I CAN'T DO THIS!

So I have looked for You in the sanctuary, to see Your power and glory.” Psalm 63: 2


As a struggling writer, I’ve often asked myself, “Why did I ever think I could do this? Whatever possessed me to try to write a book? What was I thinking?” No doubt the same questions most writers have asked themselves at some point in their writing journey.

Somewhere along the way I learned perseverance. Other writers came alongside my sinking hope and threw me a life line. Workshop teachers pounded the lesson home until my brain convinced my heart that I shouldn’t give up. Every time I entreated God for direction, He whispered the same thing: Keep on working. Don’t quit. Endure. Endurance drives determination. Determination fuels stamina. Stamina encourages diligence. Diligence nurtures perseverance. Perseverance builds character. That list sounds ominously similar to what we try to teach our children. >>Light bulb moment<< That’s what my heavenly Father was trying to teach me. Keep trying, keep learning, keep honing your craft, don’t quit.

With this realization, I understood where those questions were coming from. I was afraid of my own weakness. But God tells us in His word our weakness is a pedestal to display His power and glory. If we strive to stay close to God so that we recognize His voice and persevere along the path on which He directs us, we can expect to witness His hand at work in our lives.

Once I “got” the perseverance thing, God asked me to take another step. He called it surrender. This was much easier than learning perseverance. Lifting up my writing to God each day was a concept I relished. More than anything else, I want to please Him with what I write. In all I do and all I write, honoring God takes first priority. When I get stuck or my plot line lacks energy, when my characters don’t cooperate or I uncover a tidbit in research that throws me a curve, I look to the Lord and ask Him what I should do. Where does He want this story to go? How can this character demonstrate honoring God? What does He want me to communicate to a reader? What I learned was so sweet and so exciting—every time I strive to surrender my writing to Him, He never lets my questions go unanswered.

I always thought it would take a miracle to get published. Like Martha in the book of John, chapter eleven, I told the Lord, “I can’t do this.” Jesus said to Martha, “Did I not say to you that if you would believe you would see the glory of God?” And God said to me, “All I have asked you to do is persevere, and by doing so to look for Me to show my power and glory.” So, fortified by God’s strength, I kept on.

Miracles do happen. Within the next three weeks, thousands of Heartsong Presents book club members (http://www.heartsongpresents.com) will hold my debut novel in their hands. I stand in awe of the way God has carried me—and is continuing to carry me—along this writing journey. Only He knows what direction we will take next. Steering isn’t my job. I’m a passenger on this journey, and the scenery along the way is magnificent.

Thanks for letting me share my heart.

GIFT GIVING

"The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your soul in drought, and strengthen your bones. You shall be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water whose waters do not fail." Isaiah 58:11


Like many of you, I regard Christmas as a special, holy time. It is indeed a time of giving. God gave on that first Christmas more than two thousand years ago. Of course, with the help of television ads, retail and online merchants, and junk mail that overstuffs our mailboxes, the whole concept of “giving” at Christmas time has gotten skewed way out of proportion. We sometimes hear a report on the news how different charities are collecting toys to give to needy children or some group is calling for volunteers to help feed the homeless during this season—and those are wonderful things to do. But in the effort to roll back the clutter and cacophony of the commercialism, I try to set aside a specific block of time every day to simply be quiet before God. It was during one of these times recently that my heart was especially stricken with the desire to give Jesus a gift.
Granted, it’s not a unique idea. Christians over the centuries have proclaimed the message of giving a gift to Jesus on His birthday. Likewise, we’ve all heard it said we can’t out-give God. But I was determined to discover what I could give Jesus.

During my quiet times with Him, I asked Him to lay on my heart what He wanted from me: more dedication? More love? Greater faithfulness? Boldness in witnessing? Should I step up my service? Everything that crossed my mind seemed pitifully anemic. Don’t misunderstand me, the time spent in His presence wasn’t anemic, but what I discovered wasn’t what I asked or expected. During those times of quiet communication, He led me through some memories that evoked smiles of remembrance. It was like He was whispering, “Do you remember this?” “Remember the time you were strangling on your fear?” “Remember when you felt so alone?” “Remember when your heart was so broken, you believed it would never be whole again?” How did my prayer turn from a time of me asking Jesus what He wanted from me to a time of Him drawing from our well of memories?

And so we continued, Jesus speaking in loving tones and me wiping away sweet tears of recollection. Those times to which He gently turned my mind were difficult journeys. They were times I entered feeling I was a strong Christian, ready to tackle anything the world threw at me. But I soon discovered my glaring weakness, my pitiful neediness in the midst of the desert through which I found myself traveling. I remembered those desolate places—places in which I thought I was so isolated.

“But Lord, I want You to tell me what I can give You for Your birthday. How can I serve You better?”

I felt His warm smile in my heart and He simply kept reminding me of the many times I felt lost or afraid or tempted or hurt. In every instance, it was His closeness that carried me through the difficult time. Gradually, understanding dawned within me. I’d long grasped the concept of hard times and difficult journeys deepening my level of trust and faith. But a new enlightenment emerged. During those times when I was utterly alone or drained empty or completely helpless, I learned how to NEED Him, and I now realize that needing Him is the key to KNOWING Him. Intimate communion with Jesus is such a priceless gift. Now I understood His purpose in our time of remembrance. The gift He has given me has birthed the gift He wants from me: continuing communication, praise, gratitude, trust…and love. Never-ending love.

Thanks for letting me share my heart.

Changing...

Autumn is a time of change, the most obvious of which of course, is the foliage. During the years that I lived in Florida, I grievously missed watching the leaves change color in the fall. In the years since we’ve been in Georgia, I impatiently peer out my window and anxiously await the shorter days, the crisper temperatures, the pungent, spicy aroma of the woods, and the feast for the eyes as the verdant green leaves wave farewell to summer and cloak themselves in the vivid hues of autumn.

The turning of the calendar pages brings with it other seasonal changes—sweaters and jeans replace t-shirts and capris. The fireplace stands waiting for that first chilly evening, ready to cast its warm glow over the living room. I smile in anticipation of that first steaming mug of hot cider or hot chocolate.

Autumn brought another change this year. Every year, I journey to a special place in the north Georgia mountains. It’s a roadside scenic overlook that I visited five years ago with my son while he was undergoing cancer treatment. That day has become such a sweet memory for me, I return to that place every year and celebrate the life of my son, and thank God for the twenty-eight years He loaned Jonathan to us. My husband and I call the day “Sweet November”.

Last year, I was so disappointed when I pulled into that scenic overlook. The fence was broken down in several places, the weeds had taken over, the grass hadn’t seen a mower in months, there was trash strewn everywhere, and graffiti marred the lone bench. It broke my heart to see this special place so neglected. When I got home, I wrote a letter to the state agency whose responsibility it is to oversee the maintenance of the place. I included photos I’d taken, and I explained why this place is so special to me.

This year, as the time was nearing for me to make my annual Sweet November drive to the mountains, trepidation filled me. If the place looked so bad last year, how much worse would it be this year? Would it be closed down altogether? I asked God to prepare my heart in case my worst fears were realized. As I drove around the bend in the road and pulled into the parking area, tears filled my eyes—not because the place was unkempt or closed, but because it was beautiful.

The fence had been repaired and rebuilt, weeds were cut down, the grass was mowed, trash was picked up, and two new benches offered a place to sit and enjoy the mountain view. The golds, scarlets, and oranges dappled the mountainside with a patchwork of color—a tapestry background for the mercydrop God had prepared for me. How sweet to stand there and lift my hands in worship, thanking God for the change that had taken place.

When God came into my life forty-four years ago, He made a change. He cut away the weeds of self-sufficiency, repaired and adjusted the parameters in my life establishing Himself at the focal point. He cleaned away the trash and turned me around to show me the view from the mountaintop. Over the years, changes too numerous to count have come my way. Some of them have been joyous. Others have been painful. Some happened without warning. Others seemed to take forever to manifest. All have helped me grow.

When God comes in and changes a person’s heart, He isn’t finished. God will continue to orchestrate changes in His child’s life, stretching and tuning and molding that person, cutting back the weeds and renewing the beauty. It’s sweet to know that God will never leave me alone, but instead allow changes to reflect His goodness and mercy.

Thanks for letting me share my heart.

Trace It Back To The Source

“Most assuredly, I say to you that you will weep and lament…and you will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will be turned into joy.” John 16:20



I’ve been contemplating a question lately—a question to which, as a Christian, I already know the answer. However, I’m puzzled. Why is it that I sometimes allow my focus to become distracted and before I know it, people and things of this world have usurped the position that rightfully belongs to God?

The question is: What is the source of my joy? God showers us abundantly with things that bring joy—family, our life mate, our children, friends, interests, accomplishments, beauty, serenity—all have the potential to give us a measure of joy. But where the joy itself come from?

It’s impossible to count the things that make us smile, but for a moment, narrow your focus on one or two things. For you, it might be your children, or spending time with an aging parent or grandparent. Perhaps it’s sweet memories, or a day spent with a dear friend, or maybe a goal you set for yourself that you finally reached. Whatever comes to mind, close your eyes and think about the joy that wells within you as you immerse yourself in the gladness. Listen as you recall the laughter. Invite the sweet memory of the kinship or the exquisite attraction to something so beautiful it evokes tears.

Where does that joy come from? Is it really of our own making? Does it depend on circumstances? If circumstances change, does that mean your joy dissolves? Since we are finite creatures, any joy of our own making is equally finite.

As a writer, I’m often caught up in research surrounding my setting or my characters. Digging into the past often uncovers facts or records that dictate I must change my story line. Even though I write fiction, if the story is to be accurate and realistic, I must base it on truth. Otherwise, the foundation is weak and cannot support the weight of the message I’m trying to convey to the reader. If the reader is to take something of eternal value away from the story, I cannot build it on a temporal substructure.

With this mindset, I asked myself the question: What is the SOURCE of my joy? Those things that bring joy and laughter, memories and solace, must have their origin in truth. They are God-given. Whether my joy is found in my spouse or the memories I have of my son, the laughter I share with my sisters, the pure delight I experience with my nieces and nephews, or attaining a mile marker in my life, all of them come from the same source. Without God’s hand on my life, without His blessing, His strength, His protection, His peace, His faithfulness, none of these joyful things would exist. Every one is a priceless gift, given from the One who is the ultimate source of all joy.

If one of these things is taken away, does that mean my joy is extinguished? Grief is a very real emotion. Loss can sometimes knock us breathless. But if my source of peace and joy begins with who I am in Christ, then that is a foundation that will never crumble, regardless of what or who is removed from my life.

Jesus said, “Therefore you now have sorrow; but I WILL SEE YOU AGAIN, and your heart will rejoice, and your joy no one will take from you.” John 16:22

The solidity and permanence of my joy depends upon its source. If that source is the unmovable, unshakable rock of my refuge (Psalm 94:22) then my joy is just as unmovable. Jesus says no earthly thing can take that joy away from me.

Thanks for letting me share my heart.

"What if..."

If you're reading this blog and you're not a writer, you may scratch your head and think I've gone over the edge. Rest assured, this is the way writers think. My husband repeatedly reminds me that my characters "aren't real", but he doesn't realize they are to me. When writers are putting a story together, they step into the skin of their character and try to think like the character thinks.

I love brainstorming with my critique partners. They’ll toss out a story idea and I’ll grab it and run with it and play the “what if” game. It’s such fun to take someone else’s idea and throw in some twists and turns, and think of ways to complicate the lives of the characters. For some reason, however, I’ve always had a hard time brainstorming my own ideas. So it was with a bit of consternation that I had a “conversation” yesterday with one of my own characters. I’m wrapping up the final chapter of this book, and suddenly my main character, Everett, decides to offer some “what if” suggestions.

Everett: Hey, what if you gave me a reason to leave Willow Creek?

Me: That’s not included in my chapter x chapter synopsis.

Everett: But what if there was a distinct possibility that I might leave? How do you think that would affect Tillie?

Me: I don’t know, Everett. Now get back on the page where you belong.

Everett: I know I tried to make Tillie see how she’d be better off with Ben, but it’s a lot tougher than I thought it would be, watching the two of them together.

Me: Well, you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. This was your decision.

Everett: But if I had a reason to leave, I wouldn’t have to watch them fall in love with each other.

Me: That’s not included in my chapter x chapter synopsis.

Everett: Well, how would you feel if someone you loved fell in love with someone else? Wouldn’t that make you want to run away?

Me: That’s not included in my chapter x chapter synopsis.

Everett: You know I never planned to stay in Willow Creek anyway. What if there was a way I could return to Baltimore?

Me: Everett!! You’re not listening. The chapter x chapter synopsis I sent to my editor does not include you leaving Willow Creek.

Everett: But what are you going to do about this letter?

Me: What letter?

Everett: The letter I received from Grandfather’s attorney.

Me: Huh?

Everett: This job offer in Baltimore is pretty tempting.

Me: What are you talking about? What job offer?

Everett: Great opportunity, great pay, and I could sit behind closed doors and nobody would ever stare at me again.

Me: Everett, I don’t like the sound of this. Do you realize what you’re suggesting? I’m almost finished with this story. In order to include this letter you’re talking about, I’d have to go back to earlier chapters and weave in this new thread.

Everett: So why are you just sitting there? Get busy.

Me: Let me see that letter.

Everett: You have to write the letter.

Me: You know if you were going to make this suggestion, it might have been nice if you’d done so earlier.

Everett: Hey, what do you want from me? (He tosses out his uplifted palms and shrugs) I could take the stage to Dubuque and board the eastbound train there.

Me: Now just wait a minute. I’m the author. You’re supposed to do what I say.

Everett: (tucking the letter into his vest pocket) I’m off to talk to my father about this letter. I need his advice.

Me: And there he goes, and I must hasten after him, for I am the author….I think.


Thanks for letting me share my character, and my heart.

ANTICIPATION... it's making me wait

Anticipation…can be sweet, can be nerve-wracking. In less than a week, I’ll be traveling to the ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers) national conference. The excitement has been building for weeks. The prospect of seeing friends we only get to see once a year tickles my innards until I’m virtually dancing with the thought of fellowshipping with hundreds of writers. >>Oh, what a delicious thought! Hundreds of writers all together in one place. People who understand that my characters really do exist, because they talk to their characters too. People who think it’s perfectly natural to cry when my character hurts or experience shortness of breath when my character is in danger. They get it!! YES!!

The ACFW online loop has been posting daily prayers for every aspect of the conference to go smoothly and be God-honoring. We’ve prayed for everything from the sound system and technicians, to the faculty members as they teach, to the staff at the hotel, and the finalists in the contests. There are two more people that I’ve added to my ACFW prayer list: the winners of the first-time contracts.

Every year, one of my favorite parts of the conference is the awarding of a first-time book contract to an unsuspecting author—a writer who has struggled to learn the craft, strived to improve, felt the sting of rejections and has persevered. I love watching the reaction as the person’s name is called. Last year, as the two editors made their way to the platform, I turned to my critique partners with whom I was sitting and said, “I just love it when they do this!”

The next thing I know, the title of my book is being announced and my critique partners are all screaming at me. The flurry of excitement and uncontained joy that followed will always remain one of the high points of my life. My husband said he really hated that he missed it, because it’s the only time in my life I’ve ever been speechless.

So this year, as I’m preparing to go the conference again, I’m wondering for whom God has prepared that contract. Who will feel that jolt of exhilaration and experience the thrill of seeing their persistence and perseverance come to fruition? I’m praying for those two people. They are about to set out on an extraordinary journey, filled with peaks and valleys, fears and doubts, and over the top happiness. When the title of their book is announced and they numbly find their way to the stage in shock, I pray they will relish every heart-pounding moment, every smile, every congratulatory hug, every tear, and every step they take two feet off the ground for the remainder of the conference. I’m praying they will always cherish the moment they receive the contract in the mail and affix their signature to it.

Anticipation…it’s delicious.

Thanks for letting me share my heart.

God's Art Gallery

“I will bless the Lord at all times…” Psalm 34:1
“Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name.” Psalm 103:1

Mothers do it every day. Her little one comes running up to her, waving a piece of paper on which he or she has drawn a masterpiece. Who cares if the art critics in the most elite galleries consider it childish drivel? To mom, it’s the most brilliant work of art that has ever been produced. What does she do? First, she hugs her child and exclaims over his skill, tells him what an extraordinary job he did, and declares she has never seen anything so beautiful. She then posts this magnificent example of artistic talent on the refrigerator door for the entire family to admire and enjoy.

This is the concept that comes to mind every time I read the verses that exhort God’s children to BLESS the Lord. Psalm 103 is only twenty-two verses, but it instructs us seven times to bless the Lord.

I have to admit, I’ve scratched my head over this more than once. When God blesses us, He does so with omnipotent power and glory. The entire world came into existence with His simple spoken word. He has moved mountains, held back the waters for the Israelites, fed them daily in the desert, stopped the sun in its tracks, and abundantly met every need. Through His immeasurable love, He provided a way for our salvation by sacrificing His only Son. He paid our way to heaven even though we were unworthy. He surrounds us and fills us with His mighty love, protection, comfort, provision, and care.

How are we to reciprocate and bless God? When we bless God, we do so through our love, worship, and praise. But in our frail humanness, our best efforts are paltry. We want to express our gratitude from a heart filled with love and praise for Him, but even when we produce our best masterpiece of praise, I can’t help but wonder how far short it falls in the light of all God has done for us.

It’s like the child who gives mommy the best picture he ever drew. The child doesn’t keep it for himself. He gives it to the person who loves him and cares for him—the one who would do anything for him, the one who would give her life for him. The mother’s heart is blessed to overflowing over something the world considers of no value. The picture shown here was drawn by my son twenty-seven years ago. I wouldn’t take a million dollars for it. It’s priceless, because he gave it to me.

God the Father reacts in much the same way. He loves our efforts to bless Him, and He smiles when we express our love for Him. When His children bring Him their best, His heart celebrates. Instead of keeping His love to ourselves, we proclaim it back to Him in worship.

I wonder if He posts it on the refrigerator door.

Thanks for letting me share my heart.