This has been an exciting week for me. I finished edits for my next book, Amos Faces His Bully. Printed copies have been ordered and the book now appears online at Barnes and Noble and Amazon. This is my fourth children’s book, but the excitement of a new release never gets old.
Like my first book, Little Shepherd, this story places fictional characters into a Biblical setting. In Amos Faces His Bully, ten-year-old Amos learns from David’s battle against Goliath that God can help him face his bully too.
Last week I received this lovely photograph of a mama and her little one enjoying Snuggle Time Prayers. I love the way the baby is focused so intently on the pictures and listening as her mama reads. The fifteen prayers contained in this padded board book with titles such as: Goodnight God, Promises, Loving Others and Awesome God, teach little ones that God is always with us, always listening, and is always full of love. Continue reading
Compost is interesting stuff. You take old scraps, weeds, rotting debris and unwanted vegetable matter and pile them all in a heap. You can turn the pile over from time to time to speed up the process if desired, but even if you don’t, the decomposition will happen. The stuff sits there decaying and turns into this useful material, full of great nutrients for desirable plants, making them grow strong and healthy. Then you have food from those good plants to nourish yourself and share with others.
This may not seem very spiritual, but consider this.
I once heard someone say, “If it weren’t for weather, what would people talk about!” It’s really true, isn’t it? I think it’s because weather is one of those topics that provides comfortable conversation with good friends at lunch or total strangers in an elevator. We can complain about it or celebrate it; we can discuss it or explain it—but no matter the weather, it gives us something to talk about. Continue reading
You won’t miss what you never had.
The thought came, unbidden, as a dozen of us sat around the piano one Saturday night. It was the final evening of a writers conference and most of the conferees and faculty had left. United in sweet fellowship, this intimate gathering shared a love for a type of music rarely sung anymore.