Thirty Days of Thanksgiving - Day Eight

Day 8. The letter H. 

Today I'm thankful for hard times. And hope. 

Last weekend I had the opportunity to spend time with a group of writers. My heart came away full with learning new things, catching up with some of my favorite pals, and meeting new friends.

Over a shared stuffed pizza – Chicago style – one of my new friends told me how the last year had gone by in a blur. Her debut novel was set to release, but in the midst of preparing for that, she was blind-sided by a personal injury, prolonged medical treatment, and was then called to another state to help care for her mother in hospice. Her emotions were frayed, her supply of energy depleted. She’s coming out from a hard year, and as we talked, I couldn’t help but think of the valleys I’ve been through in my own life. Dark valleys where I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring and was almost afraid to wake up because I knew new challenges were nearly certain.

We’ve all had them. Family crises. Deaths of dear ones. Job upheaval. Serious illnesses. Redirecting our lives. And yet, during those times, even when I didn’t know what to pray, I’ve cried out for wisdom and strength and provision. And it’s only when I look back at the hard times that I see them for what they are – treasures that have made my life richer. They are the places in my road of life where I’ve learned the most about who I am and grown the most in my walk with God.

I know it’s a bit of a paradox to be thankful for hard times during this season of thanksgiving. The valleys of despair can seem endless and unbearable, but even when we aren't aware of his presence, God walks beside us. The valleys are rich and fertile, filled with streams of hope to water our weary hearts. It's a hope not only for tomorrow, but for all eternity. And that is worthy of celebration. Worthy of thanksgiving.

He is Risen!

He is Risen!

Merry Christmas!

"And His name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, Prince of Peace." 

Merry Christmas Everyone! 

May you have a joyous, safe Christmas as you celebrate the birth of Jesus.

IMMANUEL . . . God With Us

BLESSINGS TO ALL OF YOU - friends, loved ones, and faithful blog readers. May you receive all the best from God above and join in celebration of the birth of the Christ child.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The Christmas Spirit

I’m the first to admit, the Christmas spirit is a little slow in making its appearance around here. I’m consumed with me-isms—my book promotion, my next project, my responsibilities to the writing groups I belong to, my blog posts, my email. It’s no wonder I feel like such a Scrooge. When we see only ourselves and the urgencies around us, it’s harder to gain our focus. And sadly, I’m guilty.

This past weekend, I went to Texas to see my grandson perform in his second Christmas band concert. Last year he was a beginning tuba player. This year, he’s advanced to the symphonic band. Oh, what a difference from last year until this one! The tempo was faster, they were together on the melody, and the blending of the sections was so much mellower. Delightful.

Proud Mimi with her grandsons, the tuba player on the left.

They played four numbers, the first of which was The Christmas Eve March where a portion of the song featured the percussion and tuba players. Lots of bum-bum-bum. They played with skill and authority. Next was African Noel with an exotic beat that reminded me of our brothers and sisters in another part of the world. A toe-tapping Holly, Jolly Christmas followed with the finale of Feliz Navidad, its Latin beat resounding with the very talented percussion section again. And in each of the songs, the tuba notes grounded the instruments, giving the overall performance depth and a framework.

It made me more aware than ever that we are all part of humankind. Different cultures. Different generations. One reason to celebrate. How can we not get in the Christmas spirit when we stop for a moment to ponder and remember that Jesus is the Spirit of Christmas? Jesus who came in fulfillment of the prophecy, to save us all, even a wretch like me.

I had a wonderful time with my grandsons and their parents as well as about twelve hours of playing my favorite Christmas CDs on the trip to and fro. I arrived home weary, but filled anew with the wonder of Christmas, the love of family, and the gift of music in our world.

May all heaven and nature sing!

DAISY CHAIN by Mary E. DeMuth on CFBA with REVIEW

This week, theChristian Fiction Blog Allianceis introducingDaisy ChainZondervan (March 1, 2009)byMary DeMuth

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Mary E. DeMuth is an expert in Pioneer Parenting. She enables Christian parents to navigate our changing culture when their families left no good faith examples to follow.

Her parenting books include Authentic Parenting in a Postmodern Culture (Harvest House, 2007), Building the Christian Family You Never Had (WaterBrook, 2006), and Ordinary Mom, Extraordinary God (Harvest House, 2005).

Mary also inspires people to face their trials through her real-to-life novels, Watching The Tree Limbs
(nominated for a Christy Award) and Wishing On Dandelions (NavPress, 2006).

Mary has spoken at Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference, the ACFW Conference, the Colorado Christian Writers Conference, and at various churches and church planting ministries. Mary and her husband, Patrick, reside in Texas with their three children. They recently returned from breaking new spiritual ground in Southern France, and planting a church.
ABOUT THE BOOK

The abrupt disappearance of young Daisy Chance from a small Texas town in 1973 spins three lives out of control—Jed, whose guilt over not protecting his friend Daisy strangles him; Emory Chance, who blames her own choices for her daughter’s demise; and Ouisie Pepper, who is plagued by headaches while pierced by the shattered pieces of a family in crisis.

In this first book in the Defiance, Texas Trilogy, fourteen-year-old Jed Pepper has a sickening secret: He’s convinced it’s his fault his best friend Daisy went missing. Jed’s pain sends him on a quest for answers to mysteries woven through the fabric of his own life and the lives of the families of Defiance, Texas. When he finally confronts the terrible truths he’s been denying all his life, Jed must choose between rebellion and love, anger and freedom.

Daisy Chain is an achingly beautiful southern coming-of-age story crafted by a bright new literary talent. It offers a haunting yet hopeful backdrop for human depravity and beauty, for terrible secrets and God’s surprising redemption.

If you would like to read the first chapter of Daisy Chain, go HERE

MY REVIEW:

I’ve been waiting impatiently for the release of Mary DeMuth’s new book—Daisy Chain. It came last week, and what a compelling read!

Jed Pepper, a 14-year-old preacher’s son, has one thing in common with Daisy Chance—their families are not normal. Aberrant would be a better description. In the opening pages, Daisy disappears, throwing Jed into despair and guilt because he didn’t walk her home from their daily explorations.

With a cast of quirky and troubled characters, the book is about Jed’s search for Daisy while praying for courage to stand up to his father’s rants and frequent abuse.

It’s difficult to read at times with raw emotions laid open on every page, but that’s also what is so gripping about it. Each chapter draws you into the next as you hope life will turn out better for Jed. Glimpses of beauty and kindness woven into the tragedies gives the book many layers and a tender side.

Many things about Daisy Chain remind me of To Kill a Mockingbird. First, the southern setting, the poetic, sometimes haunting prose. Characters cast from their own unique molds change preconceived notions about worthiness and godliness. Even Jed and his sister, Sissy, reminded me at times of the younger Jem and Scout from To Kill a Mockingbird. The story is rich, bursting with truths about Jesus and chock full of wayward Biblical interpretations. Jed is tormented, confused, and sifts through the mess of his life looking for truth—the truth of God and the truth about Daisy’s whereabouts.

Had Mary handwritten this book on a yellow pad, I can almost imagine her with pencil poised, gouging words onto the paper. The writing is strong, lyrical, and heart-breaking at times. I desperately cared for many of the characters, felt dirtied by others. We truly do live in a world where hope is the only answer.

Not all the threads are tied up in a nice package with a pretty bow, but knowing this is only the first book of the series, I too have hope that better things are ahead for the folks in Defiance, Texas. Great southern read!

EASTER, 2008

Did you notice how early Easter is this year? I’m sure all you clever people know that Easter is always the first Sunday after the first full moon after the Spring Equinox, which is March 23 this year (2008).

This dating of Easter is based on the lunar calendar that Hebrew people used to identify Passover, which is why it moves around on our Roman calendar. Based on the above, the earliest date that Easter can fall on is March 22, but that is pretty rare.

Here’s the interesting part. This year is the earliest Easter any of us will ever see the rest of our lives. And only the most elderly of our population have ever seen it this early—those dear saints who are 95 years old or more! Consider the facts:

The next time Easter will fall on March 23 will be the year 2228—220 years from now. The last time it was this early was 1913. So only those 95 or older were around for that.

The next time Easter will fall on March 22 will be in 2288—277 years from now. The previous date when it fell on March 22 was 1818. Betcha no one today was around then.

No matter what day Easter falls on based on human calculations, I am thankful that Jesus is the SAME yesterday, today, and forever. HE IS RISEN!

A blessed Easter to you and yours.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. Luke 2:8

On Christmas Eve, we'll gather with our minions at my Dad's for a feast and the flurry of gifts. My favorite part, though, is the reading of the real Christmas story in Luke. The honor rotates each year among my sons, my sister's boys, and then a couple of years ago, the mantle was passed to my grandson. Quite a lot of words for an eight-year-old to master, and he did a beautiful job. I don't know who will read this year, but I know my heart will swell as always. Tell me the story of Jesus. I never tire of hearing it.

Blessings to all of you who have visited my writing cafe this year. I'll pop in next week with my reading favorites of 2007 and tell you what I'll be reading next year.

Until then, have a merry, merry Christmas.