Some things are relative

I hope everyone is having a blessed Memorial Day weekend and are remembering those veterans who served us and others who are still serving us. May God bless them for all they've given to America and their fellow citizens.

I'm busy proofing a manuscript for an out of print book that will be releasing from a new publisher and must keep reading rather than spending too much time on a blog post. But I thought I would share a couple of blogger reviews for my brand new release, A Matter of Character. These show why we writers can feel a bit batty at times.

"This is the third book in the Sisters of Bethlehem Springs book. It is a great Christian historical fiction novel. All three were good but I think this one is my favorite. Well written, it flows well and held my attention from page one."

"I adore Robin Lee Hatcher. She is an amazing story weaver. I loved this series, but it seems to me that she was tired of the story when she got to this one. It didn't grab as well as the others."

 Most writers are notoriously insecure. A few bad reviews can shake us to the core. Naturally then, I'm delighted that the majority of readers seem to not only love A Matter of Character but also feel that it was a great way to end the series.

And yet, as you can see from the above, what one reader found gripping from the first page, another found not gripping at all. What one reader thought was the best book in the series, another thought yours truly was tired of the series when I wrote it.

What's a writer to do? The only answer I have is to try to remember that reading enjoyment is a relative thing. So as I work on my next book, I do all I can to write the best story I'm capable of at the moment. Then I send it out there, hoping that the majority of readers will love it and be entertained for a few hours.

~robin

Not There Yet...

I stood in a purple shower this week. The jacaranda trees are in full bloom. Their almost neon lavender blossoms are surreal, and yet I barely noticed them last year--until Tracie Peterson came to visit. She was agog. Now I see the wonder of what once seemed so commonplace to me. Spring is going wild. California and Icelandic poppies wave in the wind, Bougainvillea climb walls like flame, and geraniums grow in perfusion. (My grandma from South Dakota couldn't fathom how the scraggly ones she babies and prized are nothing more than pretty weeds all over here.)

Yet the true call of the wild that announces Spring floated through my open car window yesterday. "Are we there yet?" a child whined from the van stopped at the light beside me. Yes, when you live in Anaheim, it's the influx of tourists that truly predicts the change of seasons.

When my kids were little, I heard "Are we there yet" a few million times. To cut down on that refrain, we had landmarks as we drove... The Gingerbread House, the Swiss Family Robinson tree, the park... And suddenly when I sat and waited at that light and heard that tired little voice, I realized I was sitting by the Loch Ness Monster. It's a whimsical, yards and yards long hotel topiary. Years ago, I used to appreciate Nessie because she wasn't just cute, she meant something. We were closer to home.

When did I grow blind to the orange trees, the jacarandas, and so much else? Instead, I'm busy. I'm rushing. I'm trying to fit everything in. A friend and I have said to each other, "Jesus could come back. That's okay with me. Instead of always wondering, "Are we there yet," we'd BE there."

Only what am I missing that God places around me? What beauty, what lessons, what needs? I'm not there yet. In fact, that's okay. I'm going to start keeping a lookout for Nessie again... blessings and hoping you enjoy the view,

Grass is Greener

No, not on the other side of the fence - but on my side of the fence. The grass is actually green - the flowers are blooming - the trees have leaves and my lilacs are showing buds. I'm so happy. Spring has finally come to Montana.

Of course, that doesn't mean it's all that warm, but I love it here and I'll take 60 degrees in May almost June, instead of snow and 30's.

I'm hard at work finishing up a new series that will debut in the fall, and like Kim I've had a gander at my new cover - and LOVE IT! Bethany House does the most incredible covers and I can't thank them enough for all they do for me. Here's a look at the new cover. This series is set in 1880's Texas.

One of my biggest blessings this week, however, has been the way God is working to heal members of my family and me. My husband is diabetic and had great news at the doctor's office. His blood sugar average was way down and he's doing very well. Next, I am healing from shingles and while I'm tired and somewhat itchy - I'm getting better.

Last of all, but certainly not least - my daughter Julie is undergoing surgery today and I believe God is going to give her a complete healing and recovery--but if you think about it - please pray for her.

Tracie

On deadline...oofta...

I don't have much time--need to be spilling words into my manuscript instead of here on the blog--but I'll pop in long enough to share a few quick thoughts with you...

1) Katy's Debate, Book Two in the Katy Lambright Series, is now available. Katy's dad is courting, much to Katy's chagrin, and she decides to use her newly developed debating skills to convince him she really doesn't need a stepmother. But will she be able to convince herself...? (The Katy Lambright Series will include two more books: Katy's Homecoming and Katy's Choice, which will release this upcoming September and February, respectively. I'll be starting the fourth book soon, and I'm already mourning having to say good-bye to this young lady. I've enjoyed spending time with her.)

2) Bethany House designers have finished the cover for my January 2011 (does that date look weird to anyone but me???) release, Courting Miss Amsel, and I love it! That pop of red just grabs your attention, doesn't it? Edythe Amsel, new schoolmarm, descends upon Walnut Hill, Nebraska, with a headful of revolutionary ideas that are sure to set this little farming community on its ear. (This was a fun one to write.)

3) When four cats surround your computer chair and paw at your arms, it's probably more than a group expression of kitty-love. In all likelihood, you've forgotten--in the midst of deadline desperation--to fill the food dishes. *sigh*

My morning Bible reading has been taking me through the Psalms--what a great place to start a day! In Psalm 145, I discovered this profound statement: "The Lord is faithful in all his words..." (v. 13). Faithful (He keeps his promises!!!) in all (every one!!!) his words. If He said it, we can believe it. There's a whole lot of security in that brief statement. And I could add a lot more on the topic, but I have a deadline, so........

God bless you muchly as you journey with Him! ~Kim

Traditions

Memorial Day is approaching. I know it’s true because I’m already seeing the ads in the newspaper declaring huge sales for the Memorial weekend and the ‘beginning of summer.’ From the nearby car lots to the sprawling malls, it seems that all of our holidays are ‘celebrated’ by sales promotions of one sort or another. If you believe the newspaper ads, Memorial Day is no longer a time to honor fallen members of our Armed Services or to recognize and remember the loved ones who have gone before us. Instead, it is a day to rush out and purchase your summer flip-flops and a new grill. Now, I’m not opposed to either of those things. I love a good barbeque as much as the next person, but as I was glancing through the paper, I was struck by the fact that I admire those who hold to the old traditions.

During my ‘growing up years,’ my family made a yearly trip to West Virginia every Memorial Day weekend. We lived in Pittsburgh and the trip would take most of the day—not because of the distance involved, but because of the many cemeteries where we stopped along the way. A large box of potted geraniums, a small trowel, clippers, a watering can, and gardening gloves would all be carefully packed into the trunk of our car—along with our suitcases and a picnic lunch.

We’d crawl out of the car at each of the cemeteries where my mother would dutifully clip around the headstone, trimming away weeds the lawnmower had missed. Then she’d dig a hole for the geraniums while my sister or I would go to the churchyard pump and fill our watering can. (For those churchyard cemeteries that didn’t have a pump, we packed several Mason jars filled with water. My mother was always prepared).

Once the geraniums were planted, we were off to the next cemetery—or cemesary as I call them in my younger days. Our destination for the picnic lunch would always be the cemetery on top of Klondike. We had to drive up a narrow winding road that was wide enough for only one car. If you met another vehicle, you had to back down the hill—and it was a mighty high hill as I recall. Once the geraniums had been planted, we’d spread an old Army blanket and unpack our lunch. The picnic wasn’t anything special, but I remember that it always tasted extra good—probably because it had become a family tradition. And though there were times as I grew older that I would have preferred to remain at home and go swimming with friends, I’m glad my parents didn’t give in to my request. Instead, they continued the tradition and we planted geraniums on those graves each year.

May you find joy as you create and celebrate traditions with loved ones. ~Judy

All perked up

First...what a difference a week (and some great advice) makes! This is my Mom's African Violet that I shared with you last week. Pretty sad...

And here it is this week!

Thank you, friends, for your advice on last Tuesday's post. Veronica, I moved the violet into my bathroom (have it sitting right by the shower and the window where it gets indirect light), and it loves it in there! And I'm thrilled! There's something special about seeing this little plant come back to life and thrive.

I heard something in relation to a particular verse this weekend that I'd not heard before. Matthew 10:29-31 reads, "What is the price of two sparrows––one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows."

Whenever I'd read "fall to the ground" in the past, I'd thought it referred to the sparrow dying. So I've thought, "Okay, if 240,000 sparrows died today, God knows where each one died, how they died, etc..."

Not so.

In this verse, the meaning behind the Greek word that's translated into English as "fall" actually means "to light upon." Well that changes everything. So what God is saying in his Word here is that every time a sparrow lights on the earth, touches their little feet to the ground, every time, no matter how briefly, He sees. He's aware. The 3, 978,428 times, each and every day, that all the sparrows in the world light upon the earth, He knows. Amazing!

What's even more amazing is how much more He loves you and me. How much more valuable we are to him than flocks of sparrows. And how he sees all the little details of our lives, and moves and works in them to encourage us, to speak to us. Our sermon this past Sunday really touched me. We're in Genesis right now and these familiar passages are coming alive for me in ways they haven't before. God's Word truly is living and active.

So when you see a sparrow "touch down" today, whether you're in the Wal-Mart parking lot or out for a walk, or as you're driving for the carpool or knitting in your sunroom, know that you're not the only one watching them. And that the One watching them, is also watching you, loving you, working in the tiniest details of your life...more than you might realize.

Tammy

Remembering to Stop and Remember

The Book of the Law of the LORD their God was read aloud to them for about three hours. Then for three more hours they took turns confessing their sins and worshiping the LORD their God.... Then they [the Israelites] continued, "Praise his glorious name! It is far greater than we can think or say. You alone are the LORD. You made the skies and the heavens and all the stars. You made the earth and the seas and everything in them. You preserve and give life to everything, and all the angels of heaven worship you." (Nehemiah 9:3, 5b-6, NLT)

When I read chapters 9-10 of Nehemiah in June 2005, it really spoke to me, enough that I had to write down my thoughts. One thought was that when people (like those in the verses quoted above) hear the Word of God, it should always cause us to confess, repent, and worship. If believers really listen, I believe it will do exactly that.

Following the verses quoted above, the Israelites detailed to God the history of their people, from Abram through Moses and on to the destruction of the Temple and their captivity in Babylon. So it made me wonder this: How often do Christians stop in their activity and remember all that God has done for them?

When I speak at women's retreats, I usually give the testimony of my salvation and how God brought me into a ministry of writing for Him. I also share many of the ways He has worked in my life, the lessons He has taught me. And every time I share these things, I am reminded that I am not alone. He has rescued me in the past. He is able to rescue me in the present and in the future. His grace is sufficient.

I believe remembering what He's done in our lives is so important. It's so easy to get caught up in living and forget the wonderful ways God has touched us. We need to stop and remember. In Nehemiah 9:26, the Israelites said: "But when all was going well, your people turned to sin again..." Does that sound familiar? God blesses us, rescues us, and then things are going well and we turn to Him less and less, and we turn to His word less and less, and before you know it.... Yep. We sin again.

I want to cling to God in the good times as well as in the bad. I want to hide His word in my heart and stay on the right path rather than get off on rabbit trails. I want to stop and remember on a regular basis the marvelous things God has done and, even more, remember how marvelous He is.

~robin

You Don't Say...

I bought a bumper sticker-sized thing this past week. It’s supposed to be applied to a wall. I have it sitting in front of me as I write. It reads:
I put it there as encouragement to stay put and stay focused.
The lady at the store asked if I was a dog trainer. With my wacky sense of humor, I seriously fought telling her, “Yes. I specialize in dachshunds.”
A few hours later as a friend and I were discussing redecorating the bathroom, I got the giggles. Can you see that sign on the wall across from the throne, with a basket of books and magazines?

Then I looked at my daughter’s T-shirt. Emblazoned across the front was the perfect thing for someone who’s both an author and English teacher: IDIOM. Seeing those things started me creating sayings that would be fun for T-shirts or walls or bumper stickers. For some reason, I like oxymorons.


When it comes to clothing,
I’ll take irony over ironing anytime

First my husband put me on a pedestal

—now he expects me to dust it!

Cleverly disguised as an adult.

Gigantic leprechaun

Off my rocker and on my feet.

My muscles went to waist

Atheist: Someone who doesn’t know he’s going to hell.

God sees all…
But for those who take a leap of faith
His love is blind.

I’m running as fast as I can drive.

Can today start tomorrow?

Antisocial Visiting Nurse

Coordinated Klutz

Violent Pacificist

Cleverly disguised as an adult.

Sings like an eagle
Soars like a canary.

The only way I can carry a tune is in a designer handbag.

Bright as black paint

I didn’t have to SIT LONG to come up with those… but I’d love to hear more! And I do have a few extra of those “Sit long” stickers. I’ll send out one to a the first 10 people who request one here on the blog or email me at CathyMarieHake@aol.com. Maybe it’ll inspire you to work longer or laugh more…

Blessings and giggles,
Cathy

Colorado Conference

First a big thanks to Stephanie Whitson for filling in last week. I'm reading her latest and it's awesome! But last week was also awesome. I was busy with a writer's conference in Colorado and what a fun time!

My hubby and I love to go to Estes Park, Colorado for the Colorado Christian Writer's Conference and this year was no exception. The conference is always a wonderful get-away, as well as a chance to minister and grow spiritually.

We also had - now are you ready for this - hang onto your seats - SNOW.

Yes, snow. I did not escape my weekly snow. It snowed a foot and a half while at the conference. However, it was gorgeous. I thought I'd share some photos of the remarkable YMCA of the Rockies and Rocky Mountain National Park. Here's Jim shoveling snow so that our conferees could make it for our writer's clinic.

Estes has always given me a kind of peace and spiritual restoration. The mountains there were a home away from home during the early years of my marriage. This area has also been where we brought our children for vacations when they were young. It's a beautiful piece of God's creation.

Marlene Bagnull runs the conference here every May, and she always points our focus back to Jesus. What a blessing. I always come away remembering that: Yes, I am a writer. Yes, I am a daughter, mother, sister, friend and wife. But above all - I am His.

As the Bible says, He has called me by name - I am His. What a blessing. What a marvelous thing to remember. For all the hats I wear - and they are many - I am first and foremost - His. Today I'm resting in that and enjoying the blessing of all that He has created. I hope you will find rest as well.

On our way home - Jim captured this photo of the sun in the clouds, and I thought it looked very much like someone holding open his arms (his body is right where the sunburst is) as if blessing the earth - Jesus?

One day we'll see Him face to face! Oh, and what a wonder that will be.


Tracie - And - yes, here it is May 20th in Montana and we had snow flurries. But yesterday was in the 80's. Spring has sprung in Montana.

Hearing from our characters

I suppose it's inevitable. Even with all the names in the world, at some point in time we're bound to put a first and last name together that belong to a real person "out there somewhere." Some authors actually Google names before applying them to characters to make sure they aren't accidentally putting a well-known-in-some-circles athlete or a career criminal in their books.

In the past three months, I've heard from two people--Graham Ortmann (in Blessings) and Summer Steadman (in Waiting for Summer's Return)--who wondered why I chose "their" names for my books. Names are chosen for meaning, for historical accuracy, or just because it "feels right" for the story. Honest, it was an accident that I "took" their names! LOL But it sure gives you a start when one of your characters suddenly pops into your inbox...for real.

Last week, though, I heard from one whose name I borrowed deliberately. And I'm so glad she found out!

Two years ago I had the privilege of going on a book tour of the New England states with three other Bethany House historical authors (waving at Tracie, Judy, and Cathy *grin*). In a bookstore in a small town in New York, I met a darling girl and her mother, who carried in a stack of books to be signed. The girl's name was Tressa--such an unusual name. I asked if she'd mind if I used it in a book someday. She shyly agreed to allow me to borrow her name. And the heroine in the book I started writing while on the tour became Tressa.

Over the past year, I've tried to locate the real Tressa. In my website newsletter, I wrote about meeting her, and I did a Google search of her first name (the only name I knew) + her hometown. But nothing showed up that helped me find a way to let her know "she" was starring in one of my books. So I just hoped she'd continued to read Bethany House historicals and would stumble upon Tressa's story.

Just last week, the book--A Hopeful Heart--released. And the real Tressa found it! She emailed me this message via my website:

Dear Mrs. Sawyer,

Two years ago you met my mom and I at an Alpha and Omega bookstore in CITY REMOVED and you signed a bunch of our books. When you heard my name "Tressa" you loved it, saying you would name one of your characters "Tressa." Today the Lord prompted me to check your website just to see if you did. I was very excited to see your new book "A Hopeful Heart" with the main character named Tressa! I can't wait to read it! You've been a blessing! :)

--Tressa

Hearing from this sweet young lady was a blessing to me. And I cannot wait to send her an autographed copy of A Hopeful Heart in appreciation for her willingness to share her lovely, unique name with me...and consequently with you!

I happen to know there are quite a few Kim Vogels and Kim Sawyers in the world (which is why I combined my name--to set my author name apart). I get emails regularly asking, "Are you the Kim Vogel/Kim Sawyer from/who...?" Most of the time the answer is no, you have me confused with someone else. Despite the number of Kims in the world, God never confuses me with someone else--He knows me by name. My name is written in His Book of Life! And one day He'll welcome me home. Kind of a nice thing to think about on this dreary, rainy day. :o)

God bless you muchly as you journey with Him! ~Kim

P.S. -- Last week, I promised a copy of A Hopeful Heart to one of our blog readers, and the selection has been made. Michelle V., please contact me privately (kim at kimvogelsawyer.com) with your mailing address and I'll get a book sent out as quickly as possible.

Memories

The day before Mother’s Day, I was asked to speak at the Oakland Presbyterian Church here in Topeka—for the Mother-Daughter Luncheon. One of the nice things about speaking to a variety of churches and civic groups is the opportunity to meet new folks as well as visit with old ones. And that’s exactly what I did on May 8th. The ladies were delightful and eager to share some of the memories of their church—it’s over one hundred years old, so they have a lot of history! They call themselves The Little Church With the Big Spirit, and I’d have to agree. That's a picture of the work committee standing with me above left and that's the church on the right. (Bet you couldn't have figured that out without my help, right?)

We enjoyed a delicious lunch and then I shared my writing testimony and a little about some of my books. There were a number of young girls present so before the talk ended, I told them a about the Amana traditions of making Easter Rabbit Cookies and dying eggs with onion skins. I took along some of the “onion skin” eggs that I purchased while I was visiting in Amana during Maifest and thought some of you might enjoy seeing them as well. Aren't they beautiful? The shade of the eggs is determined by the length of time they are left in the onion-skin solution. And though I haven’t tried it, I’m told you can achieve a variety of beautiful colors by using solutions that contain turmeric, black coffee, beets, and red cabbage. Believe it or not, if you soak eggs in a room-temperature red cabbage solution for thirty minutes, you’ll have light blue eggs and if you soak them overnight, they’ll turn royal blue! Next year, I just may give this a try. Although it would be a lot more work, I think it would be a fun adventure. The bowl of eggs on the right have all been dyed using natural dyes and I think they are beautiful.

One other thing I wanted to tell you about is another small purchase I made while visiting an antique store in Main Amana. As Lori and I were wandering through the shop, we naturally stopped to look at the selection of old books. Lo and behold my gaze fell upon a book that my sister and I owned as young girls. (All our books were joint property.) Though it wasn’t my very favorite book, The Circus Book did bring back some fond memories of childhood.

All this to say that these few paragraphs have spurred memories of my ‘growing up years.’ I fondly remember attending Mother-Daughter banquets with my mom and sister; dying Easter eggs both at home and at youth group for the “little kids” to put in their baskets; and of special times learning to read and enjoying books. I am truly thankful for those childhood memories and I'd love to hear some of yours if you'd care to share with us!

May you find joy as you recall some special childhood memories this week. ~Judy

Shrinking Violets and Mystery Glass

I'm still smiling (and cringing a little) at Robin's post yesterday about her adventures with Poppet, the basket-loving, high-flyin' Papillon. Robin, hope you heal quickly and are back on that bike again soon!

As I mentioned last week, I'm loving the house we're in and am enjoying getting settled, finding places for everything. We still have lots of boxes to go through in the garage but at least the house itself is somewhat organized and functional now. Even though a piece of furniture or a vase or a picture may be years old, changing its location gives it a new feel. Wish I could say the same for me. I've got to get back into my exercise routine. I miss those endorphins! Not to mention the calories burned in the process of getting them...

Some of the items I'm treasuring and finding new places for belonged to Mom. Pictured above is a little silver salt and pepper shaker set she kept by her stove. It's now by mine. Pictured to the left is a glass that belonged to my maternal grandmother. I want to call it Depression glass but I don't think that's right. Depression glass is green, right? Help me out, anyone who knows about these dishes. I love history but have never learned much about antique glassware.

Next is a little ceramic piece I painted when I was about nine or ten. It's of Duchie (Duchess), our little Manchester Terrier we had at the time. Below is a picture of Mom's African Violet that has not fared well in recent months. :(  It's been neglected, I'm afraid, but I'm trying to revive it. I repotted it with African Violet potting soil and in a container that "soaks up" the water (the tag on the pot said it was great for violets?), so I'm  hoping it comes back. If you're an African Violet expert, I'd welcome your advice. Its leaves are curling and it looks sickly. (Beside it in the picture is a framed photograph that Mom kept by her sink of her four grandchildren when they were little).


Being born and raised in Atlanta, GA (the Tucker/Stone Mountain area specifically), I have a deep love and appreciation for the South and its history. And though I've really enjoyed setting my stories in Colorado up to now (having lived there for seventeen years), I'm finding a fresh excitement for writing as I begin my new Southern series this week and delve into the history I grew up loving so much. These characters have been whispering to me for months, and getting to know them better is pure joy! It's like meeting a dear old friend that you haven't met yet, if that makes any sense.

Several of you have asked about Jack and how he managed during the move. He's doing great! None the worse for wear. He has "his window" in my office just as he did in our previous house, so he's able to sit and watch the world go by. I'd opened the window the other day to let the cool morning air in, and a foraging squirrel dared to cross the lawn. I thought Jack was going to go through the screen! Squirrels are his passion, though I'm not sure he'd know what to do with one if he caught it. It would probably kill him.

I'm off to continue reading/proofing Within My Heart. My last time to see it before it goes to galleys. Joe's reading it now too. He gave me a thumbs up last night and smiled and said, "It's a Tamera book!" I hope that's a good sign...

Appreciate you guys,
Tammy

I Give the Truth Scope!

One of my favorite movie lines is from A Knight's Tale. The character Chaucer says, "I'm a writer. I give the truth scope!" I thought I would give the truth a bit of scope in my blog post today. Maybe at the end of the post, I'll review what's scope. {{grin}}

My life had a narrow focus in recent years as my mom's health grew worse. I did few extracurricular activities, staying close to home because I didn't have someone else to be with her very often. But in the months since Mom had to enter the nursing home, I've been making little ventures "out into the world." I'm discovering lots of opportunities to enjoy other people my age. Now all I have to do is choose. One choice I made was to start biking again.

I haven't ridden a bike, other than my stationary recumbent in my bedroom, for more than 5 years, probably several years longer than that. When I moved into this house three years ago, I didn't even have room in my garage for my bike, so it was stored outside under a tarp. A month or so ago, I took it in to the bike shop to get it all cleaned and tuned up. I bought a basket to go on the front so Poppet could ride with me. I got new slime tires. Bought my first helmet. I was ready to go, if the weather ever warmed up and stopped raining. So far, no scope to the truth.

About ten days ago, there was an invitation for folks who wanted to ride their bikes Sunday along the Greenbelt, going from church to the park where the Vineyard feeds the hungry and homeless every week. I decided to go. I did a test run on Saturday, taking Poppet along to see how she would do. We both did good. Still not scope.

About half an hour after second service, a group of three (plus Poppet) started off on the 5+ mile ride. Everything was going well until about the three mile distance. We had to leave the south side of the river and go to the north side. The greenbelt took us up to the bridge. The crossing was narrow, and I was feeling nervous. That was the moment danger struck. Out of nowhere, an eagle came swooping down, its golden eyes set on Poppet, my little dog in the basket. In an heroic move to keep Poppet from being our national bird's dinner, I threw my bike to the ground, sacrificing my flesh for hers. Okay, that was the scope.

In actuality, I did something stupid. I got nervous in that narrow walk/bike way. A group of people were walking toward us. I slowed, put out my hand toward the concrete barrier, the wheel wobbled, Poppet shifted her weight, and down we went. Took skin off my left knee, several scrapes and bruises on that leg, more scrapes on my right leg, bruised my left hand. Poppet was fine, and I got up and continued the ride. That's the truth, sans scope.

One more non-scope story I must share: On the ride back to the church, maybe about three blocks from the end of the ride, I came off the Greenbelt. I wasn't going super fast, but apparently too fast for the curb. As I hit the gutter, Poppet bounced up into the air and over the side. Fortunately, I had her halter on with the "seatbelt" strap fastened to the bike. So there she was, hanging off the side of the bike. I stopped really fast, and she was just hanging there, looking at me like, "What'd you do that for, Mom?" She didn't whine or fuss at all and went back into the basket without complaint. (Wish I had a video of this!)

Well, that was my Sunday adventure. Now that it's Monday, I'll be trying to give scope to my work-in-progress. May it be less dangerous for the book writer than the bike rider.

~robin

PS  For any of you who own Kindle ebook readers (or who have the Kindle software on your computer or iPhone), my novel, A Vote of Confidence is being offered for free download for the next couple of weeks. You can find it here.

And don't forget to join me on my Facebook Page book launch party this Friday from 6 to 8 pm MDT. I'll be giving away some copies of A Matter of Character.

They Lived Happily...

My parents celebrated their 58th anniversary this week. Their courtship was outrageous.

A dashing seventeen-year-old named Roy Smith broke his left leg playing centerfield for the church baseball team. Stuck in traction at the hospital for six months, he grew even more ornery.

A girl from the congregation took the new nursing students to midweek prayer meeting—they stopped off so Mary could ask if Roy wanted to send the church a message. (Go to church. you never know what God has planned for that trip!)

Once Mary and the new gals left, Daddy asked the nurse on duty about one of the student's name. Elvera Gering. He promptly announced, “I’m going to marry that girl.”

Mom’s response when someone blabbed? “Over my dead body.” This was, of course a mature response. After all, she was an older woman--eighteen, don'tcha know!

He went home on crutches and lay in a bed in the dining room for several more months. Mom agreed to their first date, “because I felt sorry for him. He’d been cooped up for so long.” Over the next year, she was just as likely to turn down his requests for dates as she was to accept them. He’d tell her if she didn’t go, he’d take Gracie. “Go right ahead. Take her.” He did.

A year after he met her, Roy stopped by to see Elvera. This time she was in a hospital bed with appendicitis. As he left, he asked if she’d like a kiss. Then he tossed her a saltwater taffy kiss.

He went away to college. She didn’t write him often enough, so he mailed her a weekly college newspaper with only, “HI” written in the margin… and sent it postage due.

Believe me--these are mere examples of the spirited and stubborn way they've conducted their life-time courtship.

They got engaged. The Korean Conflict started, and Roy called Elvera en route to San Diego, California. The US Navy needed x-ray technicians and snatched him up. (No, Mom didn't know Dad was going. En route from Hutchinson, Kansas to San Diego, California he called to tell her he'd left. On leave between boot camp and deployment, they got married.

*Dad was twenty. His father had to sign for him to get the marriage license.

*Mom married Dad. (Lots of us can say that.)
*As the minister, my grandfather officiated.
*On Mother’s Day.
*And Dad’s sister was their flower girl. She was 6 weeks old when he broke his leg--and a very darling 3 year-old for the wedding.

If I wrote all that in a book, I’d be accused of constructing something totally unbelievable. Truth really is stranger than fiction.

But their relationship has passed the test of time.

58 years, 3 children, and 2 houses later, they are still crazy about one another.
Dad still calls Mom “Dear” and “Honey.”

(I didn’t learn Mom’s name until I was six or so.)

Mom calls him “Sweetheart.”

And they’re more in love every day.

“She is the love of my life—my dear, dear Lord and my dear, dear wife. I couldn’t ask for more.”

Is it any wonder I write Christian Romance? Or that there's humor in it?

Cathy

Guest Blogger: Stephanie Grace Whitson

 Here's to the WOMEN

Old photos. You know the ones. Those sepia-toned portraits in the booth at the antique mall or at the flea market. I have boxes of old photographs in my office, and several have inspired characters for books. This photograph, however, isn't from my personal collection. A 19th Century photographer named Solomon Butcher (see more at www.loc.gov) took it, labeling it "The Chrisman Sisters." It's especially meaningful to me because the granddaughter of one of the girls in that photo once drove me around some very "back roads" in western Nebraska to see still-standing sod houses. At the time, I didn't know that hundreds of single women homesteaded the west. I just knew that, as a friend once said, "If it had been up to me to settle the American west we'd all still be in Boston sipping tea." I loved seeing those soddies and learning their history, but I loved the idea that I could head back to a hotel with running water and indoor plumbing even more! Still, I think that excursion was the beginning of the book that would become Sixteen Brides someday.

The rest of the idea for 16 Brides arrived one day when I was researching a quilt in a museum collection--a quilt that came west in a covered wagon and "lived" in a sod house before being donated to the museum. I was on a "needle-in-a-haystack" search hoping to locate mention of the pioneer family who brought the quilt west when I ran across a newspaper article worded exactly like the one that appears on the back cover of my new book, (except for the date and the town name).

Single women homesteaders? Yes, I learned. Hundreds of single women homesteaded and proved up and owned land in a day when women had few choices and few rights. The more I learned, the more I knew I wanted to write about it. Of course Caroline and Ruth, Ella and Hettie, Sally and Zita, are figments of my overactive imagination, but single women homesteaders were real, and I remain amazed at their courage. Here's to the women.

And here's to the women of Writes of Passage. It's an honor to know them, and an honor to be invited back.

Who Wants a Freebie?

Everybody likes a freebie, right? Since time is limited at the moment (continued prayers for my mom greatly appreciated!), I'm going to simplify my life here a bit and just tell you about a couple of places you can pick up something fun for free.

First of all, in celebration of the release of the Katy Lambright Series, Christianbook.com is offering a contest for a free copy of Katy's New World to several readers. One lucky winner will also be the recipient of a miniature friendship quilt (pictured on the left) remniscent of the one Katy sews in the story. Just go HERE to sign up. (BTW, the contest says "genuine Amish quilt"--it's actually a genuine Kim-made quilt...) The contest runs through May 20, so don't delay. Good luck!

Second, my author copies of A Hopeful Heart arrived this past week, delighting my cats. (They love a new climbing opportunity.) There's one spare sitting on the box, in need of a good home (the book, not the cat!!!--Clyde-kitten is MINE), so please leave a comment below, telling me why you could benefit from a free read. The cats will-- (Hm, well, maybe it'd be better to let my mom choose... Yeah, Clyde hasn't quite mastered reading. Yet.) My Mom, the most avid reader I know, will pick a winner to receive a signed copy of A Hopeful Heart.

I'll close with one last photo, taken on Mother's Day 2010 at my house...four generations of moms and daughters: Mom with her daughter (that's me, of course), her oldest granddaughter, and her first great-granddaughter. There's nothing more important to Mom than family, so her smile was intact all day.

I'm so blessed to have been raised by a godly mother who taught me to put my trust in Jesus. Her prayers have upheld our family through many crises, and memories of her every-day/every-minute example of leaning on Jesus' strength is something I cherish.

May God bless you muchly as you journey with Him! ~Kim