SHARLENE MACLAREN

2012-01-30T11:52:00.004-05:00

MONDAY MUSINGS

ONE YEAR AGO!

TODAY!

It's pretty amazing the comparison between last year's and this year's winter. I've enjoyed the milder weather, and I'm sure many of you across the northern regions of the U.S. share my feelings - with the exception of you snowboard enthusiasts. Sorry about that.

I'm still enjoying my fireplace and candles, but I'm also enjoying the fact that it's almost February, and being that it's a shorter month it seems like March comes rolling in before we know it! Soon, spring will be upon us, and we'll all be saying, "What? Another year come and gone - already?"

I love the changing seasons, the newness of spring, the loveliness of summer, the coolness of autumn, and, yes, the bitter chill of winter. Each season serves its purpose in reminding us of the pure joy of life itself - from youth to old age we can embrace it in all its splendor and richness. (IF we choose to, that is.)

I feel sorry for those who mourn change. Change is inevitable, something we must all endure whether we want to or not. In two days, my "almost" 89-year-old mother-in-law will be leaving her home of the past 20 years to make her way to a senior living center. She could bemoan the fact that she's reached that point in her life where she must submit to yet another change, this one truly MAJOR; but instead, she remains her positive self, praising God even through this poignant, monumental life change. She knows her next home will be Heaven itself, and that will be the ULTIMATE change. From a blemished, scarred world to GLORIOUS PERFECTION.

As you go about your day today, consider all the changes you've tackled in your lifetime. Did they grow you as an individual or slow your progress? Think of change as a good and positive thing, and you will be amazed at how it affects your attitude and heart.

2012-01-22T23:50:00.005-05:00

MONDAY MUSINGS

The other day I read something that struck a chord with me. It went something like this, though not in these exact words: Jesus is leading us along the high road, but it's full of descents as well as ascents. We see snow-covered peaks in the far-off distance, and we long to reach the top - if only there were shortcuts. Our assignment is NOT to take the shortcuts, but to follow Christ's leading, allowing Him to direct our paths. We should let the heights beckon us, but remain close to our Heavenly Father as we walk this upward journey.

How often do we want to race ahead of God? We think we see the trail He has so intricately mapped out for us that we can easily reach our destinations without any further help. Not. Our paths are winding, bumpy, and loaded with roadblocks. If we fail to seek His daily guidance and direction, we will easily lose our way. Our perfect roadmap is God's Holy Word. Reading it daily and seeking His divine voice in our quiet moments will ensure we take the upward path He's designed just for us. Isn't it great to know we each have our very own life-map? It's up to us to keep checking that map, though, lest we fall into some deadly trap our Enemy Satan has put there just to trick us.

Get out your road map (The Holy Bible) and read your instructions for the day. I pray your journey today will be exhilarating and blessed of God.

2012-01-15T23:25:00.007-05:00

MONDAY MUSINGS

TRACKS...

Four days ago the ground boasted of little more than sticks, dormant grass, and a few stray, dead leaves. Today a white blanket of snow, several inches deep, spreads over its barrenness. On Friday morning its fresh fallen beauty awed so many West Michiganders that if you had signed into Facebook at any given moment throughout the day you would have found at least 563 newly posted photos! (Okay, slight exaggeration.) I myself contributed four to the pile, each one of my beloved dog romping in it, sniffing the air, and looking quite mystified by all the whiteness. Aside from his few tracks, though, my yard remained fresh and mostly untouched as the snow continued falling for the next 24 hours.

What of today? Well, now that the snow has stopped falling it's full of tracks, dog and people and sled tracks. Yesterday, the grandkids, Peyton, and Papa played and rolled and tromped through the yard, making tracks of all shapes and sizes.

Tracks.

I'm reminded of my daddy's tracks when I was a kid and how after a heavy snowfall I'd follow in his fresh tracks to avoid getting snow up my pant legs, which begs the question - what kinds of tracks do I leave as I go about my day? Do I leave the kind that people want to put their own feet into and follow behind? I pray so.

I try to follow in the tracks that Jesus made when He walked this earth. I say try, but really, it is only by His grace and strength, and not my own feeble efforts, that I'm able to do so. Somedays it's hard living a holy life. Something as simple as a driver cutting me off at the turn can catch me in an unholy moment!

"Oh, Father, may the tracks I make on this earth be the kind that make a mark for eternity; may my footprints lead others straight to YOU. In Your Name I pray. Amen."

2012-01-11T22:48:00.004-05:00

THURSDAY THOUGHTS

We've had the most glorious January weather here in West Michigan, BUT...

STORM WARNING IN EFFECT FOR THE FOLLOWING COUNTIES...

Who hasn't read those words splashed across the bottom of your TV screen or heard it announced on the radio, or overheard it mentioned in the grocery store where everyone runs for last minute supplies?

Storms are imminent, both in weather and in life! We can't avoid them. Even in the height of paradise (wherever that may be) one is never immune to storms. I can handle the occasional bad storm--in fact, I rather enjoy them if I'm not inconvenienced by a lack of food, warmth, and electricity! (ha!) No, it's the storms of life that often get me down. Somebody falls victim to an incurable disease, fire burns a house to the ground, an unspeakable auto accident takes the life of a precious husband and father, an innocent child suffers abuse at the hands of someone he/she trusted - and the list goes on.

It's tempting to question where God is when we're busy trying to ride out these horrid storms that threaten to sweep us away, the current so strong we can barely stay afloat. But in my heart I KNOW where He is. He's in the wind, the waves, the mountains, the valleys, and the floods of life. He is there, asking us to trust Him through the darkest storms. How do I know? Because I've tested Him and found Him true and faithful over and over...and over.

"Be still and know that I am God..." the verse states. Next time something sneaks up on you that you weren't prepared to handle, rest in God's protective, shielding arms and simply KNOW that He is God...

And now, I must confess that I am glad I made two grocery store stops today. I am ready for the storm!

2012-01-08T19:50:00.005-05:00

MONDAY MUSINGS

I love fresh starts! It's like sitting in front of a fire on a comfy sofa with a brand new book. Ah, the anticipation, the hope, the loveliness of it all.

That's what 2012 represents for me, a fresh start, a new chapter. (As a writer, I would have to use a book as an analogy, wouldn't I?) Seriously, the New Year represents new beginnings - new diets, habits, goals, and choices. But it also represents the unknown tomorrows. None of us can be sure what the year holds. We all hope and pray for untold joy, but some of us may encounter a few bumps and bruises. Regardless, we can be certain of this; God will be there.

I love this artist's rendering of Joseph and Mary bringing the baby Jesus to the temple to meet Simeon. There they dedicate their newborn son to the Lord. In their hearts they must have known great and wondrous things would happen through him, but they couldn't possibly have imagined what. Had they known that one day their son would sacrifice himself on a cruel cross for the sake of all mankind, perhaps they wouldn't have been so eager to present him to Simeon.

Matthew 6:34 states, "So don't worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today's trouble is enough for today."

I find comfort in knowing I'll find Jesus in tomorrow and the next day, and the day after that.

"Lord, although it's tempting to worry about the unknown, please put within my heart enough faith and trust to believe You'll walk me through any trials I may face. Each of us WILL face trials; it's a fact of life. But in those trials, help me, and help my brothers and sisters, to find You sufficient for every need. Thank You for your steadfast, even stubborn, love. It surpasses all other forms of love and is ALWAYS enough. In Your Holy Name I pray these things. Amen."

2012-01-03T20:42:00.005-05:00

WINTER SUPPER...

It was a wintery, corn chowdery kind of night.

First thing this morning, I looked out the window at a snowy ground and an ice-gray sky and thought to myself...it's going to be a corn chowder night. And so it was. Toward mid-afternoon I gathered my ingredients together, hauled out the big kettle (yep, there's only two of us, so we'll be eating corn chowder for awhile), and started peeling potatoes. Well, shoot, I may as well just give you the recipe! Here it is, my dear friends. Make a kettle for yourself and enjoy... Oh, by the way, Cecil did the spoon-standing-in-the-middle-of-the-bowl test, and it passed with flying colors. This is a THICK, hearty soup, great with a slice of your favorite bread and a small side salad.

INGREDIENTS:

2 tablespoons butter
1 chopped onion
1 (32-ounce) carton of chicken broth
4 potatoes peeled and cubed
1 (16 ounce) bag of frozen corn
2 (2.5 ounce) packages country style gravy mix
2 cups of milk
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese
1 package (3 oz. bag) REAL Bacon (shredded)

DIRECTIONS:

In large kettle, saute butter and onion on medium heat till tender, about five minutes. Add chicken broth to mixture and bring to a boil. Add potatoes and cook over medium heat for about 20 minutes or until potatoes are semi-tender. In separate bowl, whisk gravy packets and two cups of milk, then add mixture to the kettle along with the frozen corn, cheese, and bacon. Bring to a slow boil then simmer over low heat till thick and tender, giving cheese time to melt. Serves...a LOT!!!

2011-12-31T13:07:00.003-05:00

HAVE A BLESSED NEW YEAR!

I like to say "Have a Blessed New Year!" rather than "Happy New Year!" because none of us knows what's around the next bend. Maybe we can't always be happy, but we can always be blessed!

I'll admit 2011 was a happy AND blessed year for me - lots of wonderful times with family and friends, treasured moments with the grandJOYs, and an added bonus on October 22 when God blessed us with another grandson. Oh, the joys and blessings.

What will 2012 hold? Only God knows. But the blessing of it all is that God will be walking right through this year with me, and there is so much joy and blessed assurance in knowing that. If you haven't yet trusted Christ as Savior and Lord of your life, why not make 2012 be your year? There is nothing like the blessing of knowing He holds your hand through every circumstance of life, no matter what you face.

My verse of the year is found in Isaiah 41:13: "I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, 'Do not be afraid; I will help you.'"

Do you have a favorite verse? Why not share it below and be a blessing to someone who might just need to read it this very moment?

I love you all - and wish for each of you a BLESSED NEW YEAR!

2011-12-21T21:18:00.007-05:00

LOVE AT FIRST KISS!

Thirty-six and counting! That's how many years it's been since my darling hubby and I tied the knot!

It was September 1975, and I had reached a pinnacle point in my life. I was 27 and "honeyless" - in other words, no sweetie pie to call my own. (boo-hoo) I had begun to think I might never find "Mr. Right". And then...WELL...let me just tell you.

Cecil is four years younger than I, so, although we were always very good friends - of the brotheryly/sisterly type - we didn't see ourselves EVER falling in love. I had known him since the ripe age of 11, and at 13, my oldest brother married his oldest sister. Our two families meshed and we were constantly together at church, picnics, celebrations, weddings, and holiday gatherings. So, it was only natural he and I would grow up best friends. Through the years we both fell in and out of love countless times, just not with each other. And we always kept each other abreast of our latest love interests.

Then came the day he asked me to pick him up at the airport after his four-year stint in the air force had come to an end. I happily agreed. It would be great to see my long lost buddy again with whom I'd only exchanged letters and shared a few phone calls.

But I'll tell you what - when he got off the plane that day, something inside me went, 'Whoa, baby, when did he grow up?' And when he placed a short, gentle, friendly kiss ON MY LIPS I nearly melted into a puddle of smush. It was that tiny first kiss that did it for me!

One week later - after having spent every spare moment together - he kissed me again - and then again - and then AGAIN. And we asked each other where we'd been all our lives. And then he told me he loved me - and would I be his wife?

Oh, my gracious - it was love at first, well, I can't say 'sight' because the first time I saw him he was about six and I was 10, so I'll just say it was love at first 'kiss'! After that magical September kiss in 1975, we could NOT wait to get married, so, three months later on December 20, we made forever vows to each other.

Ain't love the grandest thing ever? And I have a dozen roses on my kitchen island to prove that we're still going strong.

2011-12-15T18:39:00.006-05:00

SHAR'S BIG GIVEAWAY!

'Tis the Season to be Giving!

And that's exactly what I'm doing! I love giving gifts so much more than receiving them, so this giveaway has been a blast for me. Thanks so much to all who entered the previous two contests. I've loved reading your delightful posts. That said, because I'm so full of CHRISTmas cheer, this time I'm giving you a chance to win not one, not two, not even three - but FOUR books. (I sound like an infomercial!!!) Yep, you read right. The winner will receive my three contemporary novels and the first book in my 1920s "River of Hope" Series.

Titles are as follows:
Through Every Storm
Long Journey Home
Tender Vow
Livvie's Song

What do you have to do to enter? Why only one thing! In the comment box below, share one of your favorite family traditions, and wa-lah, you've entered!

This contest will have a shorter window of time for entering. I'm closing it on Tuesday, December 20 (MY 36TH ANNIVERSARY!!!) in hopes the winner will still receive his/her books before Christmas. It's gonna be tight, but we'll make every effort.

So, come on, my sweet, precious friends. Jump on board!!! Above all, enjoy these final days of the Christmas rush, but don't forget that JESUS is the reason for the season!

2011-12-12T07:59:00.004-05:00

MONDAY MUSINGS

Are you smarter than a five-year-old?

Yesterday, our family was just getting ready to sit down to Sunday dinner when my husband glanced out the window at the backyard and said to our grandkids, "Just think, kids, in another month or so there'll be lots of snow on the ground, and we can go outside and play in it." Without skipping a beat our five-year-old grandJOY, Dylan, piped up in a scolding voice, "Papa, it's not about THAT; it's about the baby Jesus coming to the earth to save us from our sins."

I could tell he'd heard that line before and had been looking for the perfect opportunity to use it on someone, and in his eyes this particular instance seemed perfect. Of course, we all agreed - even though my husband's comment had nothing to do with Christmas.

Later, that sweet remark coming from my darling grandson's innocent heart got me to reflecting. Had I overspent on gifts - again? Was I dropping enough money into the bell-ringer's red bucket? Could I be praying harder and doing more for those less fortunate than I? Did I carry a heavy enough burden for others? What more could I be doing to make someone else's Christmas more joyful? This morning in my prayer time I asked the Lord to rearrange my Christmas priorities. I want this season to be more about HIM and OTHERS and less about ME.

"Lord, reveal Your heart of goodness to me that I may be a bright and generous vessel of love, hope, and goodwill to those in need. Give me childlike vision for this beautiful season. In Your Name I pray. Amen."

2011-12-09T11:12:00.004-05:00

SHAR'S BIG GIVEAWAY!!!

'Tis the Season to be Giving!

Beginning TODAY, I'll be offering a chance to win my 3-book "Daughters of Jacob Kane" Series. Simply post a comment below telling me what your all-time favorite Christmas song is - and just like that, you're entered! On WEDNESDAY, December 14, I'll throw everybody's name into a "hat", draw one out, and let you know if you're the lucky winner. The winner's books will ship out just as soon as I receive snail mail information from the winner! My next contest (beginning December 14) will be for a chance to win my 3 contemporary stand-alone books AND...(dunt-ta-da-dah!!!) "Livvie's Song", number 1 in my "River of Hope" Series, so that's a total of FOUR books that final week! (With a little luck and Christmas blessings, all winners should receive their books before Christmas!)

Are you in? I hope so! I'm really looking forward to learning what your FAVORITE Christmas song is. If you feel so inclined, you can even tell us why, but that's not a requirement.

Okay, summary:
1. Tell us what your FAVORITE Christmas song is, and if you want to elaborate on the reason, go for it.
2. If you happen to be the winner on December 14, I'll contact you! (If you sign anonymous, I won't be able to reach you.) I will then need your 'snail mail' info.
3. JUMP ON THE CONTEST BAND WAGON!

Many blessings and love to all!!!

2011-12-09T10:55:00.003-05:00

DRUM ROLL PLEASE...

ANNOUNCING THE WINNER OF SHAR'S BIG GIVEAWAY!!!

And the winner is..."Little Lady"!

PLEASE CONTACT ME WITH YOUR SNAIL MAIL, "LITTLE LADY", SO I CAN SHIP YOUR BOOKS OUT TOMORROW OR MONDAY!

And now...onto my NEXT giveaway.

Stay tuned, everybody!!! Sending you lots of hugs and Christmas Joy!

2011-12-07T08:18:00.002-05:00

THE CHRISTIAN WRITER'S PRAYER

With all my heart, I thank you for the opportunity to write for You, Lord. Please grant me the talent to do it with clarity and fresh style that my words will stretch deep into my readers’ souls and make a difference for eternity.

Reach into my heart, Lord, and grant me sensitivity to understand my characters—their soul’s deep core, their wants and needs and dreams. May my sensitivity make my characters come to life for my readers and, in turn, touch a chord of emotion that will draw them into the story.

I long to write from my heart, Lord, so that I may communicate Your love and goodness to my readers. Fuel my imagination with vivid ideas and vital insights that my words will flow and I will have no doubt that You are working through me.

Teach me how to trust You in those moments when the creative juices slow and my mind grows weary. It is for You I write, so please awaken and energize my senses with fresh insights so that my readers will go in search of Your truth in the midst of my fiction.

Empower me with Your Holy Spirit, God, that I may persevere in discouragement, trust in times of fear, hope in the midst of despair, believe when the doubts settle in, and rely solely on You for my strength and inspiration. In the name of Your Son Jesus, I pray. Amen.

© Sharlene MacLaren
*Feel free to reprint this prayer.

2011-12-04T20:42:00.003-05:00

MONDAY MUSINGS

Christmas memories run like rivers of delight through my head, but here is one that washes over me every year about this time...

I couldn't have been more than seven-years-old, toothless, innocent (mostly), and tenderhearted. Times were very hard. Daddy had lost his factory job, and our family was living off his unemployment. It was almost Christmas, and my mom had told we kids that this Christmas would be sparse. I think we were all fine with it, even though a teeny part of me couldn't help but grieve over the thought of no presents.

Every other year, our family took the trek in our old blue Ford with the broken heater from Michigan to Ohio to visit my grandparents, and this was one of those years. The lack of presents would be fine as long as I got a taste of Grandma's fine cooking, the smells of which filled every corner of their two-story house. There would be turkey, stuffing, "lumpy" potatoes and gravy, green beans, scalloped corn, homemade rolls, and plenty of pumpkin, cherry, and apple pie. Of course, the wooden bowl would be brimming with an assortment of nuts - pecans, walnuts, and almonds to name a few, and I'd have fun trying my hand at the nutcracker while Grandpa's Victrola played any number of Christmas carols, and the Christmas lights twinkled on the fresh-cut spruce tree.

Even though I knew there wouldn't be an abundance of presents that year, I still awoke on Christmas morning with anticipation stirring my chest. Downstairs, I heard adults in happy conversation, the rattle of pans on the stove, and the splendid aroma of bacon drifting through the floor register. I yanked the covers off me and padded down the carpeted staircase in my flannel nightgown with the pinkie flowers. Grandpa sat in his navy blue velvet chair and smiled when I emerged. "Here she is, folks! At last we can begin!"

"Begin what?" I asked, wiping the sleep from my eyes and walking over to Grandpa for a gentle hug.

"The presents, silly."

Presents? At that, my older brothers seemed to appear from nowhere, and my parents and grandma came from the kitchen, steaming mugs in their hands and twinkles in their eyes.

Yes, there were presents, nothing major, mind you, but presents, six or seven with MY name on them. I opened things like socks, a board game, a book, a pair of mittens knitted by Grandma, a new sweater, and some pajamas. The BEST present, though, came inside a very large box. What in the world? I couldn't imagine, but my heart pit-pattered with nervous joy as I ripped off the tape and ribbons and tore away the paper. Pulling the lid from the box, I blew out a breath of utter astonishment. It was my doll! Used, yes, and very well loved, but cleaned up spic and span to look like new! My mother had done something very special. That fall, while I was at school, she'd begun using old scraps of fabric to stitch many, many different outfits for my doll, dresses, coats, skirts, shirts, nightgowns, hats, scarves, and even blankets. I recall picking up my doll and squeezing her to me, then staring down at the scores of outfits fashioned by my talented mother. I don't think I'd ever loved so fully until that moment or experienced so completely, what it meant to give from a heart of love and sacrifice.

Mom died in January 2010 (almost two years ago) at almost 97 years of age. As the anniversary of her passing approaches I am filled with precious memories of Christmases past - but I cannot help but hold especially dear that Christmas of 1956 when she taught me afresh the true spirit - and joy - of the blessed Christ season.

2011-12-02T18:54:00.009-05:00

SHAR'S BIG GIVEAWAY!!!

'Tis the Season to be Giving!

For the next two weeks I am going to be providing you opportunities to win my books! Why? Because I'm filled with Christmas cheer, that's why!

Beginning TODAY, I'll be offering a chance to win my 3-book Little Hickman Creek Series. Simply post a comment below about a special Christmas memory - and just like that, you're entered! On December 9, I'll throw everybody's name into a "hat", draw one out, and let you know if you're the lucky winner. The winner's books will ship out the following Monday! My next contest (beginning December 9) will be for a chance to win my 3-book series titled The Daughters of Jacob Kane, and then the third week (beginning December 16), I'll offer you a chance at winning my 3 contemporary stand-alone books AND...(dunt-ta-da-dah!!!) number 1 in my River of Hope Series, so that's a total of FOUR books that final week! (With a little luck and Christmas blessings, all winners should receive their books before Christmas!)

So, are you in? I hope so! I'm really looking forward to reading about your favorite Christmas memories. Who knows? Maybe I'll even find something I can use in an upcoming book!

Okay, summary:
1. Post a comment below.
2. Include a favorite Christmas memory.
3. If you happen to be the winner on December 9, I'll contact you! (If you sign anonymous, I won't be able to reach you.)
4. JUMP ON THE CONTEST BAND WAGON!

Many blessings and love to all!!!

2011-12-01T15:53:00.007-05:00

THURSDAY THOUGHTS

'Tis the Season to be Jolly, Fa-la-la-la-la, etc., etc...

You know the old carol, the catchy tune, the fun lyrics. And I do get a warm feeling whenever I hear it, even if it's older than Stonehenge. haha. I still remember asking my dad, the church song-leader, when I was a little kid, "How come we never sing Deck the Halls in church? Can we sing it Sunday morning?" He laughed and told me it wasn't a hymn, that there was no mention of Jesus in the song. Oh. Humph.

How often we go about the Christmas rush forgetting its true meaning, forgetting altogether that without the baby Jesus there would be no Christmas despite the way the world tries to push His name aside. Even the word Christmas is shunned by many.

I'm all about decking the halls, don't get me wrong, but I'm not about leaving Christ out of Christmas. In this wonderful season of advent, let us keep at the forefront of our minds the real reason we celebrate this wondrous time of year. It's not about the tree, the presents, the glitz and glamour, the lights, or even the Christmas carols. It's about that tiny babe, Jesus, who came to earth one frosty night to give us LIFE ABUNDANT.

2011-11-27T23:49:00.004-05:00

MONDAY MUSINGS

Christmas really IS about us...sort of.

It's about us - to a point. God gave up His only Son, Jesus, for US so that we could learn of His great love and forgiveness. Though mocked and spat upon, Jesus went from town to town to preach the Gospel message for US, sacrificing comfort and convenience. For US, He bled and died on a cruel cross so that we could know firsthand how very much He loves US, and then he rose from that dark tomb for US that we might have eternal life with Him.

So, from that perspective, Christmas is about us. BUT...because of all He did, shouldn't we turn the tables and make this wondrous season more about HIM and less about US?

I continually catch myself in the trimmings and trappings of Christmas, looking for the best bargains, racing from one place to another, filling up my calendar with "must attend" events, and living out entire days before it occurs that I haven't spoken to my Savior in hours!

Want to join me in the challenge to put Christ at the forefront of all we do? If you're "in" simply post below, "I'm in!" That little gesture will help to keep us accountable.

Love and CHRISTmas hugs...

2011-11-23T23:49:00.003-05:00

THURSDAY THOUGHTS

Happy Thanksgiving! How many times have you greeted someone with that phrase this week? I know I have said it to store clerks, friends, the stock boy who carried my groceries to my car then loaded them in my trunk (yes, our local grocery store STILL carries out that nice gesture), and to countless others in passing, including those with whom I've "talked" in cyberspace. I love Thanksgiving, perhaps as much as Christmas. It's one of those holidays that can't help but make me reflect upon all the many things I'm so blessed to have, and I'm not talking material goods here - I'm talking faith, family, friends, and so much more.

Today, as I gather with the ones I hold most dear - my beloved family - I intend to do a lot of hugging, laughing, conversing, and EATING. Most of all, though, I intend to rejoice.

"Thank you, Lord, for the countless blessings you bestow upon Your children. May I never take them for granted. In Your Name. Amen."

2011-11-20T21:14:00.006-05:00

MONDAY MUSINGS

Life is full of beautiful surprises. Take this picture for instance. At first glimpse, you are awed by its splendor. The serene lake scene, two lovers standing on the shore, their images framed by tree branches. So pretty. And then a closer look will reveal an unborn baby. See it? Now, I view the couple as more than just two people in love; I see them as rejoicing in the wonder of becoming parents.

I love how God surprises us with joy - a red-tinged sunrise, a falling star on a sparkling night, a rainbow in the mist, a golden sunset, or a newborn's first smiles. Lately, our family has been making utter fools of ourselves during our one-month old Mason's every waking moment, trying to coax a smile out of him then leaping for joy when we get that half-second glimpse of one. Today, he curled up one side of his mouth and then broke out into a full smile. Granted, he closed his eyes shortly afterward and drifted into a blissful sleep, but those few seconds brought my family untold JOY.

As we approach Thanksgiving Day this week, let us look for joy in the everyday moments...and give God all the thanks.

2011-11-17T01:57:00.005-05:00

THURSDAY THOUGHTS

Photo: LaUnion, HONDURAS

I miss my hubby already - and he hasn't even been gone for 12-hours. I will survive, I keep telling myself.

My husband loves adventure, and he's passionate about missions, so it stands to reason that he would love mission trips. I am writing this at 2 a.m., and at the moment Cecil is either lying on the floor in some remote corner of O'Hare Airport, or leaning up against a cement wall trying to get a little shut-eye before the terminal opens at 3:30 allowing him to proceed through security and reach his gate for his 5 a.m. departure to San Pedro, Honduras. Once there, he will board a beat-up truck and pay a taxi driver $125 to escort him up the mountain to a village known as LaUnion. Here the average villager provides for his family with a whopping salary of $2000 per year. My husband has a great interest in micro-finance; thus his reason for going. In recent months he has "hooked up" with some sharp young college grads who have started a company known as Union MicroFinanza. They make loans of $200 to struggling farmers to help them with their coffee growing businesses. Yes, $200 goes a LONG way in this penniless village. Cecil is going to spend his days there learning how the business operates, talking to farmers, offering encouragement, and attending planning meetings. Actually, to be perfectly honest, I don't know what he's going to be doing. I'll find out more as the days go by and I get emails or maybe even a phone call. This one thing I do know: he's passionate, and he has a big, sacrificial heart--and I am SO proud of him. I love that man, and I just wanted all of you to know it.

If the Lord happens to bring him to your mind, would you pray for him in the coming days? (He will be returning to the states on Tuesday, November 22.) Please pray for his health, his safety, and most of all, that God will bless him as he seeks to do His will.

2011-11-13T20:56:00.006-05:00

MONDAY MUSINGS

The burning bush is the location at which Moses was appointed by God to lead the Israelites out of Egypt and into Canaan. You remember the story. Do you also remember Moses’ response to that calling? Just in case you don’t, here it is from The Living Bible.

“But Moses pleaded, ‘O Lord, I’m just not a good speaker. I never have been, and I’m not now, even after you have spoken to me, for I have a speech impediment.’

‘Who makes mouths?’ God asked him. ‘Isn’t it I, the Lord? Who makes a man so that he can speak or not speak, see or not see, hear or not hear? Now go ahead and do as I tell you, for I will help you to speak well, and I will tell you what to say.’

But Moses said, ‘Lord, please! Send someone else.’" Exodus 4:10-13

Many of us can relate to this on so many levels. Moses experienced feelings of inadequacy, uncertainty, and inferiority. God called him to do a job, and he said, “I can’t do it. I’m not good enough, I’m not smart enough, I don’t have what it takes. God, I can’t even put two words together, and to top matters, I'm OLD! There must be somebody out there better equipped to do this job. Can’t you ask somebody else?” I’m thinking Moses might have qualified as a whiner, what do you think?

Now, listen, because of Moses' incessant “whining”, God eventually chose his brother Aaron to speak in his place, but we know from the accounts in God’s Word what a great man of God Moses became despite his imperfections: leading the Israelites out of Egypt, parting the Red Sea, and, of course, writing the Ten Commandments!

So, the lesson here is not that whining will get you what you want. (It may work with your spouse but not with God. ha) No, it’s that even despite our inabilities and weaknesses God’s strength can be made perfect in our weakness. So many of us have such low opinions of our potential that it keeps us from becoming ALL God wants us to be. We demean His Name by not trusting in His strength and power to get us through the tough situations of life.

Learn to trust and obey. It reaps great rewards.

2011-11-11T00:21:00.005-05:00

THURSDAY THOUGHTS...

I'm 20-minutes late in writing "Thursday Thoughts" - rather, I'm 20-minutes into Friday! Yep, it's 12:20 a.m. and here I am writing, well, yesterday's thoughts. I had a long 'to do' list on Thursday: Take care of my 3-year-old grandson, which entailed a breakfast of waffles, play time, watching a 15-minute segment of "Martha Speaks" on PBS, and going to the library for story-time. Then off to meet my daughter and newest grandson for lunch and deliver my 3-year-old back to her so he could go home for his nap. Next, work on the lesson I'm teaching at a writers' conference next weekend on character development. After that, go to the nail salon, make a drugstore run, come up with something for supper, finish laundry, and, oh! find some time to work on my NOVEL! Hello, is there enough time in my day? Plainly put, no. In between there I had good intentions of posting in my blog. (Incidentally, the nail salon and drugstore got put on hold - and work on my writing lesson for next week's conference is ongoing.)

Let's be honest here; life is B-U-S-Y! And sometimes we let our priorities slip - GOD first, FAMILY second, CAREER third. Yes, that IS the goal we should strive to live by if we truly desire purpose, meaning, and joy.

Guess what - God is in the chaos. He understands that some days just don't flow the way they should; that we get so caught up in the busyness that we have to lay aside our "to do" lists and change them to "to-be-continued" lists.

I'm thankful for a faithful, patient, understanding God who doesn't expect perfection. "I can do all things through Christ who gives me the strength" is a verse that speaks to me right now in the wee hours of the morning as I wrap up this post.

Today (Friday) I'll bring out my list and check off a few more items. Maybe I'll even find a minute to run to the nail salon. If not - there's always next week! GOD IS GOOD.

2011-11-07T20:40:00.003-05:00

MONDAY MUSINGS

Ever run into times in your life when fear overtook you and you couldn't quite get a grip on yourself? I'm raising my hand to let you know I've been there. More than once. I recall a specific time in my life when a wave of panic so engulfed me in the middle of the night that I lay there in a sweat, heart pounding, unsure whether to wake my husband to pray for me or to just deal with it. As it turned out, I did neither - I turned the matter over to my loving Father, the only One truly sufficient to help us in these times of need. A verse I'd earlier committed to memory swept over me. It's so simple, yet profound. Let its truth sink deep into your spirit as you read it.

"I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, 'Do not be afraid; I will help you.'" Isaiah 41:13

See? I told you it was simple. Once I began reciting this verse in my head a couple of times, the sweetest peace washed over me, and I knew my Savior had come through for me again. I tell you, we serve a loving, faithful, patient God. Next time you experience something too overwhelming to handle on your own - let God take hold of your right hand. Feel the strength of His hold on you and BELIEVE He can and will see you through whatever circumstance you encounter.

2011-11-03T14:43:00.000-04:00

THURSDAY THOUGHTS

AH, SWEET REST...

Have you ever been so weary from physical activity you thought you'd drop dead if you didn't take a minute to sit down and rest your aching muscles? While physical activity is good for the soul, mind, and body, it can also be taxing, and if you're anything like me, you avoid it at all costs. Okay, I admit it; I'm purely lazy when it comes to daily exercise. Scratch "daily" and make that weekly. My hubby gets annoyed with me for not taking physical exercise more seriously, and I don't blame him. Exercise is a good thing, and I know it! It's just MAKING myself do it that's the problem.

But exercise isn't the only culprit that makes a body weary. Stress, heartache, disappointment, grief, jobs, relationships gone sour, illness, unemployment, financial burdens -- need I continue? -- are huge contributors. Some days you wake up and say to yourself, "I've had enough, I can't go on. I don't have the strength to even put one foot in front of the other. My life is a shambles, and I'll never be able to put it back together. I'm so tired and weary."

Ever been there? Friend, God is your refuge, your strength, and your help. Be assured He wants to give you rest, and He holds the answers you can't find within yourself. Let down your guard, have a seat in His Garden of Rest, and learn what it means to fully trust Him.

2011-10-30T23:22:00.007-04:00

MONDAY MUSINGS...

HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A MORE BEAUTIFUL BABY?

Well, I'm sure you have, or at least you think you have, especially if you have children of your own - or grandchildren! Don't we all think our own "babies" are God's finest creations? My latest grandchild (our fourth) came to us just 8 days ago, and he has already brought us untold joy!

Here's the thing: God must surely look down on each of us and say to Himself, "Oh, what a fine creation. How I delight in him/her!" Does He play favorites? Does He think less of one of His children than another? Never! We are all EQUALLY precious in His sight. Oh, I'm sure we disappoint Him in much the way children sometimes disappoint their earthly parents. Consider how much earthly parents continue loving their children right through their failures and shortcomings, and then multiply that love by a million or two, and you might come close to discovering just how deeply your Heavenly Father loves YOU!

God loves with an everlasting love. Nothing we do can ever separate us from that love. Need proof of that? Read Romans 8!

Now...take one more peek at my new grandbaby! Isn't he the most perfect little guy you've ever laid eyes on? (Haha - I couldn't resist!)

2011-08-27T22:33:00.012-04:00

TEASER ANYBODY?

Here you will read a very brief/concise synopsis of each book in my current series!

Series Title: River of Hope

*Setting: Wabash, Indiana
*Period: 1920s

1. Livvie’s Song - Available NOW!
2. Ellie’s Haven - Available in Spring of 2012
3. Sofie’s Secret - Available in Winter of 2012

Livvie’s Song: Widowed woman with two small children struggles to operate the family restaurant single-handedly until a drifter with nothing but a knapsack and a harmonica in his pocket comes to town and offers to lend a hand in exchange for living in the small quarters above the restaurant.

Ellie’s Haven: Young woman on the run from her brutal stepfather after witnessing a heinous crime makes a rash decision to marry a widower with four young children, hoping the name change and secluded location will lend protection from her past.

Sofie’s Secret: Scandal surrounds a woman in her early 20s when it becomes obvious she is pregnant—and unmarried. What people do not know is that their gruff, law enforcing sheriff's son raped her—and the sheriff will stop at nothing to protect his son's name. When the new doctor gets involved, trouble escalates in the form of thievery, arson, and death threats.

**********

Here are the images of Livvie's Song and Ellie's Haven. It's a bit too soon for the cover of Sofie's Secret, but I'll be sure to post it the very day of its arrival!!!

2011-08-25T15:01:00.007-04:00

Want to Write/Publish Your First Novel?

Hopeful writers are always asking me how to go about writing their first-ever novel. The inevitable question that follows is - "How do I get it published?"

I have a very good author/friend named Julie Lessman who's devised an excellent list of suggestions that will put hopeful writers on the right path, so with her permission I post it below:

1.) Join ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers), FHL (Faith, Hope & Love, a chapter of Romance Writers of America) to get connected with other like-minded writers and to learn a lot about your craft.

2.) Take a fiction-writing class or attend a writing seminar or conference.

3.) Join a critique group (you can do that through ACFW).

4.) Purchase and study writing books such as Self-Editing for Fiction Writers by Renni Browne and Dave King or Writing the Breakout Novel by Donald Maas, AND invest in a great thesaurus such as The Synonym Finder by Rodale Press (my writer’s bible!!).

5.) Enter contests for invaluable feedback, growth, confidence, networking opportunities and to get your name out there.

6.) Frequent websites/blogs that deal with writing, such as The Seekers, a group blog that I belong to whose theme is “On the road to publication. Writing, contests, publication and everything in between.”

7.) Go for an agent first, publisher second.

8.) Then pray your heart out and put it in God’s hands.

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

Thank you, Julie Lessman! And one more thing, friends!!! Take a jaunt over to AMAZON(dot)COM or CHRISTIANBOOK(dot)COM and check out all her books. She is a FABULOUS, AWARD-WINNING author of several books, the latest of which is titled A Heart Revealed, second in her Winds of Change series. Here's the beautiful cover:

2011-08-24T14:29:00.002-04:00

Is Summer Winding Down ALREADY?

I love my hibiscus bush, but when it blossoms I know what it signifies - the winding down of summer. Oh, I hate to see it come so soon, this changing of the seasons. Fall, to me, is usually a solemn occasion for it means dragging out the jackets, digging for mittens and scarves, and dusting off the boots. Granted, autumn is beautiful in Michigan - the array of colors can be breathtaking - but it also means closing the pool, putting away the swimsuits and beach towels, taking down the gazebo, putting away the lawn chairs, and putting UP the convertible top! Around here preparing for winter is a regular event!

But... I guess change is inevitable, and without it we wouldn't grow or experience the wonders of creation. I don't look forward to saying, "Bye-bye, summer," but this year I DO look forward to something else, something quite spectacular, actually - which makes the end of summer much easier to swallow. It's scheduled to happen on October 24, 2011. What is it, you ask? Why, it's the arrival of my third grandson!

As summer winds down, there is a sort of excitement stirring within me at the thought of the changing colors, frosty air, pumpkins, dry leaves, football, marching bands, and, yes, even the heavy coats.

New life is upon us, and I can hardly wait to embrace it!

2011-07-15T15:54:00.002-04:00

P I C K L E S!

I have always liked the Pickles cartoon strip. This one made me laugh out loud!

2011-07-14T08:38:00.004-04:00

FEAR, THAT UGLY BEAST...

My dear, sweet friends, fear and anxiety are of the Enemy, and if you don't turn your backs to their blazing missiles, they will strike you countless times throughout the day. Don't forget this: you, as a child of the Lord most high, have been given the shield of faith by which to extinguish those fiery darts. Use it DAILY! Regardless of what kinds of fearful emotions flood your mind, persist in throwing them off, and pretty soon you'll find them falling in line with your faith. Don't hide your fears, bring them out in the open and declare them dead and useless in light of the strength and courage God gives through faith and trust in Him. Concentrate on placing your hope and faith in Christ, and soon all fear will lose its foothold. (Isaiah 12:3; Psalm 62:8). Without faith you can do very little to ward off this ugly beast. He will haunt and taunt until He finds another passageway through a weak spot in your armor. Cling hard to this verse of scripture found in Isaiah: "I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, 'Do not fear; I will help you.'" And He will, my precious, dear friend. He has shown Himself faithful and true in so many circumstances of my own life. I have no cause to believe He will ever stop revealing His ever-present trustworthiness.

The reason I say all this is because I have a writing deadline a mere 6 weeks away, and many things pull at me, giving me reasons to fear that I won't finish in time, but I know these are all tactics of the Enemy to slow me down, discourage me, and render me useless for God's Kingdom.

Let us all join forces to pray for one another in these difficult times when the Author of Lies wants nothing more than to make us believe we are never going to accomplish the goals God has set before us. With the help of our most holy Lord, we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us!

Anybody got an AMEN to that?

2011-06-21T14:12:00.006-04:00

I KNOW IT'S NOT WINTER, BUT...

These pictures were taken of my hubby and grandson by a local newspaper photographer this past winter, and he finally got around to emailing them to Cecil. They were sledding at the park when the photographer came along, and I think the pics truly capture the essence of love and trust. In fact, these are my husband's words about the photos after he studied them for a time:

"These photos remind me of how God views us. His arms are open wide to us waiting for our approach even as He approaches us. Initially, we stand back and wait (Picture #1). When we see we can trust Him, we begin to take baby steps toward him (Picture #2). At last, we find it in our hearts to trust completely, and we fall freely into His arms in a full-out embrace (Picture 3).

The love and comfort we feel when we are close to God is indescribable. That’s how it is when I'm with my grandkids, and those pictures sum it up perfectly."

2011-06-17T13:23:00.005-04:00

LIKE DIAMONDS ON BLACK VELVET
...Memories of Daddy
By Sharlene MacLaren

A little girl will go to just about any length to please her daddy. At least I did. As far back as I can remember my father loved to fish. I can't say I ever inherited his penchant for casting out a line in the wee hours of the morning and staring at still, glistening waters for hours on end, sitting on a narrow boat seat, listening to the groans of bullfrogs, while waiting for the tiniest tug at the end of a pole. But I tagged along anyway for the sake of Daddy's company. And his company was priceless. The memory of it stands out even now like diamonds on black velvet, clear, shimmery, untainted.

"You wanna go fishing in the mornin'?" Dad would ask just before bedtime.

With only a second's hesitation, I would answer, "Sure!" The truth was I wasn't thrilled about waking up before dawn, but if it meant spending precious time with the man I most admired, then my answer never required much forethought.

The soft rap on the door came at precisely five o'clock. "Wake up, sleepy head. Fish are jumpin'."

Quickly wiping sleep from my eyes, I'd roll out from under thick covers and peek past the sheer curtain to find a full moon, its reflection dancing across still waters, a thin layer of fog hovering over the glassy surface. At the water's edge, our little wooden rowboat lay in wait—a somewhat unreliable old vessel dubbed Maybe Baby by my brother some years before. Maybe it would stay afloat, maybe not. It had been known to spring the occasional leak.

I'd struggle into the same pair of pants I'd shed the night before, throw on a wrinkled sweatshirt, and step into my dirty sneakers. Then stifling a yawn because I didn't want my grogginess to show, I'd march into the kitchen with purpose. Daddy rewarded me with one of those crooked grins he was famous for and pointed to the door. "Ready?" he'd ask in a whisper so as not to wake the rest of the household. I'd nod.

And off we'd go.

Ah, those crisp summer mornings when the dewy grass tickled my bare ankles as we trudged silently down the hill, the stillness of early morning interrupted only by the sporadic whimper of slowly waking jays and robins. Oh, the uncomplicated perfection.

With a pail, my father would empty out an inch or two of water from the bottom of Maybe Baby. Rainwater? Or that pesky leak? No matter, nothing would keep us from rowing out to the middle of the lake where the biggest catches swirled about, hungry and restless. Some mornings we would share the middle seat, each taking an oar, rowing in perfect rhythm. Other mornings I'd sit in the front, eyes cast downward, mesmerized by the tiny wake created by the boat's steady course and the tireless squeak of one rusty oar socket.

"How's this?" he would ask, dropping anchor a couple hundred yards from shore.

"Do you think the fish will bite?" I'd ask, my voice sounding somehow foreign as it echoed over waters smooth as glass.

A knowing grin creased his face. "It's a good place to start." I knew that meant we would move on in another 20 minutes if necessary. Fish congregate in tepid pools, he'd taught me. It's a matter of finding those beds of warmth.

I learned a lot from my dad on those early morning outings, things that had nothing to do with fishing, but everything to do with life and love and laughter. For one thing, he showed me that patience is an art form; it doesn't happen overnight; it takes practice and persistence and something called long-suffering. "If you want to catch the big one," he'd murmur softly, "you have to wait it out, hang in there." I suspect now he wasn't only referring to a 10-pound bass. Much of life calls for resilience and flat out determination, which doesn't come easily—unless you've worked at it.

I learned that a fine sense of humor is like hot honey on a biscuit; it melts a body clear to the bone. Oh, how our laughter pierced the silence of dawn, rousing numbers of birds and other wildlife, not to mention those poor lake residents longing for one more hour of sleep. As much as my father wanted to catch the big one, and knew the importance of quiet persistence, he never passed up the opportunity to inspire a giggle. I was his number one fan, and he took great pride in maintaining that first place spot.

I learned that perseverance pays. Sitting for long hours in a rickety boat doesn't reap many benefits until you feel that first little tug. There's nothing quite like it, even for a novice such as myself. You're shifting on the boat seat, heavy-eyed and fidgety, staring in the distance at a motionless bobber, when suddenly you feel it, that gentle pull on the end of your line. At first, you wonder if you imagined it until your pole starts to dip and bend and you feel your line go taut. "I got one!" you shout, the adrenaline bursting at the seams. "It's a big one!" Yes, perseverance pays big dividends.

My daddy trained me that it is the simple things in life that satisfy us, that true wealth is not so much about possessions as it is about position -- your position with God, family, friends, and neighbors. Maybe Baby was no yacht, but I would give anything to sit on her wobbly seat once more, run my hand across her rough-hewn texture, and watch the tiny ripples she created as she glided across moon-kissed waters.

Daddy taught me many things, but one thing stands out above the rest - love flows from silence as well as laughter. We could sit for long moments without murmuring a sound. And from that silence surged a comforting knowledge; love is not always about doing or even saying, but being. There is a certainty every child hungers after and that is simply to know he or she is loved without condition.

My father's generation promoted a staunchness that went beyond sentiment, but that didn't keep Daddy from loving me unreservedly. Perhaps he didn't always show it in overt ways, such as kissing and hugging - especially as I grew into that gangly, awkward pre-teen stage, but never once did I doubt his love and protective care over me. I can say with certainty he would have laid his life down for me. I know it. I'll always know it. The memory is crystal clear.

Like diamonds on black velvet.

2011-06-06T22:45:00.005-04:00

MEET MY DEAR FRIEND, MARIA!

Who says the Internet is not a good place to meet people and make precious friends? I met Maria back in '08 on a social network known as Shoutlife!, and we had an instant connection. She was living in London, England at the time, and we had such wonderful online "talks". I said to my husband in June of '08, "Man, I want to meet her in person so bad I can taste it!" and he said, "Well, why don't we go visit her next year?" And so we did! In the fall of '09 we went to Europe, and Maria took us on the most fabulous adventures through London and beyond. The next year, she and her wonderful hubby Simone moved to Orlando (yea! this side of the "pond") and last August they came to Michigan to visit us! NOW I am heading to Orlando in a couple of days to visit her again. And so our friendship continues to flourish...

Ooooh, I just love the way God orchestrates circumstances in our lives, even causing people's paths to cross and friendships to blossom. What a good and gracious God!

2011-05-25T23:51:00.001-04:00

Okay, so I am in the midst of writing the second book in my River of Hope Series. I would say I'm at about the 8 o'clock hour. The what, you ask? Yes, as a writer I have this sort of clock image in my head, and it goes like this:

WRITER'S CLOCK
By Sharlene MacLaren

1 o'clock = I am off to a fabulous start. Darn, I'm good.

2 o'clock = I love the way my beginning scenes are coming together. There's fire in my veins.

3 o'clock = I can write! My readers will love this. I'm even keeping my office neat and tidy.

4 o'clock = I don't feel like writing today. Help me, Lord.

5 o'clock = I'm in a dry spell (my flame is down to a flicker), but I will write because I AM A WRITER!

6 o'clock = Where was I going with this story? Gotta reread the entire STUPID thing!

7 o'clock = This stinks so bad I have to put a clothespin on my nose while I write.

8 o'clock = I cannot write. My readers will hate this. My office is starting to smell like dirty socks.

9 o'clock = Yow! I have to start winding this down! This is worse than the underside of a bad quilt.

10 o'clock = Where did all these loose ends come from? God, I need SUPER DIVINE WISDOM!

11 o'clock = I see it, I see it. It's coming together. (Thank you, Lord.) I can't wait to come out of my hiding place.

12 o'clock = The End! I can't imagine putting myself through this again, but, alas, another story is brewing.

So, you see, I'm at the 8 o'clock spot in my project. This is not happy hour, folks, let me tell you! Please, Lord, get me to that midnight place. That's where I want to be.

Y'all can pray for me if y' feel so inclined. I'd be much obliged. (Pardon my grammar, but I'm in the middle of a "hillbilly" scene.)

Love and Hugs!!!!

2011-05-24T12:49:00.005-04:00

ABBIE ANN FINALS!

Hey, my darling friends, I've just learned that Abbie Ann finaled in the "Inspirational Reader's Choice Award", which means I'm guaranteed either a 3rd, 2nd, or 1st place spot. Truthfully, I will be happy with any of those, as the competition is always tough in these contests. I am just so very humbled and honored to even be named.

Want to celebrate with me? How about making a comment below where it says "Post a Comment" so I can enter you in a drawing for a chance to win a signed copy? I'll close the contest a week from today, which would be May 31! Come on, join the fun.

Here's the cover design for Abbie Ann. Be sure to click on the book itself on the left if you want to read the synopsis.

I love you all!

2011-05-10T14:12:00.001-04:00

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Sharlene MacLaren

and the book:

Livvie’s Song
(River of Hope series #1)

Whitaker House (July 5, 2011)

***Special thanks to Cathy Hickling of Whitaker House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

“Shar” grew up in western Michigan and graduated from Spring Arbor University with a degree in education. She traveled the world with a musical group before returning home to marry Cecil MacLaren whom she’d known since childhood. Together they raised two daughters (and now have three grandchildren). As retirement approached, Shar asked God for a new mission that would fill her heart with the same kind of passion she’d felt for teaching and raising her family. She found her mission in Christian fiction writing, crafting plotlines that bring her characters face-to-face with God’s grace and restorative power. Since 2007 she’s released nine successful books – two historical series and three stand-alone contemporary novels – that have earned her numerous awards and an ever-increasing base of loyal readers who are comforted, inspired, and entertained by her books.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Life is far from a breeze for Olivia Beckman, owner of Livvie’s Kitchen, a favorite of locals in Wabash, Indiana. It’s the 1920’s and the widowed mother of two is struggling to make ends meet—no simple feat when her cook turns in his resignation. A late night patron soon solves the problem, though. Looking for work and carrying his only earthly possessions -- a harmonica and a Bible -- Will Taylor is an experienced cook eager for work. What Will doesn’t share is that his experience comes from ten years working behind bars in the prison cafeteria. He manages to bake his way into the stomachs of his customers—and into Livvie’s heart as well. Both Livvie and Will are hesitant, though, bearing deep wounds from the past. A recipe for love between them will require sharing secrets, braving dangers, and believing God for a bright future.

Product Details:

List Price: $9.99
Paperback: 400 pages
Publisher: Whitaker House (July 5, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1603742123
ISBN-13: 978-1603742122

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

May 1926

Wabash, Indiana

“Praise ye the Lord. Sing unto the Lord a new song.”
—Psalm 149:1

Smoke rings rose and circled the heads of Charley Arnold and Roy Scott as they sat in Livvie’s Kitchen and partook of steaming coffee, savory roast beef and gravy, and conversation, guffawing every so often at each other’s blather. Neither seemed to care much who heard them, since the whole place buzzed with boisterous midday talk. Folks came to her restaurant to fill their stomachs, Livvie Beckman knew, but, for many, getting an earful of gossip was just as satisfying.

Behind the counter in the kitchen, utensils banged against metal and pots and pans sizzled and boiled with steam and smoke. “Order’s up!” hollered the cook, Joe Stewart. On cue, Livvie carried the two hamburger platters to Pete and Susie Jones’s table and set them down with a hasty smile. Her knee-length, floral cotton skirt flared as she turned, mopping her brow and blowing several strawberry blonde strands of damp hair off her face, and hustled to the counter. “You boys put out those disgusting nicotine sticks,” she scolded Charley and Roy on the run. “How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t allow smoking in this establishment? We don’t even have ashtrays.”

“Aw, Livvie, how you expect us t’ enjoy a proper cup o’ coffee without a cigarette?” Charley whined to her back. “’Sides, ar’ saucers work fine for ashtrays.”

“Saucers are not ashtrays,” stated old Evelyn Garner from the booth behind the two men. She craned her long, skinny neck and trained her owl eyes on them, her lips pinched together in a tight frown. Her husband, Ira Garner, had nothing to say, of course. He rarely did, preferring to let his wife do the talking. Instead, he slurped wordlessly on his tomato soup.

Livvie snatched up the next order slip from the counter and gave it a glance. Then, she lifted two more plates, one of macaroni and cheese, the other of a chicken drumstick and mashed potatoes, and whirled back around, eyeing both men sternly. “I expect you to follow my rules, boys”—she marched past them—“or go next door to Isaac’s, where the smoke’s as thick as cow dung.”

Her saucy remark gave rise to riotous hoots. “You tell ’em, Liv,” someone said—Harv Brewster, perhaps? With the racket of babies crying, patrons chattering, the cash register clinking as Cora Mae Livingston tallied somebody’s order, the screen door flapping open and shut, and car horns honking outside, Livvie couldn’t discern who said what. Oh, how she wished she had the funds to hire a few more waitresses. Some days, business didn’t call for it, but, today, it screamed, “Help!”

“You best listen, fellas. When Livvie Beckman speaks, she means every word,” said another. She turned at the husky male voice but couldn’t identify its source.

“Lady, you oughtta go to preachin’ school,” said yet another unknown speaker.

“She’s somethin’, ain’t she?” There was no mistaking Coot Hermanson’s croaky pipes. Her most loyal customer, also the oldest by far, gave her one of his famous, toothy grins over his coffee cup, which he held with trembling hands. No one really knew Coot’s age, and most people suspected he didn’t know it, himself, but Livvie thought he looked to be a hundred; ninety-nine, at the very least. But that didn’t keep him from showing up at her diner on Market Street every day, huffing from the two-block walk, his faithful black mongrel, Reggie, parked on his haunches under the red and white awning out front, waiting for his usual handout of leftover bacon or the heels of a fresh-baked loaf of bread.

Before scooting past him, she stooped to tap him with her elbow. “I’ll be right back to fill that coffee cup, Coot,” she whispered into his good ear.

He lifted an ancient white eyebrow and winked. “You take your time, missy,” he wheezed back before she straightened and hurried along.

Of all her regulars, Coot probably knew her best—knew about the tough façade she put on, day in and day out; recognized the rawness of her heart, the ache she still carried from the loss of her beloved Frank. More than a year had come and gone since her husband’s passing, but it still hurt to the heavens to think about him. More painful still were her desperate attempts to keep his memory alive for her sons, Alex and Nathan. She’d often rehash how she’d met their father at a church picnic when the two were only teenagers; how he’d enjoyed fishing, hunting, and building things with his bare hands; and how, as he’d gotten older, his love of the culinary arts had planted within him a seed of desire to one day open his own restaurant. She’d tell them how they’d worked so hard to scrimp and save, even while raising a family, and how thrilled Frank had been when that dream had finally come to fruition.

What she didn’t tell her boys was how much she struggled to keep her passion for the restaurant alive in their daddy’s absence. Oh, she had Joe, of course, but he’d dropped the news last week that he’d picked up a new kitchen job in a Chicago diner—some well-known establishment, he’d said—and he could hardly have turned it down, especially with his daughter and grandchildren begging him to move closer to them. Wabash had been home to Joe Stewart since childhood, but his wife had died some five years ago, and he had little to keep him here. It made sense, Livvie supposed, but it didn’t make her life any easier having to find a replacement.

She set down two plates for a couple she’d never seen before, a middle-aged man and his wife. Strangers were always passing through Wabash on their ways north or south, so it wasn’t unusual for her not to know them. “You folks enjoy your lunch,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you kindly,” the man said, licking his lips and loosening his tie. “This meal looks mighty fine.”

Livvie nodded, then made for the coffeepot behind the counter, sensing it was time for a round of refills.

A cloud of smoke still surrounded Charley and Roy’s table, though their cigarettes looked to be nearing their ends. She decided not to mention anything further about their annoying behavior unless they lit up again. Those fools had little compunction and even less consideration for the feelings of others. She would have liked to ban them from her restaurant, if it weren’t for the revenue they brought in with their almost daily visits. Gracious, it cost an awful lot to keep a restaurant going. She would sell it tomorrow if she had a backup plan, but she didn’t. Besides, Frank would bust out of his casket if she hung a “For Sale” sign on the front door. The diner had been his dream, one she’d adopted with gusto because she’d loved him so much, but she hadn’t envisioned his leaving her in the thick of it before they’d paid off their mortgage on the three-story building and turned a good profit on the restaurant.

Oh, why had God taken Frank at such a young age? He’d been thirty-one, married for ten years and a restaurant owner for five. Couldn’t God have intervened and sent an angel just in time to keep Frank from stepping in front of that horse-drawn wagon hauling furniture? And why, for mercy’s sake, did the accident have to occur right in front of the restaurant, drawing a huge crowd and forever etching in her mind’s eye the sight of her beloved lying in the middle of the street, blood oozing from his nose and mouth, his eyes open but not really seeing? Coot often told her that God had her best interests in mind and that she needed to trust Him with her whole heart, but how could she, when it seemed like few things ever went right for her, and she had to work so hard to stay afloat? Goodness, she barely had a minute to spare for her own children.

Swallowing a sigh, she hefted up the coffeepot, which had finished percolating, and started the round of refills, beginning with Coot Hermanson.

***

Will Taylor ground out his last cigarette with the sole of his worn shoe as he leaned against the wall of the train car, his head pounding with every jolt, the whir and buzz of metal against metal ripping through his head. He stared down at his empty pack of Luckies and turned up his mouth in the corner, giving a little huff of self-disgust. He didn’t really smoke—not anymore. But, when he’d left Welfare Island State Penitentiary in New York City in the wee hours of the morning, one of the guards had handed him a fresh pack, along with the few belongings he had to his name, and he’d smoked the entire thing to help pass the time.

Sharing the mostly empty freight car with him were a dozen or so other men, the majority of whom wore unkempt beards, ragged clothing, and long faces. They also stank to the heavens. He figured he fit right in with the lot of them. Frankly, they all looked like a bunch of bums—and probably were, for that matter. Why else would they have jumped aboard the freight car at various stations while the yardmen had their backs turned instead of purchasing a ticket for a passenger car? Will had intended to pay his fare, and he’d even found himself standing in the queue outside the ticket booth, but when he’d counted his meager stash of cash, he’d fallen out of line. Thankfully, the dense morning fog had made his train-jumping maneuver a cinch. If only it could have had the same effect on his conscience. He’d just been released from prison. Couldn’t he get through his first day of freedom without breaking the law?

“Where you headed, mister?” the man closest to him asked.

He could count on one hand the number of minutes anybody on that dark, dingy car had spent engaged in conversation in the hours they’d been riding, and he didn’t much feel like talking now. Yet he turned to the fellow, anyway. “Wabash, Indiana,” he answered. “Heard it’s a nice place.”

Actually, he knew nothing about it, save for the state song, “On the Banks of the Wabash, Far Away,” which spoke about the river running through it. He’d determined his destination just that morning while poring over a map in the train station, thinking that any other place in the country would beat where he’d spent the last ten years. When he’d overheard someone mention Wabash, he’d found it on the map and, knowing it had its own song, set his mind on going there.

He didn’t know a soul in Wabash, which made the place all the more appealing. Best to make a fresh start anonymously. Of course, he had no idea what he’d do to make a living, and it might be that he’d have to move on to the next town if jobs there were scarce. But he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

His stomach growled, so he opened his knapsack and took out an apple, just one of the few items he’d lifted from the jail kitchen the previous night—with the approval of Harry Wilkinson, the kitchen supervisor. The friends he’d made at Welfare Island were few, as he couldn’t trust most folks any farther than he could pitch them, but he did consider Harry a friend, having worked alongside him for the past four years. Harry had told him about the love of God and convinced him not six months ago to give his heart over to Him, saying he’d need a good friend when he left the island and could do no better than the Creator of the universe. Will had agreed, of course, but he sure was green in the faith department, even though he’d taken to reading the Bible Harry had given him—his first and only—almost every night before laying his head on his flat, frayed pillow.

“Wabash, eh?” the man said, breaking into his musings. “I heard of it. Ain’t that the first electrically lighted city in the world? I do believe that’s their claim to fame.”

“That right? I wouldn’t know.”

“What takes you to Wabash?” he persisted, pulling on his straggly beard.

Will pulled on his own thick beard, mostly brown with some flecks of blond, briefly wondering if he ought to shave it off before he went in search of a job. He’d seen his reflection in a mirror that morning for the first time in a week and had nearly fallen over. In fact, he’d had to do some mental calculations to convince himself that he was actually thirty-four years old, not forty-three. Prison had not been kind to his appearance; where he’d slaved under the hot summer sun, digging trenches and hoeing the prison garden, and spent the winters hauling coal and chopping logs. While the work had put him in excellent shape physically, the sun and wind had wreaked havoc on his skin, freckling his nose and arms and wrinkling his forehead. When he hadn’t been outside, he’d worked in a scorching-hot kitchen, stirring kettles of soup, peeling potatoes, cutting slabs of beef, filleting fish, and plucking chickens’ feathers.

“Wabash seemed as good a place as any,” he replied after some thought, determined to keep his answers short and vague.

The fellow peered at him with arched eyebrows. “Where you come from, anyway?”

“Around.”

A chuckle floated through the air but quickly drowned in the train’s blaring whistle. The man dug into his side pocket and brought out a cigar, stuck it in his mouth, and lit the end, then took a deep drag before blowing out a long stream of smoke. He gave a thoughtful nod and gazed off. “Yeah, I know. Me, too.” Across the dark space, the others shifted or slept, legs crossed at the ankles, heads bobbing, not seeming to care about the conversation, if they even heard it.

Will might have inquired after his traveling companion, but his years behind bars had taught him plenty—most important, not to trust his fellow man, and certainly never to divulge his personal history. And posing questions to others would only invite inquiries about himself.

He chomped down his final bite of apple, then tossed the chiseled core onto the floor, figuring a rodent would appreciate it later. Then, he wiped his hands on his pant legs, reached inside his hip pocket, and pulled out his trusty harmonica. Moistening his lips, he brought the instrument to his mouth and started breathing into it, cupping it like he might a beautiful woman’s face. Music had always soothed whatever ailed him, and, ever since he’d picked up the skill as a youngster under his grandfather’s tutelage, he’d often whiled away the hours playing this humble instrument.

He must have played half a dozen songs—“Oh, Dem Golden Slippers,” “Oh My Darling, Clementine,” “Over There,” “Amazing Grace,” “The Sidewalks of New York,” and even “On the Banks of the Wabash, Far Away”—before the shrill train whistle announced their arrival in Wabash. Another stowaway pulled the car door open a crack to peek out and establish their whereabouts.

Quickly, Will stuffed his mouth organ inside his pocket, then stretched his back, the taut muscles tingling from being stationary for so long. At least his pounding headache had relented, replaced now by a mess of tangled nerves. “Reserved excitement” is how he would have described his emotion.

“Nice playin’,” said a man whose face was hidden by the shadow of his low-lying hat. He tipped the brim at Will and gave a slow nod. “You’ve got a way with that thing. Almost put me in a lonesome-type mood.”

“Thanks. For the compliment, I mean. Sorry ’bout your gloomy mood. Didn’t mean to bring that on.”

“Ain’t nothin’. I been jumpin’ trains fer as long as I can remember. Gettin’ the lonelies every now and again is somethin’ to be ’spected, I s’pose.”

“That’s for sure,” mumbled another man, sitting in a corner with his legs stretched out. Will glanced at the sole of his boot and noticed his sock pushing through a gaping hole. Something like a rock turned over in his gut. These guys made a habit of hopping on trains, living off handouts, and roaming the countryside. Vagabonds, they were. He hoped never to see the inside of another freight car, and, by gum, he’d make sure he didn’t—with the Lord’s help, of course. He had enough money to last a couple of weeks, so long as he holed up someplace dirt-cheap and watched what he spent on food. He prayed he’d land a job—any job—in that time. He wouldn’t be choosy in the beginning; he couldn’t afford to be. If he had to haul garbage, well, so be it. He couldn’t expect to do much more than that, not with a criminal record. His hope was that no one would inquire. After all, who but somebody downright desperate would hire an ex-con? Not that he planned to volunteer that bit of information, but he supposed anybody could go digging if they really wanted to know.

He hadn’t changed his name, against Harry’s advice. “I’m not going to run for the rest of my life, Harry,” he’d argued. “Heck, I served my time. It’s not that I plan to broadcast it, mind you, but I’m not going to carry the weight of it forever, either. I wasn’t the only one involved in that stupid burglary.” Though he did shoulder most of the responsibility for committing it. The others had left him to do most of the dirty work, and they’d run off when the law had shown up.

Harry had nodded in silence, then reached up to lay a bony hand on Will’s hulking shoulder. Few people ever laid a hand on him and got away with it, so, naturally, he’d started to pull away, but Harry had held firm, forcing Will to loosen up. “You got a good point there, Will. You’re a good man, you know that?” He hadn’t known that, and he’d appreciated Harry’s vote of confidence. “You just got to go out there and be yourself. Folks will believe in you if you take the first step, start seeing your own self-worth. The Lord sees it, and you need to look at yourself through His eyes. Before you know it, your past will no longer matter—not to you or to anyone else.”

The train brakes screeched for all of a minute, with smoke rising up from the tracks and seeping in through the cracks of the dirty floor. Will choked back the burning residue and stood up, then gazed down at his strange companions, feeling a certain kinship he’d never expected. “You men be safe, now,” he said, passing his gaze over each one. Several of them acknowledged him with a nod, but most just gave him a vacant stare. The fellow at the back of the car who’d spent the entire day sleeping in the shadows finally lifted his face a notch and looked at him—vigilantly, Will thought. Yet he shook off any uneasiness.

The one who’d first struck up a conversation with him, short-lived as it had been, raised his bearded chin. The two made eye contact. “You watch yourself out there, fella. You got to move fast once your feet hit that dirt. Anybody sees you jumpin’ off is sure to report you, and if it’s one of the yardmen, well, you may as well kiss your hiney good-bye. They got weapons on them, and they don’t look kindly on us spongers.”

“Thanks. I’ll be on guard.” Little did the man know how adept he was at handling himself. The years he’d served in the state pen had taught him survival skills he hoped never to have to use in the outside world.

When the train finally stopped, he reached inside his shirt pocket and peeked at his watch, which was missing its chain. Ten minutes after seven. He pulled the sliding door open just enough to fit his bulky body through, then poked his head out and looked around. Finding the coast clear, thanks to a long freight train parked on neighboring tracks, he gave the fellows one last nod, then leaped from the car and slunk off into the gathering dusk, his sack of meager possessions slung over his shoulder.

First item on his short agenda: look for a restaurant where he could silence his grumbling stomach.

2011-04-18T13:23:00.001-04:00

EASTER CUTIES!

Yesterday after church, my grandJOYS decorated eggs in Grandma's kitchen. Papa lent them all old shirts, then when they finished we gathered them around their little bowl of colored eggs and took their picture. What do you think? Aren't they pure cuteness?

2011-04-05T09:40:00.002-04:00

EXCITING NEWS!

Last night I received some excellent news, and that is that Tender Vow has been named a finalist in the 2011 Retailers' Choice Award, winners to be announced in Orlando later this month.

This news both thrills and astounds me. Just 10 years ago, writing, let alone publishing, was a mere dream for me. I found myself enjoying it but viewing it more as a hobby, a "gift" God had given me for my own pleasure and enjoyment. Little did I know then the plans he had for me. If there's one thing I've learned on this journey (well, maybe two) it's NEVER underestimate God's fabulous plans and purposes, and, second, God is NEVER done with the fully surrendered heart!

Keep surrendering, my friends, and then watch God work wondrous things in your life, both now and in the days to come!

May He bless you for His Kingdom!

Here's the image of Tender Vow. If you want to read the synopsis, just move over to my HOME page and scroll down till you come to the book. Click on it and it will take you to Amazon where you can read the synopsis and/or check out buying information.

I love you all!

2011-04-02T13:49:00.013-04:00

MY OBSESSIVE HUBBY(But in a GOOD Way!)
First off, let me clarify that my adorable husband LOVES his grandkids!!! That said, he also loves building things for them. He's built toyboxes, bookshelves, dollhouses, a rocking horse, beds with drawers underneath, and there's more! In the spring of 2009, he decided to build the growing babes a swingset. And here's a picture of it!

Nice, eh? But then, in the spring of '10 he decided it needed a little something more...so, he added this platform/playhouse, which also has a green canvas roof that he stored in the shed for the winter. He also built a slanted walkway for the kids to climb. Here it is:

But, alas! It is now spring of '11, and he has been eyeing the playground and thinking it needs yet another addition! So, he is adding a second playhouse with a bridge leading to it, and on the other side of the second platform there is a rope climbing thingie. My hubby just delights in bringing joy to his grands. Tomorrow, cloudy or not, or even a bit drizzly, he will have them out there breaking it in. By the way, he JUST started this third addition last night and says it will be done, with the exception of the canvas roofs, by tonight. HE'S PRETTY AMAZING, DON'T YOU THINK?

Here's the rope climbing wall, which he fashioned with his own hands. How did he do that?

And I would be remiss if I didn't show you a picture of the supervisor!

2011-04-01T19:48:00.002-04:00

APRIL FOOLS SILLIES!

I would be remiss if I didn't post a few silly jokes on April 1, wouldn't I? Okay, so they're dumb as a box of socks with rocks, but here goes anyway!!!

What do you get if you cross an elephant and a kangaroo?
Big holes all over Australia!

What do you get if you cross an insect with the Easter Bunny?
Bugs Bunny.

What do you get when you cross a stream and a brook?
Wet feet.

What do you call a pig that does karate?
A pork chop.

What do you call a song sung in an automobile?
A cartoon.

What do you call the best butter on the farm?
A goat.

What do you call a calf after it's six months old?
Seven months old.

What do you call a guy who's born in Columbus, grows up in Cleveland, and then dies in Cincinnati?
Dead.

Why does the Easter Bunny have a shiny nose?
His powder puff is on the wrong end.

And last, but not least, I MUST post this very silly cartoon 'cause it plain made me laugh:

2011-03-14T13:20:00.001-04:00

THERE IS ALWAYS, ALWAYS HOPE!

Amidst patches of snow, my little daffodil shoots are out there screaming at the peak of their lungs this morning, "Spring is coming, spring is coming!" and they will defy anyone to try to keep it from happening. I also noted the birds, and particularly the crows, shouting the same. It is like all of life, dearest friends; dense cold and darkness haunt the corners of our hearts, and then GOD shows up, and we see hope.

My heart is grieved for the rise in disasters around the world. it seems every time we take a breath a young athlete falls over dead on the football field or basketball court, terrible, tragic accidents occur daily on highways, babies are born without the ability to breathe on their own, in Pennsylvania, devout Mennonite parents lose seven of their eight children to a late night house fire, and on a larger scale, earthquakes and tsunamis wipe out whole cities and massive volcanos erupt, spewing red-hot lava down mountainsides.

What does it all mean? Is God trying to send a message to the universe that He still reigns, that He is in control of all things, good and bad, and that in the end, HE WINS? Really, I don't know. I do know this - we live in a fallen world rife with SIN and EVIL. Is that God's fault? No, certainly not. It is the result of mankind's first sin, which, in turn, left all of us (including our world) in an imperfect state. God LOVES us one and all and wants nothing more than for His creation to share in His redemptive plan - the hope of salvation. Yes, there is hope amidst the chaos and confusion; there can be joy in the middle of strife; and healing is available in the center of our pain and suffering.

Psalm 22:24 says it most eloquently. "For he has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help."

Spring is COMING, dear friends - as sure as JESUS is coming. Prepare your hearts and spirits. It is just around the corner.

2011-03-07T11:53:00.000-05:00

2011-03-06T22:39:00.004-05:00

THIS MAKES MY HEART SMILE!

Last night my daughter called to say our four-year-old grandson had some news to share with us, so I put the phone on speaker so hubby could hear too, and we waited for the news. "I asked Jesus in my heart tonight," came his soft voice over the airwaves. GASP! "Dylan!!!" we both exclaimed in unison. "That's wonderful. We're so happy for you and Jesus! There must be a party going on in Heaven."

Our conversation continued complete with our two-year-old granddaughter squealing in the background that she wanted to tell us something too. So her mother put her on the phone next. "I went POOP!" she exclaimed. "No, you didn't," her mother said. Of course, we all laughed. She actually DID use the potty...about two months ago, and I guess that memory is still fresh in her mind, just not fresh enough to make her want to continue the practice. ha!

Anyway, what a joy to watch first our own children reach a saving knowledge of Christ at young ages, but then THEIR children. For me, there is no greater satisfaction in life than knowing I shall spend eternity with my earthly family. This is what it's all about in MY book, living out Christ in such a way as to motivate our children and our children's children to follow by example.

2011-03-03T11:50:00.003-05:00

Bragging Comes Back to Bite Me!"

Okay, so, everybody - kids, grands, hubby, everybody - has caught a virus but me! I have not had so much as a sniffle since February, 2010. Which has caused me to brag...somewhat. Well, imagine my surprise when I started feeling a little tickle in my throat two days ago. WHAT? I am NOT getting sick. I refuse it! I REBUKE it!

Uh, you've heard it said, "We live in a fallen world. And because of that we will be fraught with sickness, discomfort, disease, and even death." Thankfully, this world is not my permanent home. Someday I will be skipping up golden streets with a perfect body free of germs, sickness, sadness, and strife. I don't know about you, but on days like this, when my body drags, and I fight the effects of fever, sore throat, cough, and the aches, it makes me turn my heart toward "Home".

And now, well, I think I'll make my way back to my cozy bed and think about how it's not nice to brag. Sometimes it comes back to bite me.

2011-02-21T22:35:00.002-05:00

MY LIFELONG JOB SEARCH! (haha)

1. My first job was working in an Orange Juice factory, but I got canned. Couldn't concentrate.

2. Then I worked in the woods as a Lumberjack, but just couldn't hack it, so they gave me the axe.

3. After that, I tried being a Tailor, but wasn't suited for it -- mainly because it was a sew-sew job.

4. Next, I tried working in a Muffler Factory, but that was too exhausting.

5. Then, I tried being a Chef - figured it would add a little spice to my life, but just didn't have the thyme.

6. Next, I attempted being a Deli Worker, but any way I sliced it....couldn't cut the mustard.

7. My best job was a Musician, but eventually found I wasn't noteworthy.

8. I studied a long time to become a Doctor, but didn't have any patience.

9. Next, was a job in a Shoe Factory. Tried hard but just didn't fit in.

10. I became a Professional Fisherman, but discovered I couldn't live on my net income.

11. Managed to get a good job working for a Pool Maintenance Company, but the work was just too draining.

12. So then I got a job in a Workout Center, but they said I wasn't fit for the job..

13. After many years of trying to find steady work, I finally got a job as a Historian - until I realized there was no future in it.

14. My last job was working in Starbucks, but had to quit because it was the same old grind.

15. SO, I TRIED RETIREMENT!

AND I FOUND I'M PERFECT FOR THE JOB!

2011-02-14T22:26:00.002-05:00

Jesus Whispers...

Did you know that God often speaks to us in mere whispers, and if we're not careful we'll miss the very important things He wants to tell us? Back in 1999-2000, I suffered a bout of depression paired with anxiety. I cannot even tell you how many panic attacks I had over the course of that year, but there were countless episodes. One night I just couldn't get a handle on my panic. Bible opened on my lap, I searched for scripture to wash over me and bring comfort and healing, but my anxious spirit wouldn't even settle down long enough to focus on the scripture. I called to memory Isaiah 41:13, which states, "I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, 'Do not be afraid, I will help you.'" I quickly captured that verse and started repeating it over and over in my head - until I'd worked myself into a regular frenzy. Suddenly, the voice of God spoke to me. It was not an audible voice, but clearly HIS, as He simply whispered, "Honey, I know that verse. After all, I wrote it, so I know it. Therefore, no need to keep repeating it. Say it once, then absorb it into your being, and let Me help you through this time."

Just like that I 'let go'.

I recall an immediate sense of peace fall upon me as I allowed that scripture to soak into my soul and envisioned the Lord taking hold of my right hand. In fact, I raised it up to Him and truly sensed him grasping hold of it. As I rested in His grace and mercy I literally felt my heart rate slowing and my breathing returning to normal.

It was one of those "stake in the ground" kind of moments, a time I look back upon and KNOW I heard the voice of God, felt His love come over me in a supernatural way. From that time forth, whenever I felt my body tense with worry or doubt, I claimed that verse, recalled the Lord's reassurance, and pushed through my panic with God at my side. It was a tough period, that year of depression and anxiety, but, me, oh my, what a crop of blessings it yielded in the end.

Keep your ears open and tuned for the still, small voice of God. He is here, and He speaks...

2011-02-09T10:15:00.009-05:00

I WROTE A SONG!
(And now I need someone to write the melody...hmm. Got talent?)

I've been rewriting a book I started long ago called Song of the Blue Grass. 'Course, I'm ALSO penning book two in my upcoming series, so two projects at once is keeping me busy. Anyway, last night I wrote some lyrics to a song called "My Blue Grass Home". I think it will flow nicely with the story line, which is about a rising female country singer/star, Laci Burgess. With her mama's recent passing, and her heart weary and sore, it's time to put her singing career on hold and go home to Kentucky where she needs to work on mending some fences of the personal kind. A cantankerous father with long held secrets make coming home a challenge, though, and the grown up "boy next door" surely doesn't help matters.

Emotions run the gamut, and at times Laci's heart seems damaged beyond repair, but an ever-faithful God and the power of love will weave a wondrous patchwork pattern of hope and healing.

And NOW for the song...

©My Blue Grass Home
Sharlene MacLaren
For "Song of the Blue Grass"

VERSE ONE:
Wasn't it just yesterday I closed the door and walked away?
Is the door still open wide, mind if I just walk inside? I still need a place to hide.
Your blue grass hills are calling me; I'm coming home today.

CHORUS:
It calls to me, my blue grass home, where love and sorrow meet,
Where rivers flow and mountains rise and sun and shade compete.
I can't forget you, blue grass home; my heart still beats for you,
And I am coming home to you, it's been too long, I'm overdue,
I'm coming home, my blue grass home; I'm coming home to you.

VERSE TWO:
Grace is waiting in the wings; hear its voice, how loud it sings,
Hope will greet me at the door; mercy flies on wings once more; love will end this wasted war.
Your arms of peace have beckoned me; I'm coming home today.
----------------------------------------------

PLEASE feel free to comment! I love you all! (((And I'm serious. If you can write music, and you "hear" the melody, JUST DO IT!)))

2011-02-03T18:18:00.008-05:00

LOOK WHAT'S IN MY YARD!

Okay, my darling friends, you have not lived until you've seen/experienced a typical Michigan winter. Let me give you just a wee taste of it through these pictures, although I must say photographs don't truly do this most recent snow event justice. At any rate, enjoy...
Here you will see my darling hubby Cecil shoveling off our front porch, which by the way is "covered". How does a porch with a roof over it get one foot of snow? It's called drifting.

Here's a shot of our backyard. Under that mound somewhere is a nice shrubbery arrangement and birdbath.

Here's a view looking out my open garage door. Yikes. That's a lot of snow!

This is a view of my backyard. That's a stationary bench you see there, and beyond that (somewhere) there really is a swimming pool.

Here you'll see a huge mound made by our snowplow driver after he finished plowing our driveway. At the top of the mound is an odd arrangement of snow that just happens to resemble the state of Michigan - which is shaped like a mitten. Isn't that weird?

2011-01-28T12:47:00.003-05:00

ONE YEAR AGO TODAY...

On January 28, 2010, I was standing in the veterinarian's office picking up some cat food when my phone rang. It was the Hospice nurse calling to tell me my beloved mother had just died. (The assisted living home where she resided was my next stop after purchasing the cat's food.) I knew it was coming, and I had even prayed for it, considering the stage she'd reached with her Alzheimer's, that wicked disease, but it still took me by such surprise. I've reached the conclusion that nothing truly prepares you for the loss of a loved one.

As I look back over the year, I'm reminded anew of God's wondrous grace, mercy, and love. Even in loss, and especially in loss, He sticks "closer than a brother". (Proverbs 18:24 says: "A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a man who sticks closer than a brother.")

Above is a photo of Mom taken two and a half years ago with my granddaughter and me. She was a precious soul, beloved by ALL, but mostly by her Heavenly Father.

I miss her so much on this particular day. I love you, Mom.

2011-01-24T23:16:00.002-05:00

PURRY FURRY FRIENDS...

My daughter and her hubby gutted their kitchen for a full remodeling project, so for the last couple of months their jet black kitty has made her home with us. I think she's going home tomorrow, though (boohoo), and I'm going to miss her, so I thought I'd take a picture of her sprawled out on the bed with my Himalayan/Siamese. They have grown to become good buddies.

Aren't they cute?

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And by the way, I've been on a "blog roll" the last couple of days, so if you haven't checked out the previous posts, don't forget to do it. YOU'LL MAKE MY DAY! Oh, and make a comment, too, as I always get so giddy when people do that.

Giant HUGS!!!!!

2011-01-23T21:29:00.000-05:00

Say CHEEEEESE!

Haha! This is what you get when you tell your two-year-old grandson (for at least the 10th time) to say cheese for the camera. He was getting pretty sick of the whole thing. And if you didn't guess it already, he was screaming it!

2011-01-20T23:21:00.001-05:00

CAN ANYBODY RELATE? (Umm, calling all 'oldsters'...)

An elderly husband and wife were suffering with some memory issues and during a recent checkup their doctor assured them they were in good health but advised they start jotting down notes to aid them in remembering things. Later that night while watching TV the wife asked the husband to get her a bowl of ice cream. The old man got out of his chair to head for the kitchen.

"You better write it down or you'll forget," his wife said.

"No I won't. You want a bowl of ice cream."

"I want some strawberries on it. You better write that down or you'll forget it."

"I can remember that," he argued. "You want ice cream with strawberries."

"Oh, I also want some whipped cream on top. You better write it down, though, or you'll forget that for sure."

"I won't forget!" he said, irritated. "You want a bowl of ice cream with strawberries and whipped cream on top."

Twenty-minutes passed before the old guy finally scuffled back into the TV room with a plate of bacon and eggs.

His wife leaned forward to stare at the plate of food. "Hey, where's my toast?"

Jesus in Every Book of the Bible

2011-01-19T15:25:00.000-05:00

2011-01-14T20:42:00.001-05:00

I just HAVE to say this...

I am called to be a writer. Jesus called me to it 10 years ago on a hot summer day in 2000. I might have ignored that teeny tiny voice, but instead I walked to my computer, sat down, and vowed to see if I could get beyond page one of a story stirring in my head. And I did! At the time, though, I didn't realize this sudden urge to create stories had come from God. Only as time went by, and that strong desire didn't dissipate, did I recognize it as a "call" upon my life, something I knew I had to do as much as I knew I had to breathe.

Unfortunately, receiving an all-important call from God means only that He will equip us for the work, not that He'll do it for us. No, he gives us the motivation and urge, and even the strength, but the work is up to us. Most days, writing is pure pleasure. I love being able to tell my characters how to behave, what to do, and where to go. I love directing their dialogue, their thoughts, and creating their scenes - even though most times it feels as if they are the ones with the minds. Some days, though (like today), I sit in front of my computer and dawdle over the same few sentences and paragraphs, wasting, it would seem, my entire day.

Those are the days God calls me to persevere, to shove through, to continue the course. Even through the doldrums, when life gets tedious and things don't go as I'd like, God expects me to plod along. I'm not talking just writing here now, peeps, I'm talking the day to day stuff, the daily grind - when nothing terribly exciting is happening. God says, "Keep going, trust Me, I have a plan and purpose, and I need you to stretch yourself, expand your vision, see beyond the tedious to the extraordinary."

Some days are bumpy, uncertain, and downright impassable, but when I place my full trust and confidence in God, He sees me through these times. And guess what else...He will do the same for you.

2011-01-05T00:36:00.001-05:00

STEP BACK IN TIME WITH ME...

I love old pictures! And this one especially appeals to me. Don't know who the girl is or what the occasion was for the photo, but the way she's standing there next to that fancy car in snazzy clothes and wearing a lush fur coat makes me think she's set for a night on the town.

There is something about the 1920s that really intrigues me. How about you? Think dance halls, flappers, prohibition, the mafia, speakeasies, automobiles, telephones, and the onset of the Depression era. Currently, I'm working on a series set in Wabash, Indiana called "River of Hope", and its setting is the 1920s. Anytime I write a historical series, I wrap myself up in that particular era - in other words, I eat, sleep, and drink it, which is what I'm doing now.

Take a closer look at this picture. (You can click on it to enlarge!) What do you see when you look into that young lady's eyes? Hope? Hidden hurts? Love? Innocence? Or maybe mischief? I would love to know the story behind this image, but I guess I'll just have to rely on my imagination. I could build an entire story around this photo. Hmm, maybe I will.

2011-01-01T14:37:00.003-05:00

HAPPY NEW YEAR, MY BELOVED FRIENDS!

Is it possible that another year has come and gone? It seems like only yesterday 2010 came marching through the door, and now we're ushering in yet another year? I JUST got used to writing 2010!

As I reflect over 2010, I think of the gains and losses, the happy times and sad, and yet I'm also reminded of the blessing of God's constant faithfulness no matter what comes my way.

I pray this year will bring you bounteous joys and blessings from above and that in spite of difficult times, you'll always be filled with hope, recalling God's FOREVER presence and goodness.

In fact, may this be the verse you carry with you throughout the New Year:

"For the Lord protects those who are loyal to him. So be strong and take courage, all you who put your hope in the Lord." Ps. 31: 23a, 24

I LOVE YOU ALL!

2010-12-22T14:50:00.004-05:00

HERE'S AN ITTY-BITTY SNEAK - PEEK OF THINGS TO COME:

Life is far from a breeze for Olivia Beckman, owner of Livvie’s Kitchen, a favorite among locals in Wabash, Indiana. The widowed mother of two is struggling to make ends meet—no simple feat, especially when her cook turns in his resignation. Yet she’s determined to pull through on her own, just as she did when God failed to save her beloved Frank.

Newly released from a ten-year prison sentence, Will Taylor is ready for a fresh start. With harmonica in hand—the only possession he values, aside from his Bible—he makes his way to Wabash, where a late-night meal at Livvie’s Kitchen turns into a job opportunity when the outgoing cook learns about his restaurant experience. What he doesn’t know is that the “restaurant” was a prison cafeteria. But Will became a new man behind bars, thanks to a Christian friend, and he credits God’s providence with landing him a job he loves. Soon, he cooks and bakes his way into the stomachs of his customers—and the heart of his employer. Both are hesitant, though, still healing from past hurts. A recipe for love between them will require sharing secrets, braving dangers, and believing God for a bright future.

Hey, dear readers, stay on the lookout for this summer 2011 release. ...Love is in the air...

2010-12-21T13:50:00.001-05:00

I MADE A CHRISTMAS VIDEO JUST FOR YOU!!!!

(Click on the arrow to view. Love you all!)

2010-12-14T22:15:00.000-05:00

The Best Christmas Ever!

Do you sometimes look back at the Christmases of your youth and think, 'That was my best one ever!'? I know I do.

I couldn't have been more that seven- or eight-years-old, toothless, innocent (mostly), and tenderhearted. Times were very hard. Daddy had lost his factory job, and our family was living off his unemployment. It was almost Christmas, and my mom had told we kids that this Christmas would be sparse. I think we were all fine with it, even though a teeny part of me couldn't help but grieve over the thought of no presents.

Every other year, our family took the trek in our old blue Ford with the broken heater from Michigan to Ohio to visit my grandparents, and this was one of those years. The lack of presents would be fine as long as I got a taste of Grandma's fine cooking, the smells of which filled every corner of their two-story house. There would be turkey, stuffing, "lumpy" potatoes and gravy, green beans, scalloped corn, homemade rolls, and plenty of pumpkin, cherry, and apple pie. Of course, the wooden bowl would be brimming with an assortment of nuts - pecans, walnuts, and almonds to name a few, and I'd have fun trying my hand at the nutcracker while Grandpa's Victrola played any number of Christmas carols, and the Christmas lights twinkled on the fresh-cut spruce tree.

Even though I knew there wouldn't be an abundance of presents that year, I still awoke on Christmas morning with anticipation stirring my chest. Downstairs, I heard adults in happy conversation, the rattle of pans on the stove, and the splendid aroma of bacon drifting through the floor register. I yanked the covers off me and padded down the carpeted staircase in my flannel nightgown with the pinkie flowers. Grandpa sat in his navy blue velvet chair and smiled when I emerged. "Here she is, folks! At last we can begin!"

"Begin what?" I asked, wiping the sleep from my eyes and walking over to Grandpa for a gentle hug.

"The presents, silly."

Presents? At that, my older brothers seemed to appear from nowhere, and my parents and grandma came from the kitchen, steaming mugs in their hands and twinkles in their eyes.

Yes, there were presents, nothing major, mind you, but presents, six or seven with MY name on them. I opened things like socks, a board game, a book, a pair of mittens knitted by Grandma, a new sweater, and some pajamas. The BEST present, though, came inside a very large box. What in the world? I couldn't imagine, but my heart pit-pattered with nervous joy as I ripped off the tape and ribbons and tore away the paper. Pulling the lid from the box, I blew out a breath of utter astonishment. It was my doll! Used, yes, and very well loved, but cleaned up spic and span to look like new! My mother had done something very special. That fall, while I was at school, she'd begun using old scraps of fabric to stitch many, many different outfits for my doll, dresses, coats, skirts, shirts, nightgowns, hats, scarves, and even blankets. I recall picking up my doll and squeezing her to me, then staring down at the scores of outfits fashioned by my talented mother. I don't think I'd ever loved so fully until that moment or experienced so completely, what it meant to give from a heart of love and sacrifice.

Mom died this past January at almost 97 years of age. As the anniversary of her passing approaches I am filled with precious memories of Christmases past - but I cannot help but hold especially dear that Christmas of 1956 when she taught me afresh the true spirit - and joy - of the blessed Christ season.

2010-11-28T19:54:00.014-05:00

OH, THE JOYS!

We had our kids and grands over last night for supper and the decorating of the Christmas tree and a bunch of cookies. Oh, what a fun and "gooey" time we had!

Here's Dylan, trying his hand at decorating a cookie. (Notice the tongue action.)

And here's his sister Lexi giving cookie decorating her first-ever try!

And this is Gavin saying, "Kafooey with the cookie decorating. I wonder what these sprinkles taste like!"

Here are a few of the "masterpieces"! Aren't you impressed?

Dylan is hanging the ornament of his choice!

Lexi is hanging an ornament with her name on it!

Gavin has found the perfect place to hang his ornament. (Yes, we had to do some major rearranging later.)

And - walah! - this is the finished product! What do you think?

Praying all of you have a glorious December!

FOR THE LOVE OF BOOKS, MUSIC, AND MOVIES: ABBIE ANN

2010-11-28T18:00:00.000-05:00

FOR THE LOVE OF BOOKS, MUSIC, AND MOVIES: ABBIE ANN: "Once again Sharlene MacLaren has swept me away in ABBIE ANN. A large novel at 500 pages, reads smoothly, taking you on an amazing journey ..."

2010-11-24T19:48:00.002-05:00

THANKSGIVING BLESSINGS...

I can't believe another year of blessings has come and gone. As I sit here at my computer thinking of the many things in life that bring me joy - my husband, children, grandchildren, extended family, church, friends, etc. - I am simply overwhelmed with gratefulness to God. Yes, I'm an author, and I should be able to come up with a multitude of ways to express my thankfulness, right(?) but, alas, I am finger-tied!

Lest you think that everything always goes my way, let me assure you I'm human, severely flawed, and living in a body that sometimes doesn't do what I want it to do (things just happen when you hit your 60s). This year I've had my ups and downs, heartache and joy, loss and gain. Along the way, there have been bumpy roads and smooth. Life is like that, you know, ever changing and unpredictable, but thankfully, I serve a God who remains a steady and powerful force.

As we gather around our Thanksgiving tables this year, let us all rejoice in God's rich bounty. In the midst of heartache and strife there is always one reason or another to give thanks. I hope you don't have to search too hard or too long to find it.

With much love and heartfelt hugs...

2010-11-15T12:05:00.005-05:00

ANYBODY WANT TO BUY MY PARENTS' HOUSE/COTTAGE?

On a whim, I am posting my parents' house for sale on Twin Lake, MI, 49456. Beach front on this recreational fishing/skiing lake. Room for dock, speed boat, etc. Click on link below for details. (((**NO land contract**.))) Asking price is $119,000, although price is negotiable.

Septic, well, water heater, furnace all in good shape and working order. House needs a special touch. Great for a summer getaway!

INTERESTED IN SEEING MY PARENTS' LITTLE COTTAGE? CLICK HERE! And you will get to view pictures of the house and surrounding property, interior and exterior views.

(((Hugs)))
Shar

2010-11-15T10:03:00.002-05:00

HOW'S YOUR GAS GAUGE? HIGH, MEDIUM, LOW, EMPTY?

Ever run yourself so fast and furious you wonder how you ever made it from point A to point B in the same day? It happens all the time because we live in a ragged, busy, sometimes out-of-control society. Jump out of bed, try to eat something on the run, feed the kids, dog, and cat (if you have any), let hubby fend for himself, give hasty kisses goodbye, then jump into the car and drive down that clogged up, bumper-to-bumper highway, and hope to make it to your destination with a couple of minutes to spare. (Are you tired yet?)

Back up to that first second you opened your eyes. Did you happen to whisper, "God, You're in control of this day? I'm weak and I desperately need Your peace."

We are all flawed humans, full of wear and tear, but God is SOVEREIGN. Rather than wear yourself into a frazzle by trying to accomplish all your day's activities alone, let THANKFULNESS, JOY, and TRUST be your guides. As you live in the dazzling presence of Christ Jesus, His strength and power will shine through you.

As you go about your day, you'll soon discover things are less about you and your problems, and more about the Savior. Let Him guide you down the path He has set for you, not the one you have worked so hard to orchestrate.

GOD's ways are always best.

Phil. 4:6,7

I LOVE YOU ALL

2010-10-13T14:51:00.004-04:00

HERE COMES QUIRKY QUESTION #4

Black and white piggy is just full of QQs. Here's another one, and sooo deep. haha.

Okay, here goes: If you had your own factory, what would it make? Answer away, my friends.

2010-10-11T15:44:00.001-04:00

QUIRKY QUESTION #3 COMING YOUR WAY! (COME PLAY!)

Black and white piggy has another QQ for you:

When you were little who was your favorite super hero, and why? (Doesn't have to be some cartoon figure or movie star--unless you want it to be.)

2010-10-09T10:22:00.001-04:00

I LEARNED SOMETHING NEW TODAY!

- People born before 1946 are known as "The Silent Generation".
- The "Baby Boomers" are people born between the years 1946 and 1959.
- Those born between 1960 and 1979 are commonly referred to as "Generation X".
- This present generation is known as "Generation Y" and are those people born between 1980 and 2009.

Why do we call this last group Generation Y?

I never did know, but recently a cartoonist explained it very eloquently.

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2010-10-07T21:08:00.003-04:00

READY FOR QUIRKY QUESTION #2?

Black and white piggy asks, "What is the best thing about your life right now?"

Didn't I tell you this quirky photo would be at the top of my next few blogs? See? I wasn't lying!!! So, tell us (the piggies and me), what is the best thing about your life right now?

Come on, play. Inquiring minds can't wait to read your response!!!

2010-10-05T23:25:00.005-04:00

HEY! GOT A QUIRKY QUESTION FOR YOU!

Okay, so this is a quirky photo. There must be a quirky question to go with it, right? There is!

For the next few days, I'm going to be posting some silly, goofy, quirky questions that I want YOU to answer. Are you game? Come on, play. You know you want to! (There are no wrong answers!) Warning: You will have to look at this photo every time I ask a question, even though it has nothing whatever to do with the question. That's what makes it quirky, see? By the way, I've been asking some QQ's over on Facebook, so just in case you've been reading those, I'll try to keep these different.

Okay, QUIRKY QUESTION #1: If you could eat one kind of food for the rest of your life, what would it be? (Black and white pig says, "Don't say ham!")

2010-09-26T18:06:00.002-04:00

LIFE LESSONS FROM THE DOG, Part 6

This is Peyton's chair - and then along comes 'the cat'!

Are you attached to a certain church pew, so much so that if newcomers enter the sanctuary ahead of you and happen to sit in YOUR pew, you almost cringe? You want to walk up to them and say, "Uh, pardon me, but that's been my pew since 1969. Do you mind?" Ha! Slight exaggeration, but still, it may ring a bit of truth to some of you.

We grow so accustomed to our little worlds, you know, our space encircled by a pretty yellow ribbon bearing the word COMFORT, and we don't want to leave this 'zone' for fear of having to learn something new. And, oh my! far be it from us to even think of moving over and sharing or, worse, getting up and giving someone else what we believe is rightfully ours.

I think Peyton should share that chair, just get down and allow Mocha to snuggle in and enjoy its warmth. Is there anything in "your world" you can't imagine giving up? Is God perhaps nudging you to share a little more, sacrifice your time, money, or gifts? Are you surrendering EVERYTHING to Him, saying, "Here it is, God, all of it. It's Yours. Take it and allow it to touch as many people as You see fit."? Are you doing that? If you're not, then you're missing out on the blessing of a lifetime.

Your Master wants to honor you for your faithfulness. Sometimes it's scary giving in and giving up, but when you do it wholeheartedly, something in your heart breaks free, and life suddenly becomes more about others and less about you.

You can trust Your Master. What you give away will come back to bless you tenfold.

2010-09-14T00:50:00.003-04:00

LIFE LESSONS FROM THE DOG, Part 5

Today, I caught Peyton sniffing out a dead rabbit in our backyard! (Poor, poor bunny.) Since I didn't want to gross you out, I didn't snap a photo of him in the act. Aren't you glad? So, here he is looking all innocent, but bear in mind looks are deceiving.

Peyton wanted to go out, so I opened the door for him and he headed out to do his "business", but something waylaid him. As I was watching him out the window, I could see that at the back of the yard he had found "something" interesting, and I got that weird, churning feeling in my stomach that it was the sort of "something" I didn't want to investigate. So, I went to the door and called him, but all he did was look up at me and then go right back to whatever it was that had caught his attention. Oh, this could NOT be good. My first thought was that he'd found a little playmate, like a mouse, perhaps? And that would have been a huge UGH! for me, as I HATE dem critters more than liver and onions! Okay, I'll make a confession. I have a mouse PHOBIA! (Don't even tell me they're cute and furry.)

When Peyton continued ignoring me, I stepped outside and called him again, but, still, he didn't want to come, acting now like he hadn't even heard my voice. That stinker, I thought, so I inched a bit closer and put a stern tone in my voice. "Peyton, come!" This time, he turned and ran to me. That's when I saw what had him so doggone enthralled. It was a dead rabbit. Flies had started in on it and who knows what else? (Hubby later said the thing was hard and stiff as a board and not at all mauled, so, no, Peyton, my peace-loving Peyton, did not kill it.) I took Peyton in the house and told him he couldn't go back out till that dead critter was gone!

Sometimes we humans like to sniff out stuff that is truly bad for us. The temptation comes at us so strongly we can't resist it. Maybe we give into it, this utterly intriguing thing, because it seems so harmless, even though we sense a tug at our conscience, which is really God's voice of warning. We shove that "voice" aside to quench our thirst for excitement and satisfy our plaguing curiosity. Did you know that if you're smart enough to recognize and obey God's voice you can avoid a myriad of hurtful situations, things that can lead you down a dangerous path and cause you undue harm and suffering?

Stay on guard, my friends, and heed the voice of the One who ALWAYS has your best interest in mind. We have a loving, faithful Master. Let's, in turn, honor Him with our faithful obedience.

2010-09-09T23:00:00.001-04:00

LIFE LESSONS FROM THE DOG, Part 4

PEYTON CAN BE SUCH A NAUGHTY BOY! (But I love him anyway...)

This is Peyton after I sequestered him to his chair because he had just chewed a hole through one of my BEST cardigan sweaters. Look at those mournful eyes.

I always think I'm watching Peyton like a hawk watches for its prey, but there are those times when I turn my back, become engrossed in one chore or another, or simply think I can trust him for more than five minutes, and I fail to step in before disaster strikes. This is one of those times.

I was sitting at my computer in my little office, both doors closed, Peyton at my feet chewing. Because I was concentrating on a scene in my book, his chewing noise actually lulled me, as in fooled me into thinking he was gnawing on one of his myriad of dog toys scattered about - bones, rubber balls, stuffed toys, squeaky thingies, you name it. All of Petco's toy department is on my office floor!!!! This is a spoiled dog!

BUT, what he was really delighting in was my favorite white sweater, you know, the kind you always reach for first in your closet because it literally goes with everything and is just so darned comfortable! Plus, it's flattering and downright pretty. Not anymore. It is now at the bottom of my wastebasket - sigh - and I'm AGAIN learning a lesson from my naughty dog.

Do you know we are all naughty humans? At least I am. I goof up all the stinkin' time, say I'm going to do one thing and do another, promise myself I'll act one way and do just the opposite, try my best not to disappoint others and myself but then quickly fall flat on my nose.

What's a human to do anyway? I have it! Look to the ultimate Master (Jesus Christ) for guidance, direction, and even EXPECT the occasional disciplinary action for our wrongdoings. Eventually we learn that He knows best, and when He says not to do something He generally means it and has a good reason for it.

God loves us unconditionally, my friends, no matter what we do or say, but He also wants us to grow up in Him, learn from our mistakes, obey His calling, and allow Him to take the lead.

Have you learned to trust and obey this kind and gentle Master?

2010-09-04T08:56:00.006-04:00

YIPPEE-SKIPPY! A FIVE-STAR REVIEW OF TENDER VOW!

A Tender New Addition From a Fabulous Author! - September 4, 2010
By "Buukluvr" Molly (Willow Spring, NC - USA) *SEE ALL MY REVIEWS AT AMAZON!

This is an excellent novel written by an excellent author! I love Sharlene MacLaren's work. This is such a different story from the previous 3 of her books I read...."The Daughters of Jacob Kane". She is super talented and knows how to capture her readers' hearts. She really did a wonderful job with this story, blending heartache and pain, love and family, friendship and forgiveness, humor and faith all into one incredible story, making this a story perfect for anyone!

The way Sharlene created Rachel and Jason's characters was phenomenal. They shared a pain so great that I could feel it in my own heart and cried with them. I loved both of these fabulous characters til the very last page and they are still in my heart! I will never forget these amazing people from this book. The love of God shines through them and their families and spills over onto the reader, as you witness the heartache, forgiveness and letting go of the past. And I absolutely can not leave out my most favorite character from this novel....the little sugar plum fairy, Meaggie! SHE WAS ADORABLE! She really added to the tenderness of this story, and that was what topped it off for me, making this an unforgettable read!

So, with glowing *5-star* praise, I most definitely recommend this book to EVERYONE. There is a message of faith, forgiveness and overcoming heartache that will last in your heart for a very long time. And, if you have never read a Sharlene MacLaren book, don't miss out on this one! It's an excellent place to start. If you're already a Shar fan, then this is a tender addition to your collection! I can't wait for the next amazing book from this fascinating author!

You can pick up your copy at many Christian Bookstores, Barnes & Noble, and at all online venues!

Dancing Merengue Dog

2010-09-02T20:13:00.000-04:00

THE DANCING DOG! AMAZING!

2010-09-02T19:55:00.001-04:00

HEY, PEEPS, CLICK BELOW AND GO STRAIGHT TO LENA'S BLOG!

A Christian Writer's World ~~ Characters who grip your heart: TENDER VOW Sharlene MacLaren - Free Book

2010-09-01T13:50:00.002-04:00

LIFE LESSONS FROM THE DOG, Part 3

This is Peyton's chair, the place he comes to when he needs comfort and rest.

Peyton is a "fraidy-dog". He's been afraid of most everything since the day I got him. I will never know what's made him so fearful of things, whether his worries are learned or genetic, but I do know I've come to view him as needy and dependent. It's fine with me, but I've had to tell myself not to coddle him over every little thing, just say, "It's all right, no biggie. There's nothing dangerous about that bouncing ball or that airplane or the garbage truck or that stranger walking by." When he hides behind my leg I have to give him a single, gentle pat on the head, reassure him with a word or two, and then ignore him because he must learn to trust things without my constant babying. That's what I'm told by books I've read and from an experienced trainer. Sure, I want to put all 60# of him in my lap and hug all his fears away, but what would he learn from that other than to constantly run to me when his world goes a little topsy-turvy? No, there comes a point where he must learn to trust his environment.

We can take our worries and fears and cares to the Lord, but there comes a time when we must say, "Hey, I've prayed about this, I know God's in control, He's not going to let anything happen to me that isn't supposed to happen. I can trust Him and His Word without crying over every little detail of life. He's been faithful to me in the past - and He will continue to be faithful tomorrow and the next day." That's called maturity, growing up in your faith.

Ever find yourself fretting, giving the matter over to the Lord, then taking it right back? An old hymn says it best: "Bring your burden to the Lord and leave it there." Oh, if we could just grasp hold of that concept.

God is our loving, generous, compassionate Master. Let us learn to give up control of our lives, trust in the Lord's all-sufficient grace, and surrender to His gentle leading.

2010-08-28T22:52:00.003-04:00

I GOT IN A CAR ACCIDENT! AARGH!!!

And the worst part of all -- it was MY fault! Oh, that's a hard pill to swallow. It is so much nicer if at the end of a day you can say, "That so and so sideswiped me while I was minding my own business." Not so in my case. No, the lady I hit is probably saying that - but in much stronger language.

I was on my way to a bridal shower when I noted the ribbons and tissue paper blowing all over (I had the top down on my convertible), also my stack of books was falling, so I was messing with that. That's when, in the blink of an eye, I heard a crash, a slash, and a loud rip. Ugh. Yanking my head up I saw a car to my right. Quickly, she pulled off as did I, and then I put my head on my steering wheel and started bawling like a B-A-B-Y! HOW COULD I HAVE BEEN SO CARELESS AS TO TAKE MY EYES OFF THE ROAD FOR EVEN A SPLIT SECOND?

This has been a huge eye-opener for me. Not to look for my phone, a tube of lipstick, a pen, my sunglasses - or anything - in my purse because all it takes is an instant and life can turn completely upside down. Praise the Lord in my case the only thing that suffered was my car, and while the ambulance did come and take a look at a young girl of about 12 or so sitting in the back seat of the other vehicle, everyone is fine and for the most part unharmed. Thank you, Jesus.

I post this as a gentle warning to all of you to BE CAREFUL and ALERT. There are distracted drivers out there (like me) who take their eyes off the road for mere seconds and wind up crossing medians, hitting cars head-on, slamming into trees, and ramming into buildings. PLEASE BE CAREFUL. I love you all too much to say good bye just yet!

Take a look at my fender and headlight. The damage extends for about half the car, but I'm just showing you the front part. I'm sick about it, but so very thankful for another chance to prove myself on the road. I CAN BE A RESPONSIBLE DRIVER!

2010-08-22T21:42:00.002-04:00

LIFE LESSONS FROM THE DOG...Part 2

This is Peyton's place of refuge, his trusty kennel.

When life gets a little scary; i.e., the grandkids come over (they are loud and rambunctious!), I am running the vacuum, a bunch of company arrives, fireworks light the sky, or unidentified noises fill the air, this is the first place Peyton runs. I try to calm Him with a few words. "It's okay, nothing to worry about," I say even as he races past me to make a beeline for his kennel. I let him go, knowing his little "house" makes him feel safe. After some time, confidence restored, he once again emerges.

Do you have a safe place you run to when life gets out of hand? I do. I run to the Lord's open arms where I know I'll find comfort and peace. I feel secure there, resting in His big, warm and cozy embrace. I love that He loves me so completely, even when I goof up. I never did anything to deserve His love, but, still, He gives it so freely.

Sometimes circumstances come along to cause me pain, unrest, worry, discomfort, or heartache. At first I cry and fuss and fret until I finally remember my safe place. That's when I run into God's arms, and as He enfolds me in a big hug, I hear Him gently say, "It's okay, nothing to worry about."

What a kind and faithful Master.

2010-08-20T23:26:00.004-04:00

MR. FED-EX GUY CAME TODAY!

I am so delighted to announce the arrival of Tender Vow, a stand-alone contemporary romance. You can check the synopsis if you scroll down on your left to my book listings then click on Tender Vow.

There's just nothing like the excitement an author feels when the book he/she has labored on for months returns from the printer and arrives in a nice big carton on said author's doorstep. You rip into that box like you had a ten-second window till detonation, rather like a 10-year-old tearing into his Christmas presents. It's just fun, no other word for it.

So, in honor of my fun--you wanna do a giveaway? It's easy to participate. Just leave a comment here, I'll copy your name and throw it in "the hat", and then we'll have a drawing on MY BIRTHDAY, August 26, how's that? So come on, help me celebrate. You know you want to!

Love to ALL of you!
Shar

2010-08-19T23:41:00.001-04:00

LIFE LESSONS FROM THE DOG

Peyton is my sweet 11-month-old collie. I think of him as my "rescue dog" because he came to me at five-months of age with no real name, never having walked on a leash outside of his backyard, hair chewed off his hind legs due to a skin infection, fleas, knowing zero commands, no confidence, and extreme fear issues--as in this boy was afraid of bouncing balls, sounds of all kinds, people, other dogs, his shadow! All he wanted to do was hide in a corner, tail between his legs for days on end. And play? He didn't know the meaning of the word. He still has lots of problems, which we are working through on a daily basis, but he is EMERGING, my friends, and it's a beautiful thing. He's showing us who he is, shaking off his fears about life and darkness and spooky noises and squealing kids. He is becoming a new creature, and he's teaching me important stuff about trust and hope.

Tonight we took a long walk around my neighborhood. He walks like a champion now, head up, tail out, nose high and sniffing. I am a stickler about walks as in I walk him; he does not walk ME. (No dog should walk a person. Why do people allow their giant dogs to pull them on a fast gait down the road? How can that be fun?) When I first got Peyton he thought he was in charge. He pulled, bucked, and fought me with the whole leash thing. It scared him half to death. But slowly I showed him he had nothing to fear - that I was in charge, and I was going to keep him safe. He just had to trust me with this leash business and know that it was for his own good.

Do you see where I'm going with this? Trust is a learned behavior. If something hurts us, we tend to draw back to avoid the same hurt twice. God is our ever present help. We can trust Him. Others will fail us, disappoint us, drag us down bumpy, dangerous roads, but God can bring us back if we let Him take control.

He's a good Master. You can trust Him.

*Be on the lookout for future "lessons" from my pretty boy and, of course, more pictures!

2010-07-28T21:11:00.007-04:00

PART 2 - "Did I REALLY do that?"

The saga continues! I told you I cut off (with the sweat of my brow and a measly hand saw) a thick branch from our huge magnolia tree while standing on our 12' ladder, but that I did it while Cecil was away on business. I find it best to do these things in his absence, you see. Otherwise there is too much of this sort of talk: "I'll do it, honey, just not now. Later, okay? Just be patient." But sometimes later means, um, NEXT YEAR! So, once in awhile when I really want something accomplished I have to take matters into my own hands, which sometimes works out and sometimes doesn't.

In this instance it did work out. Quite well, in fact.

Would you believe I did not break the news about my chopping off the big branch until this afternoon--exactly 48 hours after the fact? That is because I wasn't sure how he'd react. I thought he'd be a trifle irritated that I'd risked my precious life on a ladder. haha. Not. Seriously, I was more sure he'd be put out that now he had this long limb to contend with that lay between our house and that of our nice neighbor.

Surprisingly, he took it all in stride. Granted, he shook his head at me and muttered something like, "Leaving you home by yourself is dangerous." The good news is he went out to the magnolia tree and butchered it some more after I pointed out more sagging branches. And then he chopped them all up. Yea! He's now on the phone lining up someone to come haul away our stuff--which does include last year's Christmas tree, so I'm not entirely to blame for all the debris.

Man, I wish I would have taken a BEFORE picture so you could have seen what amazing work I did, but, alas, all I have is the AFTER pictures. You can see how big our tree is. See? I wasn't lying, was I! (See the afternoon sunlight my hanging plant is now enjoying? Before it always hung in pitch blackness!)

All I can say is, "I AM WOMAN!"

2010-07-27T23:22:00.003-04:00

DID I REALLY DO THAT?

I am usually lazy about physical activity, scared of heights, and hate to sweat. So, that pretty much rules out washing high window, climbing ladders or trees, lifting heavy objects, or doing jumping jacks. (With me so far?)

Okay, so the other day I was staring from the road at our humongous, old magnolia tree that is only good for one thing - producing pretty blossoms in May that last all of 2 days then fall like a bunch of mushy banana peels that need to be raked or mowed up pronto before they wreck the grass. This time of year the leaves multiply like ants at a picnic, weighing down the branches till they nearly touch the ground. One of said branches had fallen lazily over the porch and succeeded in blocking ALL sunlight from my hanging baskets and pots. So, I very sweetly said to Cecil, "That branch needs to be cut off. My porch plants aren't getting any sun and they're dying. Could you do that?"

He studied it for all of 15 seconds and said, "Yeah, I see what you mean. Hmm, well, we'll see, maybe next weekend." Which really means, "Maybe next year" 0R... "Maybe never." Aaargh! "Besides," he said, "When I do cut it down I'll have to chop it in a ton of pieces so we can have it hauled away. That's a huge branch." More silent groans. I followed him into the house.

Well, Cecil went on a brief business trip Monday and Tuesday (he's home now), and so yesterday, without so much as a second's thought, I jumped up from the sofa, went in search of our heavy 12' metal ladder, set it up under that magnolia tree, and then went to the garage for a suitable saw, having NO IDEA what I was looking for. I thought saws looked like those triangle thingies with the sharp metal blade and the wooden grip like my dad used to have. I couldn't find one of those, but I did find two other metal saws with handles, shorter, but saws anyway. So off I went, armed with these two bladed weapons.

I forgot about my fear of heights, but I did hang on as I started climbing up those steps, one, two, three, four, and five. I think I stopped on the fifth rung, or maybe the sixth. With saw in hand I started in on that 8" thick branch. It was actually the circumference of a small tree! And I sawed--and I sawed--and I sawed. Then I switched saws because I thought the other blade would be sharper. Didn't make any difference. And I sawed some more--and my arm started burning from lack of muscle! But since I'd sawed through half the branch I couldn't stop.

Well, I figured the branch would fall AFTER I cut all the way through it. Ha! About 3/4 of the way through I should have hollered "TIMBER!!!" to my dog, but, hmm, that little word didn't come to mind as the huge thing started cracking, splitting, groaning, and tearing away from the cut line. That's when I closed my eyes and prayed, "Oh, dear God, save us!!!" And the branch fell across the ladder AND ME! When I figured out I was still alive I scampered down. Peyton, my dog, was huddled up in a ball against the house. I have ruined his tender psyche for life!

Now, all I had to do was figure out how to get the 100 lb. branch off the ladder and move it to the side of the house. Would you believe SHEER DETERMINATION, GRIT, and PRIDE were my strong forces? I moved the ladder first, after which the branch thudded to the ground. Then I stood there and stared at the 20'+ long piece of tree for a couple of minutes while catching my breath. I'M SWEATING BULLETS, TOO, WHICH I TOLD YOU I HATE TO DO!

Well, I bent down and started tugging for all I was worth. Tug, breathe, stop, tug, breathe, stop, tug...you get the idea. I went a few inches at a time, but I managed to haul that thing about 60-70 feet to the other side of the house, where it still sits. I had NO STRENGTH left within me to saw the thing up into shorter branches, and I have yet to tell Cecil that it is on the other side of the house. He came home from his business trip tonight and said, "Hi honey!", kissed me, then went to his chair and fell asleep. Now, he's in bed. Well, there's always tomorrow. I'll keep you posted as to his reaction, which I think will be, um, slight irritation.

But, hey, beautiful sunlight now drenches my porch plants. Now, if I can just remember to water them!

2010-07-27T00:21:00.005-04:00

MEET GERTIE PRIDMORE!

Gertie Pridmore is the town's librarian in Sandy Shores, Michigan. Yep, Gertie's a fictional character in my Daughters of Jacob Kane series, and you can meet her in the book titled Abbie Ann, BUT...she's also a REAL person who lives in Lakeland, Florida.

I first "met" Gertie online more than a year ago before I started writing Abbie Ann. Her friend and fellow church librarian, Judy Locke first wrote to me to tell me she'd been reading and enjoying my books and putting them in the Scott Lake Baptist Church library. She mentioned that Gertie Pridmore had snatched them up as quick as they came in, though, making Judy wait in line to read them. When I first read Gertie's name in Judy's email I thought to myself, 'What a PERFECT name for one of my book's characters.' I loved its old-fashioned sound. My daughter said, "Mom, that name sounds perfect for a librarian!" Thus, I dubbed Gertie Pridmore my librarian!

The real Gertie and I have been keeping tabs on each other ever since, and she's pretty excited to have her name featured in my book. A couple of weeks ago a lady from her church, Jimme Sherfey, designed a beautiful bulletin board in their church just outside their library, so Gertie thought I'd get a kick out of seeing it. I was honored, as I don't think I've ever had a bulletin board designed in MY honor.

Thought I'd show you a photo of the bulletin board and then also a pic of Gertie standing next to it. (Isn't that a pretty bulletin board, and, Gertie, oh, she's so sweet and special!)

Other ladies who volunteer their time in the church library are Marilyn Sullivan, LeWanna Lewis, and Mary Hobson! I LOVE church libraries and am so honored to think my books grace the shelves of so many, especially the one at Scott Lake Baptist Church in Lakeland, Florida!

2010-07-16T20:48:00.002-04:00

THERE WAS AN OLD LADY...

There was an old lady, who every morning stepped onto her front porch, raised her arms to the sky, and shouted, "PRAISE THE LORD!"

One day an atheist moved into the house next door. He became irritated at the little old lady. Every morning he'd step onto his front porch after her and yell, "THERE IS NO LORD!"

Time passed with the two of them carrying on like this day after day. "Praise the Lord!" - "There is no Lord!" - "Praise the Lord!" - "There is no Lord!"

One morning, in the middle of winter, the little old lady stepped onto her front porch and shouted, "PRAISE THE LORD! Please Lord, I have no food and I am starving; provide for me this very day, oh Lord!"

That evening she stepped out onto her porch and there were two huge bags of groceries waiting for her on the top step.
"PRAISE THE LORD!" she cried out. "GOD HAS PROVIDED GROCERIES FOR ME!"

The atheist neighbor jumped out of the hedges and shouted, "HA-HA! THERE IS NO LORD. I'M THE ONE WHO BOUGHT AND DELIVERED THOSE GROCERIES!!'

The little old lady threw her arms into the air and shouted, "PRAISE THE LORD! GOD HAS PROVIDED GROCERIES FOR ME AND MADE THE DEVIL PAY FOR THEM!"

2010-07-09T10:23:00.001-04:00

T R U S T...

Today is vague, tomorrow is completely unclear. What an incredible idea to trust in the all-knowing Savior, Jesus.

This thought literally woke me up this morning. No kidding. As I started to come awake, there it was, surfacing in my brain. I don't always have these kinds of thoughts upon first rousing. Usually it's ... aargh, morning already?

But today was different. It comforted me, but also made me wonder if I'm supposed to prepare myself for something. God knows our futures, dear friends, and we can TRUST Him implicitly. Yep, these are difficult, unsettling times economically, socially, morally, and ethically. Once in awhile it even feels like NO ONE is in charge. But God is ultimately in control and it's important to keep that little truth at the forefront of our minds.

Are you discouraged, downhearted, tempted to give up? Then LOOK UP! The Lord tells us in His Word that He will never fail, forsake, leave us, or stop loving us. Now, there's something worth clinging to, don't you think?

Isaiah 41:13 says, "I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, 'Do not be afraid, I will help you.'" Does it get any better than that?

Please let me know if you're going through something that requires extra prayer. I promise to bring you to the Lord.

I love you all!

2010-06-24T23:25:00.002-04:00

Does this stack of phonebooks look familiar to anybody?

Remember the days of ONE new phonebook a year? What happened to them? I don't know about you, but lately it seems like every time I walk down the driveway to get my mail I find another phonebook in a plastic bag hanging from my mailbox. We have a phonebook for the northern part of our county, a phonebook for the southern part, a huge book strictly for Yellow Pages, another book just for businesses, another for businesses AND Yellow Pages, another for residents AND Yellow Pages. I'm sure somewhere in that stack, there's even a phonebook for my pets.

I can remember the days of looking forward to my new phonebook. The old one had gotten dog-eared, so the replacement of a brand new book was downright nice. But I never asked for 6 new books, some big and fat, some so compact you need a magnifying glass to read the words and numbers.

In this day when many don't even have land lines anymore, wouldn't you think the phonebooks would decrease in number instead of go the other way? I don't get it. Why do I need so many? Anybody have a clue?

I'm not mad, I'm just mystified. And getting rid of them is another story. ALL THAT PAPER GOING STRAIGHT TO OUR LANDFILLS. Ugh!

2010-06-21T12:15:00.002-04:00

ANNOUNCING THE WINNERS OF ROBIN'S AND MY GIVEAWAY!

Stephanie Christmann and Valarie McCoy are the lucky winners! Your books, Maggie Rose and Ruby Red will be delivered just as soon as we receive your mailing addresses!

Thanks to everyone who entered for a chance to win!

2010-06-13T20:27:00.024-04:00

ROBIN SHOPE and SHARLENE MACLAREN Write Novels About the Historic Orphan Train!

Maggie Rose by Sharlene MacLaren
Ruby Red by Robin Jansen Shope

Sharlene and Robin made a lovely discovery. Not only are they both teachers (Shar’s retired), they have also written about a special time in history from separate viewpoints. As a result, they decided to ‘cross pollinate’ their books in this shared interview. Come join the discussion, and for leaving a comment, you will automatically be entered into a drawing for a chance to win a copy of both their books, Maggie Rose and Ruby Red, from either one of their Websites. That’s twice the chance to win; in other words, go ahead and leave a comment at both sites to double your odds. If you aren’t a blogger, then leave a comment for them on Facebook or Shoutlife, and they’ll throw your name into the “proverbial hat”.

Shar and Robin thought it would be fun to give you a glimpse into their lives, past and present. This should give you an idea of what influenced their writing careers.

Here's a snapshot of Shar's early life, which influences her to this day:

I grew up in the small town of Twin Lake, Michigan. When I say small I mean we had one gas station, a post office, a tavern/restaurant, a lumberyard, and two grocery stores whose owners were ALWAYS at odds (enemies perhaps?) because of the competition. Townsfolk were either loyal Oslunds’ grocery shoppers or Powells. (You couldn’t be both. Ha!) My family went to Powells’ because my mom swore they had a better meat selection!

I grew up in a tiny cottage-style house on the lake, as in we had beach frontage. It was a great swimming, fishing, waterskiing lake, so as a kid nearly every day in the summer the first thing I did when I awoke was peek through my bedroom curtains to determine what to put on, regular clothes or my swimsuit. Some days, Daddy would awaken me at 5:30 a.m. when the lake was still as glass and the fog lying lazily on the surface and ask if I wanted to go fishing. I didn’t LOVE fishing, but I soaked up those opportunities to sit in my Dad’s quiet, reassuring presence. We had a rowboat dubbed “Maybe Baby”. She had a slow leak, so we kept a bucket handy at all times. Here's a pic of "Daddy" holding me when I was just a year old:

My parents were devout Christians. When those Wesleyan Methodist Church doors opened, and later Free Methodist, our family of five (I have two older brothers) walked through them, Sunday mornings, evenings, midweek prayer meetings, and annual revivals. Sundays were kept holy, as in, um, no swimming—unless I took a bar of soap with me in which case I was going down to the lake to “take a bath”. (grins) That was acceptable. However, no jumping off the end of the dock or acting rowdy! My folks had some rigid rules when it came to their belief system, I suppose, but they ruled with tremendous grace and mercy. In fact, they loved us kids with amazing tenderness and care. There was always a good deal of joking, teasing, and laughter in our home, lots of it. (I acquired my sense of humor from my dad.)

We had very little in the way of material possessions. After all, I grew up in the 50s and 60s, and the country was still suffering through a long, grueling recovery from the Great Depression. But I don’t recall feeling especially deprived, forget that we had an outhouse till I was at least 10—just loved and free and secure. When I was a little kid, Dad worked in a factory then switched to head custodian at a Muskegon elementary school when I was a young teen. While I was in second grade, my mom took a job in the Twin Lake Post Office. I remember feeling so PROUD that MY mom had a “real job” while my friends’ moms didn’t. No insecurity on my part! She was such a loving, generous, fun person; a very strong influence in my life.

Here is a snapshot of Robin's early life, which influences her to this day.

As you will ‘see’, my upbringing was very different from Shar’s. I grew up in Chicago, the daughter of a former bootlegger who, by the time of my birth, owned a respectable nightclub, The Ivanhoe Restaurant. My Christian mother was twenty years his junior. Dad had disguised himself as a Christian man, covering up his swearing, drinking, and womanizing ways for two months while he wooed my mother by taking her to church. As soon as he placed that ring on her finger, though, and vows were spoken, Dad picked up his former ways. I am the middle child of that union.

Born in the late 1800s, my dad was the age of a grandfather. Still, I felt lucky he belonged to me and I to him. He spoiled me terribly with presents, never disciplined me (probably too tired to do so) and gave into me—indulging my every whim while the role of disciplinarian went to my mother. I loved to hear his stories about running away from home at the age of eleven. He worked his way to Texas where he learned to break horses and pick cotton. Traveling further south, he ran into Poncho Villa (honest) and rode with him for a while. He didn’t like what the bandit did, so Dad returned to Texas and joined the Texas Rangers until WWII broke out and he joined the army.

When the war ended, Dad lived with his brother in Chicago and started a tavern at the same time prohibition hit. Not to be deterred from their new adventure, they turned the tavern into a speakeasy and ran bootleg whiskey. After prohibition was repealed, they expanded their business by buying out the stores around them. Soon the small tavern grew into a castle structure fashioned after the one In Robin Hood. My dad and uncle became good friends with Jack Dempsey, Babe Ruth (I have home movies) and more sport stars. Meanwhile, I loved playing in the catacombs, messed up the musician’s music sheets on stage, and ate whatever I wanted from the kitchen. I went to sleep each night with stories spinning around inside my head.

Here is a photo of my parents enjoying a meal at Dad's restaurant:

The ORPHAN TRAIN ERA:Few people realize that 30,000 homeless children roamed the streets of New York City from the mid-1800s through the 1930s. Death and disease were heaped upon poverty and overcrowding, causing thousands of children to be abandoned and left to fend for themselves. Adding to the malaise, boatloads of European immigrants flooded our shores and soon succumbed to the same adversities, leaving thousands of their children parentless. Accounts have been written of the Orphan Train that carried white-skinned children into the heartland of America to find new families. For some it was a gift; for others it ended with tragedy. Many children were loved and cherished while others suffered at the hands of cruel caretakers and were little more than slaves or servants.

Maggie Rose

The year is 1904, and Maggie Rose, the spunky, friendly, twenty-year-old middle daughter of Michigan resident Jacob Kane, feels compelled to leave her beloved hometown of Sandy Shores to pursue what she feels in her heart are God's plans for her life-in New York City. Maggie Rose adjusts to her new life at Sheltering Arms Refuge, an orphanage that also transports homeless children to towns across the United States to match them with compatible families. Most of the children have painful pasts that make Maggie aghast, but she marvels at their resiliency. As she gets to know each child, her heart blossoms with new depths of love and compassion. When a newspaper reporter comes to stay at the orphanage in order to gather research for an article, Maggie is struck by his handsome face…and concerned by his lack of faith. She can't deny their mutual affections, though. Will she win the struggle to maintain her focus on God and remain attuned to His guidance?

Ruby Red

Ruby Redis a fictionalized tale of a true event. Homeless children roamed the streets of New York City from the late 1800s through the 1930s. Death and disease were heaped upon poverty and overcrowding, causing thousands of children to be abandoned and left to fend for themselves. Dark-skinned 11-year-old Ruby is taken in as a maid. Believing life holds more for her than washing clothes, she makes a risky move by faking insanity. After being expelled from the household, Ruby sneaks onto the Orphan Train. With her best friend, a cockroach named Red, housed in a canning jar, Ruby searches for a place to call home and runs into adventure and heartbreak. Both an enigma and a young teen, she is the perfect reflection of how life once was in America. Ruby embodies goodness and simplicity of truth; a rare gem which bespeaks her name. Softened a bit through suffering, she refuses to be hardened and keeps believing that the world holds a special place for her.

Thanks so much for the pleasure of your company. PLEASE be SURE to leave a comment on either/both of our blogs for a chance to win our books!

Check out Robin's blogspot HERE!

DRAWING DATE:
MONDAY, JUNE 21 !

2010-06-05T23:38:00.003-04:00

WHAT A GOOBER!

I think I'll choose red font for ALERT! My "puppy" is 9-months-old and growing! Cecil calls him the "terrible-twos-toddler"--and he's not far off. To date, he (not Cecil) has wrecked three pairs of my favorite sandals, chewed a little corner of fabric off my new floral chair, peed on the floor (more than once), jumped on top of Cecil when he was in a dead sleep to avoid having to go night-night in his big wire crate, figured out four times how to get out of it (he shakes it or something while we're gone...we don't know. We're thinking about putting a camera on him.), eaten things that should never go through a dog's digestive system, destroyed bunches of the kids' pool toys (like those styrofoam noodles), and--and--let's see, I know there's more, but I'll stop there. I think you get the idea.

Here's a picture of him insisting he can fit in this chair. He will scrunch up and twist and turn until he gets semi-comfortable, sleep for about five minutes, then give into the floor again. As much as he IS a stinker, I do have to say I love him. Yes, he's the complete opposite of our wonderful, laid back, 11-year-old Dakota boy who we had to put down just over four months ago, but this little corker is "growing" on me.

However, if he continues having peeing accidents I don't know what I'll do--start borrowing my grandson's pullups maybe? But wait! He'd eat them! Pray for us.

CAN'T YOU JUST SEE THE MISCHIEF IN THOSE ALMOND-SHAPED EYES?

2010-06-04T15:23:00.002-04:00

ANNOUNCING THE WINNER OF MY GIVEAWAY!

Well, okay you darling blogger friends, I have just completed my drawing for a signed copy of my book, Hannah Grace, finalist for the 2010 Inspirational Reader's Choice Award! Are you ready for the reveal? Here goes, ready or not...

KYM MCNABNEY!

***A HUGE THANK YOU TO THE 32 PEOPLE WHO THREW THEIR NAMES INTO MY "PROVERBIAL HAT".

I truly do love ALL of you!

2010-05-27T21:41:00.003-04:00

EXCITING NEWS TO SHARE!!!

Well, hello there all you wonderful peeps. I just have to tell you that TODAY I learned my book, Hannah Grace, is a finalist in the 2010 Inspirational Reader's Choice Contest. This contest is sponsored by the Faith, Hope, and Love Chapter of Romance Writers of America. Needless to say, I am humbled and grateful to the Lord for this amazing honor!

Of course, I DON'T expect to win, as I am up against the incredible, bestselling authors: Deeanne Gist (Bethany House), Rose Burkhard (Harvest House), and Mary Connealy (Barbour Publishing)--BUT I will be thrilled to smithereens to frame either a second or third place certificate!

I'll keep you posted as to contest results when I learn more. I know there is a banquet, but I have no specifics as to where or when.

A-N-Y-W-A-Y...I thought it would be FUN to do a giveaway of Hannah Grace. It's the FIRST book in my "Daughters of Jacob Kane" Series. (If you want to read the synopsis, just check it out by scrolling down this page till you come to the book.)

All you have to do to earn a chance to win an autographed copy is make a comment HERE on THIS blog (not on Facebook). I'll copy names of all entrants, throw them into my 'proverbial hat', and do a drawing one week from tomorrow--JUNE 4!!!

Are you game? Well, then, come on--JOIN THE FUN! I love you all! Oh, oh, almost forgot--here's the cover of Hannah Grace:

2010-05-23T18:14:00.002-04:00

Okay, all you MILLIONS of peeps, here is the video you have ALL been asking me to make. (jk) WARNING: It's STUPID!

I am a total glutton for punishment I guess--that, and I have no compunctions about making an utter fool of myself. If you care to watch and be bored out of your mind, just give a click on the arrow.

"

2010-05-20T21:20:00.003-04:00

DEVASTATING NEWS!!!

I just learned today that my very best friend in all the world has cancer/lymphoma. Doctors discovered a mass behind her pancreas but were staying cautiously optimistic until the results of the biopsy came back, which was this afternoon. I was with her when the doctor came into the room. Of course, her family was there as well. We still don't know if this is stage 1, 2, 3, or 4 cancer, though, as they still have to do a bone marrow test and await the results of a chest x-ray to see if it has spread. Please join me in praying for my precious friend, Debbie Stinehart. No, she is not a member of SL. I've tried to talk her into joining, so maybe she will at some point. Anyway, I thought I would pass onto you a link at which you can get periodic updates if you like. Not totally sure I will be able to figure out how to make the link work on this blog, but I'm going to give it my best shot. If I'm successful, it would be wonderful if you would drop her a note of encouragement in her guest book. Thanks, everybody, and I love you all! Here is the link--I hope: CARING BRIDGE

2010-05-15T15:23:00.002-04:00
A Word To Those Who Love to Write!

AMERICAN CHRISTIAN FICTION CONFERENCE
9/17/10 -- 9/20/10

I wonder how many of you are out weeding gardens, enjoying the springtime sunshine, shopping, tackling indoor or outdoor jobs, or just plain reveling in a blissfully relaxing Saturday. I, for one, am working, as I didn't quite reach my Monday thru Friday writing goal. While sitting here doing a little research I ran across an ad for a writing conference somewhere in California, but that itself is not the point. What is the point is that in their attempt to attract conferees, they made this statement:

"What does the market really want? Reality check time: 50,000 or more in this country are struggling to write first novels. Thousands of manuscripts flood agent and editor offices, but only a few hundred at most will ever be published by a major house. In today's environment, you will face more obstacles than ever. An aspiring author attempting to write the breakout novel must not only create a high concept novel premise that rings with "ca-ching" but must avoid all the common pitfalls in title, hook, early character development, prose craft, and ongoing narrative composition. Sound complicated? Well, it is. Welcome to reality! Writers unable to fulfill the many and picky demands of discriminating agents and editors will be rejected every time, and usually within seconds after reading the first page (or even the first line--no kidding)."

I don't know how accurate the 50K figure is, but if it's true, and only a few hundred actually squeeze through the loopholes and jump the hoops to make it into the publishing industry then no wonder there are so many discouraged writers. (By the way, this conference wasn't a Christian writers' conference—although it would be open to all genres.) Here's the thing, though, let's not limit God and His incredible plans for helping you jump those mountainous hurdles. It's EASY PEASY to give the Enemy a second to whisper in your ear, "You're no good, you have no talent. You don't have what it takes. You can't write near as well as so and so. Who are you fooling by calling yourself a writer?" Etc., etc. Words such as these do NOT come from the Creator, so when you "hear" them, take heed. God doesn't use negative talk!

I say that to say this: yes, writing is hard work, time consuming, challenging, heartrending, and sometimes exhausting, but if your passion for it runs hot, you have a GIFT—and you need to keep plugging, perfecting, and honing. One way to do that is to sign up for the ACFW conference in Indianapolis this September. Beg, borrow, steal (no, don't steal) if you have to, but get there! If you've never been, then you'll be pleasantly surprised and downright amazed by the wide range of classes offered to help you on your journey. This is not just any writer's conference, it's a Christ-centered, God-ordained meeting place where you will rub shoulders with the best of the best as well as beginners. Everyone meets on equal ground, and everyone loves you right where you are. COME! LEARN! PRAY! WORSHIP!

2010-05-11T19:28:00.004-04:00

"The TEN-YEAR Good-bye"...

This is a picture of my mom holding my first grandson 4 years ago. She was almost 93-years-old in this photo and already into her 6th year of diagnosed Alzheimer's Disease. First of all, let me say that Alzheimer's is an ugly, horrendous, disgusting ailment that robs one of his/her dignity not to mention brain cells. (We spent ten years preparing ourselves for Mom's end. Heartrending.) Every living, breathing brain cell eventually gives in to this debilitating disease, and if something doesn't take its victim before the disease does, it will be the Alzheimer's that finally steals away that last breath--because the brain will finally run out of power to tell the vital organs what to do. Sorry for the disarming start to this blog.
The good news is this: WE SERVE A RISEN SAVIOR, and MY MOM KNEW HIM WELL! She is with Him now, in fact, as of January 28 and in two days (the 12th), she'll spend her 97th birthday with Jesus, my dad, her parents, two sisters, and a host of other loved ones gone before. What a reunion!
As Mother's Day came and went this year, I thought a great deal about my beloved mother and, ironically, on her birthday my sis-in-law and I are going to finish cleaning her house and preparing it for a realtor's walk-through. Surprisingly, I am not troubled by this. I'm dreading it, yes, only because I know the job will be overwhelming, but I'm not sad about walking into her house because I know she's enjoying a brand new home, one beyond our wildest, most vivid imaginations.
We live in temporary bodies, my sweet friends, and every time I look in the mirror to find another spot or wrinkle on my face I'm reminded all the more of that fact. This skin that holds our frail shells together will one day succumb to death (don't mean to be morbid here), and we will ALL go to one of two places.
Let me just say this: nothing on earth holds more value than making sure we've secured our eternal vacation in Heaven.

Have you made your reservations?

2010-04-29T22:36:00.003-04:00

OH, MY WORD! IT'S AVAILABLE FOR 'PRE-ORDER'!

Sometimes it feels like my life is traveling down a fast lane at about 99 mph, as things happen even before I realize or see them coming. For instance, I just now looked on Amazon.com and discovered my September release titled Tender Vow is already up for pre-order, and I never would have known it if I hadn't just "happened" to be checking on some stuff at Amazon! WOWZER-DOWZER! This is cool, but it also reminds me of my December 1 deadline for book one of my next series and how quickly that will descend upon me. Don't worry, I'm not letting life slip me by, not by any means. I'm actually having a BLAST serving the Lord and spreading the gospel through the written word. It's a dream come true for me.

Anyway, should you be interested in PRE-ORDERING Tender Vow and thereby receiving it before it hits store shelves (probably end of August), why, just go ahead and help yourself. You'll find it listed on my profile page, and all you have to do is click on the book, and it'll take you straight to Amazon.

I must say I'm rather geeked! Oh, and FYI, here's the brief synopsis of Tender Vow:

Michigan-born brothers John and Jason Evans take a ski trip to the Colorado Rockies, but only one comes home alive--John was tragically killed on a daring descent down Devil's Ridge, an infamously dangerous slope.

In an attempt to soothe his guilt and grief, Jason sets out to make amends with his widowed sister-in-law, Rachel, by offering to help with her two small children, doing odd jobs around her house, and trying to ease her own heavy burden of grief. A new Christian, he is bent on growing his faith and helping Rachel see her way through the fog of pain and confusion.

Left to raise her three-year-old daughter and newborn son on her own, Rachel Evans is anything but willing to become her brother-in-law's charity case, particularly since they have a history she'd rather forget. She's determined to make it on her own but soon finds that God has other plans for he--and for Jason.

Can she accept the Lord's leading and still honor her late husband's memory?

2010-04-27T21:40:00.003-04:00

I AM SUCH A DORKSTRESS! (Find out why...)

Cecil and I drove separately down to Wabash, Indiana early Sunday afternoon. (I had research to do for my next series set in Wabash 1926-'30.) About halfway to our destination, a 4-hour drive, this is what my brain kept telling my body: "HEY! It's time for your nap, don't you know that? It's SUNDAY! Close your eyes!" My body kept saying back, "No, no, it's wrong, I'm driving." It turned into somewhat of a battle, the eyes going hazy glazy then suddenly popping open as round as a plate.

I SHOULD have simply swallowed my pride, called Cecil who was a couple car-lengths ahead of me and just admitted that I needed to pull over for a half-hour nap, but I didn't. So, instead I started pinching myself, but apparently not hard enough. Next, I started hitting my legs, shoulders, arms, and the top of my head. I mean, I was giving myself some pretty good bops and punches. It TOTALLY woke me up! No kidding. I HURT MYSELF!!!!

Just then the phone rang. I fished for it in my purse, thinking one of my daughters might be calling. "What are you doing to yourself back there?" It was Cecil.

"Uh, what?"

"Are you tired or something? Do you need to pull over?"

"No, I'm fine. Okay, I was a little tired, but now I'm wide awake."

"I saw you hitting yourself all over the place."

Talk about embarrassed. It made me wonder who else saw me! In a second--once I convinced him I was perfectly fine and would call if I needed a break--we hung up. Just as soon as I hung up, though, I started laughing hysterically. I couldn't help it, I just kept thinking what that must have looked like from a rearview mirror. I had to call him right back and tell him that now I couldn't stop laughing. Cecil not only thinks I am a crazy woman, he KNOWS it!

I remained wide awake the rest of the trip, listened to the radio, talked to the Lord, enjoyed the ride.

Now, here's an interesting tidbit I learned while getting ready for bed that night. You can give yourself a giant bruise if you hit your thigh hard enough.

2010-04-23T20:46:00.002-04:00
PLEASE, TELL ME THIS ISN'T GOING TO BE ME SOMEDAY!

Three sisters, ages 92, 94 and 96, live in a house together. One night the 96-year-old draws a bath. She puts her foot in and pauses then yells to the other sisters, "Was I getting in or out of the bathtub?"

The 94-year-old yells back, "I don't know. I'll come up and see." She starts up the stairs then pauses and asks, "Sisters, was I going up the stairs or coming down?"

The 92-year-old is sitting at the kitchen table having tea, quietly listening. She shakes her head, sighs, and taps on the wood tabletop, thinking to herself, "My, I sure hope I never get that forgetful, knock on wood."

She then stands and yells to the other two, '"I'll be right up to help you two, but first I must see who's at the door."

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Two elderly ladies had been friends for many decades. Over the years they had shared all kinds of activities and adventures. Lately, their activities had been limited to meeting a few times a week to play cards or go out for lunch. One day, they were playing cards when one looked at the other and said, "Now, don't get mad at me for this. I mean we've known each other a long time, but here's the thing...I've thought and thought about this, but I just can't remember your name! Please, would you mind telling me your name?"

With crossed arms her friend glared at her for at least three minutes, her eyes turned to slits. After a long pause, she uncrossed her arms and said, "How soon do you need to know?"

2010-04-19T22:12:00.002-04:00

HEY!!! It's AVAILABLE! Here's a brief synopsis of my most recent release, the third and final installment in my Daughters of Jacob Kane series. Whoopie!

Abbie Ann Kane, the youngest of Jacob Kane's three daughters, is a busy woman. Between running the Whatnot, the family's general store, being active in the Women's Christian Temperance Union, and assisting the elderly citizens of Sandy Shores, Michigan, she has little time for frivolous matters. And those include matters of the heart. When the recently divorced Noah Carson comes to town with son Toby in tow to pursue a shipbuilding business, Abbie Ann tries to keep her distance, but as is often the case, God has other plans.

2010-04-12T20:40:00.003-04:00
OUT OF THE MOUTH OF MY FOUR-YEAR-OLD GRANDSON! (Funny...)

Kids are so hysterical, aren't they? Before Sunday dinner a few weeks ago, my three grandkids (ages four, two, and almost 2) were zooming around the coffee table, whooping and hollering, and generally making quite a racket. We adults were smiling and laughing at their antics, also wondering where they got all that energy. Suddenly, the oldest stopped dead in his tracks and shrieked, "Uh-oh! I gotta go potty."

"Well, okay, then, let's go to the bathroom," his mommy said, scooting off with him down the hall.

A few minutes later my daughter came back out quietly laughing to herself. "What's so funny?" I asked her.

She explained that when they got into the bathroom he was so excited over the game of 'race-around-the-coffee-table' that he'd decided she should start calling him Race Car.

"That's my new name, Mommy. Race Car," he exclaimed.

"Well, okay," she said. "Go potty, Mr. Race Car."

And so he did. Then, looking down at his "stream", he said, "And that there is my oil!"