin' an fightin'. Fella like that bust the holi-ness. But when they're all workin' together...--that's right, that's holy. [from THE GRAPES OF WRATH]

Although the Joad family struggled to keep their family together, they were also fighting for the rights of their fellow man by organizing migrant workers, sharing their resources, etc. so that the unit would be stronger. The GRAPES OF WRATH illustrates the significance of sticking together, working together.

Scripture tells us that we are One in Christ. 1 Corinthians reads, "There is one body, but it has many parts. But all its many parts make up one body. It is the same with Christ. ...You are the body of Christ. Each one of you is a part of it."

I'm so thankful for my parents, my siblings, my growing-up experience.
The world is so different today.
But I think we have something to remember  from our past that we can share in a variety of ways in today's world.

Sticking together, 

working together, 

remembering we are One in Christ, 

and always praising God for the promises He has given us.