Born to Soar

The following is something I wrote back in September and I was reminded of today.  I've also posted it on my weight-loss blog.



Yesterday, I had an epiphany.

For almost a week now, I’ve been faithfully keeping track of what I eat and how much I exercise.  It hasn’t necessarily been enjoyable.  I never have been the type to critically analyze and calculate every single piece of food I put into my body.  Nor have I been one who thrives on exercise.  So it is little shock to anyone why I’m in the terrible shape I am.  But that wasn’t my epiphany.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a writer.  My earliest memories of writing take me back to the 5th grade when I began writing down certain dreams I had and then embellishing them.  Then, in sixth grade, my class received a writing assignment.  We were shown several pictures and told to write a story about one of them.  I don’t remember how much time we had to work on these stories.  But I distinctly remember coming home from school that day and immediately getting to work on mine.  From the time I came home from school until the time I went to bed each night, and then all day on weekends, I wrote.  When the time was up, I still wasn’t finished.  So my teacher gave me a little extra time after I submitted an outline of my story to her.  Once finished, I had somehow worked each of the pictures into the plot line of my story.  The day we received them back, before handing them out, the teacher made an announcement.  She typically did not give out A+ grades because she believed that there was always room for improvement.  However, she felt that one student deserved an A + grade for their story.  Without revealing whom had earned this high honor, she instead began to read the opening of the chosen story.  It was mine.  Everyone immediately knew it was mine as well because of the deep shade of red I turned.  All through junior high and high school, and even somewhat into my college years, I spent many hours during and after school writing story after story.  Then, after my babies were born, there weren’t enough hours in the day for sleep or showering, let alone writing.  I set it aside, telling myself that I’d pick it up again when the kids were older.  Now, they are older and time is still at a premium.  But that wasn’t my epiphany.

In my life, I’ve sat through at least twenty-five years of Sunday school, attended a Bible college for eight years (yes, I crammed 4 years of study into 8), and have watched each and every VeggieTale countless times.  I know God made me and loves me very much.  I know that I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  I’ve known this for 31 years (I’m not counting the other four years of my life because let’s face it, who remembers much before they’re four?).  But somehow knowing it and knowing it were two different things for me.   And that was my epiphany. 

Because God loves me enough to send His Son Jesus to die for me, and because I am fearfully and wonderfully made, I am beautiful in His sight.  I am worthwhile.  I matter.

I realized that because I matter, I don’t want to be overweight any longer.  I don’t want to keep setting a bad example for my children.  Therefore, I am actually excited about this new weight loss journey I’m on.  And so if using a website to keep track of everything I eat and each time I exercise helps me to finally lose the weight once and for all and reach a healthy me, then I am excited about it!  I deserve to be healthy.  I deserve to be happy.

I also realized that because I deserve to be happy, it was a mistake to put away a gift that God gave me.  To that end, over the weekend I began writing again.  Each day, I’ve spent a few hours writing--losing myself in a world entirely of my own making.  I’m not just doing this for my own pleasure and enjoyment, however.  I want to use this gift to glorify the One who gave it to me, whatever happens.  Whatever comes from it.  Even if nothing comes of it but a closer walk with Him.

My epiphany was that I was born to soar--we all were.  And I’ve decided to spread my wings and let my Heavenly Father teach me to fly.

Book Review for "Leaving" by Karen Kingsbury (Kindle edition)

For me, a mark of a good writer is the ability to make readers feel the same emotions as the characters they are reading about. This is something Karen Kingsbury has always been able to do, in my opinion, and Leaving is no exception.

Many of us have followed Bailey and the rest of the Flanigan family ever since the Redemption series. We've watched Bailey grow into the beautiful young woman of God that she is. Yes, these are fictional characters. But after many years and several series, they've begun to feel like friends. The characters inspire us to be better mothers, siblings, children, and friends. With so many broken families, it's comforting to read about families that are loving toward each other.

I've also had strong opinions about Bailey's relationship--or lack thereof--with Cody. Obviously, as this is the first book in a series, there is not a final resolution between the two of them. In fact, at the end of the book, we are left wondering if indeed the two of them will ever end up together. There are potential love-interests for each that could be made to work. I wasn't originally thrilled about this when I heard about it (before reading the book), but after reading about Brandon's relationship with Bailey and Cheyenne's relationship with Cody, I'm extremely intrigued to see what Ms. Kingsbury will do with these relationships in the remaining books.
 

Leaving is an enjoyable read and I cannot wait until later this summer when the next book in the series, Learning comes out.

Book Review for "The Perfect Bride for Mr. Darcy" by Mary Lydon Simonsen

This book was referred to me by one who described it as "not a bodice-ripper". While I can say that it does not go to the extreme that some of the P&P sequels I've heard about do, I wouldn't exactly call this give-to-your-Grandma clean, either. There is some "minor" language that I didn't appreciate (I say "minor", even though there is no such thing in my book. Foul language is foul language. I say "minor" merely because there are those who would not consider taking the Lord's name in vain, the word "bas***d", or the word "d**n" as foul language). However, what really bothered me the most about this book was the allusions to Mr. Darcy's illicit affairs with widowed women and his lustful fantasies about Elizabeth. Ew! I have nothing against sex between a married man and wife, but I certainly do not need to read about it. And call me a prude if you like, but I've always imagined that Mr. Darcy lived a chaste life until he met Lizzy. I understand that it was all the rage for gentlemen to take mistresses. But you will never convince me that it was something Mr. Darcy did.

Ms. Simonsen certainly gave us a new picture of Anne de Bourgh, however, as a feisty schemer who plots a way to bring her cousin and Elizabeth together at Pemberley. This is certainly an Anne we need not feel sorry for, as she is quite capable of taking care of herself thank you very much.

She did not paint Georgiana in quite the same way, either. In this story, Georgiana is a bit flighty, hopelessly obsessed with gothic novels and tragedies. At Ramsgate, Georgiana discovered on her own what a despicable cad Wickham was and was preparing to tell him off when Darcy entered the scene---quite a bit different than any other version of P&P I've read. This Georgiana is far more independent than the Georgiana I am accustomed to and doesn't really seem to need the loving instruction from new sister Elizabeth.

Jane also gets a makeover--and a backbone--in Ms. Simonsen's book. Will a curious (and odd) new suitor throw a monkey wrench in Bingley's plan to win back Jane's heart?

In the end, no matter how well the story may have been written (I'll grant Ms. Simonsen that), I just could not get over her portrayal of my favorite literary hero. A pervy Darcy is one I just cannot stomach. Give me the gentlemanly Darcy any day.

Change of Heart - "The Reunion" Prologue

I had a change of heart and decided to post the prologue to my story, "The Reunion".  Due to security issues, this is probably all of the story I'll be able to show, however. Hope you enjoy it!

The Reunion - Prologue

June - Present Year

    The Durango crept along the cemetery road past rows and rows of tombstones, coming to a stop in front of one underneath an ancient weeping willow tree.  A young woman emerged from the vehicle and reached back inside for a bag and the box of plants sitting on the passenger seat.  She shut the door with her leg and carefully made her way over to the tombstone.  Next to it was a bench, and onto this she set her armful of plants.  Then, she reached into the bag for her gardening tools.
    She knelt in front of the tombstone, digging holes and then planting each of the various bunches of flowers in the loamy soil.  Satisfied with her work, she wiped her brow with the back of her hand and settled back in the lush grass.
    Sighing, she thought again about today’s date: June 2.  Had it already been a year?  It didn’t seem possible.  This was the first time she’d been to his grave in months.  She’d last visited eight weeks after the funeral.  At first, she was in no shape to even leave the house, sicker than she’d ever been in her life.  Then, once she’d started feeling better, Cancun experienced the full brunt of a brutal Colorado winter.  She just couldn’t risk an accident on the mountain road between her house and the cemetery--not when she was the only parent they had left.  And then in recent months, she’d been busier than she’d ever thought possible.  No matter how busy things were at home, or how much seeing his beloved name in stone with those two dates below it, she knew nothing would keep her from being here today with him.  On the very worst kind of anniversary.

Andrew Emmitt Darcy  
Safe in the arms of Jesus 

    She ran her fingers lovingly over the name, melancholy once again at the gruesome thought of his life cut so violently short. He’d only been thirty.  So young.  It still didn’t make sense to her.  But did losing a loved one this way ever make sense?  There was no comfort in knowing that she wasn’t the first, nor would she be the last to experience this horror.
    She listened to the wind whispering it’s words of comfort through the leaves on the trees, closing her mind to the memories of that dreadful night.  Not yet.  She was not ready--there were other things to think of first. Using her sleeve to wipe the tears from her eyes, she brushed her hands off and reached once more for the bag. From inside the bag, she carefully pulled out a small box made of marble.  Lifting the lid, she extracted each item one by one.  A picture drawn by her four-year-old son of his interpretation of Daddy singing with the angels in Heaven.  A small plastic bag containing several wispy locks of hair taken from her two-year-old son’s first haircut.  Another plastic bag containing several pictures.  These she removed from the bag and held up, explaining each one.
    “Here’s Emmitt at his fourth birthday party with the toy train set our parents chipped in and bought him.  And here’s Will taking his first steps.”  She flipped through the pictures one by one, each memory more bittersweet than the last.  She would always treasure these special moments with her sons--Andrew’s sons.  They were pieces of him she would have with her forever.  They both even boasted more of his features and appearance than hers.  Yet, she wished once again that it could’ve been different.  That he could’ve been in the pictures, sharing these precious memories with her.
    There were several pictures that had been separated from the others when she’d first removed them from the bag.  These she now took in her hands. 
    “When I was here last, I told you that I suspected I might be pregnant.  Turns out that I was. Andrew, I’d like to introduce you to your little daughter, Andrea,” she said, and held up a picture of a tiny infant wrapped in a pink blanket.  “I named her after both of us--Andrea Grace.”  One by one, she held up several pictures of their daughter taken at various stages in her short four months of life.  “She was conceived that morning....that morning we were together for the very last time.  She was my very last gift from you, my love.”  A daughter.  When Will was born, they’d talked about trying once more for a little girl.  While he loved his sons, Andrew had always wanted a little girl who would be “Daddy’s little girl”.  And of course, she had dreamed of having someone to dress up and show off.  Now, they finally had a daughter.  A daughter her husband would never hold close to his heart.  A daughter without a father to walk her down the aisle when she married.
    It was still incomprehensible to her.
    She returned the pictures to the bag, gently lay them in the box with the other mementos, and then placed the box behind the flowers up against the tombstone.  She’d leave them here for him.  Even though she knew he wasn’t actually here, it comforted her somehow to know that the box was there.
    She leaned back against the tree, drew her knees up into her chest, and closed her eyes.  Even closed, the words on the tombstone were clear enough that they seemed embedded in her very mind.  Against her will, the memories of that day flooded back to her.  Some of the memories were achingly tender, precious.  But others, like those from that horrible night... 
    The night of the reunion---the night Andrew was killed.

Book Review for "Shades of Blue" by Karen Kingsbury (Kindle Edition)

This is a powerful story that reveals what happens after an abortion. Ms. Kingsbury definitely does not gloss over the fact that abortion is essentially murder (thank you!), thereby having a lasting effect on women (and men) who make this "choice". Brad & Emma's story was powerfully written and I especially appreciated reading about how we as Christians should respond toward others in crisis. As always, her writing ability pulled me into the story early on, making me feel like I was a third party participating in Brad & Emma's journey to forgiveness. At the conclusion of the book, Ms. Kingsbury shared some very personal information with readers that brought me as a reader even closer to her--not many authors are willing to be "real". Shades of Blue is a must-read--not only for those who love a good story. But for those who need to hear that there is forgiveness and redemption following an abortion, as well. For the latter group, I pray you find the healing and forgiveness that is available to you from Jesus Christ.

Book Review for "Rooms: A Novel" by James Rubart (Kindle Edition)

There are no words to adequately express thoughts and emotions reading this book stirred up inside of me. I originally started with only the sample, but had to purchase the rest of the book as soon as I finished those few pages. My family and I were on a long road trip and I literally read Rooms in its entirety on the trip. It was that good. The characters were well fleshed out and seemed very real to me. The description of the house and each new room...amazing. Best of all, however, was the main character's journey back to a relationship with God.

This is definitely not a story to be missed. But if you do decide to read it, I warn you now: you'd better make sure you have plenty of time for reading. Once you start, you will not be able to put it down until the end.

I've seen some pretty negative reviews for this book. Several of them have been because of the book's Christian content. There are those who are bound and determined to give negative reviews to books merely because they are Christian. Fine. I hope the author pays them no mind (because I as a reader sure don't). The ones that I don't understand are the ones from fellow Christians questioning the author's theology, or making assumptions that are just not in the book. Mr. Rubart is not saying that wealthy, successful businessmen can't be Christians or are demon-possessed. That was not at all the message I received from reading the book. It is where and in what Micah placed his meaning for living and all of his importance that was called into question. The Bible is quite clear that our hope and trust is to be placed in Jesus Christ. Our focus of worship is to be God alone. What do we love? Is it money? Our possessions? Power or standing in the world? Even people can take our focus off of God. Money is not evil. Success is not evil. Possessions are not evil. But when we place them in importance above our relationship with Jesus Christ or hold onto them tightly, they become idols. Micah's power and wealth was an idol. Sometimes the happiest, most content people are those without many material goods. Why? Because they are not owned by their belongings. On the other hand, I know several wealthy businessmen and women who are quite generous with their material blessings.

Many have compared this book with The Shack. Honestly, I have serious issues with the theology presented in that book. I do not, however, have issues with this one. This is a book about a prodigal returning Home and how those around him help him find his way back to a relationship with God the Father. Period.

Book Review for "Healer: A Novel" by Linda Windsor (Kindle Edition)

As always, I will not include a synopsis of the book, as the product description and other reviewers themselves have already done a great job at describing this story. I loved absolutely everything about this book. There was chemistry--but clean chemistry--between the two main characters. The historical setting and characters were fleshed out (but, I admit, rather confusing at times crying to keep all the names straight); the inclusion of King Arthur and his contemporaries was extremely interesting and made me want to read more about them.

As a Christian, I also really enjoyed the redemptive nature of The Healer. Christ's forgiveness and free gift of Grace was the central theme of the book, so some who are not Christians may be turned off by this. The author also included the subject of Spiritual warfare in the story, which was also interesting to read about. It is a very real thing, whether acknowledged or not, and I appreciate Ms. Windsor for not shying away from it.

This is the first book of a series and I am eagerly anticipating the release of future books.