Easter in the Colonies

Since the Easter season is upon us, I thought I’d share some of the Easter traditions I discovered while researching the Daughters of Amana series. In her book, Seasons of Plenty, Emilie Hoppe described some of the special Easter traditions that I incorporated in Somewhere to Belong. In the colonies, Easter was celebrated with special services held at noon during Holy Week. During these gatherings, Bible passages describing the last days of Christ’s life were read in sequence. The verses were read in German and spoken in soft and reverent tones. Hymns written especially for Holy Week were sung during these meetings. Without instrumental accompaniment, voices blended in harmony to lift up praises to the Lord. Good Friday was a day of fasting: bread and water was all that was served except to the very young, the very old, and the ill.

On Easter morning the colonists would celebrate by singing, “Ere yet the dawn hath filled the skies, Behold my Savior Christ arise.” After a lengthy service, there would be a special dinner, and if the weather had cooperated, the villagers would share in fresh lettuce salad, asparagus, radish salad, mashed potatoes topped with toasted bread crumbs, and smoke-cured ham.

After the meal, each child clutched an Easter basket that had been made especially for him or her by the village basket weaver. At the signal, they would scurry into the yards behind the kitchen houses and hunt for the Easter eggs that had been colored with onion skins or with bright colored dyes from the woolen mill’s dye works that were then mixed with glue from the woodworking shop. Both of those dying processes took time and effort and certainly weren’t as simple as the packets we pick up at the stores nowadays.

Another special treat were the Oster Hasen or Easter Rabbit Cookies. These were made from a basic sugar cookie recipe and there were lots of shapes: squirrels, chickens, lambs and deer, and the rabbit cutter, shaped like a hare on the run, was the largest of all. And on Easter, I’m certain the children thought the rabbit cookie was the finest tasting of all the animals that had been cut from the sweet cookie dough.
The village tinsmith fashioned the designs from strips of tin. Cookie cutters were one of the few things the tinsmith produced that permitted him a bit of artistic interpretation and whimsy in his work. Each cookie cutter was different and the tinsmith could create whatever he fancied. As years passed, the youngsters of Amana enjoyed cookies shaped like camels, fish, leaping ponies, swallows, swans and many others—but the beloved Oster Hasen has always remained the favorite.

After the afternoon of good food and hunting eggs had ended, everyone returned to church for the evening worship service where they may have sung one of the hymns written especially for Holy Week, including this 380-year-old German hymn.

Lord Jesus Christ, my Life, my Light,
My Strength by day, my Trust by night,
On earth I’m but a passing guest
And sorely with my sins oppressed.

(Martin Behemb, “Herr Jesus Christ, Mein’s Lebens Licht,” [1608]
The Amana Church Hymnal)


Though you’ll notice some differences in the celebration of Easter, I think you’ll notice many similarities, as well.
As you worship this week, may you reflect upon the joy of a risen Savior. Easter Blessings to each of you. ~Judy

Long-haired hog bristles... Really?

There's no telling what kind of useless...I mean useful information you run across as you're researching for a novel. Just last night, I was confirming some information on herbs when I ran across this heading in a book entitled Early American Herb Recipes––Vegetable Tooth Brushes (circa 1829)


Hmmm... My curiosity was piqued (sad, you might say, but true). I read on...


To make a vegetable tooth brush: "Take marine marsh-mallow roots, cut them into lengths of 5 or 6 inches, and of the thickness of a middle rattan cane. Dry them in the shade, but not so as to make them shrivel.


Next, finely pulverize two ounces of good dragon's blood, put it into a flat bottomed glazed pan, with four ounces of highly rectified spirit, and half an ounce of fresh conserve of roses. Set it over a gentle charcoal fire, and stir it until the dragon's blood is dissolved; then put in about thirty of the marsh-mallow sticks; stir them about, and carefully turn them, that all parts may absorb the dye alike. Continue this until the bottom of the pan be quite dry, and shake and stir over the fire, until the sticks are perfectly dry and hard.


Both ends of each root or stick should, previous to immersion in the pan [oh great, now you tell me...], be bruised gently by a hammer, for half an inch downwards, so as to open its fibres, and thereby form a brush.


They are generally used by dipping one of the ends in the powder or opiate, and then, by rubbing them against the teeth, which they cleanse and whiten admirably."

––Taken from Mackenzie's 5,000 recipes 1829

I love history. I love historical research. I love writing novels placed in historical settings. But there are times (like tonight) when I really appreciate my Soft Oral-B and my tube of Fresh Mint Crest Whitening. Especially when seeing this:

This is said to be a picture of Thomas Jefferson's bone-handled toothbrush. Obviously the bristles are missing. But what did they use for bristles back then, you might ask. Glad you did, so did I. Let's read on...  Most accounts recorded that natural bristles were obtained from the necks and shoulders of swine, especially pigs living in colder climates like Siberia and China. Horse and badger hair are recorded as being used before that. Lovely.


I'm fully aware that most of my life is spent being way undergrateful (to coin a word) for the myriad of conveniences and luxuries I enjoy every day. And we're not even talking about today's technology. We're talking basics of life that we use without a second thought.


Looking at life through historical eyes never ceases to lend fresh perspective to my current situation. It also makes me aware of how much I owe to people who have gone on before me, for their ingenuity, their creativity, their ability to think "outside the box." Including that person who was sitting there one day, stroking the coarse bristles of a pig's neck, and thought to themselves, "You know, I could clean my teeth with these."


I hope you have a great week and that you'll do something for someone to lighten their load, and to make a lasting difference, however big or small.


Tammy

When God closes a door...

As some of you may or may not know, in addition to my general Write Thinking blog, I have another blog (Fact and Fiction) that I started in 2005 just to record the story of my writing journey. I believed it would be good to have the story all in one place. I managed to make it all the way through 1999, and then I allowed the narrative to just sit there for a number of years, unfinished. But recently, I decided I should take it up again. It's been fun/interesting/educational to reach back and take a look at the experiences and to put down my thoughts.

Anyway, I decided to share a recent post from Fact and Fiction with the readers of Writes of Passage:

Pausing for a moment in the narrative of my writing journey, I thought I would talk about closed doors and open windows.

I can't recall for sure when I first knew God was telling me that He was about to open new opportunities for me to speak to Christian women, but I do know it was in the early part of the decade. At the time, I was still being asked to speak at writers' conferences on a regular basis. I had no idea how this change would come about, but I felt no calling to pursue such speaking engagements. Just as well. God had no need of my help. (Imagine that?)

Over the next year or so, invitations to speak at writers' events came less and less often at the same time that I began getting calls and emails, inviting me to speak at Christian women's events and retreats. Closed doors and open windows.

I have to say that leading weekend women's retreats is among my favorite things to do. I love encouraging women while sharing the lessons God has taught me through the years. To me, this falls under the category of what God promised back in 1997 (that what was in store would be beyond anything I'd imagined or hoped for). It would never have occurred to me to want to lead retreats or to believe I was capable of doing it. And yet, that's what happened.

My mom used to worry about me as I set off on another trip to the mountains of Idaho or to some other state. "Isn't someone going with you?" she would ask. I would answer, "No, Mom." To which she would say, "But you won't know anyone." How wrong she was. No matter where I go, I am with sisters. They are family, and we share something wonderful—our faith in Christ. We know one another by heart rather than by acquaintance.

Open windows after doors have closed often take us to the most delightful places.

~robin

Jesus' Palms

Tomorrow is Palm Sunday. I’m admittedly a research hound, and often one little question starts me down a crazy maze of interesting tidbits. I thought I’d share what one little question set into motion.

I live in Southern California. Palm trees are everywhere—and their branches are fibrous, ungainly, and have brutal thorns. Why would anyone cut them down and carry them around, let alone toss them beneath a donkey carrying the long-awaited Messiah?

Palm Sunday took place in Jerusalem. Maybe they have a different kind of palm. I checked. Palms didn’t grow in Jerusalem at the time. (They do now, but they aren’t indigenous.)
John12:13 tells us people threw coats and palm branches on the ground to line Christ’s path. (Matthew 21:8 the crowd "cut branches from the trees;" Mark 11:8 people spread "branches they had cut in the fields;" and Luke doesn’t mention the branches!)

So where did the palm branches come from? And why?
Palms grew in Jericho. Jews brought them to Jerusalem for Passover.
Palms represent several things, and they all add nuances to what happened:
*Palm branches signified the “head” or highest, most important and esteemed person (Isaiah 9)
*Palm branches stood for rejoicing. On the first day of the Feast of Tabernacles, Hebrews were commanded to use them to rejoice before the Lord. (Leviticus 23:40)
*Palms were a symbol of triumph and victory—sort of a “flag” used by Jews to commemorate the Maccabeean Revolt winning Jewish freedom and setting up an independent nation. Palms even appeared on Hebrew coins.

So Sunday arrived. Garments thrown on the ground—a gesture reserved for royalty. And the people shouted part of one of the “Hallel” (praise Psalms used every Passover.) “Hosanna!” means “Save us!” or “Save us now!” The palms which had been brought in for Passover were used to guide the Lamb of God into Jerusalem. He rode a donkey, a symbol of peace—instead of a horse which symbolized a conquering king. The palms? They were part plea and part proclamation that the long-awaited Messiah had arrived, and as king of the Jews, He would conquer Rome and set up a new kingdom.

And He had. They all forgot that fact five days later. But Jesus didn’t. There were palms that day too. They were laid down—by Him, on the cross. With nails, our names were inscribed into those sacred palms. And He saved us.
Hosanna!

Plugging into the Power Source

I've been digging through research from my trip to Georgia with Judy in order to work on the story outline. I continue to be enraptured by the live oaks--hold pleasant memories of the food and people--and can't wait to go back. Now for me - a gal who hates hot weather and humidity - that's saying something.

I recently read a book titled SAVING CEE CEE HONEYCUTT by Beth Hoffman. There was a little language in it, but otherwise I found the story so delightful. And, as a bonus, much of it was set in Savannah. It was great fun to read that book and remember sights and settings from my trip. It made me very mindful of the power authors have over the reader. It also reminded me of the responsibility I have to the reader.

Beth Hoffman caused me to feel a part of life in Savannah. She drew me into this story with strong characters, vivid setting and a tenderness of heart that left me smiling when I closed the book. As an author, I want to reach readers in such a way that they feel not only a part of the plot and setting, but that the hope God has given me--the joy I have in His love is evident at the heart of my story.

I want to share that same joy, hope and love in my daily walk. At church on Wednesday nights we're studying about discipleship, and last night we discussed what discipleship is and what's needed to be successful. One thing that seemed evident was that to disciple another person--you must be passionate about, and invested in what you believe. You need to be plugged into the right source of power. It came to me that sharing with someone in this capacity or in my writing ministry, I'm rather like an extension cord. If I'm plugged into the reader, but not plugged into the source of power--I really have nothing to offer. It isn't until I plug into the power of God, that I can share anything of value with anyone. Without that power, I'm just a dangling extension cord that offers nothing of substance, but can definitely be a hindrance. The opposite is also true--an extension cord plugged into the power source and not connected to anything else is also rather useless.




My challenge to you today is to plug into the power source, then stand ready to plug into someone else--someone who maybe can't quite reach the source on their own--someone who desperately needs the extension of grace and love.
Tracie

Business and Pleasure

First, business... Last week I celebrated the 5th anniversary of signing my first contract for a book called Dear John. I promised a copy to a reader who made a guess as to where I was when I signed my 11th contract. The first person to guess correctly was Emily, who said Bethany House in Minneapolis, so a book will be coming in Emily's direction. Then I drew a name from the remaining contenders--Jackie Smith, you'll get one, too. :o) (Emily and Jackie, contact me privately -- Kim at KimVogelSawyer dot com -- with your mailing address, please!)

Now, pleasure... I love winter. I love snow. I love how the smell of woodsmoke from a fireplace flavors the entire neighborhood. I love how my breath hangs like a little cloud in front of my face and then dissipates. I love the sight of a cardinal perched on a bare branch with a steel gray sky providing a backdrop for his bright red plumage. But as much as I love winter, I also love to see winter melt away, bringing the warmth and green of spring.

Last summer, we moved into a new house. One of my favorite features is the back porch. It looks out over an open field with a stand of trees in the distance...and it faces east. This gives me a perfect view of the sunrise. Now that warmer days are approaching, I'll have more opportunities to drink in the glorious splash of color that signals a new day. Despite the fact that the calendar says we're in spring, Kansas has tried to hang onto winter a little longer; even so, last week I had one perfectly calm, pleasant morning, and I tossed on my fuzzy robe, grabbed my coffee mug, and headed to the porch to watch the awakening sky. I was not disappointed by the show.

Of course, the camera doesn't do it justice. The colors are so much richer, bolder, brighter in person. But let me assure you, it was breathtaking. And while the sun crept from its hiding spot, painting the sky with jeweled tones, a bird cheerfully serenaded the morning. Sweetly scented air delighted my nose. My senses were well sated. Is there any better way to start a day?

I thought of a verse from the second chapter of Song of Solomon: "...the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land." In all likelihood it wasn't a dove giving me a morning concert, but even so, I still love the reference. "The season of singing has come..." After a long winter--a time of hardship--our souls yearn for a season of singing. And our God provides.

May God bless you muchly as you find your season of singing! ~Kim

New Beginnings

Tracie and I are in the beginning stages of co-authoring a new series—this will be our fourth. As I was trying to decide what I’d write about this week, I thought this might be a good time to answer a question we are frequently asked when we speak or attend an event together: “How do you co-author—especially when you live so far apart?”

My first response is usually that we didn’t always live far apart—that Tracie deserted me for the beautiful scenery and asthma-friendly climate of Montana after we’d already begun our co-authoring venture. I’ve finally come to grips with the fact that, except to visit, she doesn’t plan to return to Kansas. And let me tell you, sometimes it’s hard for me to come to grips. J Where did that saying come from? If you find out, let me know by leaving a comment. My idiom dictionary says it developed in the mid-1900’s, but it doesn’t say how or why. As usual, I digress—back to the co-authoring.

Methods of co-authoring vary as widely as methods used by authors who write individually. So, this is our method—certainly not the one used by all co-authors, but the one that works for us.

It all begins when one of us has an idea that we think would make a fun series to co-author. We’ve either read something or learned about a specific area that captures out interest and think it would be a wonderful setting for a new series—one that would be even more enjoyable if we co-authored. If it sparks interest for both of us, we write up a very brief proposal to see if the publishing house might be interested in the project. If so, the real fun begins. We begin our in-depth research of the setting by visiting the place we intend to use, or a place that emulates our setting as closely as possible. We conduct as much research as possible, make as many contacts with historians or other curator-types, and eat at as many good restaurants as we can find. LOL.

If time permits, we prepare the basic synopsis for the first book and general outline for the other two books. By doing this, we know the areas that will need the most research prior to actually beginning to write. This proposal is sent to the publishing house and then we wait to see if they are as excited as the two of us. Once we have the green light, we produce an in-depth or chapter synopsis, character development sheets, and sketches of houses and towns if we don’t have maps. Whenever possible, we do this together—usually by taking about four or five days away from the distractions of home.

Once the framework of the book, has been constructed, I write a first draft and send it to Tracie via email. Another reason I’m thankful for computers and the internet. Can you imagine writing in longhand and sending a manuscript back and forth by Pony Express? It would take us a lifetime to complete a book. J Anyway, once I send the draft to Tracie, she adds and changes at will. When there are chapters that deal with places or events that Tracie has already researched, I leave gaping holes in the manuscript for her to complete. The manuscript goes back and forth between us until we are both satisfied. Then we hit the send button to our editor. So there you have it. There are many more details, but I thought I should stop before you begin to snooze. But, if you have any questions, just leave them in the comment section.

May you find joy as you explore new beginnings with dear friends. ~Judy

P.S. If all went according to plan, there should be an interview posted at ajhawke.blogspot.com
where she will be having a drawing for a copy of Somewhere to Belong for those who post a comment on her blog. You might hop on over there and take a peek. And if she doesn't have it posted, leave a comment with me and I'll do a drawing. I think she may be having some blogger problems. :)

Careful how you walk

Being a lover of history, I'm fascinated by glimpses into the past, whether they're in written form (diaries and journals) or through the venue of a camera lens. A friend recently shared this footage reportedly captured on the front of a trolley car in San Francisco (1906) just days before the earthquake.





I'm a people watcher so I especially enjoy watching the people in this video footage. I've read that the photographer supposedly hired his friends to drive/walk in front of the trolley to liven the scene, etc... I have no clue whether that's true or not, but I love seeing the fashions, the mixture of wagons and carts and cars, the blend of technology of the day, as it were. And then to think that only days from when this footage was shot--only four days, if the account is correct--an earthquake would basically level this area. These people had no clue what was coming in their lives. Just as we don't. 


But our Heavenly Father did, and still does. 

He knows the most minute details of your life, and mine. Nothing is hidden from Him, and I'm so grateful for that because I can't see beyond this second. Oh I can plan with the best of em. I'm a list maker from way back. I know my way around an Excel Spreadsheet and very much enjoy the illusion of being in control. But knowing and understanding the intricacies of the mind of the Creator? Well, I'll need an eternity to begin to gain even the slightest understanding of the mind of God.


I used to believe that once we crossed over to Heaven, we would know everything. That...bam!...suddenly all of our questions would be answered. We wouldn't have to wonder about anything. I don't believe that anymore. I believe we'll spend a never-ending-constantly-having-your-mind-blown eternity uncovering the depths of God's creativity and love, in learning more about His "mind."


I appreciate these verses from Romans 8, and their reference to God knowing our hearts and to His working in and through the choices we make, or don't make...


And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words. And the Father who knows all hearts knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us believers in harmony with God’s own will. And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. For God knew his people in advance, and he chose them to become like his Son, so that his Son would be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And having chosen them, he called them to come to him. And having called them, he gave them right standing with himself. And having given them right standing, he gave them his glory.


Are you at some crossroads in your life right now and have no clue which way to go? Take heart...the Spirit is pleading, even now, on your behalf in harmony with God's will. So pray and watch and listen for His guidance, then take that crucial first step. Whatever path you chose, whether it be the "right one" or not, God's going to use that experience to work for good in your life, and for eternity. So really, when you're following His lead, there's no getting lost. Even if you make a wrong turn.


Blessings on your week, and take care as you walk your walk. Just as we're still watching those who have gone on before us, someone is surely watching us too.


Tammy

A Movie That Should Be Seen, Even Though Not Enjoyed

My guess is that most readers of this blog have seen The Passion of the Christ. It was one of those rare movies that touched me in my spirit and changed me, somewhere deep inside.

Last week, I saw another movie that should be seen, although I doubt any viewer could say they "enjoyed" it. But moved and changed you will be.

The Stoning of Soraya M. is set in 1986 Iran at the start of Khomeini's reign and tells the true story of Soraya (Mozhan Marnò), whose husband plots to have her falsely accused of adultery so he can divorce her and marry a young girl. French journalist Freidoune (Jim Caviezel) is pulled into Soraya's tragic story when he meets a desperate woman named Zahra (Shohreh Aghdashloo).

Most of us in the western world don't want to believe there were places in the world in the 20th (and are now in the 21st) century where women have no value as human beings and no protection from or recourse for false accusations, beatings, rape, murder. Much like Khaled Hosseini's novel, A Thousand Splendid Suns, this movie shows us things that we would probably like to pretend don't exist. But they do exist, and this movie shows them to us in stark reality.

Warning: The stoning sequence is as real and startling as many of the scenes in The Passion of the Christ. I now understand death by stoning in a whole new (and shatteringly real) way. Not for the weak at heart but also not something to be avoided. Because we need to know the truth. We need to know it so we can stand up for justice, for what is right.

So Jesus was saying to those Jews who had believed Him, “If you continue in My word, then you are truly disciples of Mine; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” (John 8:31-32)

The truth makes us free, and it can help us set others free, too.

Interestingly enough, John 8 is also the chapter where we find the story of the adulterous woman who was brought before Jesus to test Him. The law called for the woman to be stoned. But Jesus' reply was, "He who is without sin among you, let him be the ​first to throw a stone at her.” (John 8:7)

None of us are without sin. None of the characters portrayed in the movie were without sin. We all need to put down the stones and show mercy to those around us.

See The Stoning of Soraya M. If you are a member of Netflix, you can stream it live on your computer or Internet connected device. Or rent it from your local video store.

~robin

Lace

Lace--is there anything like the peek-a-boo mixture of thread and air?

Today we can zip out to a store and buy machine-made lace. It's pretty and feminine.

Grandma used to crochet or tat lace, too, and her delicate hankies and pillowcases are still around somewhere. All she needed was a crochet hook or tatting shuttle and a string.

Once upon a time, the wealthiest wore lace because it took so much time to make. Embroidery was pretty--but when the garment wore out, the value was lost. Lace could be cut from one garment and sewn to another or pinned from one garment to another. Because of that, lace was a major item listed in wills--it was portable wealth.

Queen Elizabeth's court made lace-wearing stylish for men and women.
An accomplished "lacer" took 2 hours to make one inch of lace of 1" wide lace
Collars were 9" wide, so they'd sew 3 widths of 3" lace together-- meaning 18 hrs for 1"
The compressed, deep hill-and-valley ruffled collar took 5 yards! 5 yards=180"
*Grabbing a calculator* 18 hours/inch x 180 inches = 3240 hours of work!!!
81 weeks of 8 hr workdays to make one collar.

Fast Forward to an ad in the New York Times,

March 19, 1912 for Genuine Irish Lace:

"We have some baby Irish lace allovers in stock that

sell wholesale for $32.50 a yard. To make a single yard of

one pattern required three weeks' labor at eight hours a

day. Every stitch was put in by hand."

Irish, Belgian, Maltese, Battenburg. bobbin, crocheted.....The artistry in any type of lace is awe-inspiring. Knots usually aren't desirable, but the patterns of loops, dips, and swirls of threads form wearable snowflakes. Then again, the full beauty of the patterns aren't evident until we see the the empty spots. The space between in made evident by what's beneath it.

The Roaring 20s had a style of black net-type lace dresses. Women would switch the color of slips or shifts beneath hem to give the dress a quick-and-easy make-over. What lay underneath made all the difference. Scandalous young women would dampen their slip to make it cling.

Each of us is like lace. We're basically knotted thread. Some are fine snowflakes, others are mangled cobwebs. Some is highly complex and other is simple and straightforward. From a distance, other people may not be able to distinguish a difference. But what's underneath shows through. Whether it's scandalous or pure is our choice. We can be cheap, or we can realize God considers us priceless. And He's not only the Creator: He's also the Master Untangler. However complicated or tied up we are, God can bring order to the fabric of our lives and shine through.

blessings,

Cath

What A Week

I'm still battling the crude. The doctor says it just has to run its course. I sure wish it would run a little faster. Unfortunately my whole family has it, so we're all being miserable together.

Since I was having a lucid moment I wanted to blog about the wonderful booksigning I had last week in Anthony, Kansas at Higher Grounds and Leather Bounds. The folks there were so amazing. If you happen to be in the area of this little Kansas town, I encourage you to stop by the shop. It's not only charmingly designed, but there's a little coffee cafe and a wonderful place to just sit and enjoy some time away.










While there I got to spend time with some family. My mother's cousin - I guess my first cousin once removed or something like that - anyway her name is Wynalie and what a prayer warrior. She and her husband Clair are great folks and pastor a local church there. There was also time with her extended family - and friends. Her granddaughter Christy is a charmer to be sure and helped hand out candy at the booksigning and speaking event.

I had my mom and husband at the signing, as well as daughter Julie who took photographs for me. She has an awesome touch with the camera. Julie said this little darling was my youngest fan at the signing.








Later we got back to Topeka and I got to spend more time with my daughter Julie, son-in-law Geoff and of course the grandkids.

I'm sure glad that if I had to be sick it was once I got home and not there with them.
Tracie

Celebrations...

I confess: I'm the sentimental sort. I can't throw anything away. My basement storage room gives mute testimony to my hoarding tendencies. My memory is cluttered with first impressions of people I've met, special moments from vacations, and the cute things my children said when they were just learning to put sentences together (which is probably why I can't remember where I put my glasses this morning...). And I celebrate "anniversaries" of events that will never show up on a national calendar but are of significance to me. March 15 was one such anniversary.

In 2005 I was in the midst of Parent/Teacher conferences at the grade school where I'd taught for eight years. Between meetings, I checked my email, and right there in my inbox was a short note from Tracie Peterson alerting me that my story, Dear John, was being purchased for the Heartsong Presents line. I let out a whoop that startled my co-teacher, then I ran down to the office so I could call my dad and let him know my publishing dreams would come true. It was very hard to focus on conferences after seeing that email. Forty years of dreaming, hoping, honing my craft...and finally, a contract.

That first contract marked a floodgate. Between March and November of 2005, I signed eight contracts for a total of ten books. God opened the door to publication and drop-kicked me through it! This past March 15, I spent time thanking Him for the amazing opportunity of sharing His love through story. I also re-read Dear John which is such a special story to me. Partly because it was my first, but partly because it was inspired by a dear man from my church who is special to me.

Now...in honor of my "anniversary," let's have a little fun...

The photo above was taken in May of 2009. I'm signing a contract (my 11th!!! God is amazing!) at a publishing house. Leave a comment including your guess on my location (the guess doesn't have to be right). I'll put your name in a drawing to win a signed copy of Dear John. Since the book is no longer in print, it's a little hard to come by...unless you win in the drawing. *smile* Good luck!

God bless you muchly as you pursue your God-planted dreams! ~Kim

A Little Wearin' of the Green

In commemoration of St. Patrick’s Day, here are a few fun facts I thought you might enjoy.

Some say the first St. Patrick’s Day parade was in Boston in 1737.

The 1800’s term “Paddy Wagon” came into use because the drunken Irish who were arrested all claimed their name was Paddy.

Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral is an American-written Irish tune that Bing Crosby made popular in the movie "Going My Way."

At least two cities in the United States dye their rivers green in commemoration of St. Patrick’s Day—Chicago and San Antonio.

According to the Guinness Book of world Records, the highest number of leaves found on a clover is 14!

One estimate suggests that there are about 10,000 regular three-leaf clovers for every four-leaf clover.

Legend says that each leaf of the clover mean something: the first is for hope, the second for faith, the third for love, and the fourth for luck.

The following are some interesting towns with Irish names: Mount Gay-Shamrock, West Virginia; Shamrock Lakes, Indiana; Shamrock, Oklahoma; Shamrock, Texas; Dublin, California and Dublin, Ohio

The harp is the symbol of Ireland. The color green is also commonly associated with Ireland, also known as “the emerald Isle.” The Irish flag is green, white and orange. The green symbolizes the people of the south, and the orange, the people of the north. White represents the peace that brings them together as a nation.

May you find joy as your celebrate your heritage in the family of God. ~Judy

Exemplify

A writing buddy (wavin' to you, Deb) forwarded me a link to an on-line magazine last week that's featuring Rekindled in a regular feature entitled The Book Nook, and I've been so blessed by the articles in this month's issue. Maybe you've heard of it... Exemplify Magazine. I hadn't, so thought I'd pass along the link here.

With articles like If I Must Eat Locusts, Can They Be Chocolate Covered? and A Control Freak Embraces Obedience, it's been so encouraging and uplifting. Not to mention witty and fresh. And such vibrant, fun pictures and fonts too. Check it out when you have a moment. I know you'll be blessed.

Here's a note from the editor, Kristen Schiffman...

Don't you love that verse? And how The Message renders it (click that link to read the entire passage). My whole life...one long, obedient response.

I'm still working on rewrites with one hand while packing with the other. Not very effective. So I'm ditching the packing for now and am focusing on getting this story finished and back to my waiting editors. So, back to it. Blessings on your week!

Joyfully carried,

Tammy

The Sweet Fellowship of Christian Sisters

This past weekend, I led a women's retreat in the mountains of Idaho. It was beautiful. Snow on the ground. Temp in the 50's on Friday and Sunday. Saturday it snowed. But it was even more beautiful inside the retreat center. (I would share photos, but my little camera wouldn't work.)

When I first started being asked to lead women's retreats, my mom would ask if a friend was going with me or if I knew anyone there. My answer was usually no. Mom would express regret, thinking I would spend a weekend with total strangers. But that has never been the case, because all of those retreat weekends have been spent with sweet sisters in Christ. They aren't strangers. They're family. And I love being with them.

That was my experience once again this weekend. I may not remember all of their names without name tags, even after three days together, but their faces, their smiles, their laughter have been imprinted on my heart for eternity.

Truly sweet.

~robin

Palm Reading and Lucky Breaks

Sometimes reminders of God's love come in the oddest ways and from the sweetest friends.

I'm living with one of those lessons right now. It goes to prove God can use any situation--even a broken arm. Yeah this picture is of me. No kidding, they cast my thumb separately so I’ve been stuck in a permanent “thumbs up!” position. Since I was cast to mid arm, my elbow remained bent, so I couldn’t disguise or hide the gesture. Anyone seeing me reacted—everything from the amused smirk to full-on Fonzi (from the old TV program “Happy Days”) AYyyyyyy! I'm not hitch hiking in this picture--I'm just too inept to rotate it. I'll depend on you to tilt your head to the right.

Entertaining situation? Absolutely. But there's another side to it. I’m right handed. Nine years ago, I shattered my left elbow, so my left arm doesn’t have full range of motion. Simple, everyday things—brushing my hair, cutting my food, signing my name, putting on socks—became impossible. Others tasks became comically clumsy. Or time-consuming. I'm typing with six fingers and a knuckle.

But there was one thing about that cast that kept me going. My dear friend, Kathleen Y’Barbo signed it in the palm. I became a devout--and exclusive--palm reader. No matter what I did, there were her sweet words that encouraged me. “May the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand.” Wow. Talk about an ever-present reminder of Whose I am and Who watches over me!

Today the doctor changed my cast. WAAAAHHHHOOOO! I can now bend my elbow and I regained an opposable thumb—meaning I can pinch my thumb and forefinger together. Almost. Suddenly, I’ve regained a lot of my independence. It’ll be another three weeks before I’m "free. "

But I don’t want to lose a “thumbs up” attitude. I’m very thankful to say that though the new cast doesn’t bear the actual message, it’s there in my imagination. But even more important, I’m so very grateful that I’ll always be able to be dependent in that special way—of placing myself in God’s hands. Because cast or no cast, I’m never on my own. And for that, I'll raise my hands in praise.

My the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand,

Cathy

Home again

I'm home again. The photo is of me at the writer's retreat a couple of weeks ago. The ladies made me a very personalized cowgirl/writer hat.

We drove down to Kansas to see family - do a book signing in Anthony, KS (which went phenomenally well and was so much fun - Thanks again HIGHER GROUNDS AND LEATHER BOUND Bookstore) and see the accountant. On the side, Judy Miller and I got together because we're going to write another series - Yippppppeeeee!

Speaking of Judy - if you're in the Iowa area - particularly Pella or Des Moines - Judy will be signing books this weekend. Here are the particulars.

Saturday, March 13
11:30 a.m. – 1:00 p.m.
Speak and Sign at Wellspring Christian Book Store
10465 Hickman Road, Des Moines, IA 50322

2:00 pm
Speak and Sign at Gosselinks’s Christian Book Store
731 Franklin, Pella, IA 50219


This week - well, what's left of it - I'll be getting down to business fleshing out a couple of story outlines and getting over what I call seasonal allergies complicated by my personal health disposition. Which basically means - I'm allergic to Kansas and humidity, which triggered head congestion, which went into my lungs and triggered the asthma, which gave me a horrid cough, which in turn has left me with laryngitis forcing me to cancel a radio interview scheduled for tomorrow. Oh well. At least I can type.

Juggling...

About a year ago, I had the privilege of teaching at the Called To Write Conference in Girard, Kansas. One of the workshops was titled "I've Signed on the Dotted Line...Now What?" Operating on the premise that forewarned is forearmed, the workshop shared various things a writer might not expect as her life changes from writing for a hobby to writing for a job. One of the things I told the attendees was, "Learn how to juggle."

Not literally, of course. But really, a writer's life involves a lot of juggling. Not only are you juggling your personal life (family, church, friends) with your professional life, there are lots of writing-related "balls" that have to stay in the air at the same time.

In an ideal world, a writer would be able to remain focused on one story from beginning to end. I've yet to have that happen. Just as you're fully absorbed in Story C, substantive edits arrive for Story A. Story C has to be set aside, edits completed on Story A, and then you climb through the portal and begin recording events for Story C again. You're rolling along, making progress, and--surprise!--the doorbell rings, and the postman holds up a fat envelope containing the galley for Story B. This needs to be read through and approved. So Story C is put on hold again.

Right now my Story C is tabled so I can complete Story D, a new contract with an earlier due date. I bounced from 1898 Alaska/mission school to current-day Kansas/public high school. And yes, it was enough of a jolt that I experienced whiplash! lol

While I'm writing, I'm also:

• preparing for speaking events
• planning a summer booksigning schedule
• gearing up for an author retreat at my house at the end of the month
• working with the ladies ministries committee for events at church
• taking care of the house
• making sure hubby is fed
• playing Mom as needed
• spending time with the grandkids
• petting the cats on command (lol)

Now, lest you think otherwise, I am NOT complaining. I'm blessed to have a family. I'm blessed to serve in my church. I'm blessed to be involved in a writing/speaking ministry. But I've had to learn to organize my time. To juggle. Otherwise, all parts of my life are indisarray and nothing gets done.

Proverbs 28:2 advises, "...a man of understanding and knowledge maintains order." With so many balls to keep in the air, I need order in my life. Fortunately, God gives us what we need when we ask. I'm so glad He walks these pathways with me! With His strength, I find the ability...even in my weakness...to meet the challenges of every part of my life.

May you find Him faithful as you juggle your responsibilities.

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