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When Hope Died
Oh it was bleak Those days in between. When hope was dead. Not wounded or missing, ill or asleep but dead. Lamb followed freely to the execution tree And before their own eyes, hope breathed his last. Spear pierced in, evidence poured out Body was lowered, wrapped-up, entombed. Hope said it himself, with final exhale: It is finished. What was finished? Light? Life? Goodness? Hope? Darkness cackled, death crowed Evil cheered, despair rose. But sun set and sun rose. Sun set and sun rose. Sun set and sun rose. And then. And then what was hidden rushed forth What was humiliated became adored What was impossible came to be What…
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Little Did We Know
This is us four years ago. The autumn when my husband cashed in airline miles and booked a trip to visit friends in France without telling me, (which yes, is romantic, but also stress and argument inducing) and sold his blood–or plasma rather–to help pay for it. You might say we have a wee bit of a travel addiction, as proved by this picture. Taken in Italy because, I reasoned, if we’re going to be in Paris anyway, why wouldn’t we pounce on $80 roundtrip airfare to Verona? It would be a crime not to. Even if Verona would only be ours for a mere 48 hours. Even if our…
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Lights Please
For some of us, March madness has little to do with basketball and more to do with a mild and (hopefully) temporary insanity due to lack of sunlight. One grey day rolls into another. For weeks—or months—on end. Our souls grow grey while our skin grows paler. Where are you, O Sun? We need you. If we think hard enough, we remember you. Ever read Bradbury’s All Summer in a Day? I did in seventh grade English class and it’s haunted me ever since. It’s about a girl—Margot—who once lived on earth but now lives on another planet. She vaguely but longingly remembers this blazing sphere called the sun and…
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Birthday Giveaway
The Ground Beneath Us is one year old and you may be the recipient of a birthday gift! (keep reading 🙂 One of the greatest JOYS for me this past year has been meeting with readers. It’s always fascinating to discover which scenes resonated or angered or delighted. What brought you to tears, what made you laugh, what you liked, what you didn’t… Knowing that the story will not only live on in my imagination, but in many of yours as well, thrills me. Thank you for reading, thank you for telling your friends about ‘Ground’, thank you for stepping into the world in my head and spending time with my imaginary friends. For a…
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Half Used Notebooks
Crossing off items on the back to school supply list can provide a strange thrill. It feels delightfully proactive. Three boxes of two ply? Check! I know what’s expected of me. I can deliver. Except when it comes to notebooks. I struggle with notebooks. Every year. There they sit in the store, fresh and gleaming in their rainbow stacks. Tempting me to forget that twenty ba-jillion half used notebooks lurk in my house. All over the place. Someone please tell me, what am I supposed to do with these notebooks? Wide ruled, college ruled, solid, striped, sparkly, spiral-bond, composition style… I swear they get together and make the itty bitty…
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Hey Church, Take a Breath
Hey. Psst. Hey you. Yeah, you. You in front of Fox News. You with Sean Hannity droning in the background. Or maybe you with the Bernie bumper sticker on your fuel efficiency car or Love trumps Hate Hillary t-shirt. Take a breath. And let it out again. This political season is crazy and it’s only going to get crazier so you know what we shouldn’t do? Panic. We shouldn’t panic. That’s not going to help anyone. It’s not going to help your candidate win, or your nemesis lose, and it’s not going to sway your neighbor to your way of thinking. So let’s all calm down and count to ten.…
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Just Keep Writing, Writing, Writing
When it comes to writing, I’ve been in a literary desert. It’s been months since I’ve written anything beyond a grocery list or Facebook status and even though I’d like to think I left it all on the field to get The Ground Beneath Us finished and released last fall, that’s kind of a convenient excuse. It’s not writer’s block. I’m not out of ideas. In fact, my head feels too full which, I’ve found, can lead to a mental paralysis of sorts. What’s ink worthy, what’s not? What should I write about, what should I keep to myself? This has been a season of concentrated processing of all sorts…
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Transformation
It’s here. Finally. Snow. We’ve been waiting for it, expecting it, watching the skies and the weather reports—this is Wisconsin after all—and it’s come. It came in the night and transformed our yards, covered up any leftover leaf piles and our oddly green grass. All is changed. All looks new. All is covered over, fresh with promise. Transformation is beautiful. The snow is beautiful, at this moment, early in the morning, as I lounge on my couch and write. I love the snow, from inside. I love the idea of snow. But later, when I step outside to shovel or scrap off the car, or when the kids and the…
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Let the Art Breathe
Today I’m honored to be guest blogging over at Novel Rocket. Before Mother of My Son was published, I entered it Novel Rocket’s (then Novel Journey) contest for aspiring novelist and it won in the Contemporary Women’s category. Total morale boost for a wanna-be novelist. Thank you Novel Rocket for all of your encouragement! Once upon a time there was no such thing as Christian fiction. There were only novels. Some referred to God, some even mentioned Jesus, and some did not. Then one day a line was drawn. Christian fiction was demoted to an itty-bitty shelf in a mainstream bookstore, or ended up in its very own Christian bookstore……
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Letting it Go
It’s here. My latest novel. And I’m quite excited and somewhat relieved and a little terrified because now it’s out. The work is done. No more tweaking. No more hunting for that perfect verb. All the verbs are in place and the nouns too and the sparingly yet enhancing (hopefully) adverbs and adjectives. My characters are all in place, like actors on a stage, poised to tell– show–a story. Ready for you, reader, to run your eyes across page, freeing them to live in your imagination. It’s a tad bittersweet, for me. A goodbye of sorts. Goodbye characters. Goodbye Holly and John and Seth and Annalisa. I love you even…
