Our Homeschooling Pilgrimage

Guest post - Joshua Chamberlain by Zachariah

2012-02-06T04:30:00.000-05:00

I hope you enjoy my son, Zachariah’s post.~Tammi

Hello Everyone!

This is a report that I did for Maine Studies at my local 4-H club. I hope you all like it.

Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain was born in the Brewer of 1828, the oldest of five children. When he turned twenty, he moved south to Brunswick to study at Bowdoin Collage. While there, he met Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe; who read him parts of the yet unpublished Uncle Tom's Cabin. He also joined some groups during those four years. After graduation he moved back north to Bangor to study at the Bangor Theological Seminary, where he stays for the next three years. Immediately after that, he returns to Brunswick and marries Miss Fanny Adams, the daughter of a local pastor. The marriage took place in 1855. He takes up a job as a professor of rhetoric, and soon teaches every subject in the book; excepting science and mathematics. Because of his knowledge of nine languages besides English, he gained the title of Professor of Modern Languages.

When the Civil War broke out in 1861 Chamberlain was all for it. He encouraged his students to drop out of school and enlist. He did so himself when the Collage kicked him out for said practices. He joined the 20th Maine Volunteer Regiment, becoming lieutenant colonel in mid-1862. His first battle was miserable, mostly because of the way they were forced to spend the night. The next wasn't much better because of an outbreak of smallpox. Chamberlain's next fight was the one that gave him fame, the Battle of Gettysburg.

For those of you who don't know, Gettysburg was a three day fight. The 20th Maine didn't do much in the first day. In the second day, they were ordered to go to the far left of the army, to Little Round Top. The Confederates, trying to defeat the Union so that they could move north, decided to attack Little Round Top, swing around, and attack the Union from the rear. There were three regiments be-sides the 20th ME on the hill, so the South decides to go around it at first instead of capturing it right off. But to do that they must get through the 20th ME. The 15th Alabama charges. Sometime during the ensuing fight, the 20th ME got broken into two groups; one facing roughly southeast, the other one (with now Colonel Chamberlain) facing west. Running out of ammunition, he ordered the south-east branch to swing around behind the Alabamians and strike with their bayonets. 101 Southern men were captured using that maneuver, probably saving the entire northern army. I'm not exaggerating. This gave him the nickname "Lion of the Round Top".

After that, he took a leave of absence due to malaria. During his next battle, he had a severe injury yet refused to retreat. He was forced to soon, though, when he passed out due to lack of blood. This wound 1) promoted him to brigadier general 2) led to his eventual death. After fighting quite a few other battles, President Lincoln dubbed him major general of the United States, which at the time was as high as you could go. Chamberlain was selected to lead the parade of surrendering Confederates to the Appomattox Court House to formally surrender in April of 1865.

After the war, he spent four years as Governor of Maine, then returned to Bowdoin Collage where he was elected president in 1871. He stayed in that position for twelve years. He performed various jobs for the State of Maine and wrote several books. He received the Medal of Honor for his deeds at Gettysburg in 1893 and delivered several speeches on the old battleground. Chamberlain died of his war wounds in 1914, the last to die from Civil War wounds. He was 86.

Sources:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joshua_Chamberlain

http://lcweb2.loc.gov/service/mss/eadxmlmss/eadpdfmss/2010/ms010265.pdf

http://www.civilwarhome.com/jlchamberlainbio.htm

I’ll be looking forward to doing my next guest post.

I hope you all have a good day,

Zachariah

Beyond Molasses Creek By Nicole Seitz~~A Litfuse Publicity Group Book Review

2012-02-04T00:12:00.001-05:00

My Review:

When I began reading Beyond Molasses Creek by Nicole Seitz red flags began waving at me. From the start the mention of gods and stone statues made me wonder if a book, that is marketed as a Christian book, is going to have any redemptive qualities; if the Gospel is going to be laid out before the characters, and thus the reader. It wasn't. Therefore the book, to me, is more a secular book than a Christian one.

That being said, I did like the characters. I felt bad for Ally, it seemed her life had included a lot of loss. Growing up in the south in the 1950’s and 60’s, when the climate was very cool, even at times hostile against white and black being friends. Ally befriends, Vesey Washington, a boy who lives across the Molasses Creek from her, a life long friend, but out of reach.

She suffers the loss of a child. The death of her parents. The death of who she could have been.

She collected statues of foreign gods, and angels during her years of travels, and had them set up in the yard of her childhood home after the death of her father. She would go out to find comfort in her garden of statues, but of course there wasn’t any comfort there, it can only be found in the One True God of the Bible.

I give Beyond Molasses Creek by Nicole Seitz 3.5 stars out of 5, I thought Nicole’s descriptions were very good and I could see the scenes and the people within the pages. If this book was marketed as a secular book I would give it a better rating than I am able to knowing that it is in the Christian market.

The Blurb:

Three lives are bound by a single book . . . and the cleansing waters of Molasses Creek.

Having traveled to the ends of the earth as a flight attendant, Ally Green has finally returned to the Lowcountry to bury her father as well as the past. But Vesey Washington is still living across the creek, and theirs is a complicated relationship—he was once her best friend . . . and also part of the reason she’s stayed away so long. When Ally discovers a message her father left behind asking her to quit running, it seems her past isn’t through with her yet.

As Ally’s wandering spirit wrestles with a deep longing to flee again, a young woman on the other side of the world escapes her life of slavery in the rock quarries of Nepal. A mysterious sketchbook leads Sunila Kunari to believe there’s more to her story than she’s ever been told, and she’s determined to follow the truth wherever it leads her.

A deep current intertwines the lives of these three souls, and a destiny of freedom, faith, and friendship awaits them all on the banks of Molasses Creek.

About Nicole:

Nicole Seitz is the author of several critically acclaimed novels - The Inheritance of Beauty, Saving Cicadas, A Hundred Years of Happiness, Trouble the Water, and The Spirit of Sweetgrass. She is a graduate of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill's School of Journalism, and also has a degree in Illustration from Savannah College of Art & Design. Her paintings are featured on the covers of her books. Visit her at @NicoleSeitz, Facebook and www.nicoleseitz.com for more information.

Purchase the Book Here

Win a Kindle and RSVP for Nicole Seitz's Facebook Party! Save the Date! 2/16!

Blog Tour Schedule

**Beyond Molasses Creek By Nicole Seitz was provided for me free by Litfuse Publicity Group in exchange for my honest review.

Blessings,

The Sound of Red Returning by Sue Duffy~~ A LitFuse Book Review

2012-01-27T02:43:00.001-05:00

My Review:

If you grew-up during the 60’s. 70’s or the 80’s then you, like me remember the cold war. I can remember the fear of nuclear weapons being sent across the sea, and I also remember when the Berlin Wall fell and the end the of the threat of the cold war.

The Sound of Red Returning brings the suspense of the cold war to the forefront of my mind. The CIA and KGB are still trying to keep and retrieve national secrets in order to maintain security, and the world I grew-up in still exists.

I enjoyed this story very much, The characters are very likable and and I fell in love with them right away. Ian O’Brian adds humor into the tenseness of some of the scenes. while Cade O’Brian brings Liesl someone to open her heart to.The story is fast-paced, with a lot of twists and turns which kept me guessing what would happen next.

I give the book 5 out of 5 stars and am looking forward to the next book in the Red Returning Trilogy.

The Blurb:

After losing everyone she loves, concert pianist Liesl Bower has nowhere to go but to escape into her music. Searching for the peace she usually finds in her concertos and sonatas, Liesl can’t shake the feeling that she is being haunted by her past . . . and by someone following her. When she spots a familiar and eerie face in the audience of a concert she’s giving for the President in Washington, DC, the scariest day of her life comes back to her with a flash. It has been fifteen years since Liesl watched her beloved Harvard music mentor assaulted on a dark night in Moscow and just as long since the CIA disclosed to her that he’d been spying for Russia. She had seen that man--that eerie face--the night Professor Devoe was attacked. And now he’s back--and coming for her.

On the run and struggling to rely on the protection of CIA agent Ava Mullins and handsome newspaper reporter Cade O’Brien, Liesl learns she is the prey of an underground cell of Russian KGB agents determined to restore their country to its former Soviet might. But what she doesn’t know is that she is in possession of something--a piece of sheet music--that Russian intelligence is now frantic to find. Inside that music is a secret code, the hidden transcriptions of her deceased mentor, that clearly identify a Russian mole operating inside Israel’s Department of Defense, a mole with enough power and access to execute a daring assassination that no one would see coming.

Caught in a deadly conflict between American and Russian undercover agents, this innocent young pianist is just trying to survive her own personal trauma. Through it all, Liesl must learn that no matter how dark her world grows or how fiercely her enemies pursue her, God is still in control--if only she can yield herself to His grace.

Read an Excerpt Here

About the Author:

Sue Duffy is an award-winning writer whose work has appeared in Moody Magazine, The Presbyterian Journal, Sunday Digest, and The Christian Reader. She is the author of Mortal Wounds (Barbour, 2001) and Fatal Loyalty (Kregel, 2010). Sue has also contributed to Stories for a Woman’s Heart (Multnomah). She and her husband, Mike, have three grown children.

Find out more at Sue Duffy’s Website

Purchase the Book Here

---------------------------

Win a Kindle Fire from @SueDuffy2 and @KregelBooks in the "Red Returning" Giveaway! Sue Duffy and her publisher, Kregel Publications, are celebrating the release of The Sound of Red Returning by giving away a Kindle Fire prize package worth over $200 to one lucky winner!!!! (1/23-2/11)

Enter the Sue Duffy’s Giveaway today and you could win:

* A brand new Kindle Fire with Wi-Fi
* The Sound of Red Returning (Book One in the Red Returning series) by Sue Duffy

To enter click one of the icons below. But, hurry! The giveaway ends on 2/11. Sue will be announcing the winner of the “Red Returning” Giveaway on February 13th on the Litfuse website!

Tell your friends via FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning.

**The Sound of Red Returning by Sue Duffy was provided for me free by Litfuse Publicity Group in exchange for my honest review.

Blessings,

Classroom Friendly Supplies Pencil Sharpener Review

2012-01-25T15:57:00.001-05:00

I have had my eye on the pencil sharpener pictured above for a while now, and when the opportunity arose for me to try it in my home and then write a review I jumped at it.
When our mail lady dropped off the box containing our new pencil sharpener we immediately opened the box and tried it out. It is so easy to use, you just pull out the silver pencil holder, push the black clamps open, slide the pencil into the slot, release the clamp, let go of the pencil and hold onto the top of the pencil sharpener, turn the handle a few turns, release the pencil, and you have a perfectly sharp pencil.
We have used an electric sharpener for years, but I was quite unsatisfied with it. It was too noisy, and often times the pencil didn’t sharpen well. This new sharpener is quiet and doesn’t eat the pencils. A perfect fit for our homeschooling family.
If you are interested in purchasing this pencil sharpener for your home, office or classroom please visit Classroom Friendly Supplies for more information.
I give this product 5 out of 5 stars and recommend it to anyone who uses pencils.
Blessings,

**I received the Classroom Friendly Supplies Pencil Sharpener free in exchange for for my honest review.

Sisters of the Quilt ~The Complete Trilogy by Cindy Woodsmall~~A WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group Book Review

2012-01-23T13:55:00.001-05:00

My Review:

Sisters of the Quilt contains When the Heart Cries, When the Morning Comes, and When the Soul Mends. When it is possible, I choose books that contain the complete story in one volume, because I get impatient waiting for the next book in the series to arrive.

What would you do if something out of your control happened, but no one believed you, not your family, not your friends, not your pastor? Hannah Lapp, a 17 year old Old Order Amish girl, was faced with this dilemma, and chose to leave every thing she knows and loves to start a new life.

I loved watching Hannah as she grew in the gifts God had given her. I don’t know if I could be as strong as she was, but her resolve to move on, and put the old behind her, helped her as she grew in her faith, and to forgive those who had hurt her. But more importantly to begin to build bridges between her past, present, and future.

I give this book 5 out of 5 stars, and would recommend it to those who like Amish fiction, as well as, to those who have never read it before.

The Blurb:

Can Hannah find refuge, redemption, and a fresh beginning after her world is shattered?

When the Heart Cries
Her life among her Amish community brutally interrupted, seventeen-year-old Hannah Lapp faces questions neither family, nor fiancé, nor even faith can easily answer. The first book in the Sisters of the Quilt series, When the Heart Cries will ignite a broader understanding of others’ beliefs and a God-given strength to deal with pain we all experience.

When the Morning Comes
Rejected by those she loves, Hannah Lapp leaves her Amish community and seeks refuge in the world outside, leaving her family and friends to wrestle with the painful truths that emerge in the wake of her disappearance. As she struggles to find her place in the confusing Englischer world, her community deals with the turbulent aftermath of her departure.

When the Soul Mends
Hoping to help her sister, Hannah Lapp reluctantly returns to the Old Order Amish community she fled in disgrace more than two years earlier. When hidden truths are revealed about her former fiancé, she must choose whether to return to the Plain life or to the Englischer man who adores her in this captivating conclusion to the Sisters of the Quilt series.

Excerpt:

Chapter 1

   Hannah Lapp covered the basket of freshly gathered eggs with her hand, glanced behind her, and bolted down the dirt road. Early morning light filtered through the broad leaves of the great oaks as she ran toward her hopes…and her fears.
   A mixed fragrance of light fog, soil, garden vegetables, and jasmine drifted through the air. Hannah adored nature’s varying scents. When she topped the knoll and was far enough away that her father couldn’t spot her, she turned, taking in the view behind her. Her family’s gray stone farmhouse was perched amid rolling acreage. Seventeen years ago she’d been born in that house.
   She closed her eyes, breaking the visual connection to home. Her Amish heritage was hundreds of years old, but her heart yearned to be as modern as personal computers and the Internet. Freedom beckoned to her, but so did her relatives.
   Some days the desire to break from her family’s confinements sneaked up on her. There was a life out there—one that had elbowroom—and it called to her. She took another long look at her homestead before traipsing onward. Paul would be at the end of her one-mile jaunt. Joy quickened her pace. Her journey passed rapidly as she listened to birds singing their morning songs and counted fence posts.
   As she topped the hill, a baritone voice sang an unfamiliar tune. The melody was coming from the barn. She headed for the cattle gate at the back of the pastureland that was lined by the dirt road. Beyond the barn sat Paul’s grandmother’s house, and past that was the paved road used by the English in their cars.
   Paul used the cars of the English. Hannah’s lips curved into a smile. More accurately, he drove a rattletrap of an old truck. Even though his order of Mennonites was very conservative, much more so than many of the Mennonite groups, they didn’t hesitate to use electricity and vehicles. Still, his sect believed in cape dresses and prayer Kapps for the women. Surely there was nothing wrong with her caring for Paul since the Amish didn’t consider anyone from his order as being an Englischer or fancy.
   As Hannah opened the cattle gate, Paul appeared in the double-wide doorway to the barn. His head was hatless, a condition frowned upon by her bishop, revealing hair the color of ripe hay glistening under the sun. His blue eyes showed up in Hannah’s dreams regularly.
   He came toward her, carrying a pitchfork, a frown creasing his brow. “Hannah Lapp, what are you doing, stealing away at this time of day? The whole of Perry County will hear thunder roar when your father finds out.” He stopped, jammed the pitchfork into the ground, and stared at her.
   The seriousness in his features made Hannah’s heart pound in her chest. She wondered if she’d overstepped her boundaries. “It’s your last day here for the summer.” She held up the basket of eggs. “I thought you and your grandmother might like a special breakfast.”
   He wiped his brow, his stern gaze never leaving her face. “Gram’s awful mean this morning.”
   “Worse than yesterday?”
   He nodded. “Ya.” A hint of a smile touched his lips. He often teased her about the word she used so much, threatening to tell everyone at the university about that word and the girl who used it. He knew her Pennsylvania Dutch pronunciation of the word as “jah” was correct, but that didn’t stop him from ribbing her about it. As the slight smile turned into a broad grin, it erased all seriousness from his face.
   Hannah clutched an egg, reared back, and mimicked throwing it at him.
   A deep chuckle rumbled through the air. “Can’t hit anything if you don’t release it…or in your case, even if you do.”
   His laughter warmed Hannah’s insides. She placed the egg back in the basket, huffed mockingly, and turned to cross the lawn toward the house.
   This would be Paul’s fourth year to return to college. Once again he’d be leaving her throughout fall, winter, and spring—with letters being their sole communication. Even that limited connection had to come through his grandmother’s mailbox. Hannah’s father would end their friendship with no apologies if he ever learned of it.
   Paul covered the space between them, lifted the basket from her hands, and smiled down at her. “So, won’t your family be missing you this morning? Or should I expect your father’s horse and buggy to come charging into my grandmother’s drive at any moment?”
   “My Daed would not cause a spectacle like that.” Hannah licked her lips, thirsty after hurrying the mile to get there. “I arranged with my sister to do my chores this morning.”
   “Then who will do her chores?”
   “Sarah’s off this morning ’cause it’s her afternoon to sell produce at Miller’s Roadside Stand. I paid her to do my chores. So it all works out, ya?”
   “You paid her. Was that necessary?”
   Hannah shrugged. “I’m not her favorite person. But let’s not talk about that. She was willing to work out a deal, and here I am.”
   Paul opened the screen door to his grandmother’s back porch. “I just hope Sarah doesn’t say anything to your father.”
   “There’s nothing for her to say. As far as she knows, Gram told me to be here to work.” Hannah paused, grasping one side of the basket Paul held. “Besides, even Daed tries to remember it’s my rumschpringe.”
   He released the basket to her. “But extra freedoms don’t hold a lot of meaning for your father, do they?”
   She refused the disrespectful sigh that begged to be let loose. Her father could be exasperating at times. “The traditional rules keep him a bit subdued. It wouldn’t do to have the bishop discover he’s not following our traditions.”
   Hannah opened the door to the house, but Paul placed his arm across the doorframe in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.
   He bent close. Hannah kept her focus straight ahead.
   “Look at me, Hannah.” The soft rumble of his words against her ear made a tingle run through her. The aroma that she’d come to recognize as easily as the man himself filled her. His scent had come to make her think of integrity, and it made her long to draw closer to him.
   Several seconds passed before she managed to lift her gaze to meet his. His lips were pressed together in a smile, but his blue eyes held a look she didn’t understand.
   “I’ve been aching to talk to you before I return to college. There are some things I just can’t write in a letter. If you hadn’t come today, I was planning to knock on your door this afternoon.” A light sigh escaped his lips. “But the problems that would have caused would have prevented us from getting to speak.”
   “Paul!” a shaky voice screeched out. The slow thump of a cane against the wooden floor announced that his grandmother was only a few steps from seeing them.
   Hannah took a step backward, thinking she’d die of embarrassment if anyone saw her this close to Paul.
   He straightened, putting even more distance between them. “Promise me we’ll get time alone today. I need to talk with you before I leave.”
   Hannah stared into his eyes, promising him anything. “I give you my word,” she breathed.
   He lowered his hand from the doorframe. “Gram, Hannah’s here.”
   From the berry patch, Paul heard the familiar chime of the sitting room’s clock. It rang out five times, but Paul needed no reminder of the hour. He was more than ready to see Hannah for a second time today and before he left for the fall semester.
   He dumped the handful of blueberries into the half-full galvanized bucket. He straightened the kinks out of his back and studied the horizon for a glimpse of Hannah. The moment they had washed the last breakfast dish, Hannah had scurried home, hoping no one had missed her. So they hadn’t managed to find a moment for private conversation. He turned his attention back to the almost-bare bushes, glad he’d bought two pints of blueberries from Lee McNabb’s Farmers’ Market yesterday.
   He’d had more than enough of treating Hannah as if she were only a friend when he was in love with her. If she were a few years older, he’d have shared how he felt long before now. But even if he told her and she felt the same way, she wasn’t the only one who would have to continue keeping their relationship hidden. If he wanted to keep her out of trouble with her father and even her community, he couldn’t afford to tell anyone about her. He had too many distant relatives in Owl’s Perch who could ruin their future by getting talk started.
   Assuming she was interested in a future with him.
   As Paul stood at the picnic table, adding the purchased berries to those he’d picked, he saw Hannah topping the hillock of the dirt road. The sight of her caused his pulse to race.
   Most of her beautiful chestnut-colored hair was hidden by the prayer Kapp. Her brown dress, thick with pleats, came far below her knees and was covered by a full-length black apron. The Amish aimed to be plain in every possible way, from their eighth-grade education to the strict codes of their clothing. A smile tugged at his lips. Hannah had the heart of a lioness and the gentleness of a kitten. Keeping her ordinary was a feat that couldn’t be accomplished by a set of rules—even the laws of the Ordnung.
   She spotted him and waved. He returned her greeting and set down the bucket. His entire being reacted to her: his heart pounded, his palms sweated, and his thoughts became jumbled. But what kept him returning to Owl’s Perch each summer wasn’t his physical attraction to her. There was something between them that he didn’t understand, but he knew it was hard to come by in a guy-girl relationship. With her as his wife and his degree in social work, there was no telling what the two of them could accomplish. He and Hannah both wanted to make a difference in the lives of others—especially children. What better way than to become a lifelong team, even though Hannah was just now learning how to pray and trust God. Until recently, for her everything had been a matter of adherence to rules.
   Paul watched her every move as she opened the back gate and crossed the field. As he unlatched the cattle opening to the front of the pasture, loving words rose in his throat and all but forced their way out of his mouth. But, as always, his lack of confidence and his respect for her more stoic ways kept the words unspoken.
   “Hi.” She handed him the cloth-covered bundle she’d been carrying.
   He raised the bundle to his face and breathed in the aroma of fresh-baked bread. “Mmm.”
   She gave him a challenging grin. “So, who do you think made that bread?”
   “You.” He spoke with absolute confidence.
   Her hands settled on her hips. “There are four bread makers in my home. How can you tell whether I made it?”
   “When you’ve made the dough, the loaf has a hint of blaze within it, as if you put part of your soul in it.”
   Hannah laughed. “You talk foolishness, no?”
   “I’m serious, Hannah.” He inhaled the scent of the cloth-wrapped loaf again. “If you breathe deeply, you’ll smell the heat.” He held the bread toward her face. “Just like the fire in you, Lion-heart.”
   She clicked her tongue, warning him he was edging toward impropriety. He lowered the loaf and gazed into her eyes, not wanting to disrupt the power of the feelings that ran between them. To him, Hannah possessed all the courage, control, and nobility associated with lions. The term fit perfectly, even if its use did embarrass her.
   “Wait here.” Paul strode to the back door, grasping the handle to the bucket of blueberries on the way. He marched across the porch and into the kitchen. After setting the pail and the loaf of bread on the table, he hollered, “Gram.”
   Finding her in the living room reading her Bible, he stepped to the round mahogany end table next to her. “Hannah’s here. We’re going for a walk.” He took one of the walkie-talkie radios off the table and turned it on. “If you need anything, just push this button.” He pointed to the knob with the musical note on it. “If you buzz us, we’ll come back pronto.” He set the radio on the table and attached the matching one to his belt loop.
   His grandmother’s eyes searched his face.
   Paul raised an eyebrow. “Please try not to need anything.” He kissed her on the head.
   “I’ll give you fifteen minutes, young man. Then I’m pushing that button. Young people don’t require any more time than that.”
   “Come on, Gram. Hannah and I need some uninterrupted time to talk.”
   Soft wrinkles creased her face as she studied him. “I’ll give you twenty. After that, whatever needs to be said can be said on the back porch or in the kitchen. And no back talk or I’ll drive to her parents’ place myself.”
   Paul sighed. “Yes ma’am.” He hurried to the back door. Gram never allowed him to feel like an adult. When he was with his parents in Maryland, they gave him a lot more freedom than his gram did, and at the university he had freedom galore. He didn’t need it there.
   He checked his pocket for the gift box and bounded out the back door.
   Hannah stood on a knoll, staring across the green pastures at the grazing herd as the breeze fluttered through her skirts and played with the strings of the Kapp on her head. He’d love to have a photo of that. Any photo of Hannah would be nice.
   He came up to her and held out his hand. For the first time, she placed her hand in his.
   They jogged across the field and into the shade of the woods. When they came to a bridge that stretched across the creek, they slowed. Hannah peeled off her slip-on shoes and sat on the edge of the wooden planks. Her feet dangled high above the water.
   Paul shook off his sandals and sat beside her.
   For a moment no words were spoken. The sounds of the water babbling, some birds chirping, and an occasional cow mooing filled the air.
   Ignoring the nervousness that clawed at his gut, Paul covered her hand with his. “It gets harder to leave every year.” He drew her hand to his lips and kissed it.
   She gawked at him, as if she hadn’t ever expected him to kiss her. He leaned in closer, hoping to kiss her cheek.
   Clearing her throat, she pulled away from him. “I think it would be best if we go back now.” She stood.
   “But…” Paul jumped up. “I…I’m not finished with what I wanted to say. I want to talk about us.”
   She picked up her shoes. “Don’t ask to see my heart and then return to your girls on campus.” Without looking at him, she stuffed a foot into each shoe. “I may not be educated like them, but I’m nobody’s fool, Paul Waddell. I’ve heard stories of what it’s like out there, and I don’t appreciate this. We’re better friends than this.” Brushing her hands against her apron, she lifted her gaze to him.
   Uncertainty roiled inside him, making his stomach hurt. He slid his feet into his sandals. Was he ruining the very friendship he cherished above everything else in his life? “I do not have a girl on campus, and I never have. There’s no one for me but you…if you’d care to be called my girl.”
   She stared at him for a moment. “What are you saying?” Her hoarse whisper etched itself into his soul.
   Paul moved in closer. “I’m saying I want us to have a future…together.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, thin, gold-colored box. “This is for you.”
   Hannah shook her head. “I can’t take that.”
   “All this time we’ve been friends, and you can’t take a simple gift?” He held it out for her, hoping she’d accept it. “It’s what we’ve done together, working for Gram along with making goods to sell at McNabb’s Farmers’ Market.”
   She lifted the box from his hands and held it while questions remained in her eyes.
   Paul dared to touch her cheek with his fingers. “Hannah, you are all my thoughts and hopes.”
   She stared at him, her breathing rapid.
   “We’ll have to wait at least a year, but…” Paul stared at his feet, kicked a patch of moss, and tried not to mumble. “Hannah Lapp, will you marry me?”
   She didn’t utter a sound or even twitch a foot. He raised his eyes. Her face had disbelief written across it. “But…my family… I…I… It’ll be hard enough on Mamm if I don’t join the faith, but her heart will break if I move out of Owl’s Perch.”
   Paul rubbed the back of his neck. Winning the approval of her family was an uphill battle, one he had to win or her heart would rend in two. He gazed into her eyes, hoping to assure her that he’d do his best.
   They both knew that if she married him, it would affect her relationship with her family for the rest of her life. Since she hadn’t been baptized into the Amish faith, she wouldn’t be shunned if she chose to marry a Mennonite. But her father wouldn’t allow an outside influence to enter his home any more than he would allow electricity. When she was permitted to have a rare visit, she would not be allowed to enter the house. Things weren’t that way in every Amish family, but that didn’t help Hannah’s situation.
   The key to winning over her father, Paul hoped, was patience and timing. As much as he wished for the right words to soothe Hannah’s concerns, he didn’t have all the answers.
   As if absorbing and accepting the truth of his feelings for her, a slow smile erased her distress. She managed a nod.
   “Is that a yes?” He clasped his hands over hers, which were still holding the unopened box.
   “Yes,” she whispered.
   “Hannah, I can’t believe this. I mean…I didn’t think… You keep a man guessing, that’s for sure.”
   She angled her head. “Would you have me be bold, like those girls I hear about among the English?”
   Paul squeezed her hands. “I’ll never be interested in anyone but you.” He reached for her face. His fingers lightly trailed down the sides of her cheeks. “You’re so beautiful.”
   Hannah backed away, sputtering. “Beauty is vanity, and I’ll thank you not to put any stock in it.”
   Paul laughed. “Oh, you are beautiful, but that’s not why I’m interested. Why, I could find lots of beautiful girls if that’s what mattered to me.”
   She studied him for a moment before she chuckled. “Listen to your boldness. Why, I should have thrown that egg at you this morning.”
   Paul laughed. “Too late.” He pointed to the gift. “Open the present.”
   With her cheeks covered in a blush, Hannah removed the golden ribbon wrapped around the small box. She lifted the lid and pulled out a thin book, about two inches by three inches. Her brows knitted slightly as she opened the book to a page of columns and numbers.
   “The card I had you sign last week wasn’t for Gram’s tax purposes. It was for our savings account.” He pointed to the bottom number in one of the columns. “With all our work over the summers, this is what we’ve earned so far to sponsor that little girl in Thailand.”
   The joy-filled surprise in her eyes made every drop of sweat worth it. “You’ve saved that much?”
   “We’ve saved it. We planted that huge garden beside Gram’s every spring for three years. We sold the vegetables and bought the supplies for canning. I may be the one who got stuck with the handyman jobs of roofing and such, but you sewed all those doodads—from dolls to comforters. It took both of us to earn this money. Thanks to our efforts, some young Thai girl will go to live at House of Grace instead of being sold into slavery. She’ll get clothes, food, and an education.”
   Hannah ran her fingers over the columns of numbers. “Who would have thought that with a little hard work we could do so much for someone?”
   “God, I suspect.” He desperately wanted to kiss her. Instead, he held his hand out for the book. “I want to show you something else.”
   Hannah gave him the book, and he flipped the page. “This section shows a portion of money I’ve set aside in a separate account.” He pointed to the right spot. “This is for our living expenses.”
   Hannah’s attention moved from the book to him. “But you’re the only one who’s been putting money into the living expenses part, right?”
   Paul nodded, unsure what she was getting at.
   She scrunched her brows. “Then how do you have so much already?”
   “I’ve been aiming at this for years.”
   She seemed too surprised to respond. He kissed her on the forehead and was taken aback by the softness of her skin. The longer he stood so close to her, the stronger the need to kiss her lips became. But he was afraid she might not appreciate that move. “As soon as I graduate, I’ll work for your father all summer without charging him. During that time, I hope to get his blessing to marry you.”
   Hannah rubbed her throat, concern flashing in her eyes. “And if he doesn’t approve?”
   “He will, Hannah, even if we need to wait an extra year or two.” Paul bent and planted a kiss on her cheek. Her soft skin smelled sweet, like honey and cinnamon. “Your folks will come around.”
   A shadow seemed to cross her features. She picked up the side of her apron and tucked the gift box, ribbon, and book into the hidden pocket inside her pinafore. “If anyone can win over my family and community, it’ll be you.” Lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders, she giggled. “Ya?”
   “Ya.” Paul nodded and smiled.
   The two-way radio beeped at him, and Gram’s voice muttered his name.
   “Come on.” He held out his hand. “We’d better get back before Gram ruins my plans to win your father’s approval.”
   Hannah put her hand in his, and they hurried toward his grandmother’s house. “My heart is fluttering.”
   Paul paused, tightening his hand around hers. “I love you, Hannah Lapp.”
   She lowered her head, staring at their clasped hands. “I love you too.”
   Carrying the bucket of blueberries, Hannah locked the back cattle gate and waved her last farewell to Paul. As she headed for home, her heart was soaring higher than the jets she’d seen streak across the sky. Wherever those people were going couldn’t be as exciting as where her dreams were taking her.
   What a remarkable man, to be willing to work for her father in order to win his approval, to wait patiently to win her family over. Her heart thumped with excitement, and laughter welled up within her.
   She moved the thin metal handle on the bucket of blueberries to her other hand and wiped a bead of sweat off her neck. Paul had spent time on a hot August afternoon picking berries for her family, and he’d get no credit for the kind deed. It was just like him to work hard for others and be thankful if he’d managed to be of help. She couldn’t believe such a wonderful man considered it a privilege to marry her.
   Since his dream was to become a social worker and for them to be foster parents, perhaps she could do him justice even though she had only an eighth-grade education. She loved children. And she knew how to run a household and how to turn a profit doing ordinary things like canning, sewing, and cleaning. The English girls at his college might have their education, but Hannah was determined to outshine all of them when it came to being a perfect wife for Paul and a wonderful mother to their children.
   She touched her Kapp, proud that Paul found her ways pleasing. Oh, there were so many things she wanted to ask him, so many conversations they could have now that she knew he loved her. She looked forward to his letters more than ever. This time, there was no question that the sea of girls out there held no interest for him.
   At the sound of car tires crunching against the pebbles on the dirt road behind her, she stepped to the far shoulder. Was it really possible that Paul had asked her to marry him? The tiny bubble of doubt burst as she slid her hand under her apron and felt the leather book in the hidden pocket. He’d put her name on all his hard-earned money. He trusted her with his heart, his dreams, and his earnings. He’d win her parents’ approval. She knew he would.
   Realizing the car she’d heard hadn’t passed her yet and assuming the driver wanted more space, she stepped farther to the side of the road. It was just a one-lane country road, used mainly by horses and buggies. She refrained from looking over her shoulder, even though the smell of the acrid fumes from the growling engine grew stronger.
   The car pulled up beside her. “Excuse me,” a man said.
   Hannah stopped and turned. She saw a sleek car that looked different from anything she’d ever seen. Shifting her gaze to the driver, she supposed he wasn’t even as old as Paul, although she couldn’t see much of his face. He had a beard that looked a couple of days old, and he wore a baseball cap and sunglasses.
   “Can you tell me how to get to Duncannon?”
   Studying the countryside, she thought of the route the hired drivers always took when chauffeuring her and her family toward Duncannon. Hannah pointed down the road in the direction his car was headed. “Keep going until you come to a four-way stop.Take a left. You’ll go quite a piece until you come to another stop sign. Turn left again. Then keep going, and you’ll start seeing signs that show how to get to Duncannon.”
   The man frowned and shook his head. After turning off the car engine, he opened the door. As he got out, he looked behind him at the long dirt road. Then he turned back. “How far until I reach a paved road?”
   “About a mile.”
   The man smiled and eyed her from head to toe. “Right after that one farmhouse?”
   Feeling pinpricks of discomfort, Hannah smoothed her skirt with her free hand and swallowed hard. He wasn’t as unfamiliar with these roads as he’d made himself sound at first. Hoping he’d get in his car and leave, she started walking.
   The man grabbed her arm. “No need to run off.”
   She fought against the sense of panic, jerked her arm free of his grip, and ran.
   Two large hands hit her back, pushing her hard. She went sprawling across the gravel road. Her blueberries tumbled in every direction as the bucket flew from her hand. Hannah tried to stand up, but another forceful push to her back sent her careening again. She pulled herself to her knees, trying to gain her balance. As she scrambled to her feet, she realized her palms were bleeding.
   She glanced back at the stranger. Although most of his face was hidden behind his sunglasses, beard, and hat, she saw him smirk as he reached for her. Run, Hannah! Run! her mind screamed, but she couldn’t move.
   The man grabbed her by the thick apron straps that crisscrossed her back. He lifted her body slightly, dragged her to his car, spun her around to face him, and tossed her across the seat like a rag doll. Grabbing her by the pinafore, he shoved her farther into the car. The back of her head hit the door on the other side. Her vision blurred.
   The man climbed on top of her. Hannah pushed against his face and body, but he didn’t budge. She flailed at him, but he didn’t flinch. He repositioned his body, jerking at her skirts.
   What was happening?
   Tears streamed down Hannah’s cheeks. Shadows swirled from within, as if she were being buried under layers of suffocating soil. Fear and anger joined forces within her, altering, shifting who she was, how she thought about life.
   When she no longer felt like Hannah Lapp, his weight lifted, and he pulled her out of the car. He dragged her several feet in front of the vehicle, then flung her to the road like a filthy rag.
   Only vaguely aware of her surroundings, she heard his car engine roar. Confusion lifted. She knew he intended to run over her. Crawling on her hands and knees, she moved out from in front of his car. Her dress tangled around her knees, and she couldn’t move any farther. She pulled herself upright. Gravel spewed from the tires. As he passed her, he flung the car door open, hitting her with it. She flew forward and landed hard on the ground as his car sped off.
   Gasping for air, she spotted the shiny silver pail lying near the ditch. On her hands and knees, she grabbed the bucket and tried to gather its spilled contents. Her body screamed out in pain with every movement, but Daed would be furious if she wasted the produce. She swiped at her tears, desperate to find all the berries. Clawing at the road, sifting through dirt and pebbles, she searched for the fruit, dropping each berry into the bucket. Dragging her apron across her eyes, she cleared the tears away. She looked in the pail. It contained mostly gravel and clods of earth with a few bruised and torn berries.
   After staggering to her feet, she turned in one direction and then the other. Confused, she stood in the middle of the familiar road. Which way was home? She had to get home.
   Her Mamm would know what to do.
   The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the evening air, guiding her in the right direction.

Excerpted from Sisters of the Quilt by Cindy Woodsmall Copyright © 2010 by Cindy Woodsmall. Excerpted by permission of WaterBrook Press, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

Blessings,

**Sisters of the Quilt~The Complete Trilogy by Cindy Woodsmall was provided for me free by WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group in exchange for my honest review.

Sunday Music Break~~Jesus, Name Above All Names by Maranatha! Singers

2012-01-07T21:07:00.001-05:00

Psalm 42:11 KJV

¹¹Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.

Blessings,

Guest Post~~Socialize? by Casey Herringshaw

2012-01-04T04:30:00.000-05:00

I was often asked this question during my twelve years of homeschooling: wouldn’t I want to go hang out with the other kids? Socialize? Make friends?

And the truth of the matter is: I did have friends. I did get to socialize. I did get to hang out with the other kids. Just not in the traditional “worldly” standards.

And you know what? I’m still okay. I didn’t turn out “strange”—well, depending on who you ask. Just don’t talk to my writer friends. Though they all get me and think me perfectly normal…

When you face, as a homeschooling mom or a homeschool student, the question of socializing and “getting out” with other people, ask (or think) this question: who do you really want educating your children?

Only kids of their age and peers or do you, as their teacher, as their parent, want to take into consideration what their young minds absorb?

Having recently been taking care of twin one year olds, I’ve seen how much even THEY retain. Children soak up so much and would you really want another child doing that training?

But of course, you still have to come back to the conundrum that you do want your kids to have someone to play with. You do want them to get out and take part in community activities. But homeschool kids have an advantage that the public kids don’t. We aren’t required to ONLY hang out with our peers. We don’t have the impression of cliques pushed on us, we can talk just as easily to our eighty year old grandmother as we can our two year old cousin. Because we are not surrounded by an environment that tells us that isn’t okay. Or “not cool”.

As I wrote this, I thought back to a time when I took middle school band at our local school. As I stood at the doors, waiting for my mom to come and pick me up, a boy, at the top of the stair sneered down at me, “What you doing? Waiting for your grandma?”

Would it have mattered if I was?

Being a homeschool graduate and “out in the world”, this ability of being able to relate and make friends on a wide scale has been the greatest gift homeschooling gave me. Now, some of my dearest and closest friends are ten years older than me. And in a certain case, forty years older than me.

I wouldn’t trade those friendships for all the friends my own age in the world.

That isn’t to say I don’t have friends my own age. I have several that I hold very dear. But it’s the collection of friends and the group of people God has given me that I think more than anything, makes many a brow wrinkle when they realize I am only twenty years old.

I learned a lot of academics in school when I was growing up. I learned how to do algebra. Learned to break down a sentence. Learned the meaning of photosynthesis.

But most important of all: I learned the meaning of God’s commandant to love and respect everyone. Not just someone my own age, but those older and those younger than myself.

A gift I thank God for each and every night when I think about the friends He has given me.

~*~Casey Herringshaw~*~

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Casey Herringshaw is a homeschool graduate and has been writing since high school. She lives in rural Eastern Oregon in a town more densely populated with cows than people. Taking the words and stories God has placed on her heart and putting them on paper is one of her highest passions in life. Casey is a member of ACFW. You can connect with her through her personal blog, Writing for Christ and her writing related group blog, The Writer's Alley

Guest Post~~Jesus -- The Reason For the Season by Rachel Hauck

2011-12-25T04:30:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Merry Christmas from all of us at Pearl Girls™! We hope you enjoyed these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from the authors who were so kind to donate their time and talents! If you missed a few posts, I hope you'll be able go back through and read them on this blog over the next few days. If you'd like to keep up with Pearl Girls and our new book project, Mother of Pearl, coming this spring, just click this link and sign up for our newsletter (lower left sidebar).

Also, just a reminder that today is the last day for the pearl necklace and earrings giveaway! Enter now by filling out this {form}. The winner will on 1/1 at the Pearl Girls blog.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Jesus -- The Reason For the Season
By: Rachel Hauck

Through the narrow scope of 2000 years, Mary, the mother of Jesus, appears to be one lucky woman. Chosen by God to give birth to His son, the Savior of the world? All right, Mary, way to go.

“Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you,” Gabriel said.

How many of us would like a declaration like that? Highly favored. The Lord is with you. But Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be.

The angel told her, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Mary’s seems confident and resolved when she responds, “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled.”

She’d just been told the Holy Spirit will come upon her, that God’s power will overshadow her, that she’d become with child even though she wasn’t married, and she said, “I’m the Lord’s servant. Let your words be true.”

I find this amazing! A young woman. Ancient Bethlehem. Unwed mother. They stoned women for such things in her day. But Mary believed in God. And submitted to His will. He gave her the Holy Spirit – the same Holy Spirit given to us. If He gave her confidence, He will give us confidence. Even though, like Mary, our situation seems impossible.

Listen to Mary’s song later on in the first chapter of Luke.

“My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me Holy is his name…”

Conceiving a child out of wedlock, by Divine intervention. Not a girl’s every day existence. Yet she had a Yes in her heart to God. She rejoiced. She boldly said, “Generations will remember me!”

How we struggle to trust God with our children. Our finances. Our emotional well-being. We worry. We fret. And wonder why we have no peace.

Christmas is the season where words like joy, peace and love are bantered around like Christmas candy. Let’s not take them as just words, but as truth. Let’s be like Mary and embrace God’s favor on our lives. Boldly declare "He’s done great things for me!”

Out of the grit of our own souls, we can reach His heart, and feel Him reaching for ours. No matter the pain of our past, present or future, God is there for us. He is able. Best of all, He is willing. “My soul glorifies the Lord this Christmas!”

***

Rachel Hauck is an award winning, best selling author who believes God has done great things for her. She lives in Central Florida with her husband and ornery pets. Her next release is Love Lifted Me with multi-platinum country artist Sara Evans, January 2012. Then in April, look for The Wedding Dress. www.rachelhauck.com.

May your Christmas be filled with JOY,

Blessings,

Guest Post~~The Panhandler's Breath by Robin Dance

2011-12-24T04:30:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

The Panhandler's Breath
By Robin Dance

He slipped in sideways between the closing elevator doors, as if he were late to a meeting; he pressed the "5" without looking. Instead of suit and tie, though, baggy pants and faded navy hung on his tall, slim frame...and his stealth entry stiffened the hairs on the back of my neck.

I had noticed him a few seconds earlier, just after we had parted a sea of clamorous teens. He was smiling, grandfatherly, standing maybe 30 feet away where the electric shuttle picks up.

I had no idea he had been watching us, studying us, predator patiently awaiting his next prey.

The four of us were sealed in a four- by six-foot metal tomb. Tomb--that thought really scampered across my mind. I wondered if he had a knife in his pocket. I wanted to protect my son. Fight or flight pumped adrenaline but there was no where to run.

Extreme and ridiculous, these thoughts - and more - flashed through my mind. The Stranger began speaking.

"Yessir, I see you're a family man with your wife and your son here..." and he nodded in my and my son’s direction.

"...you see I'm homeless and all I've got..." and on queue, he reached into his left pocket and pulled out two old pennies blackened with age. Two cents to his name?! It was all too contrived, too practiced, and I didn't believe a word he was saying.

It was then I smelled it ~ the small space lent itself to that ~ and I doubted my doubt.

His breath.

It wasn't the scent of alcohol. His eyes weren't red, his voice didn't waver; his wizened face matched his graying hair.

His breath was morning's, zoo breath, the pet name I'd given to the scent inhaled when kissing my children awake when they were little.

He needed to brush his teeth. I wondered how long it had been since he brushed his teeth.

The elevator door opened and I handed him my leftover pizza as my son and I brushed past him. My husband handed him a bill and the Stranger thanked and God blessed him.

The elevator door closed behind us. Conflicted, I was relieved.

We got in the car and blurted first reaction--

"I didn't believe a word he said."

"That made me nervous."

"I wonder if he'll really eat the pizza."

In the quiet, we were left to our own thoughts, contemplating the right thing to do. At the end of the day, this is what I decided: It doesn't matter whether or not his story is true; for an old man to resort to begging, he has to be desperate. The money my husband gave him will never be missed. It was a reminder we've been entrusted with much and given much. Materially, yes, but more so spiritually. Loved, chosen, forgiven, redeemed, graced, lavished--every spiritual blessing. E v e r y.

There's a part of me that wishes I would have been brave enough to ask the man his story, made sure he knew he was loved...and bought him a tooth brush.

Later, it occurred to me he could have been an angel. Doesn’t that mean generosity, kindness and hospitality is always the right response? Then it's not about you or the stranger or the circumstance, it's about a simple, God-glorifying response.

Had we entertained an angel unaware? We'll never know.

But it wouldn't be the first time the Breath of Heaven smelled like a zoo.

***

In a decades-old, scandalous affair with her husband, Robin also confesses mad crushes on her three teens. As Southern as sugar-shocked tea, she’s a recovering people pleaser who advocates talking to strangers. A memoirist, Compassion International Blogger, and Maker-upper of words, Robin writes for her own site, PENSIEVE, and also for (in)courage by DaySpring (a subsidiary of Hallmark) and Simple Mom. She loves to get to know readers through their blog comments and on Twitter and Pinterest. www.pensieve.me

Wishing you a Merry Christmas,

Guest Post~~Inside Out Christmas by Debora M. Coty

2011-12-23T04:30:00.000-05:00

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Inside Out Christmas
by Debora M. Coty

My veterinarian friend, Dr. Katie, tells the story about the December when a woman brought a very sick black lab into her clinic. The dog was only ten months old, so she was really just a big puppy, but she’d been vomiting incessantly and her worried owner didn’t know what was wrong.

“Why don’t you go on home?” Dr. Katie told the owner. “I’ll need to run tests for about four hours. We’ll give you a call when we’re finished.”

Dr. Katie’s assistant took x-rays and hung them on the light panel for Dr. Katie to examine. Hmm. Something looked a little peculiar. Dr. Katie called her assistant over.

“Is it just me, or does that look like a … a camel to you?” she asked incredulously.

“Matter of fact, it does,” replied the astute assistant. “And look, there’s an angel here, a shepherd there, and down there in the colon, it’s Baby Jesus!”

At that moment the phone rang. It was the dog’s distraught owner. “I can’t believe this! I just got home and glanced at the coffee table where I put my manger scene yesterday. There’s nothing there but an empty stable!”

As I thought about this quite literal technique for internalizing the true meaning of Christmas, it occurred to me that sometimes I have the opposite problem. With all the bustling busyness, my inner joy in celebration of my savior’s birth never really makes it to the outside.

Oh, I have plenty of glittery, festive evidences of the holiday in decorations, baking galore, and gifts under my tree. But those things are for show. They’re merely the pretty wrappings, not the gift itself.

Can people really see the core-deep joy that radiates within me when I think of the true gift that Papa God sent the world in his son, Jesus? Is my immeasurable gratitude for eternal life evident as I dash through this hectic season?

I’m afraid all too often, the answer is no.

I’m just too preoccupied to allow my outside to reflect my inside so that nonbelievers recognize that I rejoice because of the hope that is within me. My joy is obscured by the mounds of clutter. Gratefulness is sucked out of my soul by the vacuum called urgency.

“But let the godly rejoice. Let them be glad in God’s presence. Let them be filled with joy” (Psalm 68:3, NLT).

This verse has become my prayer this Christmas season – that I would make the time to give priority to rejoicing, being glad in God’s presence, and letting my inner joy show for those who may be silently desperate to know the giver of true joy.

Yep, there’s a better way to internalize the gift of Christmas than the black lab technique. We can lodge the Little Lord Jesus in our hearts rather than our colons.

***

Debora M. Coty is a humorist, inspirational speaker, and award-winning author of twelve books, including Too Blessed to be Stressed, and coming in March, More Beauty, Less Beast: Transforming Your Inner Ogre. Debora would love to swap Christmas hugs with you at www.DeboraCoty.com.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas,

Guest Post~~Simple or Sparkle? by Tracey Eyster

2011-12-22T04:30:00.000-05:00

***

Simple or Sparkle?
by Tracey Eyster

It’s a simple ornament made of thin cheap metal and it looks quite out of place on our CHRISTmas tree. But each year I lovingly and safely nestle it amongst its expensive and sparkly peers, without a care as to how unglamorous it appears.

Many of our CHRISTmas ornaments have a story and an uncanny way of welling up emotion in me, but this certain one causes an intense stir.

You see the ornament is engraved with the name of my grandmother, Sara, and was given to me by my mother, who ordered it from Hospice, after Grandmama’s death. Yes, the months leading up to her death carry memories of a frail and failing grandmama, but that ornament carries my thoughts to sweet CHRISTmas memories of the past.

CHRISTmas Eve dinners in her home, laughing, singing, gathering and celebrating a year filled with blessings as we remembered the birth of our Savior. CHRISTmas mornings, she was always there participating with glee, in our raucous CHRISTmas happiness. Her gifts were always bank envelopes gently tucked into the pine needles of our CHRISTmas tree, fresh cut from the property she grew up on.

All memories of my Grandmama make my heart swell. You see she was my Jesus with skin on. She lived her life full of joy, serving others and approached life selflessly with an attitude of, “What can I do for you?”

Just months before she left us, even as the Alzheimer’s was robbing her mind she shared her love of Jesus with a sweet little old lady friend, who came to know the Lord – a divine appointment. The very next day that little old lady silently slipped away to meet in person the One Sara introduced her to just the day before.

At the time I wept, realizing that regardless of our own frailties and failings, God can still use those of us who are willing to do His work and are well practiced at hearing His voice...no matter our lack of sparkle in comparison to others.

A simple life lived for Him, a simple ornament in memory of Sara...a simple truth for you to ponder.

***

Tracey Eyster wife, mom, relationship gatherer and Creator/Editor of FamilyLife’s MomLife Today is a media savvy mom making a difference where moms are, on-line. Through speaking, writing and video interviews Tracey is passionate about encouraging, equipping and advising moms on every facet of momlife. Her first book, Be The Mom will be released August 2012. You can connect with Tracey at www.momlifetoday.com, her personal site www.traceyster.com or www.twitter/momblog.com.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas,

Guest Post~Enjoy the Ride! by Susan May Warren

2011-12-21T04:30:00.000-05:00

***

Enjoy the Ride!
Susan May Warren

We sit poised on the top of a cliff, a near drop off before us, that falls to a rushing river. In the middle, a bridge of snow and ice hints at our destination. My husband guns the snowmobile engine. “Ready?”

Ready? For a face plant into a tree, maybe reconstructive surgery? To feel my stomach ripped from my body as we plummet down the mountain? Let’s do it!

We live on five acres of woods in northern Minnesota that butts up to a national forest. Hence, our backyard is about a hundred thousand acres. Aside from harboring deer, lynx, fox, cougar and bear, it also makes excellent snowmobile terrain. And not long ago, Mrs. Claus gave her Santa a snowmobile for two.

I love snowmobiling. Flying over the snow, catching air over drifts. I love to drive, to be at the helm of the beast as I weave around trees and over hill and dale, my husband sitting behind me. I also love riding behind my husband as he drives, feeling those powerful arms as he’s muscling the snowmobile into the wilds. We follow unknown trails, driven by a Magellan spirit, hoping that we have enough gas to get us back to civilization. I love hanging on, simply trusting him, knowing that wherever he’s taking me, he’s going first.

But there are times, when I see where he’s taking me, and I just have to bury my head in his back. Like straight down a cliff.

However, my heart cheers, despite the terror as we gun it down the hill, over the river, up the opposite side. And, if we hadn’t let ourselves go, we would have never discovered the beauty of a winter river, a hidden jewel buried deep in the forest. Nor the exhilaration of facing the challenge together.

Further on, we find an enchanted forest of towering white pine. Catch a view of Lake Superior, discover an old cabin in the woods.

It occurs to me that snowmobiling is much like my spiritual life. Occasionally, I drive, and it’s me setting our course, weaving through the trees, getting us hopelessly lost. But when God takes the “wheel” and I hang on, trusting Him for the speed and destination, I see the scenery. I trust him to keep me safe. I trust him to bring me home, where there is an eternal supply of hot chocolate.

As Christmas season becomes more hectic, what if I let God drive? Maybe everything doesn’t have to be perfect, and maybe I don’t have to control every tradition, every holiday nuance. What if I just held on for the ride?

I’ll bet I’ll still get there, and I might even enjoy the scenery along the way.

How have you let go, and “enjoyed” the scenery of this hectic, exhilarating Christmas season?

Merry Christmas!

***

Susan May Warren is the RITA award-winning author of thirty novels with Tyndale, Barbour, Steeple Hill and Summerside Press. A four-time Christy award finalist, a two-time RITA Finalist, she’s also a multi-winner of the Inspirational Readers Choice award, and the ACFW Carol Award. A seasoned women’s events speaker, she’s a popular writing teacher at conferences around the nation and the author of the beginning writer’s workbook: From the Inside-Out: discover, create and publish the novel in you!. She is also the founder of www.MyBookTherapy.com, a story-crafting service that helps authors discover their voice.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas,

Guest Post~~Family Traditions: A Glimpse into Christmas Future by Tricia Goyer

2011-12-20T04:30:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Family Traditions: A Glimpse into Christmas Future
by Tricia Goyer

Have you ever thought about family traditions? As I helped my 1-year-old place ornaments on the Christmas tree this year I imagined her doing the same thing with her children—and maybe even grandchildren—one day. Traditions are beliefs and customs handed down through generations. By sharing meaningful moments with your kids you're sending yourself into the future. How amazing is that?

Sharing family traditions cause us to slow down from the busy, adult world for a while. We ignore the laundry to set out the nativity set with our kids. We set aside time in our schedules to drive around and look at Christmas lights.

Holiday traditions aren't only fun, they also help strength family bonds. Through traditions kids trust in the security of family unit. They think, “This is our family and this is what I do.” Of course, the most important thing to share isn't just what we do ... but why. Why do we put out a nativity? To remind us the real meaning of the season—Jesus coming to earth. What do the Christmas lights represent displayed on homes and on trees? They represent the Light of the World, Jesus.

Using traditions to bond our families and share our faith isn't new. I love these two Scriptures that talk about that very thing.

Exodus 12:25 says, “When you enter the land that the LORD will give you as he promised, observe this ceremony.”

Psalm 78:4 says, “We will not hide them from their children; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD, his power, and the wonders he has done.”

What are you're traditions? Here are a few of ours:
Baking a Birthday cake for Jesus
Buying a new ornament every year for each child
Acting out the Christmas story (with props!)
Praying together before opening presents

What are your traditions? Write a list and appreciate them in a new way this year. Then ask, “If I could add one new tradition this holiday season, what would it be?” I'd love to hear what you choose! It also makes me smile to think of your children's grandchildren doing the same.

***

Tricia Goyer is a CBA best-selling author and the winner of two American Christian Fiction Writers’ Book of the Year Awards (Night Song and Dawn of a Thousand Nights). She co-wrote 3:16 Teen Edition with Max Lucado and contributed to the Women of Faith Study Bible. Also a noted marriage and parenting writer, she lives with her husband and children in Arkansas. www.triciagoyer.com

Wishing you a Merry Christmas,

Guest Post~~Let The Baby Grow Up This Christmas By Shellie Tomlinson

2011-12-19T04:30:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Let The Baby Grow Up This Christmas
By Shellie Tomlinson

When I was a little girl, Christmas seemed to take forever to make its way back to our little house on the end of a dirt road called Bull Run in northeast Louisiana. We kids started counting down the days before the leaves ever began turning. Sure, the adults said it came once a year but I wasn't so sure. Once Santa Claus left our humble abode it seemed like light years before he found his way back to the Delta.

That was a child's perspective. I imagine it hasn't changed all that much for today's kids. On the other hand, I'm operating under a completely different time frame these days. It seems like it was just yesterday when I pulled the boxes down from the attic and began pulling out the nativity scene, the miniature lights, and the keepsake ornaments. And now, just that fast-- Christmas Day is right around the corner. Soon the tree will be striped naked and the piled up presents will all be distributed. After a few more day it'll be hard to remember who got what from whom, and once again, I'll start packing all the decorations away for another year.

I was thinking about how bare and cold the house always looks after the holidays when I realized that, sadly, this scene would play itself out in many hearts as well. A lot of people will have had expectations that weren't filled and many of those same souls will be left with hurts that don't seem to heal. Unless this year is remarkably different from past seasons, my bet is, the New Year will bring magazines full of articles on combating depression and the talk shows will have experts on offering ways to fill the long days ahead and cure the winter blues.

I'm no expert, dear readers, but I'd like to offer you a suggestion that will go far beyond the creature comforts of a nice warm bath or a delicious bowl of hot soup. Your heart doesn't have to be bare and naked after the holidays. Do you want to know the real secret? It's simple, really. Don't pack up Christ with Christmas! As beautiful and special as the Christmas story is, it's only a part of heaven's miracle. The Christ child grew into a man and the man became a Savior.

This year, may we be determined to let the babe from Bethlehem live on in our hearts. If we'll allow Him to become the Messiah He was born to be, the joy of Christmas can be ours all year long.

***

Shellie Rushing Tomlinson is an author, speaker, and radio host from Louisiana. Her latest release Sue Ellen's Girl Ain't Fat, She Just Weighs Heavy was endorsed by Jeff Foxworthy as "laugh out loud funny!" You can find Shellie's weekly southern features, podcasts, video chats and more at http://www.allthingssouthern.com/ Make sure to get by the blog and read about the Super Christmas Giveaway Shellie is hosting for her readers and secure your chance to win a Mort Kunstler print valued between $700 and $1400. www.allthingssouthern.com

Wishing you a Merry Christmas,

The Christmas Singing by Cindy Woodsmall~~A WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group Book Review

2011-12-18T12:24:00.001-05:00

My Review:

The Christmas Singing is a sweet short story, that I really enjoyed. The plot is well developed, and so are characters and their realness comes through the pages.

Mattie is a cake maker/decorator of beautiful cakes. Her love of making them is reflected in the faces of the people she makes them for and always brightens her day. I hated to see her shop burn down, but this is where the story truly begins to unfold.

I think you will enjoy The Christmas Singing, as much as I did.

The Blurb:

After Gideon coldly broke her heart, can the warmth of the season revive Mattie’s hopes?

Mattie thought her childhood sweetheart adored her until he abruptly ended their engagement on Christmas Eve.

Three years later, will learning the truth behind his rejection restore her Christmas joy – or open the door to even deeper heartbreak?

Spend Christmas with the Amish in this story of love, romance, heartache, and restoration.

The Trailer:

An Excerpt:

Cold darkness and the sugary aroma from the cake shop below surrounded Mattie as she slid a solid-colored dress over her head and tied her white apron in place. The Old Order Amish here in Ohio didn’t wear the black aprons—a difference she enjoyed—and only those involved with baking wore the white apron from the waist down. After brushing her hair, she fastened it up properly and donned her prayer Kapp. Who needed a light or a mirror to get ready for the day? She’d been wearing similar clothes her whole life, and the Ohio Amish pinned up their hair in much the same way as she had back in Pennsylvania.
      Now, cake decorating—that required good lighting and great attention to detail. And her favorite season for making specialty cakes—Christmas—was right around the corner.
      Ready to take on a new day, she hurried down the rough-hewn steps that led into her shop, lit a kerosene lantern, and pulled on her coat while going out the back door. Before getting to the woodpile, she paused a moment, enjoying Berlin’s lights. Illuminated white bulbs hung like beacons against the dark night. Although she missed her Mamm and Daed, this was home now, not Pennsylvania.
      She scanned the silhouettes and shadows of nearby homes and shops. The golden full moon had a silky glow around it, a ring almost as clear and defined as the moon itself. What would it look like if she designed a cake with a halo?
      Eager to make notes, she loaded wood into the crook of her arm and went inside. She dumped the logs in the bin and then stirred the embers in the potbelly stove and added kindling. Before her first customer arrived, she’d have the place toasty warm.
      The shop was old and narrow, but Mattie loved it. When the previous owner, a man who sold saddles and such, decided to sell his place a few weeks before she moved here, her brother James had helped her buy and remodel it. They’d torn out all the old counters, workbenches, and shelving.
      The ceiling, floors, and walls were made of unfinished exposed wood. She’d put in a huge display case along the left wall, and a couple of small tables sat to the right. A gas-powered commercial oven and stainless-steel sinks ran the length of the back wall, and her work station, where she pieced together and decorated her cakes, sat a few feet away. Even in cooler weather, keeping the place warm without electricity wasn’t much of an issue with the heat radiating from the oven and the wood stove. Hot summer weather was a little more problematic, but the many windows helped.
      She began searching for her spiral notebook, which she often referred to as her brain. The pages of her combination sketch pad, scrapbook, and journal were covered with drawings, doodles, and pictures from magazines and newspapers. It’d been a gift for her twelfth birthday, and although the gift giver had broken her heart seven years later, she still appreciated the book. Her day planner was in the back of it, with the types of cakes she needed to make, due dates, and all her clients’ names and phone numbers. Without it she wouldn’t know how to run her store.
      She knelt and looked under her work station. It was there, maybe two feet away. Reaching as far as she could, she touched the edge of the thick binder and grabbed it. Now where did she leave her pencil?
Is it behind your ear, Mattie Lane? Gideon’s voice washed over her.
      She shuddered, detesting hearing him inside her head, especially with the added use of the pet name Mattie Lane. Lane was not a part of her given name or her surname. When they first broke up, his voice had played constantly in her mind, but after three years these whispers of the past were rare.
      They’d been good friends most of their lives. He was three years older than she, and it had stung when he began dating at sixteen. But worse than seeing him with other Amish girls was seeing him with Englischer girls. At eighteen, he’d stopped seeing others and told her that he’d decided to wait for her.
      Their first date had taken place on her birthday, Christmas Eve, and she’d attended her first singing with Gideon. The magic of Christmas seemed to surround both of them as their voices rose in celebration of Christ’s birth and the blessing of being together. Nothing in her life had ever compared to the emotion of that night, not even owning her own shop. For the next three years, they enjoyed the glorious Christmas singings together. And then she caught him.
      Her heartbreak had been compounded by confusion. Nothing had prepared her for his betrayal.
      Pushing those thoughts away, she found a pencil lying on the sink and jotted down notes about the halo. Then she made herself a quick breakfast. Before she’d swallowed the last of her coffee, she had four dozen muffins and four dozen cupcakes in the oven.
      The cowbells hanging on the door chimed numerous times throughout the morning, and by noon she had sold the usual amount of baked goods for this time of year and had taken three new cake orders—for a birthday, a bridal shower, and a summer wedding. She couldn’t think of anything more exciting than running Mattie Cakes.
      She went to the phone and dialed her Mamm. One of the things she loved most about owning a shop was the permission to have a phone handy. She called her Mamm at least once a day.
      Few women were as remarkable as her mother. She’d been forty-seven when she got pregnant with Mattie. But Mamm’s health issues progressed from inconvenient at the time of Mattie’s birth to life threatening by the time Mattie turned sixteen. Mattie had spent much of her life fearing she’d lose her mother. But when Mattie hesitated to move from Pennsylvania to Ohio, her mother had refused to let her stay in Apple Ridge.
      After ten rings the answering machine clicked on. Since Mamm was seventy and her phone was in the shanty near the barn, Mattie rarely reached her on the first try of the day.
      At the beep, Mattie said, “Good morning, Mamm and Daed. This is your adoring, favorite daughter calling.” Mattie chuckled. “Being the only girl has perks… Anyway, I’m having a great day, and I want to hear about yours. I’ll call back at two thirty. I hope you’re dressed warmly. Love you both.” If Mattie established a time she’d call back, Mamm never failed to be in the phone shanty, waiting to hear from her. Daed had set up a comfortable chair and a gas heater out there. She talked to her Daed too, but he didn’t stay on the line long.
      The bells on the shop door jingled again, and a cold blast of November air burst into the room.
      Mattie’s almost-five-year-old niece came barreling through the door, bundled up in her black winter coat and wool scarf over her prayer Kapp. She wondered if Esther had walked the half block from her house to the shop by herself or if the little girl’s mother was trailing behind, pushing her double stroller. Esther had four older siblings, but all of them were in school during the day.
      “Mattie Cakes!” the young girl cried.
      Mattie chuckled at Esther’s excitement. None of her nieces or nephews called her Aunt Mattie these days, but she found this nickname adorable.
      Esther ran to her, clutching a silver lunch pail. “You didn’t come home to eat, so I brought you some food.”
      “Denki.” Mattie wasn’t surprised when Esther held on to the pail. Her niece loved toting things.
      Esther began her routine inspection of the store, beginning with the sink full of dirty cooking utensils. She enjoyed coming to the shop, and Mattie hoped that in seven or eight years, Esther might want to learn the trade. Esther’s older sisters didn’t seem to have any desire to make cakes.
      Sol walked in, carrying a bow, a quiver full of arrows, and his camouflage duffel bag. He set it all behind her work counter, looking more confident than he used to. “Hi.” He flashed a quick smile before looking down. Sometimes shy, he didn’t keep eye contact for long.
      They’d begun seeing each other on special occasions more than two years ago. Now they saw each other regularly, and unlike Gideon, Sol found getting along with young women a challenge. He was reserved and tended to mumble, but they liked being together.
      When the bell on the door jingled again but no one came in, Sol hurried to open it for Mattie’s sister-in-law as she pushed the stroller into the room.
      “Did you forget something, Mattie?” Dorothy asked. “Like coming home for lunch?”
      Mattie glanced at the clock. “Sorry. I didn’t realize how much time had passed.”
      Dorothy sighed. “I’ve heard that before.”
      “And you’ll hear it again,” Sol mumbled. A grin sneaked across his face as he stole a glance at Mattie. She wanted to hug him, but he liked to keep his distance before a hunt. He didn’t bathe or shave for a day or two before leaving, not wanting to scare off the wild game by smelling of soap or aftershave.
      Mattie held out her hands for the pail. “Thank you very much, Esther. If your Mamm doesn’t mind, I think you should pick out a cupcake.”
      Esther gave her the pail and gazed up at her mother.
      Dorothy hesitated, probably calculating all sorts of mom things—like how many sweets Esther had eaten this week, if she’d had her fruits and vegetables today, and if Mattie was spoiling her. “Oh, all right.”
      Esther clapped and hurried to the display case housing the decorated cupcakes. “You made turkey cakes!” Each one had a tiny turkey head made of marzipan and tail feathers of icing.
      “Ya, I did.”
      Dorothy stood near Mattie’s work station and craned to see the display case. “You made so many.”
      “It’s Thanksgiving next week. People have placed orders for most of those and will pick them up late this afternoon. I’ll make even more for tomorrow’s orders. The Englischer girls and boys have class parties before they’re out for the holiday next week. This year I’ve gone an extra step. The feathers are not only a different color from the frosting, but they have a mildly different flavor too.” Mattie opened the wood stove and stoked it before adding another piece of wood. “I think it’s some of my best blending of colors and tastes yet…for cupcakes designed to look like turkeys.”
      Dorothy set the brake on the stroller and moved to a stool. “I still don’t understand why you go to that much trouble for something that will be devoured in less than two minutes.”
      “Only the cake is gone. The memory will last much longer, perhaps days or a month or a lifetime. Just look at Esther.”
      The four-year-old was talking to herself, or to the cakes, as she tried to choose one.
      Dorothy’s face eased into a smile. “I guess I do understand. You know, come to think of it, James and I still talk about the ten-year anniversary cake you made for us.” Dorothy sighed. “But we want to see you more. You sleep here and skip meals. At least hang the Out to Lunch sign and come eat with us.”
      Sol pulled a flashlight out of his bag and made sure it was working before taking a seat on his usual stool at the far end of her work station. “Would you feel better if she gave her word that she’d try to come home for lunch from now on?”
      Dorothy laughed. “Ya, it would make me feel better…even though I know it won’t change a thing.”
      Mattie held up her hand as if taking an oath. “I will do my best not to lose track of time and to follow all your advice.”
      “Wait until you have little ones and are trying to herd them toward the table,” Dorothy teased.
      Sol winked at Mattie. They were in agreement on this topic—they’d definitely marry one day, but it’d be a while. “Until then, your sister-in-law can make her own decisions.”
      Dorothy turned to her. “So what has you so preoccupied this time?”
      Mattie grabbed her notepad. “Look at this.” She opened the spiral-bound book and tapped the rough sketch of her halo cake. “Wouldn’t this be an unusual wedding cake?”
      Dorothy leaned in, wearing a slight frown. “I suppose if I were an Englischer, it’d snag my interest. Is that a net? Is it edible?”
      “Oh, ya. And it’s not a net. It’s a halo…of sorts.”
      “How on earth will you get it to surround a cake in midair like that?”
      Mattie splayed her fingers and waved her hands over the notebook. “I can do magic.”
      Dorothy chuckled. “Ya, magic that takes weeks of hard work.”
      A car horn tooted. Sol stood. “That’s my ride.”
      “What zone are you headed for?” Mattie put several cupcakes in a bakery box.
      “C.” He shoved his flashlight into his duffel bag.
      She was sure he’d told her the zone before, but she didn’t try to keep his hunting schedule straight any more than he tried to keep up with the type of cake she needed to bake next.
      He slung the bow and quiver over one shoulder and his duffel bag over the other. “We’re going to a campsite in Hocking Hills. I have several tags, so I hope to bring back a few deer.”
      “The venison will come in handy this winter at the soup kitchen.” She passed him the box of goodies.
      “Denki.” He studied her for a moment, grinning. “Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”
      It was his way of telling her that he cared. “I won’t.”
      He opened the door. “See you in a few days.”
      “I’ll be here.” Mattie returned to her open scrapbook, wondering if she could fashion the framework for the halo out of hardened sugar.
      Dorothy sighed. “Isn’t there a limit on how much wild game the local charities will accept? Sol told James that he’s going on a seven-day hunt less than a week after Thanksgiving.”
      “Ya. He is.” Mattie pointed at her chicken scratch of a sketch. “I think I know how to make the halo. What if I made an edible dowel from my crispy rice concoction and anchored—”
      “Something’s wrong.” Dorothy cut her off.
      “With the halo idea?”
      “No.” Her sister-in-law placed her hand on the notebook. “I know Sol builds pallets from his parents’ house, but even so, how does he manage to get off work so much?”
      “As long as he meets his quota each week, he can spend the rest of his time doing whatever he wants. He works long hours some days so he can take off when he wants. Is that a problem?”
      “No…” Dorothy turned pages in the book without looking at it. “Honey, everyone in the family likes Sol. But…”
      Mattie folded her arms, ready to defend herself. With seven big brothers, she knew how to stand her ground. “But what?”
      “I keep waiting to see in you the zest that young people in love always have. It seems there’s no more now than when you started courting two years ago. Am I wrong?”
      Mattie shrugged, hoping to keep the conversation short. “Sol has all the traits I could want in a husband. Zest isn’t on the list.”
      Dorothy leaned in. “When you love someone enough to marry him, you find him fascinating. You love being in the same room with him. You desire to bear his children. You have a bond that’s so powerful you’ll gladly overlook the things about him that will drive you crazy years later.”
      “What Sol and I have doesn’t fit that description, but our bond is strong. Maybe letting each other pursue outside interests is more important than you think.”
      “He’s not one of your brothers, Mattie. After fourteen years James and I still arrange our days to get as much time together as possible.” She looked up at Mattie. “He draws me, Mattie, and I, him. People in love should have that.”
      Mattie once had that kind of relationship with Gideon, and Dorothy knew it. What she didn’t understand was that Mattie and Sol’s relationship was much better, at least for her. “Dorothy, I know you want the best thing for me, but you have to trust me. Sol and I are very happy.”
      Dorothy nodded, not looking convinced, but Mattie wasn’t bothered by what she or the rest of the family thought. She knew what being with Sol meant.
      The bell jingled, and more cold air rushed inside along with Willa Carter and her son. Excitement danced inside Mattie. The whole time she’d worked on Ryan’s birthday cake, she looked forward to seeing his eyes light up when he saw it.
      “Happy birthday, Ryan.” She closed her notebook and set it aside.
      “Mattie!” Dorothy lifted the sketch pad off the wood stove. “Think…please.”
      “Oh, yes. Thanks.” She thought in English and used it easily these days, a result of having regular contact with her non-Amish customers and friends. She turned to the little boy. He was so cute in his blue jeans and cowboy hat. “How old are you today?”
      Ryan held up four fingers. “I’m this many!”
      Mattie stepped out from behind the counter. “You are so big!” She turned to Mrs. Carter, who was jamming her car keys into her bright red purse. “How are you today?”
      “Frazzled.” She unbuttoned her plaid coat. “I forgot this place sat so far back from the other stores, and I parked halfway down the block.”
      Dorothy shifted her stroller out of the center of the floor. “We’d better go.”

Excerpted from The Christmas Singing by Cindy Woodsmall Copyright © 2011 by Cindy Woodsmall. Excerpted by permission of WaterBrook Press, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

**The Christmas Singing by Cindy Woodsmall was provided for me free by WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group in exchange for my honest review.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas,

Guest Post~~The Snowflake Party by Deborah Raney

2011-12-18T04:30:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

The Snowflake Party
By Deborah Raney

The first snow of winter hasn’t fallen yet, but in our kitchen tonight we’re doing a pretty good imitation. The whole family is circled around the huge old oak table. The snip, snip, snip of scissors is background music as tiny scraps of white paper float down, making our floor look like a giant brownie sprinkled with powdered sugar.

Tonight has turned out to be the night for our annual Snowflake Party, a tradition that began when our children were toddlers. There has never been a date blocked out in red on our calendar, but one day we wake up and the brisk autumn air has turned bitter cold. Naked tree branches trace their stark calligraphy on a dull grey sky and we need a taste of the joyful promises of Christmas and snow. It’s the perfect time for a party.

On such a day, one of the kids will fly in the back door, fresh home from school, and declare “Hey, Mom! Tonight would be a good night for the Snowflake Party!” First we round up every pair of scissors in the house. This is one time when sharing is not a virtue. While the kids search for scissors, I cut white paper into squares and fold them caddy-corner multiple times. The resulting triangles are artfully arranged in a basket, awaiting the beginning of the party.

Later, while the supper dishes dry on the counter, I recruit a volunteer to help me stir up a big pot of hot cocoa. For the next hour it will warm on the back burner, tantalizing us with its aroma.

Now the fun begins with careful cutting and snipping, shaping plain white paper into intricate works of art. Each snowflake we create seems as unique and spectacular as the genuine variety created by God himself. As each masterpiece is unfolded, collective oohs and aahs go up.

When the last dregs of our creative juices are drained, Dad oversees the vacuum patrol while I pour cocoa into generous mugs. We spread our handiwork on the floor around us and sit, quietly admiring our work while we dunk marshmallows and sip rich chocolate.

With empty mugs piled up in the sink, it’s time for the judging to begin. There will be awards for ‘prettiest’, ‘most unusual’, and as many other categories as we need for everyone to be a winner. Dad is the judge because he studied art in college. He also usually wins one of the top prizes––because he studied art in college.

Snowflakes deemed runners-up might be pasted in scrapbooks or hung on the refrigerator. A few even “melt” into the trash that very night. But the winners are taped proudly to the picture windows in the living room for passersby to enjoy while they long for the day when genuine snowflakes will color the world clean and white.

Our oldest daughter went away to college last September. She called just after Thanksgiving to tell me that her dorm window was covered with snowflakes. No, not the real thing, but the ones she remembers from her childhood––paper ones that she spent an entire evening cutting and snipping while sipping hot cocoa.

That’s the neat thing about traditions: They go with us no matter how far from home we travel.

***

DEBORAH RANEY's first novel, A Vow to Cherish, inspired the World Wide Pictures film of the same title. Her books have since won the RITA Award, ACFW Carol Award, HOLT Medallion, National Readers' Choice Award, Silver Angel, and have twice been Christy Award finalists. After All, third in her Hanover Falls Novels series will release next spring from Howard/Simon & Schuster. Deb and her husband, Ken Raney, enjoy small-town life in Kansas. Their four children are grown now and having snowflake parties with their own children––and they all live much too far away. Visit Deb on the web at www.deborahraney.com.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas,

Guest Post~~Why I Decorate for Christmas By Elizabeth Goldsmith Musser

2011-12-17T04:30:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Why I Decorate for Christmas
By Elizabeth Goldsmith Musser

An old cassette tape of Christmas carols—received in a package twenty years ago when we had first arrived in France as missionaries—fills our den with delightful piano music as I place one more ornament on the already over-laden Christmas tree. This one is a little white wooden rabbit with pink ears that move back and forth. It actually doesn’t look much like a Christmas ornament, but I bought it for our baby Andrew when my husband Paul was in seminary, and I was working for less than minimum wage in the library. This ornament was literally all I could afford.

As I hang it on the tree today, I get goose bumps and then a rush of warmth. And that’s why I decorate for Christmas. Not to impress but to remember. I remember those lean, lean years, and God’s faithful provision for us.

There are the cross-stitched ornaments I made our first year in Montpellier—for the boys (for by now we had two sons) and Paul and me. How I ever had time to do that, I don’t know. I remember our puny little tree—the kind they sold in France back then—in a pot so that it could be replanted later. We perched that tiny tree on a small table out of baby Christopher’s reach. I guess I watered it too much, because about halfway through December, it started smelling and then stinking, and it rotted there on Christmas Day!

I smile with these memories.

I look at the other ornaments on the tree. Many were purchased—one for each boy —when we attended conferences around Europe, and that makes me smile too. Getting to travel on a missionary’s budget to exotic places! There are the waxed red bear and red baby carriage from Wales, the brightly painted clay sun and moon from Portugal, the blue and white porcelain windmill and wooden shoes from Holland, the hand-blown glass Snoopys sitting on gondolas from Venice, and the delicately decorated eggs from Prague.

Other ornaments include the little pinkish shiny ball ornament with Paul’s name written in glitter—I think he made it when he was about six , and the little red velvet bows, bought at Michael’s after Christmas one year for a dollar. They bring a unifying theme to the tree. I say this, smiling, because our tree is, and has always been throughout the years, a hodge-podge of our life. And I like it that way. I don’t think I could ever have a ‘theme’ tree. Mine is a ‘memory’ tree.

The music plays softly in the background and I smile through tears, remembering God’s incredible faithfulness to call and keep us here in France for so many years. Heartbreakingly hard years, overwhelmingly joyful years—the same years, the same amazing God, our keeper.

Before we left for the mission field, I memorized Psalm 121 in English and in French, and over the years I have held on tight to those last beautiful words of the psalm: The Lord will guard your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forever. (NASB)

Of course He will. He is God with us.

We decorate to remember Christmases past, our lives, our legacy, and mostly, for those of us who have embraced Christ, we decorate to honor and praise Him for coming to us —Emmanuel! We make our homes ready to receive the Christ Child, with soft music and candles burning and the sweet flickering of angel wings on an over-laden evergreen.

***

ELIZABETH GOLDSMITH MUSSER, an Atlanta native and the bestselling author of The Swan House, is a novelist who writes what she calls ‘entertainment with a soul.’ For over twenty years, Elizabeth and her husband, Paul, have been involved in missions work with International Teams. They presently live near Lyon, France. The Mussers have two sons and a daughter-in-law. The Sweetest Thing (Bethany House, 2011) is Elizabeth’s eighth novel. To learn more about Elizabeth and her books, and to find discussion questions as well as photos of sites mentioned in the stories, please visit www.elizabethmusser.com and her Facebook Fan Page. www.elizabethmusser.com

Wishing you a Merry Christmas,

Guest Post~~Where is Comfort and Joy Found? By Sandy Ralya

2011-12-16T04:30:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Babbie Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Where is Comfort and Joy Found?
By Sandy Ralya

The year 2006 ushered unwelcome emotions into my life. My husband was unhappy in his job, two of my grown children were making poor choices, my mother-in-law was showing signs of Alzheimer’s, extended-family issues were surfacing, and I was writing a book. Things only got worse. Much worse.

Early in 2007, I was asked to represent the mentoring ministry for wives I founded, Beautiful Womanhood, and lead a women’s conference in Uganda, Africa. My husband wasn’t sure if traveling to Africa was a good idea, so we committed it to prayer. While we were listening for an answer, I sensed God asking me to fast from spending, except for groceries, for thirty days. Sometimes you know that you’ve heard God’s voice because you’d never have come up with those words on your own. This was one of those times. I’d never heard of a fast from spending. Tom needed no convincing that a fast from spending came directly from the mouth of God. He still gets excited just thinking about it!

During the fast, it became clear I had used spending as a way to gain a comfort fix. When I was spending money, I felt carefree and lighthearted. Instead of dwelling on the unpleasantness in my life, I was thinking of my purchases and how they would bring me pleasure. Not until I stopped spending did I realize how short-lived the fix really was. During the fast, when I felt the urge to spend—to anesthetize my pain—I pictured myself running into the arms of Jesus, the Great Comforter. Oh, what comfort I received!

One night, I told good friends my experience of gaining comfort through the power of the Holy Spirit rather than money. I exclaimed that I had never felt so comforted. One friend then told us about a dream he’d had shortly after hearing about the invitation from Uganda. After the dream, he had awoken and recorded the following thoughts:

“. . . this is for Sandy. Christ’s redemption of women is beautiful. Beautiful Womanhood is a result of redemptive wholeness. The visuals the ministry uses on the books, etc., are like a piece of beautifully veneered furniture. There is something going on with the ministry to the brokenness of abused women. In Uganda, there are hurting, abused women, and something is connecting their need and Beautiful Womanhood. Though there is nothing wrong with veneer, it is only the topping—the covering, and without good structure it is shallow and will not hold up. It is time to add a new depth to the ministry.”

Then these verses came to my friend’s mind:

All praise to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. He is the source of every mercy and the God who comforts us. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When others are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. You can be sure that the more we suffer for Christ, the more God will shower us with his comfort through Christ. 2 Corinthians 1:3-5 NL

When my friend was finished sharing, everyone in the room broke down in tears, praising God for His work in my life. I’d learned to listen and God had spoken. I’d obeyed, and He’d acted. When He acted, I was changed.

Needless to say, I packed my bags and experienced some of the best days of my life in Uganda—offering God’s comfort to His troubled women.

***

Sandy and her husband Tom have been married since 1980 and live near Grand Rapids, Michigan. They have three adult children and a growing number of grandchildren. When not writing and speaking, Sandy enjoys shopping at yard sales for vintage clothing, cooking, travelling, and drinking really good coffee (black is best) with her husband. For more information, contact Sandy at sandy@beautifulwomanhood.com. Subscribe to Sandy’s blog at www.beautifulwomanhood.com/blog. Find Sandy on Facebook at Beautiful Womanhood. Follow Sandy on Twitter @MentoringWives.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas,

Guest Post~~Advent by Sibella Giorello

2011-12-15T04:30:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

Advent By Sibella Giorello

Consider the bride's walk down the aisle. We all know where that woman in the white is going but somehow waiting for her to arrive at the altar is an essential part of the ceremony. In fact, the waiting is so essential that even cheapskate Vegas chapels include wedding marches.

Why?

Because the wait adds meaning to the moment.

At Christmas time, we tend to forget this essential truth about anticipation. We're lost to shopping malls and checklists, rushing toward December 25th so quickly that we forget the quiet joy of the month's other 24 days -- and then we wonder why we feel so empty on the 26th, amid ribbons and wrapping paper and our best intentions.

Because the wait adds meaning to the moment.

And that is why Advent is so important to Christmas.

I'm as guilty as the next harried person. This Advent was particularly tricky because just six hours before it started, I was still trying to finish a 110,000-word novel that was written over the course of the year -- written while homeschooling my kids, keeping my hubby happy, and generally making sure the house didn't fall down around us.

It's an understatement to say my free time is limited. But waiting adds meaning, and Advent is crucial to Christmas, so I've devised several Advent traditions that are simple, powerful and easy to keep even amid the seasonal rush.

When my kids outgrew the simple Advent calendars around age 7, I stole an idea from my writer friend Shelly Ngo (as T.S. Eliot said, "Mediocre writers borrow. Great writers steal." Indulge me.)

Here's how it goes: Find 24 great Christmas books, wrap them individually and place then under the tree. On the first day of Advent, take turns picking which book to open. When we did this, we would cuddle under a blanket and read aloud -- oh, the wonder, the magic! We savored "The Polar Express," howled with "How Murray Saved Christmas," and fell silent at the end of "The Tale of The Three Trees" (note: some of the picture books I chose were not explicitly about Christmas but they always echoed the message that Jesus came to earth to save us from ourselves and to love us beyond our wildest imagination. In that category, Angela Hunt's retelling of The Three Trees definitely hits the Yuletide bull's eye).

This Advent tradition lasted for about five years. It gave us rich daily discussions about the season's real meaning, without being religious or legalistic, and it increased family couch time. But like the lift-the-flap calendars, my kids outgrew the picture books.

Because the wait adds meaning, and Advent is crucial, I prayed for another way to celebrate anticipation of Christmas. By the grace of God, last year I found an enormous Advent calendar on clearance at Pottery Barn. Made of burlap, it has large pockets big enough to hold some serious bounty.

But my husband and I didn't want the kids focusing only on the materialist stuff for Advent -- we already fight that on Christmas day. We decided to fill the daily pockets with simple necessities and small gift cards. We also printed out the nativity story from Luke 2:1-21 in a large-sized font and cut each verse out. From Day 1 to Day 21, there is one verse to read aloud. The kids memorize it, then get to open their present (again, on alternating days for each person). Then we tape the verse to the wall in order. By Day 22, all the verses are on the wall, in order, and the kids now try to recite the entire nativity story from memory. That's not as difficult as it sounds because they've been memorizing one verse each day. Still, the entire recitation -- verbatim -- usually requires Day 23 and Day 24. Whoever does memorize the entire thing -- without mistakes -- earns a bonus gift of $25.

Does that sounds extravagant?

It is.

Because we want our kids to understand that God came down and humbled himself and taught us about love right before He suffered and died on behalf of the undeserving -- which is every one of us.

"That's" extravagant.

And in the waiting, we find even more meaning.

***

Sibella Giorello writes the Raleigh Harmon mystery series which won the Christy Award with its first book "The Stones Cry Out." She lives in Washington state with her husband and children, and often wishes there were 36 hours in a day.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas,

House of Secrets by Tracie Peterson~~A Bethany House Book Review

2011-12-14T10:00:00.000-05:00

My Review

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. ~Isaiah 41:10 KJV

Fear was something the Cooper sisters lived with for most of their lives. Memories that they couldn’t make sense of caused them this fear.The fear is why the sisters vowed to keep secret their childhood experiences. But God commands us not to fear.

House of Secrets grabs and takes the reader on a journey of healing the hurts and fears of the past. Bailee, the older sister, narrates and you can almost hear her voice as you read. The characters become real with each turn of the page. As I continued to read I learned why they were afraid, I felt their fear, and walked the road to healing with them. This story could be yours or someone's that you may know. It is that realistic.

I give this book 5 stars, for the story, the realness, the truthfulness. and would recommend it to my readers.

The Blurb

They vowed, as children, to be silent...

When her father orchestrates a surprise trip to the summer house of her childhood, Bailee Cooper is unprepared for what follows. What is intended to be a happy reunion for Bailee and her sisters quickly becomes shrouded by memories from the past.

Together again, the three sisters sift through their recollections of fifteen years ago...of an ill mother, and of their father making a desperate choice. One sister believes their silence must end and the truth be revealed. But they soon come to wonder if they can trust their memories.

Mark Delahunt arrives in the wake of this emotional turmoil. Determined to win Bailee's affection, Mark becomes a strong fortress for her in this time of confusion, and what was once a tentative promise begins to take root and grow. Caught between the past and an uncertain future, can Bailee let God guide her to healing...or will she risk losing the chance to embrace love?

An Excerpt

House of Secrets

**House of Secrets by Tracie Peterson was provided for me free by Bethany House in exchange for my honest review.

Blessings,

Guest Post~~A Christmas of Kindness by Suzanne Woods Fisher

2011-12-14T04:30:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!

Enjoy these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, Sibella Giorello and more)! Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.

AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple {form} and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

A Christmas of Kindness
By Suzanne Woods Fisher

"You can give without loving, but you can¹t love without giving." Amish proverb

I do it every year.

I plan for a simpler, less stressful Christmas season and, every year, by Christmas Eve I'm exhausted! After our delicious and very-time-consuming-to-make traditional Swedish meal to honor my husband¹s relatives (think: Vikings), it's time to head to church. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but the last few Christmas Eve's, I have sent my husband and kids head off without me. The pull to spend an hour of quiet in the house feels as strong as a magnet.

It's odd. My children are young adults now. Wouldn't you think that Christmas would be simpler? Instead, it's just the opposite. Jugging schedules to share the grandbaby with the in-laws, trying to include our elderly parents at the best time of day for them, dancing carefully around recently divorced family members whose children are impacted by the shards of broken relationships.

The thing is: you can simplify your to-do list, but you can't really simplify people. We are just a complicated bunch.
Here's where I borrow a lesson about simplicity from the Amish. It's easy to get distracted with the buggies and the bonnets and the beards, but there's so much more to learn from these gentle people if you're willing to look a little deeper.

Yes, they live with less "stuff" and that does make for a simpler, less cluttered life. But it's the reason behind it that is so compelling to me: they seek to create margin in their life. Not just empty spacebut space that is available to nourish family, community, and faith. Their Christmas is far less elaborate than yours or mine, but what they do fill it with is oh so right.

Christmas comes quietly on an Amish farmhouse. There is no outward sign of the holiday as we know it: no bright decorations, no big tree in the living room corner. A few modest gifts are waiting for children at their breakfast place settings, covered by a dishtowel. Waiting first for Dad to read the story of Christ's birth from the book of Luke. Waiting until after a special breakfast has been enjoyed. Waiting until Mom and Dad give the signal that the time has come for gifts.

Later, if Christmas doesn't fall on a Sunday, extended family and friends will gather for another big meal. If time and weather permits, the late afternoon will be filled with ice skating or sledding. And more food! Always, always an abundance of good food. Faith, family, and community. That is the focus of an Amish Christmas.

And it's also how the story begins for A Lancaster County Christmas, as a young family prepares for Christmas. A winter storm blows a non-Amish couple, Jaime and C.J. Fitzpatrick, off-course and into the Riehl farmhouse. An unlikely and tentative friendship develops, until the one thing Mattie and Sol hold most dear disappears and then. Ah, but you¹ll just have to read the story to find out what happens next. Without giving anything away, I will say that I want to create a Mattie-inspired margin this Christmas season. Mattie knew inconveniences and interruptions that come in the form of people (big ones and little ones!) are ordained by God. And blessed by God.

Creating margin probably means that I won't get Christmas cards out until the end of January, and my house won't be uber-decorated. After all, something has to give. But it will mean I make time for a leisurely visit with my dad at his Alzheimer's facility. And time to volunteer in the church nursery for a holiday-crowded event. And time to invite a new neighbor over for coffee. Hopefully, it will mean that my energy won't get diverted by a frantic, self-imposed agenda. Only by God's agendathe essence of true simplicity.

And that includes taking time to worship Christ's coming at the Christmas Eve service. You can hold me accountable! This year, I will be there.

***

Suzanne Woods Fisher is the bestselling author of The Choice, The Waiting, The Search, and The Keeper, as well as nonfiction books about the Amish, including Amish Peace. Her interest in the Anabaptist cultures can be directly traced to her grandfather, W. D. Benedict, who was raised in the Old Order German Baptist Brethren Church in Franklin County, Pennsylvania. Suzanne is a Christy Award nominee and is the host of an internet radio show called Amish Wisdom and her work has appeared in many magazines. She lives in California. www.suzannewoodsfisher.com.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas,

Guest Post~~An Introduction to the 12 Pearls of Christmas by Margaret McSweeney

2011-12-13T04:30:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the 3rd Annual Pearl Girls™ 12 Pearls of Christmas blogging series!

We've gathered several of today's most beloved authors to share their Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom"! Please follow along beginning tomorrow (Wednesday the 14th) through Christmas day as Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Rachel Hauck, Sandy Ralya, Sibella Giorello, Susan May Warren and more, share their heartfelt stories of how God has touched their life during this most wonderful time of the year.

If you'd like to share the 12 Pearls of Christmas with your blog readers too, just email Christen and she'll send you the series.

AND of course there is a giveaway! Beginning tomorrow you and all your friends can enter to win a PEARL NECKLACE and EARRINGS valued at $450! The winner will be announced on New Year's Day! Pearls - a tangible reminder of God's grace to us all.

***

Just a quick note before the series begins on the 14th ...

As I write this, I imagine that we are sitting at my kitchen table and chatting over a cup of coffee while familiar Christmas carols celebrate the Season. My twelve year old Chihuahua, Pongo, barks for a pinch of pound cake while my Shih Tzu, Lilly, patiently sits by the chair and waits for a crumb to fall.

My name is not Martha Stewart, and I will never receive a neighborhood beautification award. Just look at my front stoop. Yes, my never-had-time-to-carve-the-pumpkin-that-now-suffers-from-frostbite slouches next to the front door which is decorated with a Christmas wreath. I plan to roll this large orange ornament to the garbage pile tomorrow. For now, however, I will pretend that my front stoop is a contemplative modern art exhibit capturing the essence of contrast.

Actually, I love the concept of juxtaposition – placing things together that don’t seem to belong together, yet somehow ultimately make sense being paired. A personal example for me this season is the phrase: “comfort and joy.” Having just completed my manuscript for New Hope Publishers about the aftermath of grief, I fully understand the contrast of those two words. How can comfort bring joy? How can one find joy in loss?

Perhaps, dear reader, you have experienced loss this year – loss of a loved one, loss of friendship, loss of health, loss of financial security, loss of trust, loss of love, or loss of direction. Even with the best intent, words of encouragement shared by others can somehow seem insufficient to address an inconsolable loss. A spoken word cannot fully restore joy to a broken heart; however the Word can. And that’s the bottom line message of Christmas! God gave us the most amazing gift: His Son - the Word of God, the Holy Comforter.

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but shall have everlasting life.” (John 3:16).

You are not alone this Christmas, dear friend. Juxtaposed to the unexpected grit in life is the gift of God’s grace wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. This year I purposely placed a pearl in the Nativity scene as a metaphoric reminder. When we place our grit into the hands of the Lord, His grace transforms our pain into a pearl.

“Joy to the world!”

Thank you so very much for sharing the JOY of the Season with us this year.

God Bless,
Margaret
@mcsweeny

***

Margaret McSweeney lives with her husband, David and two teenage daughters in the Chicago suburbs. She is the founder and director of Pearl Girls. For more information please visit www.pearlgirls.info. Margaret is fast at work on several fiction manuscripts. Her book Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace was written to help fund the Pearl Girl Charities. She is also the host of weekly radio show, Kitchen Chat. Connect with Margaret on Facebook or Twitter.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas,

30% off The Christmas Singing by Cindy Woodsmall

2011-12-09T18:36:00.001-05:00

Do you or someone you know enjoy Amish Fiction? If your answer is yes, then you might like The Christmas Singing by Cindy Woodsmall. WaterBrook Multnomah is offering 30% off and free shipping on The Christmas Singing (and any other title) when your you use promo code CHRISTMAS11 when you checkout at WaterBrookMultnomah.com. The coupon code expires on December 20th, 2011.

The Christmas Singing (Chapter 1 Excerpt)

Watch for my review to be posted soon.

Blessings,

Valley of Dreams by Lauraine Snelling~~A Bethany House Book Review

2011-12-05T17:30:00.001-05:00

My Review:

Lauraine Snelling is one of my favorite authors. So, when I saw that her newest book Valley of Dreams, the first book in the Wild West Wind series, was available to review I didn’t need to make the difficult choice over which book to choose. I wasn’t disappointed!

I felt in love with the main characters right away. I could feel Cassie’s nervousness as she waited for her turn to perform during what would be her last Wild West Show. As well as, her disappointment, and anxiety when she heard that the show her father had started many years prior, the only thing she knew, had come to an end.

The scene description took me there where I could see, feel and hear what the characters were experiencing.

I am looking forward to the next book in the series, as the book ended leaving me wanting to read more.

The Blurb:

WILD WEST WIND

Exciting New Series from Bestselling Author Lauraine Snelling

When Cassie Lockwood's mother died, Cassie began traveling with her father's Wild West Show. Along the way, she became an amazingly skillful trick rider and sharpshooter, likened by some to the famous Annie Oakley. When her father passed away, she continued to work with the show, having nowhere else to go.

Now Cassie has discovered that "Uncle" Jason, the show's manager, has driven the show into debt, and he's absconded with what little money was left. Devastated, Cassie decides to try to find the hidden valley in the Black Hills of South Dakota where her father had dreamed of setting down roots. She has only one clue. She needs to find three huge stones that look like fingers on a giant hand. With Chief, a Sioux Indian who's been with the act for twenty years, and Micah, the head wrangler, she leaves the show and a bundle of heartache behind and begins a wild and daring adventure.

Will they find the valley before winter closes in on them?

An Excerpt:

Valley of Dreams

** Valley of Dreams by Lauraine Snelling was provided for me free by Bethany House in exchange for my honest review.

Blessings,

A Christmas Music Break~Sing Noel by New Song

2011-11-27T04:30:00.000-05:00

Luke 2:8-12(KJV)

⁸And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

⁹And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

¹⁰And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

¹¹For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

¹²And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

Blessings,

A Week of Thanksgiving~Thanksgiving Prayer by Johnny Cash

2011-11-24T13:02:00.001-05:00

Psalm 100 (KJV)

¹Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands.

²Serve the LORD with gladness: come before his presence with singing.

³Know ye that the LORD he is God: it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

⁴Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name.

⁵For the LORD is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth endureth to all generations.

Blessings,

The Scroll by Grant R. Jeffery and Alton L. Gansky-- A WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group Book Review

2011-11-23T18:30:00.001-05:00

The Blurb:

One last dig. One final descent into the twisted tunnels of ancient Jerusalem. Will the truth be found among the treasures that lie beneath the holy city?

Dr. David Chambers, leading archaeologist, has spent his professional career uncovering the facts in the artifacts. His work sets the standard for biblical research in the Holy Land. But surrounded by the evidence, David has sunk into an abyss of doubt. A painful experience with a seemingly unresponsive God has left him without hope. The Old Testament scriptures that used to fill his mind with wonder now drive him to frustration. His unanswered questions have ripped him from both his academic pursuits and the love of his life, his fiancée, Amber.
An old friend and mentor reaches out to David, enticing him with the riches described in the enigmatic Copper Scroll. Losing ground with his peers, his love, and his faith, David Chambers has a choice to make. Will he undertake one final dig to unlock a secret that could alter the course of history? Do the mysteries of the Old Testament hold the key to the political turmoil of the Middle East?
In a world where faith has been eclipsed by the allure of doubt, The Scroll offers a different journey: a gripping adventure to find truth worth dying for.

My Review:

The Scroll by Grant R. Jeffrey and Alton L. Gansky is an interesting book full of history, suspense, and a little romance. Dr. David Chambers is an expert archaeologist, who has made the study of Bible history his main area of expertise. He felt that studying the land of the Bible and finding the artifacts strengthened his relationship with God, but that was before his mother died of cancer. After she passed away he turned away from God, insisting that He doesn’t exist.

When his friend Abram Ben-Judah, invites him to head a new archeological dig, he reluctantly decides to go to Israel. The digs are supposed to be top secret, and done quickly, which goes against his grain. He is also at odds with some of the other archaeologists who are on the team.

I liked the story which is packed with history, and archaeological finds that reveal that the Bible is true, and not a fanciful story. The characters were realistic, and for the most part likable. The authors also added a good amount of suspense, that keeps the reader involved. The only thing I would have liked is a stronger ending, because it was kind of flat.

The Trailer:

An Excerpt:

Cambridge, Massachusetts, March 30, 2013

      It was a good wall, a wall anyone would be proud of. Situated in such a way that someone entering the condominium would see the items hanging on its pale blue surface before noticing the rest of Dr. David Chambers’s large, sixth-floor residence overlooking the Charles River in the south part of Cambridge. The condo was close enough to Harvard to make commuting tolerable, and just far enough away for Chambers to feel free of the world’s most prestigious university.
      The condo was well above his professor’s pay grade, but his last two books had done well enough for him to be free of money concerns. Beneath Hostile Sands sat at number six on the New York Times nonfiction best-seller list. It had been nine months since the announced discovery of Herod’s tunnel. His publishers pressed him to include it as the final chapter in the book, then rushed to press. Then came the countless interviews. The academic papers he penned caused a furor in the tight-knit community of archaeologists, a community that never felt more alive than when being critical of one of its own. No one raised an accusing finger at his discovery. They couldn’t. His scholarship was beyond criticism.
      Chambers stood before the wall and gazed at the items hanging there. Together they summarized a twelve-year history of his spotless career. Someone in the Harvard PR department dubbed him the most interviewed scientist in the world. That was probably true. Society could only tolerate a few scientific golden boys. The astronomer Carl Sagan had taken the art of popularizing science to rare heights. Others followed: the physicist Michio Kaku, astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson, and others were frequent guests on talk shows. The public had a hunger for news from the world of science— news most couldn’t understand. The contemporary faces of science were those rare individuals who knew how to talk to the camera and do so in plain language. It was something at which Chambers excelled.
      Chambers set a cardboard box on a narrow, art deco–style table. All the furniture in his condo centered on the 1920s style. Someone once asked why he chose art deco. He had no answer. His interior designer had suggested it, and it sounded good to him. He was a smart man, more intelligent and insightful than most, but he excelled in only a few things. In everything else, he was blissfully dense. Perhaps if his range of interests had been wider, perhaps if he had honed his other instincts to the same edge as those that guided his career, he wouldn’t be doing this today.
      He eyed the plaques, photos, and framed articles hanging against the smooth surface. He took the closest in hand and lifted it from its hanger. Like all its companions, the object had been professionally framed. Inside a silver frame rested the cover of his latest book. Chambers waited for a sense of pride to wash over him, but it never came. He put the frame in the cardboard box.
      Next he pulled down the framed cover of The Fingerprints of God, his first book. That work had been far more religious in nature as he guided the reader through the greatest discoveries in biblical archaeology. To Chambers, however, it was also a scholarly nod to William Foxwell Albright, the founder of the biblical archaeology movement. It had been Dr. Albright’s book The Biblical Period from Abraham to Ezra that had birthed his interest in archaeology; that and the work of his father.
      The thought of his dad soured Chambers’s stomach. Those who knew Chambers knew of his father and assumed Chambers had chosen to follow in his old man’s footsteps. Chambers never corrected the impression, nor did he encourage it. The only thing his father did to kindle the archaeological spark in his son was leave Albright’s book on the shelf. Chambers found it, and it set the course of his life.
      Dr. Albright died in September 1971, two years before Chambers’s birth. That didn’t matter. Time meant less to an archaeologist than to others.
      Albright, while hailed among biblical scholars, was not as orthodox as most thought. He believed the religion of the Israelites moved from polytheism to monotheism, an idea rejected by conservative Bible scholars. Chambers had wanted to honor Albright while correcting his “more liberal” interpretations.
      The last thought amused him: how far he had come. Perhaps bemused was a better term. If Albright were alive today, he’d take Chambers to task for his newfound disbelief.
      He set the framed cover in the box and followed that with plaques, awards, and articles about himself carried in Newsweek, Time, Biblical Archaeology Review, and a dozen other such publications. He removed photos taken of him with Larry King, John Anderson, Ted Koppel, and Jay Leno. He had other such publicity photos that never made it to the wall.
      He paused before removing the last photograph. He studied it. The time: two years ago; the place: outside Tel Aviv; the woman: his fiancée. His former fiancée. Amber wore jeans, a dirt-caked, formerly white T-shirt, and a pair of gloves that seemed a size too large for her petite hands. The sun shone on her brown hair and sparkled in her blue eyes. The David Chambers in the photo smiled as well. In fact, he beamed. No man had better reasons to smile.
      That smile would disappear a month later.
      He snatched the photo from the wall and tossed it into the box. He heard glass break. He didn’t bother to look at the damage. He opened the single drawer in the table and removed a well-worn book. He pushed back the black leather cover and saw an inscription bearing his name. Gently, he touched his mother’s signature, then his eyes fell to his father’s scribbling.
      Chambers pursed his lips and threw the Bible in the box. Moments later, he sealed the box with packing tape and buried it in his closet: a cardboard ossuary holding the bones of his past.
      He closed the closet door on his history and turned to face his future.
      Dr. David Chambers sat in his new ergonomic office chair with his feet on the wide mahogany desk. By executive standards, the office was small, but it was still larger than the closets most professors were forced to use. Chambers was still young, so he would have to wait for older profs to retire or die before he could expect more elbow room. Unlike his home, the office was Spartan. A bookshelf lined one wall and needed dusting. Stacks of journals, scholarly white papers, and files stood precariously on the floor. One of his students, perhaps trying to impress his teacher, said, “It looks like the salt pillars along the Dead Sea.” Chambers had laughed and pointed to the tallest pile. “That’s Lot’s wife.” It was the kind of joke that only archaeologists would appreciate.
      His eyes scanned a scientific journal that reported on grants given for scientific exploration. Any that mentioned Israel or Palestine he skipped. He was done with that phase of his studies but had yet to settle on a new discipline. His interest in biblical fieldwork had departed with his faith.
      He had a friend who worked in pre-Columbian archaeology, specializing in the mysterious Olmecs in the lowlands of south-central Mexico. The people group flourished from 1500 BCE to roughly 400 BCE, a time period with which Chambers was familiar. Still, his academic focus had been on the other side of the world. He had deep doubts about his ability to raise money to fund a dig in an area about which he had never written; hence the need for a friend with a credible reputation in ancient pre-Columbian history.
      Perhaps he could call in a few favors and sign on as dig director, share a byline or two on some academic papers, and then fund his own dig. All that might take as little as five years—if he were lucky.
      He decided to make the call. After all, any civilizations that sculpted three-meter-high human heads deserved a little attention. The recent attention and media coverage of all things related to the Mayan culture and calendar were certain to raise interest in Central American archaeology.
      He reached for the phone. As he touched the hand piece, it rang.
      “Yeow.” Chambers snapped his hand back, then chuckled. “What are the odds…” He answered. “David Chambers.”
      “Shalom, Dr. Chambers.”
      Chambers had no trouble recognizing the voice of his old friend Abram Ben-Judah.
      Maintaining a running inside joke, Chambers answered Ben-Judah’s Hebrew greeting with the Greek word for peace. “Eirene.” Old Testament versus New Testament.
      “It has been much too long since last we talked, my friend.”
      The image of Ben-Judah flashed in Chambers’s mind: tall, slightly stooped, white-and-black beard, kind gray-blue eyes, and a face that looked a decade older than his seventy-plus years. “It has, Abram, it has. How is little Miriam?”
      “My granddaughter is well and not so little anymore. She turns thirteen next month.”
      “In my country, that’s the age fathers begin loading their shotguns.”
      “Shotguns?”
      “To keep the boys away.”
      “Ah.” Ben-Judah laughed, but Chambers recognized a courtesy chuckle when he heard one.

Excerpted from The Scroll by Grant R. Jeffrey and Alton L. Gansky Copyright © 2011 by Grant R. Jeffrey and Alton L. Gansky. Excerpted by permission of WaterBrook Press, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

About the Authors:

Grant R. Jeffrey is an internationally known author of more than twenty bestsellers and the editor of the Marked Reference Prophecy Study Bible. Recognized as one of the world's leading teachers of prophecy and an intelligent defense of the Christian faith, Jeffrey appears frequently on television and radio throughout the world. He studied at Philadelphia College of the Bible before entering the business world. Later he earned his masters and Ph.D. degrees in biblical literature from Louisiana Baptist University. He and his wife, Kaye, live near Toronto where they serve in full-time ministry.

Alton L. Gansky is the author of eight popular novels, including A Ship Possessed, Terminal Justice, and his newest release, Distant Memory. He is also the senior pastor of High Desert Baptist Church in Phelan, California, where he has served for more than a decade. He and his wife, Becky, are the parents of three college-aged children.

** The Scroll by Grant R. Jeffrey and Alton L. Gansky was provided for me free by WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group in exchange for my honest review.

Blessings,

Thanksgiving Music Break~The Doxology(Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow)

2011-11-22T10:08:00.001-05:00

Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. ~Thomas Ken, 1674

James 1:17

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. (KJV)

Blessings,

A Thanksgiving Poem

2011-11-21T17:08:00.001-05:00

"The First Thanksgiving" (1914), by Jennie Augusta Brownscombe (1850-1936)

Thanksgiving

When first in ancient time, from Jubal's tongue
The tuneful anthem filled the morning air,
To sacred hymnings and elysian song
His music-breathing sehll the minstrel woke.
Devotion breathed aloud from every chord:
The voice of praise was heard in every tone,
And prayer and thanks to Him, the Eternal One,
To Him, that with bright inspiration touched
The high and gifted lyre of heavenly song,
And warmed the soul with new vitality.
A stirring energy through Nature breathed:
The voice of adoration from her broke,
Swelling aloud in every breeze, and heard
Long in the sullen waterfall, what time
Soft Spring or hoary Autumn threw on earth
Its bloom or blighting; when the summer smiled;
Or winter o'er the year's sepulcher mourned.
The Deity was there; a nameless spirit
Moved in the breasts of men to do him homage;
And when the morning smiled, or evening pale
Hung weeping o'er the melancholy urn,
They came beneath the broad, o'erarching trees,
And in their tremulous shadow worshipped oft,
Where pale the vine clung round their simple altars,
And gray moss mantling hung. Above was heard
The melody of winds, breathed out as the green trees
Bowed to their quivering touch in living beauty;
And birds sang forth their cheerful hymns. Below,
The bright and widely wandering rivulet
Struggled and gushed amongst the tangled roots
That choked its reedy fountain, and dark rocks
Worn smooth by the constant current. Even there
The listless wave, that stole with mellow voice
Where reeds grew rank on the rushy-fringed brink,
And the green sedge bent to the wandering wind,
Sang with a cheerful song of sweet tranquillity.
Men felt the heavenly influence; and it stole
Like balm into their hearts, till all was peace:
And even the air they breathed, the light they saw,
Became religion; for the ethereal spirit
That to soft music wakes the chords of feeling,
And mellows everything to beauty, moved
With cheering energy within their breasts
And made all holy there, for all was love.
The morning stars, that sweetly sang together;
The moon, that hung at night in the mid-sky:
Dayspring and eventide; and all the fair
And beautiful forms of nature, had a voice
Of eloquent worship. Ocean, with its tides
Selling and deep, where low the infant storm
Hung on his dun, dark cloud, and heavily beat
The pulses of the sea, sent forth a voice
Of awful adoration to the spirit
That, wrapt in darkness, moved upon its face.
And when the bow of evening arched the east,
Or, in the moonlight pale, the curling wave
Kissed with a sweet embrace the sea-worn beach,
And soft the song of winds came o'er the waters,
The mingled melody of wind and wave
Touched like a heavenly anthem on the ear;
For it arose a tuneful hymn of worship.
And have our hearts grown cold? Are there on earth
No pure reflections caught from heavnly light?
Have our mute lips no hymn, our souls no song?
Let him thatin the summer-day of youth
Keeps pure the holy fount of youthful feeling,
And him that in the nightfall of his years
Lies down in his last sleep, and shuts in peace
His dim, pale eyes on life's short wayfaring,
Praise Him that rules the destiny of man.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow(1807-1882)

Blessings,

Sunday Music Break~~When I Praise

2011-11-20T04:30:00.000-05:00

Psalm 7:17

I will praise the LORD according to his righteousness: and will sing praise to the name of the LORD most high.(KJV)

Blessings,

Music Break~~ A Week of Thanksgiving

2011-11-19T04:30:00.000-05:00

2 Corinthians 9:11

Being enriched in every thing to all bountifulness, which causeth through us thanksgiving to God. KJV

Blessings,

Remembering You by Tricia Goyer--A Litfuse Publicity Group Book Review

2011-11-18T04:30:00.000-05:00

About the book:

35-year-old Ava Andrews' dream job is interrupted by an unusual request--fulfill her 84-year-old grandfather's last wish by joining him on a battle site tour of Europe. Ava is sure her boss will refuse her request. But, instead, he gives her a directive of his own--to videotape the tour and send it back as mini-segments for the show she produces.

As if juggling these two things isn't hard enough, Ava is soon surprised again ... twice. First, Ava and Grandpa Jack arrive in Europe, only to discover the tour is cancelled. Unwilling to let down her grandfather or her boss, Ava and Grandpa Jack head out on their own. Then, while they're on their way, the pair soon meet up with Paul, her grandpa's best friend, and his grandson Dennis. The same Dennis who just happens to be Ava's first love.

Before she knows it, Ava and Dennis are swept down memory lane as they visit the sites that are discussed in the history books. And even though Ava's videotaping old soldiers, she can see their youth, their hopes and fears, and their pride in their eyes. Soon Ava learns the trip isn't just for them ... it's for her too--especially for her heart.

Read an excerpt, watch a video and find out more here.

My Review:

Remembering You is a story where past and present come together and take the reader on an incredible journey through Europe. Ava, her Grandpa Jack, and his friend whom Ava fondly calls, Grand-Paul, visit battle sites as they retrace the route these men took during World War II.

Through her research, and interviews with World War II veterans Tricia Goyer honors these veterans by using their stories to create stories like Remembering You, Stories I think many readers will enjoy, especially those who enjoy history. I may never be able to visit Europe myself, but Tricia Goyer’s descriptions made me feel that I was there experiencing the journey with the characters.

I loved the characters in this story, they were so real that they leapt off the page. I watched them grow with each new experience, and as they learned more about each other. They learned forgiveness, compassion, to listen, and to accept each other as they are. They also grew in their love of God.

I enjoyed learning about World War II, and the battles that the characters fought in. Tricia Goyer did an excellent job in combining contemporary times and history together to create a wonderful story that I will read again, and have already recommended to my husband, because he also likes to read about World War II.

I would recommend Remembering You for readers high-school to adult.

About Tricia:

Tricia Goyer is the author of thirty books including Songbird Under a German Moon, The Swiss Courier, and the mommy memoir, Blue Like Play Dough. She won Historical Novel of the Year in 2005 and 2006 from ACFW, and was honored with the Writer of the Year award from Mt. Hermon Writer's Conference in 2003. Tricia's book Life Interrupted was a finalist for the Gold Medallion in 2005. In addition to her novels, Tricia writes non-fiction books and magazine articles for publications like MomSense and Thriving Family. Tricia is a regular speaker at conventions and conferences, and has been a workshop presenter at the MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) International Conventions. On Tricia's weekly radio show, Living Inspired, she shares stories of inspiration and encouragement. She and her family make their home in Little Rock, Arkansas where they are part of the ministry of FamilyLife.

For more about Tricia and her other books you may visit her website here.

Would you like to read more reviews for Remembering You by Tricia Goyer? Visit these blogs.

If you are interested in purchasing this book click here.

Last But Not Least! (Just incase you missed it)

Tricia Goyer is celebrating the release of her novel, Remembering You, with a KINDLE Touch Giveaway for you ... and for the friend of your choice. Then on 11/29 she'll be wrapping up the release of Remembering You with a Book Chat Party!

During the first half of the party Tricia will be chatting, sharing a sneak peek of her next book, and giving away a ton of great stuff. Then she'll head over to her website for a Live Chat! Readers will be able to chat with Tricia via video or text.

Don't miss your chance to win a Kindle Touch for yourself ... and to "remember" a friend this holiday with a Kindle Touch for them!

Read what the reviewers are saying here.

One grand prize winner will receive:

A Brand New Kindle Touch and a Kindle Touch for a Friend (winner's choice!)
A copy of Remembering You by Tricia Goyer for each

Enter today by clicking one of the icons below. But hurry, the giveaway ends at noon on November 29th. Winner will be announced at Remembering You Facebook Party on 11/29. Tricia will be hosting an author chat (on Facebook and Live from her website) and giving away copies of her other WWII books and gift certificates to Starbucks and Amazon.com. So grab your copy of Remembering You and join Tricia on the evening of the 29th for an author chat, a trivia contest (How much do you know about WWII?) and lots of giveaways.

Don't miss a moment of the fun. RSVP today and tell your friends via FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning. Hope to see you on the 29th!

Blessings,

**Remembering You by Tricia Goyer was provided for me free by Litfuse Publicity Group in exchange for my honest review.

Win a Kindle Touch for YOU and a Friend from Tricia Goyer!

2011-11-16T14:57:00.001-05:00

One grand prize winner will receive:

A Brand New Kindle Touch and a Kindle Touch for a Friend (winner's choice!)
A copy of Remembering You by Tricia Goyer for each

Don't miss a moment of the fun. RSVP today and tell your friends via FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning. Hope to see you on the 29th!

Blessings,

Sunday Music Break—I Know by The Collingsworth Family

2011-11-13T04:30:00.000-05:00

I Know by The Collingsworth Family

Every time I look at the morning paper, there on the very front page
Hate and crime, another big scandal, who will it be today
As the prices rise, morals decline and fall to an all-time low
Everything looks bad, it could make me real sad
If it wasn’t for the things I know

Chorus:
I know my sins are covered by the blood of the Righteous Lamb
I know that Heaven is waiting and the saints will soon move in
I’m not shaking cause I’m not staying in this world of pain and sin
I know by the signs that are given, I know by what I’ve been reading
I know by every indication Jesus is coming again

The evening news is now available twenty-four hours a day
It can’t be told in thirty short minutes, is there never any unsolved case
But there’s another big scene that’s waiting in the wings
Soon the headlines will unfold
While the world is frightened I’m so enlightened
By the things in the Book I know

Chorus 2x

Reprise:
I know my sins are covered by the blood of the Righteous Lamb
I know that Heaven is waiting and the saints will soon move in
I’m not shaking cause I’m not staying in this world of pain and sin
I know by the signs that are given
I know by what I’ve been reading
I know by every indication
Jesus is coming again
I’m not shaking cause I’m not staying in this world of pain and sin
I know by the signs that are given
I know by what I’ve been reading
I know by every indication
Jesus is coming again

Source

Romans 5:8

But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. (KJV) King James Version

Blessings,

Chocolate Donut Muffins Recipe

2011-11-12T16:38:00.001-05:00

Donut Muffins

3 cups flour (I used 2 cups unbleached white, and 1 cup whole wheat)
1 cup sugar
1 Tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon sea salt
½ cocoa powder
1 cup non-fat vanilla yogurt
½ cup olive oil
2 large eggs
skim milk

Topping:
½ cup melted butter
¼-½ cup sugar

In a large bowl combine flour, sugar, baking powder, sea salt, cocoa powder. Set aside.
In a small bowl combine yogurt, oil and eggs, and add to flour mixture, mixing to combine, adding milk as needed to thin batter to desired consistency.
Spoon batter into greased muffin pans filling to about ¾ full. (If you use silicone muffins cups, or bake ware, you shouldn’t need to grease them first.)
Bake at 350 degrees for 20-25 minutes, or until an inserted toothpick come out clean.

Topping:

Before you serve the muffins, melt butter, and measure sugar into a small bowl. Then dip the top of the muffin into the butter, and then into the sugar to coat the top. Serve with your favorite beverage. Enjoy!

Yield: 24 muffins (this recipe doubles well)

My husband and children, absolutely enjoyed these muffins, and gave them 2 thumbs up each.

Blessings,

Introducing The Keeper by Suzanne Woods Fisher

2011-11-09T14:16:00.001-05:00

I Am Helping Suzanne Woods Fisher to introduce her new book The Keeper!

A Note from Suzanne:

I’m so excited to announce the first book in my new Stoney Ridge series, The Keeper! The official release date is January 2nd, but it’s available now to pre-order. I’d love for you to post The Keeper video trailer on Facebook, twitter, Google+, blog or website … and in exchange I’ll send you a thank you gift! (details here!).

Welcome to Stoney Ridge …:

New Giveaway from Homeschool Giveaways and Freebies--Apparel for your WHOLE Family!

2011-11-07T14:15:00.001-05:00

Visit Homeschool Giveaways and Freebies for information about how to enter.

Winners to be drawn on 11-11-11; and as always, please let me know if you win!

Your Invited…

2011-11-07T08:55:00.001-05:00

Casey over at Writing for Christ is preparing a blog party, and you are invited!

Casey’s blog party starts on the 15th and runs through the 21st with a BLOWOUT of prizes.

Veteran’s Day 2011

2011-11-07T04:30:00.000-05:00

Letters From War - Mark Schultz

Thank you to all of the veterans who have defended our families, homes, and country. And thank you to all the wives and mothers who bravely sent their husbands and/or sons (and daughters) off to war.

Sunday Music Break—Your Name by Phillips, Craig and Dean

2011-11-06T14:58:00.001-05:00

As morning dawns and evening fades
You inspire songs of praise
That rise from earth to touch Your heart and glorify Your Name

Your Name is a strong and mighty tower
Your Name is a shelter like no other
Your Name, let the nations sing it louder
'Cause nothing has the power to save
But Your Name

Jesus, in Your Name we pray
Come and fill our hearts today
Lord, give us strength to live for You and glorify Your Name

Your Name is a strong and mighty tower
Your Name is a shelter like no other
Your Name, let the nations sing it louder
'Cause nothing has the power to save but Your Name

Your Name is a strong and mighty tower
Your Name is a shelter like no other
Your Name, let the nations sing it louder
'Cause nothing has the power to save but
(Nothing has the power)

Your Name is a strong and mighty tower
Your Name is a shelter like no other
Your Name, let the nations sing it louder
'Cause nothing has the power to save but Your Name

[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/p/phillips_craig_dean/your_name.html ]

Blessings,

CurrClick Live Classes for November 2011

2011-10-28T18:33:00.001-04:00

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Payment Plan for Fall Wednesday live class: Mandarin Chinese 1
Mandarin Chinese Now

For Ages: 5-7, 8-10, 11-13, High School
$40.00

Starts October 31, 2011

Sessions 16

Meets Wednesday

At 1:00 pm Central Time

For 60 minutes

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Payment Plan: Fall live class: Mandarin Chinese 2
Mandarin Chinese Now

For Ages: 8-10, 11-13, High School
$40.00

Starts October 31, 2011

Sessions 12

Meets Wednesday

At 12:00 pm Central Time

For 50 minutes

" alt="" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/408/65090-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
"Active Science" Halloween Party
Paced Learning

For Ages: Preschool, 5-7, 8-10
~~$5.00~~ $3.50

Starts October 31, 2011

Sessions 1

Meets Monday

At 1:30 pm Central Time

For 30 minutes

LIVE CLASS VISITOR'S DAY! Project Based Marine Biology I - Fall 2011 1st Trimest " alt="LIVE CLASS VISITOR'S DAY! Project Based Marine Biology I - Fall 2011 1st Trimest" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/437/65250-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
LIVE CLASS VISITOR'S DAY! Project Based Marine Biology I - Fall 2011 1st Trimester

Heathcote Art & Science Center
For Ages: 11-13, High School
~~$7.50~~ $0.00

Starts November 2, 2011

Sessions 1

Meets Wednesday

At 9:30 am Central Time

For 60 minutes

Science Jim's Physics of Forces #3: Groovy Gravity " alt="Science Jim's Physics of Forces #3: Groovy Gravity" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/297/49434-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
Science Jim's Physics of Forces #3: Groovy Gravity
Science Jim

For Ages: 8-10, 11-13, High School
$15.00

Starts November 2, 2011

Sessions 2

Meets Wednesday

At 10:00 am Central Time

For 60 minutes

Live Class - Journey the Oregon Trail " alt="Live Class - Journey the Oregon Trail" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/334/49050-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
Live Class - Journey the Oregon Trail
Apples of Gold Online Academy

For Ages: 8-10, 11-13
$85.00

Starts November 3, 2011

Sessions 12

Meets Tuesday, Thursday

At 5:00 pm Central Time

For 60 minutes

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Live Class - Journey the Oregon Trail (Audited Version)
Apples of Gold Online Academy

For Ages: 8-10, 11-13
$60.00

Starts November 3, 2011

Sessions 12

Meets Tuesday, Thursday

At 5:00 pm Central Time

For 60 minutes

Live class: Fall's Colorful Leaves " alt="Live class: Fall's Colorful Leaves" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/420/65105-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
Live class: Fall's Colorful Leaves
HIS Creation Science Online

For Ages: 5-7, 8-10, 11-13, High School
$8.00 $5.60

Starts November 3, 2011

Sessions 1

Meets Thursday

At 12:00 pm Central Time

For 90 minutes

Jr. Chefs LIVE Cooking Classes - November " alt="Jr. Chefs LIVE Cooking Classes - November" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/351/49603-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
Jr. Chefs LIVE Cooking Classes - November
Mixing Bowl Academy

For Ages: 8-10, 11-13
$18.75

Starts November 3, 2011

Sessions 3

Meets Thursday

At 3:00 pm Central Time

For 90 minutes

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Lil Chefs LIVE Cooking Classes - November
Mixing Bowl Academy

For Ages: 5-7
$15.00

Starts November 3, 2011

Sessions 3

Meets Thursday

At 1:00 pm Central Time

For 60 minutes

LIVE Class: Elementary Spanish, 6wk, part 1 " alt="LIVE Class: Elementary Spanish, 6wk, part 1" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/426/65210-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
LIVE Class: Elementary Spanish, 6wk, part 1
Schoolingmom Homeschool Spanish

For Ages: 8-10, 11-13
$45.00

Starts November 3, 2011

Sessions 6

Meets Thursday

At 9:00 am Central Time

For 60 minutes

LIVE CLASS: Elementary Spanish, 6wk, Part 2 " alt="LIVE CLASS: Elementary Spanish, 6wk, Part 2" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/426/45051-thumb80.gif" border="0">
LIVE CLASS: Elementary Spanish, 6wk, Part 2
Schoolingmom Homeschool Spanish

For Ages: 8-10, 11-13
$45.00

Starts November 4, 2011

Sessions 6

Meets Friday

At 9:00 am Central Time

For 60 minutes

Harvest Party with
Lessons Worth Learning

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Fall Fun LIVE Class! Harvest Party
by Lessons Worth Learning

For Ages: 8-10, 11-13, High School

Starts November 1, 2011

Meets Tuesday

At 3:30 pm Central Time (UTC-5)

You are invited to Lessons Worth Learning's Harvest Party

November 1 at 3:30 pm Central

A Fall Fun Party Class! Enjoy the class as a family. Games, stories, and presentations with a Harvest and Fall Season theme! In the olden days, they would have harvest festivals or parties to celebrate the bringing in of the harvest. We will look back in time at how pioneers celebrated the harvest with their neighbors. Games will be related to "harvested vegetables" and "Pioneer Day" themes, we will share folktales, and just have fun together!

[click here for more info]

~~$7.00~~ $4.90

Native Americans with
Lessons Worth Learning

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Fall Fun LIVE Class! Native Americans
by Lessons Worth Learning

For Ages: 8-10, 11-13, High School

Starts November 7, 2011

Meets Monday

At 11:00 am Central Time (UTC-6)

Join me to explore the Native American groups from early America.

This class will include homes, daily life, stories, and more.

We will cover Woodlands, Plains, California, Southwest, Northwest, Inuit and more.

You will be amazed to find that American Indians lived in all kinds of different homes, had their own government system, and raised their families in communities with values that were important to them.

[click here for more info]

~~$7.00~~ $4.90

The Doctor’s Lady By Jody Hedlund--A Bethany House Book Review

2011-10-27T12:08:00.001-04:00

The Blurb:

Priscilla White knows she'll never be a wife or mother and feels God's call to the mission field in India. Dr. Eli Ernest is back from Oregon Country only long enough to raise awareness of missions to the natives before heading out West once more. But then Priscilla and Eli both receive news from the mission board: No longer will they send unmarried men and women into the field.

Left scrambling for options, the two realize the other might be the answer to their needs. Priscilla and Eli agree to a partnership, a marriage in name only that will allow them to follow God's leading into the mission field. But as they journey west, this decision will be tested by the hardships of the trip and by the unexpected turnings of their hearts.

My Review:

The Doctor’s Lady is the first novel by Judy Hedlund that I have read, and it certainly will not be the last. Her writing draws the reader into the story and her descriptions allow the reader to picture the scenes with each turn of the page.

I immediately fell in love with Priscilla and Eli, and I felt that I already knew Eli, and in fact, I did! Eli’s character is based on Marcus Whitman, and I had met him in a story I read to my children about the first wagon train to travel the Oregon Trail. (Priscilla’s Character is based on Marcus wife, Narcissa.)

Reading this story I watched the character’s as their endurance was tested time and again. Leaving loved one’s behind, knowing that they most likely would never see them again. The fears they faced, and conquered, as well as the physical endurance: the tiredness, the aches and pains, illness, and loss. They endured and were strengthened. Their faith also was tested, but with each trial, it was also strengthened.

I highly recommend this book, but if you have a teen that is interested in reading The Doctor’s Lady, please read it yourself first, because there are a few violent scenes and themes centered around marriage issues that you may not want your teen to be exposed to yet.

An Excerpt:

The Doctor's Lady

About the Author:

Jody Hedlund is a debut historical romance novelist who was a double finalist in the 2009 ACFW Genesis Contest in Historical Romance. She received a bachelor's degree from Taylor University and a master's from the University of Wisconsin, both in Social Work. Currently she makes her home in central Michigan, with her husband and five busy children. Visit her website at JodyHedlund.com.

**The Doctor’s Lady by Jody Hedlund was provided for me free by Bethany House Publishers in exchange for my honest review.

P.S. The book that I mentioned with Marcus Whitman as a character in the story is Kate Winfield on the Oregon Trail by Peter Marshall

New Giveaway from Homeschool Giveaways and Freebies--Perfect for Science & Nature Lovers!

2011-10-24T11:26:00.001-04:00

Homeschool Giveaways and Freebies is sponsoring a giveaway from:

Exploring Nature Educational Resource is offering a one-year subscription to www.exploringnature.org.

Exploring Nature is an award-winning life science resource website offering more than 5,000 pages of illustrated life science materials on animals, plants, biomes, habitats, ecology, biology, environmental issues, food webs, life cycles, space, human anatomy, etc.

The website also provides wildlife movies, games, worksheets, a quiz collection, science activities, resources for developing nature trails, an illustrated glossary, and much more.

Interested?

Visit Homeschool Giveaways and Freebies for information for how to enter.

Please let me know if you win:)

The Crossing by Serita Ann Jakes-- A WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group Book Review

2011-10-17T09:57:00.001-04:00

The Blurb:

Imprisoned by memories, Claudia Campbell lives each day in the shadow of a ten-year-old murder. Who can set her free?

On the way home from a football game, a decade earlier, a masked gunman opened fi re on a Texas school bus. Cheerleading coach B.J. Remington was killed, but her murderer was never found. Claudia, who had a close friendship with the young, spirited teacher, constantly relives the anguish of that day, caught in one moment in time. When her husband, the assistant district attorney, becomes determined to uncover the mystery of that tragedy, the secrets buried over the years threaten to tear their family apart.
Officer Casio Hightower will never forget the day his dreams were destroyed. A star quarterback with a promising future, Casio was on top of the world—until one bullet changed everything. He is eager to help Victor Campbell find B.J.’s killer, the man who shot him. Maybe solving the case will help silence the demons driving Casio to hurt the woman he loves.
As the Campbells and Casio teeter on the brink of losing everything, will they be able to discover that what begins at the crossing ends at the cross?

My Review:

I sometimes enjoy reading mysteries. So when I saw that this book; The Crossing by Serita Jakes was available to review from WaterBrook Multnomah, I decided that I would like to review it. I was captured by the first couple of pages, but as the story continued, I had to make myself finish the book.

The story begins with the bus driver,a teacher, BJ Remington, and a student being shot on a school bus on the way back from a football game 10 years before. Some of the story is told through the thoughts of the teacher as she lies dying on the floor of the school bus. When the story is in the present tense, the story is told though the three main characters eyes: Claudia, Victor, and Casio.

Claudia was traumatized by the shooting and experiences panic attacks and her relationships with her parents, and husband are strained.

Victor is Claudia’s husband and the Assistant DA, he has reopened the case to help find closure for his wife.

Casio, the former high school quarterback, whose promising NFL career ended as the result of the shooting. Is now a police officer and is helping to solve the case. He also is very hot tempered and is an abuser.

The story, in many ways was very secular, containing bar scenes, and unwed pregnancies, The LORD’s Name was profaned by some of the characters and the gospel of Christ wasn’t laid out very clearly, I would give this book a 2 in a 1-5 rating system.

About the Author:

Serita Ann Jakes has been involved in Christian ministry all of her adult life and has served alongside her husband, Bishop T. D. Jakes, throughout their entire marriage of nearly 30 years. In addition to raising three sons and two daughters, Mrs. Jakes is Executive Director of the WoMan To Woman Ministries of The Potter's House of Dallas where her husband is Senior Pastor.

** The Crossing by Serita Jakes was provided for me free as an Advanced Reading Copy (ACR) by WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group in exchange for my honest review.

CurrClick Live Classes—Starting October 15 – 26, 20011

2011-10-16T19:12:00.000-04:00

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Fanciful Fiction! Creative Writing Workshop Payment Plan
Apples of Gold Online Academy
~~$105.00~~ $55.00

Starts October 15, 2011

Sessions 9

Meets Tuesday

At 11:00 am Central Time

For 60 minutes

Live Class: PAYMENT PLAN - General Science (Apologia) - 1st Semester " alt="Live Class: PAYMENT PLAN - General Science (Apologia) - 1st Semester" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/420/49327-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
Live Class: PAYMENT PLAN - General Science (Apologia) - 1st Semester
HIS Creation Science Online

For Ages: 11-13
$60.00

Starts October 16, 2011

Sessions 16

Meets Tuesday

At 4:00 pm Central Time

For 120 minutes

Live! Government 201 - Fall 2011 " alt="Live! Government 201 - Fall 2011" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/416/48257-thumb80.png" border="0">
Live! Government 201 - Fall 2011
Founders Academy

For Ages: High School
~~$129.00~~ $99.00

Starts October 17, 2011

Sessions 16

Meets Monday, Thursday

At 3:30 pm Central Time

For 90 minutes

Live! My 1st Constitution Class - October " alt="Live! My 1st Constitution Class - October" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/416/64201-thumb80.png" border="0">
Live! My 1st Constitution Class - October
Founders Academy

For Ages: 5-7, 8-10
$11.00

Starts October 17, 2011

Sessions 2

Meets Monday

At 2:00 pm Central Time

For 60 minutes

LIVE CLASS " alt="LIVE CLASS " src="http://www.currclick.com/images/408/43720-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
LIVE CLASS "Active Science" Semester 1
Paced Learning

For Ages: 5-7, 8-10
$60.00 $50.00

Starts October 17, 2011

Sessions 10

Meets Monday, Tuesday

At 1:30 pm Central Time

For 30 minutes

Family Time Fitness - Childhood Obesity, The Shocking Truths & Easy Solution " alt="Family Time Fitness - Childhood Obesity, The Shocking Truths & Easy Solution" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/445/65200-thumb80.png" border="0">
Family Time Fitness - Childhood Obesity, The Shocking Truths & Easy Solution
Family Time Fitness

For Ages: For Parents
$0.00

Starts October 18, 2011

Sessions 1

Meets Tuesday

At 7:00 pm Central Time

For 60 minutes

Fitness 4 HomeSchool - Childhood Obesity, The Shocking Truths & Easy Solutions. " alt="Fitness 4 HomeSchool - Childhood Obesity, The Shocking Truths & Easy Solutions." src="http://www.currclick.com/images/445/64312-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
Fitness 4 HomeSchool - Childhood Obesity, The Shocking Truths & Easy Solutions.
Family Time Fitness

For Ages: For Parents
$0.00

Starts October 18, 2011

Sessions 1

Meets Tuesday

At 7:00 pm Central Time

For 60 minutes

Graphite Pencil Basics--Baby Face " alt="Graphite Pencil Basics--Baby Face" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/366/64188-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
Graphite Pencil Basics--Baby Face
Art with Pilar Live

For Ages: 8-10, 11-13, High School
~~$82.50~~ $60.00

Starts October 19, 2011

Sessions 6

Meets Wednesday

At 9:00 am Central Time

For 60 minutes

LIVE CLASS: La Ropa (The Clothing)-(ages 5-10) " alt="LIVE CLASS: La Ropa (The Clothing)-(ages 5-10)" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/426/44652-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
LIVE CLASS: La Ropa (The Clothing)-(ages 5-10)
Schoolingmom Homeschool Spanish

For Ages: 5-7, 8-10
$25.00

Starts October 19, 2011

Sessions 2

Meets Wednesday

At 9:00 am Central Time

For 60 minutes

Live Class: Science Jim's Spooktacular Science #2: Dreaded Dry Ice of Dooooom! " alt="Live Class: Science Jim's Spooktacular Science #2: Dreaded Dry Ice of Dooooom!" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/297/65095-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
Live Class: Science Jim's Spooktacular Science #2: Dreaded Dry Ice of Dooooom!
Science Jim

For Ages: 5-7, 8-10, 11-13
$5.00

Starts October 19, 2011

Sessions 1

Meets Wednesday

At 12:00 pm Central Time

For 60 minutes

Live! Money, Banking, and The Federal Reserve " alt="Live! Money, Banking, and The Federal Reserve" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/416/64063-thumb80.png" border="0">
Live! Money, Banking, and The Federal Reserve
Founders Academy

For Ages: 11-13, High School
$11.00

Starts October 21, 2011

Sessions 2

Meets Friday

At 12:30 pm Central Time

For 60 minutes

Fall Live: First Year Chinese " alt="Fall Live: First Year Chinese" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/401/49021-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
Fall Live: First Year Chinese
Mandarin Chinese Now
For Ages: 5-7, 8-10, 11-13, High School
~~$60.00~~ $42.00

Starts October 21, 2011

Sessions 5

Meets Thursday

At 11:00 am Central Time

For 50 minutes

Special Needs Consulting Live Class " alt="Special Needs Consulting Live Class" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/555/65263-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
Special Needs Consulting Live Class
Christie Berry
For Ages: For Parents
~~$175.00~~ $60.00

Starts October 24, 2011

Sessions 1

Meets Sunday, Monday, Tuesday

At 3:00 pm Central Time

For 60 minutes

LIVE CLASS VISITOR'S DAY! Project Based Botany 1st Trimester Fall 2011 " alt="LIVE CLASS VISITOR'S DAY! Project Based Botany 1st Trimester Fall 2011" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/437/65249-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
LIVE CLASS VISITOR'S DAY! Project Based Botany 1st Trimester Fall 2011
Heathcote Art & Science Center
For Ages: 8-10, 11-13, High School
~~$7.50~~ $0.00

Starts October 25, 2011

Sessions 1

Meets Tuesday

At 8:00 am Central Time

For 60 minutes

The Gypsies " alt="The Gypsies" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/394/43022-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
The Gypsies
Mr. G Teaches
For Ages: 11-13, High School
$5.00

Starts October 25, 2011

Sessions 1

Meets Tuesday

At 1:00 pm Central Time

For 60 minutes

LIVE CLASS: Science Jim's Spooktacular Science #3: Ghostly Science " alt="LIVE CLASS: Science Jim's Spooktacular Science #3: Ghostly Science" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/297/65098-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
LIVE CLASS: Science Jim's Spooktacular Science #3: Ghostly Science
Science Jim

For Ages: 5-7, 8-10, 11-13, High School
$5.00

Starts October 26, 2011

Sessions 1

Meets Wednesday

At 12:00 pm Central Time

For 60 minutes

The Prairie Girl's Guide to Life—A Giveaway by A Joyful Chaos

2011-10-08T10:36:00.001-04:00

Please visit A Joyful Chaos to enter for a chance to win a copy of The Prairie Girl's Guide to Life: How to Sew a Sampler Quilt & 49 Other Pioneer Projects for the Modern Girl by Jennifer Worick.

This Year's 4-H Field Trip

2011-10-02T19:30:00.001-04:00

My oldest son, Zachariah, is guest blogging today. I hope you enjoy his post.

This year, we went to the Penobscot Marine Museum for our annual 4-H field trip. I got lots of pictures and I will show some of them to you in this post.

We started at the gallery, where they had ship models and some art work. Here a lady told us some about the museum, or campus as she called it.

We also were separated into three groups, according to our ages. I was with the oldest, the Teen, group. Nathaniel and Josiah were in the middle group, the Juniors; and the girls were with the Cloverbuds.

The next few stops, the Merithew and Fowler-True-Ross houses, showed us the lives of sea captains in Maine.

The Merithew House had lots of art and models, and a whole room lined pretty much wall to wall with pictures of sea captains who lived in Searsport. They said to look for your last name there, so I did. No luck. One of my friends did though.

They set up the Fowler-True-Ross House as close as they could to how it looked when he was living there. It also had pictures showing how the children of sailors and sea-captains lived in Maine.

After we left the Fowler-True-Ross House, we crossed the History Garden (shown on left) and went to the Yard in the Yard (shown on right, picture provided by Momma); where we learned about sailing a ship and had a sort of tug-of-war. The man who was leading us then selected two boys, who happened to be brothers, and set them at the winch. The rest of us were the anchor. The two boys pulled the entire group, who were pulling hard, all by themselves! The man explained that with the winch, each of the boys had the strength of six men.

We went to the Searsport Congregational Church next. I can’t remember exactly how old it is, but it is still in use. The congregation lets the museum show it off to visitors at certain hours, but the museum doesn’t own it. Off to the side they have a book with old pictures of the church, which most of the group looked at.

The last place my group went to was the Old Town Hall. This has building is now showing models of Maine fishing ships, and one even lets you pretend to be a fisherman (shown on left).

After that, my group went back to the Yard in the Yard, where all of the groups would join back up together. I, however, obtained permission from the groups leader to go explore the buildings behind the Yard, which we hadn’t got to. Below are the best of the pictures I took from that exploration:

I hope I’m speaking for the entire group when I say that we had a good time there and learned a lot. I think you will enjoy a trip to this museum yourself. Click here to find out more about them at their website.

I want to thank Momma for letting me post this on her blog.

~Zachariah

A Heart for Freedom: The Remarkable Journey of A Young Dissident, Her Daring Escape, And Her Quest To Free China’s Daughters by Chai Ling—A Tyndale House Book Review

2011-09-28T13:41:00.001-04:00

The Blurb:

The dramatic and fascinating story of Chai Ling, commander-in-chief of the student protesters at Tiananmen Square and witness to the massacre of thousands of Chinese civilians. Risking imprisonment and possible death for her leadership role in the student democracy movement, she was on the run in China for ten months while being hunted by the authorities. She eventually escaped to the U.S., completed her education at Princeton and Harvard, found true love, and became a highly successful entrepreneur. But her desperate quest for freedom, purpose, and peace—which she had sought in turn through academic achievement, romantic love, political activism, and career success—was never satisfied until she had an unexpected encounter with a formerly forbidden faith. Her newfound passion for God led to her life’s greatest mission: Fighting for the lives and rights of young girls in China.

My Review:

Growing-up in America it is hard for me to imagine the things that the people of China have experienced. I have read books about missionaries who have ministered to the people who live there, I know that missionaries have a love for the people they are called to serve. They wouldn’t go if they didn’t. Chai Ling, grew-up in China and has a love for her homeland, as well as, for the people that live there that grew out of her personal experiences of being raised and schooled in China.

Chai Ling’s involvement and leadership in the Tiananmen Square protests were because of her love for China. She was forced to leave her homeland after the Tiananmen Square Massacre, and eventually came to America. She could have turned her back, not taken part in the protests, and then she would probably still be living the life her parents pictured for her, but God had other plans. After she came to America she continued her education, and obtained the work experience that prepared her for the work that God had created her for: helping Chinese women and girls, through her work with All Girls Allowed. The most compelling part of Chai Ling’s story is how God drew Chai Ling to HIM and her journey to her belief in Jesus as her Lord and Savior.

About the Author:

Chai Ling

Chai Ling was a key student leader in the 1989 Tiananmen Square movement. Today, she serves as founder, president, and COO of Jenzabar, Inc., a leading higher education software services provider. She holds an MBA from Harvard Business School, an MPA in public affairs and international relations from Princeton University, and a BA in psychology from Peking University. She has been nominated twice for the Nobel Peace Prize. Chai Ling is founder of All Girls Allowed (www.allgirlsallowed.org), an organization dedicated to restoring life, value, and dignity to girls and mothers and revealing the injustice of China's one-child policy.

**A Heart For Freedom: The Remarkable Journey Of A Young Dissident, Her Daring Escape, and Her Quest To Free China’s Daughters by Chai Ling was provided for me free by Tyndale House Publishers in exchange for my honest review.

CurrClick Live Classes

2011-09-24T14:52:00.001-04:00

Live Class! High School Biology: Neutral-Faith Based

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Learning Science with Kim
For Ages: 11-13, High School, College Placement
$90.00

Starts September 26, 2011

Sessions 13

Meets Monday At 9:00 am Central Time For 90 minutes

Live Class! High School Biology: Neutral-Faith Based PAYMENT OPTION

Live Class! High School Biology: Neutral-Faith Based PAYMENT OPTION " alt="Live Class! High School Biology: Neutral-Faith Based PAYMENT OPTION" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/542/64462-thumb80.jpg" border="0">
Learning Science with Kim
For Ages: 11-13, High School, College Placement
$30.00

Starts September 26, 2011

Sessions 13

Meets Monday At 9:00 am Central Time

For 90 minutes

LIVE CLASS! Project Based Botany I - Fall 2011 1st Trimester Live Class

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Heathcote Art & Science Center
For Ages: 8-10, 11-13, High School
$160.00 $120.00

Starts September 27, 2011

Sessions 16

Meets Tuesday At 8:00 am Central Time

For 60 minutes

Pre-Latin 1 LIVE Payment Plan Option

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New Horizons
For Ages: 11-13, High School
$26.00

Starts September 27, 2011

Meets Tuesday At 4:30 pm Central Time

For 60 minutes

LIVE CLASS - MathArt I - Fall 2011 1st Trimester

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by Heathcote Art & Science Center

For Ages: 11-13, High School, College Placement

Starts September 27, 2011

Meets Tuesday At 9:30 am Central Time (UTC-5)

MathArt Fall 2011 1st Trimester – this class fosters projects, discussions, activities, and student and teacher presentations centered around seeing the mathematical connections with nature's geometric patterns, art by studying famous artists and architects and doing cool MathArt projects. Student participation includes doing student chosen hands-on activities and projects about nature, math, (mainly geometry)science, art and architecture connections. Live classes include class discussions, powerpoint presentations and videos by students and teacher.

[click here for more info]

~~$160.00~~ $120.00

That’s all for now,

The Homeschool Minute

2011-09-23T09:14:00.001-04:00

You may have noticed that I added a new audio player entitled The Homeschool Minute in my side bar. I discovered it when I was visiting Nancy Carter’s blog Lessons I Learned on the Farm. She wrote a post that starts like this: “A few weeks ago Gena shared with me that the American Family Radio wanted to begin airing some 1 minute Homeschool Minute encouragement for their listeners.” Please visit her blog Lessons I Learned on the Farm, to read the rest of the story.

~Tammi

What I Am Reading

2011-09-22T11:31:00.001-04:00

I am reading the Books of John and Isaiah in my Bible. I read from Isaiah in the morning and from John at night, before I go to sleep.

A Heart for Freedom: The Remarkable Journey of a Young Dissident by Chai Ling: I am reading this book to review for Tyndale Blog Network. I hope to finish this book and have my review posted by next weekend.

Life and Campaigns of Lieutenant General Thomas J. Stonewall Jackson by Robert Lewis Dabney. My oldest son is reading this book off his reading list and I am reading along with him.

Treasures of the Snow by Patricia St. John is our evening read aloud. We are almost finished with this book then we will move on to:

The Swamp Robber, Sugar Creek Gang Series #1 by Paul Hutchens. My kids have asked if we can read this books from this series in between our other read alouds. After we read The Swamp Robber, we will probably read:

Because of Winn Dixie by Kate DiCamillo

~Tammi

Enemies of the Heart: Breaking Free from the Four Emotions That Control You by Andy Stanley--A WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group Book Review

2011-09-19T11:06:00.001-04:00

The Blurb:

Break free from the destructive power of guilt, anger, greed, and jealousy.
Divorce. Job loss. Estrangement from family members. Broken friendships.
The difficult circumstances you are dealing with today are likely being fed by one of four emotional forces that compels you to act in undesirable ways, sometimes even against your will.

Andy Stanley explores each of these destructive forces—guilt, anger, greed, and jealousy—and how they infiltrate your life and damage your relationships. He says that, left unchallenged they have the power to destroy your home, your career, and your friendships.

In Enemies of the Heart, Andy offers practical, biblical direction to help you fight back, to take charge of those feelings that mysteriously control you, and to restore your broken relationships.

Includes a six-week discussion guide—a valuable resource for small groups!

Previously released as It Came from Within

My Review:

“Is everything okay with you heart?” Andy Stanley asks.

Our hearts have enemies. They are: Guilt, Anger, Greed and Jealousy. We may think that we do well keeping these things out of our hearts, or that it doesn’t matter, but these enemies can keep us at an arms length from our closest friends and family. Most of all they can keep us from having a better relationship with our Heavenly Father.

I read this book with my Bible and my notebook on hand. Andy Stanley, like his father Charles Stanley gets to the heart of the matter, in a gentle, but firm manner. I think this book should be on everyone’s reading list. Yes, it is that good!

Click here to download chapter one of Enemies of the Heart by Andy Stanley.

About the Author:

Andy Stanley is a pastor, communicator, author, and the founder of North Point Ministries, Inc. (NPM). Since its inception in 1995, North Point Ministries has grown from one campus to five in the Atlanta area and has helped plant over thirty strategic partner churches globally. Each Sunday, more than twenty-five thousand people attend worship services at one of North Point Ministries’ five campuses. Andy’s books include Communicating for a Change, The Next Generation Leader, How Good is Good Enough? and many more. He lives in Alpharetta, Georgia, with his wife, Sandra, and their three children.

**Enemies of the Heart by Andy Stanley was provided for me free by WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group in exchange for my honest review.

Psalm 113:3

2011-09-18T04:22:00.000-04:00

Psalm 113:3
From the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same the LORD's name is to be praised.

~Tammi

Free Downloadable Classical Music

2011-09-17T19:37:00.001-04:00

The Isabelle Stewart Gardner Museum has a huge library of free downloadable classical music.

Thanks to Be It Ever So Humble and the Money Saving Mom for the heads up!

September

2011-09-17T14:14:00.001-04:00

Lo! a ripe sheaf of many golden days
Gleaned by the year in autumn's harvest ways,
With here and there, blood-tinted as an ember,
Some crimson poppy of a late delight
Atoning in its splendor for the flight
Of summer blooms and joys
This is September.

~ Lucy Maud Montgomery

A Joyful Chaos

2011-09-14T10:56:00.001-04:00

I have been reading a blog by Mary Ann Kinsinger, a former Amish wife and mother. She writes about life, family, and her faith in Jesus. She also posts about her life before, when she was Amish. The blog is A Joyful Chaos. I think you will be blessed by her writing, I know I have.

She also has submitted her first manuscript to her publisher, which I am looking forward to reading once it is published. I don’t know which publishing house, but if it is one that I review for, I’ll try to request it to review.

~Tammi

Talking Microscope Give Away

2011-09-13T13:11:00.001-04:00

Erica over at Confessions of a Homeschooler is hosting a Give Away for a GeoSafari® Talking Electron Microscope™. I think my kids would really enjoy using this in our homeschool and I think your children will too. Click the picture below for more information and to enter.

Please let me know if you win :)

~Tammi

In My Seat

2011-09-12T11:21:00.001-04:00

I know I posted a 9/11 post yesterday, but I saw this today and wanted to share it with you.

Blessings,

~Tammi

I Remember…

2011-09-11T13:32:00.001-04:00

Let's commit to pray for America, for our government, for our schools, for our children, for our churches, for our neighbors. Let's commit not to hate our enemies (without and within) but instead to pray for them.

1 Timothy 2:1-2

¹I exhort therefore, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be made for all men;

²For kings, and for all that are in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty.

Blessings,

~Tammi

A Sound Among the Trees by Susan Meissner-- A WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group Book Review

2011-09-08T14:43:00.001-04:00

The Blurb:

A house shrouded in time.
A line of women with a heritage of loss.

As a young bride, Susannah Page was rumored to be a Civil War spy for the North, a traitor to her Virginian roots. Her great-granddaughter Adelaide, the current matriarch of Holly Oak, doesn’t believe that Susannah’s ghost haunts the antebellum mansion looking for a pardon, but rather the house itself bears a grudge toward its tragic past.

When Marielle Bishop marries into the family and is transplanted from the arid west to her husband’s home, it isn’t long before she is led to believe that the house she just settled into brings misfortune to the women who live there.

With Adelaide’s richly peppered superstitions and deep family roots at stake, Marielle must sort out the truth about Susannah Page and Holly Oak— and make peace with the sacrifices she has made for love.

My Review:

A Sound Among the Trees by Susan Meissner is an interesting story that is set in both the modern day and the Civil War era.

Adelaide is a ninety year-year old grandmother who believes her house, Holly Oak, is stuck in time, “like a needle of a record player is stuck in a scratched groove of a record”. She believes the house is seeking restitution for past wrongs; and lives her days trying to correct the past.

Marielle married Adelaide’s grandson-in-law and has moved into Holly Oak with her new husband, Carson, and his two children so that the children will not have to experience too many changes.

Caroline is Adelaide’s daughter, who left Holly Oak as a teen-ager, and has returned for short intervals to visit her mother. On one of her brief visits, she left her infant daughter, Sara, with Adelaide to raise.

Susannah Page is Adelaide’s great-grandmother, who lived in Holly Oak during the Civil War. Susanna had family living in both Maine, and Virginia.

This story is a ghost story without a ghost. Memories and regrets fill the hearts of the characters, to the point that they have begun to think that that to Holly Oak is haunted. The story is told in third-person through most of the book, but it is also told through letters that Susanna wrote to her cousin in Maine, Some were sent, while others, although written, were not able to be sent because of the war, and therefore became her journal. I enjoyed reading the letters very much, and hated to see this part of the book end.

I think the characters were well developed and they became real as the story progressed. The story was well told and a left an imprint in my memory, as if I was there experiencing it. I would like to read other books by Susan Meissner as I have the chance.

Excerpt;

      The bride stood in a circle of Virginia sunlight, her narrow heels clicking on Holly Oak’s patio stones as she greeted strangers in the receiving line. Her wedding dress was a simple A-line, strapless, with a gauzy skirt of white that breezed about her knees like lacy curtains at an open window. She had pulled her unveiled brunette curls into a loose arrangement dotted with tiny flowers that she’d kept alive on her flight from Phoenix. Her only jewelry was a white topaz pendant at her throat and the band of platinum on her left ring finger. Tall, slender, and tanned from the famed and relentless Arizona sun, hers was a girl-nextdoor look: pretty but not quite beautiful. Adelaide thought it odd that Marielle held no bouquet.
      From the parlor window Adelaide watched as her grandson-in-law, resplendent in a black tuxedo next to his bride, bent toward the guests and greeted them by name, saying, “This is Marielle.” An explanation seemed ready to spring from his lips each time he shook the hand of someone who had known Sara, her deceased granddaughter. His first wife. Carson stood inches from Marielle, touching her elbow every so often, perhaps to assure himself that after four years a widower he had indeed patently and finally moved on from grief.
      Smatterings of conversations wafted about on the May breeze and into the parlor as received guests strolled toward trays of sweet tea and champagne. Adelaide heard snippets from her place at the window. Hudson and Brette, her great-grandchildren, had moved away from the snaking line of gray suits and pastel dresses within minutes of the first guests’ arrival and were now studying the flower-festooned gift table under the window ledge, touching the bows, fingering the silvery white wrappings. Above the children, an old oak’s youngest branches shimmied to the tunes a string quartet produced from the gazebo beyond the receiving line.
      Adelaide raised a teacup to her lips and sipped the last of its contents, allowing the lemony warmth to linger at the back of her throat. She had spent the better part of the morning readying the garden for Carson and Marielle’s wedding reception, plucking spent geranium blossoms, ordering the catering staff about, and straightening the rented linen tablecloths. She needed to join the party now that it had begun. The Blue-Haired Old Ladies would be wondering where she was.
      Her friends had been the first to arrive, coming through the garden gate on the south side of the house at five minutes before the hour. She’d watched as Carson introduced them to Marielle, witnessed how they cocked their necks in blue-headed unison to sweetly scrutinize her grandson-in-law’s new wife, and heard their welcoming remarks through the open window.
      Deloris gushed about how lovely Marielle’s wedding dress was and what, pray tell, was the name of that divine purple flower she had in her hair?
      Pearl invited Marielle to her bridge club next Tuesday afternoon and asked her if she believed in ghosts.
      Maxine asked her how Carson and she had met—though Adelaide had told her weeks ago that Carson met Marielle on the Internet—and why on earth Arizona didn’t like daylight-saving time.
      Marielle had smiled, sweet and knowing—like the kindergarten teacher who finds the bluntness of five-year-olds endearing—and answered the many questions.
      Mojave asters. She didn’t know how to play bridge. She’d never encountered a ghost so she couldn’t really say but most likely not. She and Carson met online. There’s no need to save what one has an abundance of. Carson had cupped her elbow in his hand, and his thumb caressed the inside of her arm while she spoke.
      Adelaide swiftly set the cup down on the table by the window, whisking away the remembered tenderness of that same caress on Sara’s arm.
      Carson had every right to remarry.
      Sara had been dead for four years.
      She turned from the bridal tableau outside and inhaled deeply the gardenia-scented air in the parlor. Unbidden thoughts of her granddaughter sitting with her in that very room gently nudged her. Sara at six cutting out paper dolls. Memorizing multiplication tables at age eight. Sewing brass buttons onto gray wool coats at eleven. Sara reciting a poem for English Lit at sixteen, comparing college acceptance letters at eighteen, sharing a chance letter from her estranged mother at nineteen, showing Adelaide her engagement ring at twenty-four. Coming back home to Holly Oak with Carson when Hudson was born. Nursing Brette in that armchair by the fireplace. Leaning against the door frame and telling Adelaide that she was expecting her third child.
      Right there Sara had done those things while Adelaide sat at the long table in the center of the room, empty now but usually awash in yards of stiff Confederate gray, glistening gold braid, and tiny piles of brass buttons—the shining elements of officer reenactment uniforms before they see war.
      Adelaide ran her fingers along the table’s polished surface, the warm wood as old as the house itself. Carson had come to her just a few months ago while she sat at that table piecing together a sharpshooter’s forest green jacket. He had taken a chair across from her as Adelaide pinned a collar, and he’d said he needed to tell her something.
      He’d met someone.
      When she’d said nothing, he added, “It’s been four years, Adelaide.”
      “I know how long it’s been.” The pins made a tiny plucking sound as their pointed ends pricked the fabric.
      “She lives in Phoenix.”
      “You’ve never been to Phoenix.”
      “Mimi.” He said the name Sara had given her gently, as a father might. A tender reprimand. He waited until she looked up at him. “I don’t think Sara would want me to live the rest of my life alone. I really don’t. And I don’t think she would want Hudson and Brette not to have a mother.”
      “Those children have a mother.”
      “You know what I mean. They need to be mothered. I’m gone all day at work. I only have the weekends with them. And you won’t always be here. You’re a wonderful great-grandmother, but they need someone to mother them, Mimi.”
      She pulled the pin cushion closer to her and swallowed. “I know they do.”
      He leaned forward in his chair. “And I…I miss having someone to share my life with. I miss the companionship. I miss being in love. I miss having someone love me.”
      Adelaide smoothed the pieces of the collar. “So. You are in love?”
      He had taken a moment to answer. “Yes. I think I am.”
      Carson hadn’t brought anyone home to the house, and he hadn’t been on any dates. But he had lately spent many nights after the children were in bed in his study—the old drawing room—with the door closed. When she’d pass by, Adelaide would hear the low bass notes of his voice as he spoke softly into his phone. She knew that gentle sound. She had heard it before, years ago when Sara and Carson would sit in the study and talk about their day. His voice, deep and resonant. Hers, soft and melodic.
      “Are you going to marry her?”
      Carson had laughed. “Don’t you even want to know her name?”
      She had not cared at that moment about a name. The specter of being alone in Holly Oak shoved itself forward in her mind. If he remarried, he’d likely move out and take the children with him. “Are you taking the children? Are you leaving Holly Oak?”
      “Adelaide—”
      “Will you be leaving?”
      Several seconds of silence had hung suspended between them. Carson and Sara had moved into Holly Oak ten years earlier to care for Adelaide after heart surgery and had simply stayed. Ownership of Holly Oak had been Sara’s birthright and was now Hudson and Brette’s future inheritance. Carson stayed on after Sara died because, in her grief, Adelaide asked him to, and in his grief, Carson said yes.
      “Will you be leaving?” she asked again.
      “Would you want me to leave?” He sounded unsure.
      “You would stay?”
      Carson had sat back in his chair. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to take Hudson and Brette out of the only home they’ve known. They’ve already had to deal with more than any kid should.”
      “So you would marry this woman and bring her here. To this house.”
      Carson had hesitated only a moment. “Yes.”
      She knew without asking that they were not talking solely about the effects moving would have on a ten-year-old boy and a six-year-old girl. They were talking about the strange biology of their grief. Sara had been taken from them both, and Holly Oak nurtured their common sorrow in the most kind and savage of ways. Happy memories were one way of keeping someone attached to a house and its people. Grief was the other. Surely Carson knew this. An inner nudging prompted her to consider asking him what his new bride would want.
      “What is her name?” she asked instead.
      And he answered, “Marielle…”
From the Trade Paperback edition.

Excerpted from A Sound Among the Trees by Susan Meissner Copyright © 2011 by Susan Meissner. Excerpted by permission of WaterBrook Press, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

** A Sound Among the Trees by Susan Meissner was provided for me free as an Advanced Reading Copy (ACR) by WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group in exchange for my honest review.

~Tammi

A hope Undaunted by Julie Lessman—A Free e-Book

2011-09-03T08:49:00.001-04:00

By: Julie Lessman

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A Hope Undaunted book 1 in the Winds of Change series by Julie Lessman is FREE for ALL e-readers these include: Kindle, Nook, PCs, Macs, iPads, iPhones, Cloud Readers, Androids, Blackberrys and Windows Phone 7, you name it!

You can download A Hope Undaunted from these retailers:

Amazon.com

Barnes & Noble

CBD.com

Sony e-Reader

~Tammi

Lion of Babylon by Davis Bunn—A Bethany House Book Review

2011-09-02T11:56:00.001-04:00

The Blurb:

Marc Royce has been a State Department agent involved in covert operations--that is, until personal issues lead to his dismissal.

When Alex Baird goes missing in war-torn Baghdad, State comes calling again. Alex is a CIA agent--and a close friend of Royce. Three others have also dropped out of sight--a nurse, an aid worker, a wealthy young Iraqi. Are these cases linked? Rumors circulate about a kidnapping conspiracy, yet both American and local officials refuse to pursue it.

Blocked at every turn, Royce eventually unearths a trail of secret encounters between sworn enemies. What he discovers could transform the course of rivalry and reconciliation throughout the Mideast. As the human and political drama escalates, can one man summon the courage to make a difference?

My Review:

Lion of Babylon by Davis Bunn is an exciting, and at times, heart-pounding, breath-taking political thriller.

The characters come to life in front of the readers eyes, while fast friendships develop between American, and Iraqi, Christian and Muslim. Who join together in the search for three missing Americans and an Iraqi.

During their search for the missing men and woman Marc and his new friends attend an underground church which Marc describes “’As they met and forged a friendship they began looking at the Bible. Together they studied the Gospels, the four book that tell of the life of Jesus’ Marc Waited a moment. then said,’They started praying together. For wisdom. For barriers to fall. For Jesus to Speak to them.’”

I would recommend this book to readers from teen to adult. My 15 year-old can not wait to start reading it.

Book Trailer:

About the Author:

Davis Bunn is an award-winning novelist whose audience spans reading genres from high drama and action thrillers to heartwarming relationship stories, in both contemporary and historical settings. He and his wife, Isabella, make their home in Florida for some of each year, and spend the rest near Oxford, England, where they each teach and write. Visit Davis' Web site at www.davisbunn.com

**Lion of Babylon by Davis Bunn was provided for me free by Bethany House in exchange for my honest review.

~Tammi

It’s Your Kid, Not a Gerbil by Dr. Kevin Leman – Giveaway!

2011-08-29T13:23:00.001-04:00

Do you sometimes feel like a gerbil running on a wheel inside a cage as you scurry from place to place, chauffeuring your children from one endless activity to another? What if, for one moment, you could just step off of the wheel . . . and relax? How would you feel then? And what if that single moment could stretch into an hour, or even a whole day? In his new book, It’s Your Kid, Not a Gerbil, Kevin Leman will provide practical solutions and helpful insight to get off the activity wheel so that you can put your time and energies where they really count: in establishing strong character and a love for home and family that will serve your kids well for a lifetime.

Please visit the Tyndale Blog for more information and to enter for a possible chance to win one of these great prizes: an iPod Touch, one of three Kevin Leman book prize packs, or one of the 5 copies of It's Your Kid, Not A Gerbil.

~Tammi

Our Homeschooling Pilgrimage

Guest post - Joshua Chamberlain by Zachariah

Beyond Molasses Creek By Nicole Seitz~~A Litfuse Publicity Group Book Review

The Sound of Red Returning by Sue Duffy~~ A LitFuse Book Review

Classroom Friendly Supplies Pencil Sharpener Review

Sisters of the Quilt ~The Complete Trilogy by Cindy Woodsmall~~A WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group Book Review

My Review:

Sunday Music Break~~Jesus, Name Above All Names by Maranatha! Singers

Psalm 42:11 KJV

Guest Post~~Socialize? by Casey Herringshaw

Guest Post~~Jesus -- The Reason For the Season by Rachel Hauck

Guest Post~~The Panhandler's Breath by Robin Dance

Guest Post~~Inside Out Christmas by Debora M. Coty

Guest Post~~Simple or Sparkle? by Tracey Eyster

Guest Post~Enjoy the Ride! by Susan May Warren

Guest Post~~Family Traditions: A Glimpse into Christmas Future by Tricia Goyer

Guest Post~~Let The Baby Grow Up This Christmas By Shellie Tomlinson

The Christmas Singing by Cindy Woodsmall~~A WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group Book Review

Guest Post~~The Snowflake Party by Deborah Raney

Guest Post~~Why I Decorate for Christmas By Elizabeth Goldsmith Musser

Guest Post~~Where is Comfort and Joy Found? By Sandy Ralya

Guest Post~~Advent by Sibella Giorello

House of Secrets by Tracie Peterson~~A Bethany House Book Review

Guest Post~~A Christmas of Kindness by Suzanne Woods Fisher

Guest Post~~An Introduction to the 12 Pearls of Christmas by Margaret McSweeney

30% off The Christmas Singing by Cindy Woodsmall

Valley of Dreams by Lauraine Snelling~~A Bethany House Book Review

A Christmas Music Break~Sing Noel by New Song

Luke 2:8-12(KJV)

A Week of Thanksgiving~Thanksgiving Prayer by Johnny Cash

Psalm 100 (KJV)

The Scroll by Grant R. Jeffery and Alton L. Gansky-- A WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group Book Review

The Blurb:

An Excerpt:

Thanksgiving Music Break~The Doxology(Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow)

James 1:17

A Thanksgiving Poem

Sunday Music Break~~When I Praise

Psalm 7:17

Music Break~~ A Week of Thanksgiving

2 Corinthians 9:11

Remembering You by Tricia Goyer--A Litfuse Publicity Group Book Review

Don't miss a moment of the fun. RSVP today and tell your friends via FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning. Hope to see you on the 29th!

Win a Kindle Touch for YOU and a Friend from Tricia Goyer!

Don't miss a moment of the fun. RSVP today and tell your friends via FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning. Hope to see you on the 29th!

Sunday Music Break—I Know by The Collingsworth Family

Romans 5:8

Chocolate Donut Muffins Recipe

Introducing The Keeper by Suzanne Woods Fisher

New Giveaway from Homeschool Giveaways and Freebies--Apparel for your WHOLE Family!

Your Invited…

Veteran’s Day 2011

Sunday Music Break—Your Name by Phillips, Craig and Dean

CurrClick Live Classes for November 2011

Harvest Party withLessons Worth Learning

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Fall Fun LIVE Class! Harvest Partyby Lessons Worth Learning

Native Americans with Lessons Worth Learning

Fall Fun LIVE Class! Native Americans" alt="Fall Fun LIVE Class! Native Americans" hspace="3" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/254/65108-thumb100.jpg" width="100" align="left" vspace="3" border="0">

Fall Fun LIVE Class! Native Americansby Lessons Worth Learning

The Doctor’s Lady By Jody Hedlund--A Bethany House Book Review

New Giveaway from Homeschool Giveaways and Freebies--Perfect for Science & Nature Lovers!

The Crossing by Serita Ann Jakes-- A WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group Book Review

Imprisoned by memories, Claudia Campbell lives each day in the shadow of a ten-year-old murder. Who can set her free?

CurrClick Live Classes—Starting October 15 – 26, 20011

The Prairie Girl's Guide to Life—A Giveaway by A Joyful Chaos

This Year's 4-H Field Trip

~Zachariah

A Heart for Freedom: The Remarkable Journey of A Young Dissident, Her Daring Escape, And Her Quest To Free China’s Daughters by Chai Ling—A Tyndale House Book Review

CurrClick Live Classes

LIVE CLASS - MathArt I - Fall 2011 1st Trimester" alt="LIVE CLASS - MathArt I - Fall 2011 1st Trimester" hspace="3" src="http://www.currclick.com/images/437/48945-thumb100.jpg" width="100" align="left" vspace="3" border="0">

Starts September 27, 2011

The Homeschool Minute

What I Am Reading

Enemies of the Heart: Breaking Free from the Four Emotions That Control You by Andy Stanley--A WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group Book Review

Psalm 113:3

Free Downloadable Classical Music

September

A Joyful Chaos

Talking Microscope Give Away

Harvest Party with
Lessons Worth Learning

Fall Fun LIVE Class! Harvest Party
by Lessons Worth Learning

Native Americans with
Lessons Worth Learning

Fall Fun LIVE Class! Native Americans
by Lessons Worth Learning