Thirty Days of Thanksgiving - Day 19

Day 19. The Letter S. 

Today I’m thankful for my son Scott. He came twenty-four tension-filled minutes after his twin brother, Brett. Their differences were apparent from the beginning, being fraternal for one thing, but I’m amazed at how early in each of our boys’ lives their personalities became evident. Scott has always—ALWAYS—been a competitor and understood the concept of numbers.

He figured out multiplication in kindergarten (stunning his teacher) and by the time he was seven years old, he read the sports section every morning with his Cocoa Pebbles and began memorizing the baseball stats of his favorite players. He spent hours every day shooting baskets in the driveway. Rain or shine. Summer or winter. He took breaks by throwing a baseball against a pitchback.

It didn’t surprise us when he chose to major in math in college and went on to get a Master’s in statistics. Scott thinks in percentages and can probably tell you the odds of how often a fraternal twin becomes the father of identical twins. What goes around comes around, and he now has the pleasure (and challenge) of raising twins.



He and Denice get bonus points, though, for presenting us with our first grandgirl four years ago. I’m 100% certain she’s the cutest girl on the planet, and I’m 95% sure that Scott can still give you the lifetime stats of his all-time favorite baseball player, Reuben Sierra.

I’m a lucky mom. My heart overflows with thankfulness for these fine young men. Selfishly, I’m also a wee bit thankful for the solitude of my life now. Can you relate?

Thirty Days of Thanksgiving - Day 15

Day 15. The Letter O for Opportunity.

As Thanksgiving Day draws near, I’m glad that I’ve set aside a few minutes each day to reflect on specific people and things for which I’m grateful. To be honest, I don’t always feel like doing it. I have a lot of projects going on; I made a trip in the early part of the month; and I’m trying to get a few pages done each day on my next novel. But this has been a good exercise for me to be a disciplined writer and reflect on things that matter most.

As we reach the halfway mark, you guessed it – today’s word is opportunity. How blessed we are to live in a land of boundless opportunities – the freedom to choose what we want to wear, whether we want to live in a house or an apartment, whether or not to go to college, whom we will marry, even if we want to have children. Obviously we took several opportunities to explore that option at one time or another and have four sons, who have turned into pretty cool young men, to show for it.

I’m sure I’ve missed a few golden opportunities along the way – haven’t we all? But Thanksgiving is a good time to take the opportunity to make someone’s life brighter or easier by hearing a kind word, receiving a thoughtful note, or being invited to lunch.

And while we’re on the subject of opportunity, I want to remind you that you have until this Saturday to claim your “coupon code” for Novel Morsels (See button on right side of this blog and click to read about it or check out this post). Leave a comment with your contact info and I’ll zip the code right out to you. It’s an opportunity you don’t want to miss!

See you tomorrow!

Thirty Days of Thanksgiving - Day Seven

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. Are grandkids the best thing since the hula hoop or what? And what a sense of humor God has! He gave us four sons, then bam! Five grandsons!

Ha. Ha. I’ve loved them everyone in turn. Perfection in miniature! Then, finally . . . FINALLY . . . a grandgirl! The first girl born on my side of the family in 52 years! Thankful, indeed.

It would be impossible to list all of the endearing, superior, divine qualities of my grandchildren – a problem I’m sure none of you other Mimis and Papas out there have. Let’s just say, I’m grateful and blessed.

Waving to Jeremy who doesn't live close enough to get into these family photos - we love you kiddo!

Thirty Days of Thanksgiving - Day Four

Day 4. The Letter D. 

The annual picture of Daddy and "the girls"

“In the game of pitch, you can shoot the moon with only an ace and a deuce – providing it’s the first hand of a new game.” This is the kind of wisdom I learned from Daddy – the object of today’s thirty days of gratitude. Home-spun truths with one foot in the real world and one in the legendary world of tall tales—a realm in which my dad holds the degree of “master spinner.”

My sisters and I weren’t thinking of tall tales, though, last February when Daddy had to take an unexpected helicopter ride to Amarillo following a minor heart attack during a stress test. As a matter of fact, the angiogram in Amarillo revealed major blockage that required a minimum of four bypasses. And the unspoken prognosis: At his age, anything could happen.

My two sisters and I got there as fast as we could, relieved when we found him stabilized. The surgeon, though, wanted to give his body time to recover from the two days of tests before she performed the bypasses. So we had a whole day to wait. No tests. No agenda. Just bed rest and monitoring in ICU.

Daddy was in high spirits—“fine as frog hair,” as he was fond of saying. Donna, Marsha, and I didn’t let on about our fears, either—the tangible reality that this might be the last day this side of heaven we had to spend with our dad. A dad who was definitely one-of-a-kind. When we were kids, he was just as comfortable combing our hair into pony tails as he was making us mow the grass or pull nails out of boards. He often loaded us up in his pick-up and took us off on horse-trading expeditions or a day of cherry picking in Granny’s orchard. He waited into the wee hours of night waiting for us to get home from band trips and didn’t mind telling us to “keep your noses clean and to the grindstone.”

All of those things and more riddled our thoughts as Daddy rested in the hospital bed, the blood-thinning heparin drip keeping him safe until they sawed his chest open and put him on the heart-lung machine so they could “fix” what they could. Daddy didn’t raise a trio of whiny, mopey girls, though. So after the morning routine, Marsha pulled out a deck of cards. Time for a game of pitch.

Playing Pitch in the Hospital

We positioned the bedside table, cranked up the head of Daddy’s bed and spent the day doing what he liked best – playing cards and telling stories. It didn’t take a lot of encouragement on our part to get him started, and we talked and laughed until tears ran down our cheeks. If it was to be his last day on this earth, we’d made the best of it—a day we could look back on without regret.

It wasn’t his last day, though. The repairs were made and he came through just fine. I won’t say the aftermath was pleasant—certainly not as much fun as four-handed pitch, but two weeks later we took Daddy home, and he continued the road to recovery. He’s back to restoring buggies, being head usher at church, and spinning more stories. My own gratitude overflows. How blessed I’ve been to have a dad who taught me about Jesus, who’s been an anchor and influence in my life, and who taught me that you can shoot the moon in a game of pitch with an ace and a deuce – providing it’s the first hand of a new game.

Sometimes it’s the little things. Sometimes the huge ones. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference. Here’s the truth, though. Next time we gather around the oak table in Daddy’s kitchen and the cards are shuffled, I’ll say a prayer of Thanksgiving. I might even try to shoot the moon.

Thirty Days of Thanksgiving - Day Two

Day Two. The letter B. 

Brett, happy at sea

As fate would have it, on the second day of thankfulness, our second-born son’s name appears in the alphabet. Brett. He’s one-half of a matched set – twins born nineteen months after our first son. Can you say harried mom? Scott, his other half will have to wait until his turn in the alphabet, for today I’m grateful for Brett.

Oh, how wondrous are the ways of the Lord. And uniquely made is every part of his creation. Brett, from an early age, had a tender heart for critters (rabbits, hamsters, pups, cats) and set out to ask not why, but how? Always curious, he explored, took things apart (buckets of wires, cords, springs, and the makings of clocks that would never tick again). He wanted to know how things worked and was happier on a tractor than in an English or Math class. Little did we know that the chef hat, Happy Face Pots and Pans and Coast Guard Legos from his childhood were prophetic of the life he would someday lead.

Brett and Cindy

At nineteen, Brett joined the US Coast Guard, became a cook, and has traveled the world for a decade and a half. Russia, China, Indonesia, Panama, Costa Rica, Jordan, Bahrain, and countless other ports-of-call—we’ve been there vicariously through Brett and his travels.

And when he’s stateside with his wife, Cindy, and stepson, Jeremy, we enjoy hearing about his ventures both abroad and at home where he still has a penchant for God’s creatures—four pups that keep Cindy company while he sails the world.

For Brett and all of the men and women who serve our country, I’m grateful. Thank you. You make me proud to be an American. And a mom.

Thirty Days of Thanksgiving - Day One

Today I'm starting something new here at the Cafe - Thirty days of being thankful. If you’re anything like me, you’re thankful every day for God’s gifts and His blessings. Mine tend to be generic more often than not, so as I’ve seen others do, I’m devoting November – the month of Thanksgiving – to being intentionally thankful every day. For small things and those that are unspeakably grand.

To keep things straight – and because it’s the sort of thing I would do – I’ll be going through the alphabet for the first twenty-six days. Then who knows? The last four days may be a surprise even to me as I keep my heart open to abundant gratitude. Join me, okay?

Day One. The letter A. 

Andy and Amy with the boys

Appropriately on the first day, I’m thankful for my firstborn child – Andrew – always Andy to us. Imaginative, creative, and the one who would test my mettle in more ways than I can count (teen-age years anyone?). But thirty-seven years ago, when the gravity of having a little person who was totally dependent on his inept parents dawned on me, I thought all the answers could be found in a book. I found out soon enough the parenting experts hadn’t met Andy.

Enter: the delight of raising a child who asked why of everything, had an imaginary friend named Larry (whose mother let him do all the things I wouldn’t), could spell encyclopedia in the first grade, invented his own utopia and called it Andy-Land, and gave us two amazing grandsons as a reward for our feeble efforts at raising him. His tears when he held his first-born brought full-circle the joy and thankfulness that I’ve had in being Andy’s mom – both then and now.

More adventures in parenting waited in the wings. Journey with me along the road of gratitude this month.
Have you had any surprises as a parent? What are you thankful for today?

Faith-Hope-Love Inspirational Reader's Choice Award Finalists for 2011

FROM THE FAITH, HOPE, & LOVE WEBSITE: 

On behalf of the IRCA Contest coordinator, Nancy J. Farrier,
we are pleased to announce the 2011 IRCA Finalists

Long Contemporary

Crossing Oceans by Gina Holmes (Tyndale)
The Six-Liter Club by Harry Kraus (Howard)
Love Finds You in Sugarcreek, Ohio by Serena Miller (Summerside)

Short Contemporary

Tender Mercies by Mary Manners (White Rose)
White Roses by Shannon Taylor Vannatter (Barbour)
Rodeo Redemption by Teri Wilson (White Rose)

Long Historical

The Preacher's Bride by Jody Hedlund (Bethany House)
Abbie Ann by Sharlene MacLaren (Whitaker House)
A Memory Between Us by Sarah Sundin (Revell)

Short Historical

Walker's Wedding by Lori Copeland (Harvest)
The Substitute Bride by Janet Dean (Steeple Hill)
A Matter of Character by Robin Lee Hatcher (Zondervan)

Women's Fiction

The House on Sugar Plum Lane by Judy Duarte (Kensington)

Chasing Lilacs by Carla Stewart (FaithWords)

Plain Paradise by Beth Wiseman (Thomas Nelson)

Romantic Suspense

Too Close to Home by Lynette Eason (Revell)
Forget Me Not by Vicki Hinze (Waterbrook)
Nightshade by Ronie Kendig (Barbour)

Novella

The Snowflake by Jamie Carrie (Broadman and Holman)
Once Upon a Christmas Eve by Anita Higman (Summerside)
A Bodine Family Christmas by Marta Perry (Steeple Hill)

Congratulations to the finalists!

I'm thrilled to be among friends on this list. Waving to fellow debut authors Sarah Sundin, Gina Holmes, Serena Miller, Ronie Kendig, and Jody Hedlund. It doesn't seem that long ago that Sarah and I were bemoaning the fact that we might never be published. I'm so proud to be walking this publishing journey with her. All of these authors are top drawer - Need a book to read??? Lots of good picks right here! 

 

SALUTE TO OUR VETERANS AND TROOPS

My dad (2nd from right) during the 1930s

My dad grew up in Oklahoma during the Great Depression, the second of six children. Raised on a farm, he has talked about doing without and once marveled at how his mother could feed a family of eight with only one can of salmon. He was too young to enter WWII, but after he graduated from high school, he did a three year hitch in the US Army and was stationed in Fairbanks, Alaska a good part of that time. One of his favorite memories was shaking hands with Gen. Eisenhower. He married my mom when he got out of the Army, but when I was six months old, was recalled to serve in Korea. I've tried to find the picture of him there (I know my sister copied it and gave it to me, but I can't find it - sigh).

My dad today working in his shop

Over the years my dad's been a hero to me in many ways, but fighting in a war and not knowing whether he would ever see my mom or me again must have haunted many of his nights as he built bridges and tramped through the rice patties of Korea. I really can't imagine. A simple thank you seems frail and inadequate. I only know that I'm grateful that he survived not only the Depression, but also the rigors of war.

Brett on CG Cutter off the coast of Alaska

I have a present day hero as well.
Our son, Brett, has been in the US Coast Guard for fifteen years. His cutter assisted in the Indonesian tsunami relief; he's served a year in Bahrain, pursued pirate ships off the coasts of Africa and Belize, and stepped foot on nearly every continent. He leads a life of adventure, but I know, too, that he is doing a worthy work, something for which I, as a regular citizen, have a poor concept of. I don't tell him thank you often enough.

For veterans and troops across our land and those overseas, I salute you. May God bestow on you the crown of glory for your sacrifice and loyalty to our great country.

The Art of Appreciation

Today I received what I believe is my first fan letter (email) from a complete stranger. Yes, I've received many lovely notes from people I know - childhood friends, writing friends, friends of friends. Indeed, it is more than my heart can hold sometimes when I receive a sweet message, a surprise review, or a shout out on Twitter of FaceBook. Folks are generous with their praise. I've been blessed a thousand times over.

So what made the note today special? It came from a young mom who found Chasing Lilacs in her local library and she picked it up thinking she might have time to read a bit on vacation - something she has little time for as she has four very young children. She confessed when she wrote that she'd never written an author before and went on to say she loved the book and could not put it down. This touched me for a couple of reasons. She took the initiative to find out how to contact me AND she emailed me. This no doubt busy mom took time from her day to tell me she appreciated my book. She didn't have to, but she did.

I'm tickled to have a fan (oh, how I've dreamed of this day!), but I am also humbled. Feeling a little sheepish. How many times have I thought - I should send Aunt Gabby a card and tell her how much I enjoyed her pickled rhubarb? Or thought of sending a birthday card/anniversary card/gee-I-miss-you card to a friend I haven't seen in a while. You know what I'm talking about. A quick email that just says "hey, how are you?" A funny Hallmark greeting that would brighten someone's day or let them know you appreciated them for no reason other than because they exist. I don't do it nearly often enough.

I know why I don't. I'm rushed. Forgetful. And selfish.

I want to do better at the art of appreciation. Capture those good intentions and send them off before they have time to become only a memory of what I should've done. And I want to be worthy of having a fan who takes the time to say "thanks for the good read."

IN HONOR OF OUR VETERANS

My dad is my hero. Someone who's always ready with another story or good advice. Although he didn't go to college, me made certain my sisters and I did. And along the way, he instilled in me a strong work ethic, a love of God, and the value of “keeping my nose clean and to the grindstone.” He also taught me some universal truths like: Don’t pick up a live mouse by the tail and you can “shoot the moon” in a game of pitch with only an ace and a deuce—providing it’s the first hand of a new game. My first published article was about my dad, and I have it on my website if you’d like to read it.

The other thing my dad did for me was serve our country in Korea when I was an infant. He was drafted into the Army in the post WW II era, but he never saw any action. He came home, married my mother, and started a family. When the Korean War broke out, he was called up from the reserves. An inveterate storyteller, who has charmed family and friends for generations, my dad rarely speaks of his time in Korea. I know he witnessed the ravages of war in a way that most of us can only imagine and that perhaps it brought back too many painful memories.

One evening, though, about 2 ½ years ago, my writing friend, Charles (Chuck) Sasser, told me about a book he was writing called God in the Foxholes. He was collecting stories of American veterans from all eras, but was particularly interested in those of WW II and Korean soldiers since so many of them were no longer alive. Long story short, Chuck’s book released this week in time for Veteran’s Day, and it is wonderful

My dad’s story is in there, with a picture of him in his Army uniform. I had heard only snatches of the story and came away with tear-filled eyes and an even greater appreciation for what my dad and so many others have done to make this country a safe place to live, work, and raise my children.

To you, Daddy, thanks. You are loved.