Tuesday, June 24, 2008

And Now a Word from My Sponsors...

...in this case, the marvelous people of the CSFF blog tour. We know Vanished has suffered a blow at the hands of my publisher but these awesome folks stuck by me, and have pooled their time and talent to tout the book (and, I hope, critique it if they feel justified). I am honored and blessed by their dedication to the genre and craft of Christian Science Fiction and Fantasy, and so grateful for the privilege of being a stop on the blog tour.

If you get a moment, stop in with one or more and give a hello.

See what the other CSFF (Christian Science Fiction & Fantasy) blog participants have to say about this book:
Brandon Barr
Justin Boyer
Jackie Castle
CSFF Blog Tour
Gene Curtis
D. G. D. Davidson
Jeff Draper
April Erwin
Karina Fabian
Beth Goddard
Andrea Graham
Todd Michael Greene
Katie Hart
Christopher Hopper
Joleen Howell
Jason Joyner
Carol Keen
Mike Lynch
Terri Main
Shannon McNear
Melissa Meeks
Rebecca LuElla Miller
John W. Otte
Deena Peterson
Steve Rice
Ashley Rutherford
Mirtika or Mir's Here
Chawna Schroeder
Stuart Stockton
Steve Trower
Speculative Faith
Linda Wichman
Laura Williams
Timothy Wise

Monday, June 23, 2008

Can't Live With Her...

...can't live without her.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Crossing the Jordan

Sadie is not a water dog. No way.

I've been walking her by the river, where there's plenty of opportunity to splash and swim. Her only foray into the river was a slip and slide, and a massive leap out of it. There's also little streams that Tasha used to dash through, tiny trickles of water that I thought might induce Sadie to dare getting wet. But Sadie either jumps over them, or takes the footbridges.

So I started walking across the street. (We are blessed with huge tracts of conservation land.) There's no river and lots of low-lying land spawns mosquitoes but there is one attraction that I can't resist. The area I call the "stream" walk has a nice stream that eventually crosses under the street and wanders the river, and a lovely footbridge over the stream. I love to sit on the bridge, have a Diet Coke, and do a little work.

Sadie accidentally stepped into the stream and discovered she didn't melt. So, as I sit and read, she putters in the water, allowing it to touch her paws (though nothing more.)

Yesterday I wore old sneakers on the walk. I sat on the bridge, read for awhile, and then decided I wanted to see where the stream went. (Keep in mind--this is New England, lots of trees and dense foliage.)

So I stepped into the stream in my sneakers.

Sadie went nuts. Suddenly she's dashing up and down in the water, running up the banks and leaping at top speed across the stream. It's as if my entry into the water gave her permission to experience its joy.

Hm. Sound familiar?

Sunday, June 15, 2008


Steve got on a plane this morning, off to Cleveland to take a seminar. I'm the traveler--it's so unusual for him to be gone and me to be left behind. I was heading upstairs to bed, thinking about this and automatically thought, "Oh, well then maybe I'll let Tasha sleep in the bedroom tonight."

Except that's not an option.

Funny how easily an old part of life rushes back when you least expect it.

Sadie would gladly sleep in my room but she has her own "mommy and daddy" who need her close. So I'll sleep soundly with happy memories.

By the way, the stream in the photograph is one that the forester destroyed. Sad. But I've got happy memories...and new trails to follow.

Friday, June 13, 2008

------------Heaven and Hell on Earth------------

I'm housesitting for my daughter, and enjoying trips to a nearby state park. I work for awhile, sitting on a picnic table with my computer and enjoying the breeze off a sparkling lake. Then I put my computer away, hike across the long dam to the far side of the lake.

No one seems to go here, though it's a lovely spot. Shaded by trees, plenty of large rocks for sitting, sun glistening off the water, dappling the leaves so everything seems to be sun-kissed. Like heaven, I think. God bending to this perfect afternoon and breathing a little touch of heaven.


...I'm reading a book named NOT FOR SALE by David Bastone. I've been reading it in conjunction with Gary Haugen's book TERRIFY NO MORE, to learn about human trafficking. I'm stunned to learn that, what I ignorantly thought were isolated instances, have become the norm in many countries. I thought sex trafficking was about bringing prositutes to other countries. It's not. It's about kidnapping teens AND children--and we're taking little girls--and forcing them to be raped by ten men a day. And it's pervasive. In terms of human slavery, I almost vomited when I read about children as young as four being forced into a day's labor. Growing up as slaves, never understanding they live in a so-called "free" society.

My grandson is four. My nieces are six and eight and ten. It's horrifying. I won't go into more details because I can't do this trafficking thing justice. Bastone's or Haugen's books cover the problem well.

Gary Haugen runs a very-well respected Christian agency--the International Justice Mission--which operates to rescue people, give them long-term aftercare, see that the criminals are prosecuted, and change the attitudes and laws of not only foreign governments but our own United States government. You can read about their work at http://www.ijm.org/.

Bastone's book describes many other fine organizations dealing with this terrible evil.

But what about me?

I'm sitting on a rock on a beautiful day, thinking "heaven on earth."

I'm sitting on a rock while millions of people--too many young children--are forced into slavery and the sex trade. "Hell on earth" can't begin to describ the evil that is inflicted on God's children.

I'm sitting on a rock named Jesus.

I need to stand up, let the rock move.

I need to pray the rock will move me. If He cannot, I deserve to be crushed.

Saturday, June 7, 2008


I've had a tough spring, business-wise. I won't go into details, though many of you know them. What's important is that, when things were at their worst, a group of dear Christian friends prayed for me. Since that night of fervent prayer, I have not felt any anger or bitterness, though I have the "worldly" right to do so.

It's been a rainy week, with umbrellas called for. It occured to me as I sheltered from the rain that these dear friends of mine have been my spiritual umbrella. I have been kept dry while they have huddled over me, spreading the Holy Spirit's "feathers" like a canopy.

Yesterday, though it was still raining, my grandson wanted to go out to play. So he got dressed in raingear that would keep him totally dry. I laughed, thinking about the armor of God, and how we must look to the Father as we head out into the "rain."

Probably a lot like my four-year-old grandson, I think.