Sunday, May 15, 2011

Dark Secrets, or Just a Simple Question of What Street Did You Live On?

In the past I've revealed my mother's family's dark secret--that her grandfather was a harsh man who never mourned his children he had put into harm's way. He drove his wife to shamefully filing for divorce at the turn of the century by his cruelty to her. That wasn't a common occurrence where the woman left the man and divorced him. One other daughter was committed to one of the first mental institutions after the death of her brother and sister and her father's cruelty. These mental institutions sprang up after Dorothea Dix fought for better care for the mentally ill.
My Pierson family at the turn of the century, my Grandfather Aaron is on the back row
Here (above) is the official family portrait of a hardworking farm family and it is missing a couple people--Oscar, who died in the barn fire, and Esther who died when she was overworked by her father by lifting pails of sand from the well. She died from a ruptured spleen the next day. The one lone son on the back row is my grandfather, Aaron. The daughter who would have a breakdown not long after this, Ellen, is directly behind her father. The portrait even looks as if there are missing people.

I have a similar photo of my grandmother's family. These long ago photographs are posed, and they would have to hold still for a while. They were directed not to smile, but still, there is a stark contrast in the two families. In the Pierson portrait, when I study their faces, knowing what their family was going through, I see pain and sadness. Maybe bitterness. (Above.)

My Thompson family in Minnesota,Grandmother Anna is the tow-headed girl on the front row. Aunt Mina, a storyteller and writer, is the oldest daughter on the back row.
I have been told lots of sad stories from my grandmother's side, too, but they were a happy,faith-filled, giving family with many people bearing witness to their many kindnesses to people--with even many stories of kindness/neighborliness to the Indians on a nearby reservation,(the people who were despised by many at the time, especially local people who remembered the uprisings.) Look at my great-grandfather's face, Bernt Thompson. (He the one with sparkling, friendly eyes on the front row.) I want to know him immediately. I wish I had known him.

The smallest child, and only tow-headed blonde in this family, is my grandmother, Anna Thompson, who was "stolen" for a day by the local Chippewa medicine man, Mickinock, when she was just a few days old. He said wanted to show his friend's blonde-headed baby off to his people. Notice how her mother lovingly cradles her hand and leans in. This was the family who helped young Aaron Pierson (my grandfather) when his first wife died.

These are the people, the Thompsons, who tucked Aaron from the first portrait safely into their family and cared for his five children, as he struggled to hang onto his farm in those mournful days after his first wife's death. And their youngest daughter, Anna, two years later, is whom he fell in love with, married, had five more children with, and cherished, until her dying day. My mother was only five-years-old when Anna died from tuberculosis. But before that happened, Anna allowed Aaron's children from his first marriage to name their youngest daughter, who was my mother. They picked their dead baby sister's name, Lillian Arlene. My mother would say (with a smile) later that it was tough, or maybe just strange, to see her own name on that baby's tombstone.Technically, my grandfather's first wife named my mother! But bonds were made this way.

What stories are being told in your family? In our family we love to tell stories. We laugh about the funny things that have happened, and miss the people who are gone. My kids know about great-grandfather Aaron and the wolf thrown over his shoulder, the time the bull charged him and he flipped him over his head, and a whole bunch of stories displaying his sense of humor.  It is important for us to tell stories. It is the best gift you can give to those around you.

Maybe you are grasping for hope right now. Maybe you are like Aaron, bitter and angry at someone in your family, mourning someone lost. Many of Aaron's sisters died, he blamed himself for his brother Oscar's death because he was gone that day, his first wife died from a tubular pregnancy just a year after they had lost a baby. He was left alone with five small children in harsh Minnesota. 

Just when he was desperate and didn't know what to do with his children, along came the Thompsons to help their brother in Christ and neighbor. Did Aaron pray to God to help him? I think he probably did, as he was known as a man of God in his church and community. I have his English Bible a well-worn book (He was Swedish, but insisted on learning English.) I'm sure things seemed pretty desperate before they got better.

You have to tell your stories. Garrison Keillor says,"We need to write, otherwise nobody will know who we are." If someone had not written down these stories that passed on to me (Aunt Mina,) and if my mother had not told the stories to me as a small child,maybe I would've never known.

I wouldn't know that I came from people who came through hard times, and could go on. These are more precious to me than anything and it helps me to know that God has a plan if we only open our hearts to Him. If you don't know your ancestors' stories, that is ok. Tell YOUR stories, the things that you have come through, the things that make you smile and cry, the pain mixed with the pleasures and joy.

Most of my own stories are set in rural and small town Indiana. While my mother's people came from Sweden/Norway/Maine/Minnesota, were Lutheran and Seventh Day Adventist, and my dad's people came from England/Ireland/Scotland/Virginia/North Carolina/Tennessee and were Southern Baptist and Cherokee, my parents met in Indiana and that's where I met my husband and we had our four boys.

Your story could've started in one place and ended up in another. It doesn't matter. Write down some of that story today. My mother and dad have been dead for over ten years now and there are still questions hanging that I didn't ask. Make a list of questions you want to ask and then ask--before it's forgotten and hard to track down.

The Millers, (their dad took the photo) a few years back, on their great-grandparents/grandparents porch in Indiana



Don't forget to to stop by The Barn Door, where I am also a contributor.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Win One for the Gipper

I'm posting today over at Hoosier Ink, THE official blog of the ACFW Indiana Chapter. Go over and check out the many great writers there.


Who is your most inspiring writing coach and what's the hardest lesson he/she's taught you on the field? 



Ellie Kay once asked this question and it was tough question and memory-producer by the sheer act of posing a question. Most inspiring? Sigh. Many inspiring coaches. Hardest lesson?? Ack! Who wants to recall the “agony of defeat?” But that comes along with “the thrill of victory” (you have to be old to know where I got all of these quotes…)

I’ve played sports most of my life. Not very well, mind you, and I’ve also coached teams (and was paid.) I coached one team that won the girls' city track and field championships. One of my girls I worked with in physical education classes later went on be a state HS and college women’s standout in basketball. (But she was good, and all I did was encourage her, even though I teased it was all of those basketball scrimmages I played with her.) 

I have my favorite teams and sports to watch and play, and get this, I wanted to be a sports newspaper writer when I graduated from college. In fact in high school I was the sports editor—the first female sports editor—of my high school newspaper, The Clan Courier. It was my sports writing that won me a journalism scholarship to Ball State University.

I also wrote the copy for a two page-sports spread in our high school yearbook. It was all about girls getting into organized sports, something that was new to our high school and the state, and about sweating. So, when you think of a coach, you might think I would say my best coach was some sports coach I had.

I can name one coach in sports who motivated and inspired me. But this question was about my best coaches in writing, and I have two standouts in this field who coached me and taught me the tough lessons. They taught me to pick my mouse up, get my fingers back on the keyboard, rewrite, and go on (wiping all that blood off the monitor.)The hardest fought and learned lessons for me seem to be echoed in the words from a golf coach: “Wipe the blood off--and continue.” Didn’t know golf could be bloody, huh? Well, yeah, even golf can leave a scar.

Dr. Dennis E. Hensley was my first official writing coach, when at age 40 I decided I wanted to try writing again and get back into the game professionally. He not only taught us about writing, but made us critique in the circle of doom with our classmates. (Ooooo. Scary. Ask Diann Hunt about it.) He also made us submit our work for publication as part of the class assignments (professional writing course.) It is one thing to turn in a paper for a grade, but it is quite an experience submitting your work to an editor. And critique is tough, but Doc taught me how to take critique. And from whom to take it, which is just as important.

Fiction is my first love and that was my first class with “Doc.” We experimented with all sorts of fiction assignments, and in one assignment, it wasn’t in the classroom where I got my first major critique, but on a break in the hallway early on in the semester course. On that now-burned-into-my-emotional-memory-banks evening, I chatted with classmates trying to get to know them in the 7th-inning stretch of the class. I got a drink of water from the fountain, and was strolling back to the classroom, when Doc stopped me in the hallway. He moved into my “personal space” and came within inches of my face.

Now, I had heard all kinds of stories about Doc Hensley. One was that he hated it if you were late, and would lock you out of the class. Another was that he had fought in and survived Vietnam. So, here he was within inches of my face, and all I had at that point were hearsays about him. It was a tense moment--wannabe writer eyeball-to-eyeball with the legendary Doc Hensley. I decided to stand my ground and not move. Good grief, I had survived worse, I reasoned in my mind. Being raised up with boys, having my own 4 boys and marrying into a family with mostly males, being the first female sports editor, first female on an all-male school board...plus, being a trapshooter, when it was still male-dominated, amongst other heinous acts of survival. I had learned to never give up an inch of ground when confronted.

“I haaaaate you," he said. Yeah. Right in my face. I'm sure I blinked.

Whoa.

Well, I couldn’t help it, even though I hesitated a second. I laughed. Right out loud.

“Ok, Dr. Hensley…why do you hate me--exactly?” I thought I saw a glint of humor in his eye.

“For what you did to me in that story. You tricked me.”

I was thrilled. He actually knew my story and that I wrote it! I didn’t even think he knew my name. But he sure knew my story.

“What do you think I should do differently?”

And so he coached me through what was wrong. He showed me how I could do it right, and he let me rewrite. And I did it again until he, as the reader/editor, was satisfied with it. I learned a lot about critique in that first personal reader confrontation.

A good coach not only makes you get up again, but makes you do it right. He finds a way to jolt you into reality and then, makes you do it again until you can do it. It’s not enough to just tell you something is wrong. It’s not enough to make you do it over and over, or punish you, because you could just be repeating the same wrong move again and again. A good coach MOTIVATES you to do it beyond of which you even think you are capable. 

Since that early meeting on the playing field with Doc Hensley, I have learned so many things from him in writing and perseverence. But that first shock and awe of meeting face-to-face and toe-to-toe with one of the best coaches I’ve ever had was memorable—and we laugh about it even years later.

I really cannot leave this question without acknowledging another coach who has taught me many lessons in writing, and some really tough lessons, too. Terry Whalin was one of the first editors I ever "faced" at a writer's conference. I had written a few articles and had a nonfiction women's humor book I was hoping to sell. That manuscript met with a lot of rejections, but not so much because it was bad, as I didn't have the credentials or the platform from which to write it. 

Essentially, Terry Whalin was the first to sit me down on the bench. Even though he rejected the manuscript,he's not the kind of editor, writer, teacher, coach who leaves writers without good, solid advice and plenty of encouragement to continue on.Get back in the game, Crystal!

Most importantly, he taught me that just because an editor rejects your work, (pretty hard lesson, even for the toughest among us,)this doesn't mean that's the end of the road for either the editor/writer relationship, or the manuscript.

Years later he encouraged me to break up that rejected manuscript into articles, other types of pieces, and send it out some more, and that was after I'd placed it into some long-ago-pushed-to-the-back file. Because I continued to listen to editors and their comments, and even an agent who rejected me (on that same manuscript,) I still have relationships with these people and have even done work for them. That is mostly due to Terry Whalin, who continues to ask about my writing and to encourage my work. (And I'm not the only one by a long shot.)

These people and so many more now, show me how to deal with rejection and losses and how important relationships are.  

Never give up. Keep knocking on doors. Onward

Writing is a very tough business. Even the best need help with their manuscripts, and even the most published continue to get rejections. I know this now.

These two coaches are effective in their coaching because they've been through almost every kind of playing situation that can be thrown at a writer. And what makes their coaching inspirational is that they care about the players (writers)and know how to motivate and teach. 

While they aren't afraid to call a player out and deal with him, they also care about the player so much that they push him to the best that he can be. That's what your next editor, or if you're looking for an agent, the next agent who reads your proposal can be. Or maybe it will be that published author who takes interest in your work or a really good critique partner.

Tough lessons. Tough coaches. I count many now among my friends, and as well as count them as my mentors.

So, who is your most inspiring coach, and what hard lesson did he/she teach you?

Sunday, May 08, 2011

Pearl Girls™ : Each Life is Unique by Lucinda Secrest McDowell

Welcome to Pearl Girls Mother of Pearl Mother's Day blog series. The series is week long celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today's best writer's (Tricia Goyer, Megan Alexander, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Beth Engelman, Holley Gerth, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, and more). I hope you'll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother's Day.

AND ... do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful hand crafted pearl necklace. To enter, just {CLICK THIS LINK} and fill out the short form. Contest runs 5/1-5/8 and the winner will on 5/11. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents.

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

And to all you MOMS out there! Happy Mother's Day!

Each Life is Unique by Lucinda Secrest McDowell

“God’s divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of Him who called us by His own glory and goodness. II Peter 1.3 (NIV)

Moms, God wants you to know that He has given you everything you need for life --- your unique life. He does not plan to give you what you might need to live the life of your best friend, or your neighbor, or even your favorite mother-model. No, God has called you to the life that He planned. I suspect that for most of us, it didn’t turn out to be the life we thought it might be… so long ago when we were young and dreaming of ‘growing up.’

On Mother’s Day I often recall my own dreams to one day be a mother. I grew up playing with dolls and looking to my own Mama as a model for that particular role in life. However, by the time I reached my thirties I was still not a mother! God did, however, have a plan. It just wasn’t what I imagined.

My own unique life would find me becoming a mother through the adoption of my first three children who were ages 9, 7 and 4; and then much later giving birth to our fourth child. Of course I was shocked when God revealed this to me, but I was ecstatic as well. It’s as though I could hear Him saying, “Well, you’re not getting any younger so I’m just going to just give you a jump start with three at one time!”

A huge blessing! A huge adjustment! A joy and a struggle. Change is often like that, isn’t it? We finally get what we want then we have to deal with it. May I just offer a bit of advice if you just got a great answer to prayer, but perhaps not in the way or form you imagined? Just receive it. Embrace it. And be willing to move forward into a new paradigm for your life. So what if you’re not like all the other mothers you know? So what if you’re not like your own mother? So what if your family unit is different? I guarantee God has a plan.

Not only did he want me to embrace my own story, but He called me as a mother to do perhaps one of the most important tasks of all --- to nurture my children to live their own unique lives. Not for me to try and squeeze them into what I hoped and dreamed they would be. Not for me to try and live my life through them. But to recognize how God made them, gifted them, and called them to their own special place.

All of my 4 kids are different from one another. Let’s take sports, for instance: I have one child who wins gold medals in international tennis competition, one who is a born equestrian, another who competes nationally in obstacle course shooting matches, and yet another who manages to dance onstage in 3 inch heels, do cartwheels and splits while singing at the same time. Now, honestly, I do none of these things. And yet they do.

I don’t remember placing my order with God for these things.  But I do remember when that tennis player turned 9 years old and I enrolled him in Special Olympics for the first time and how it changed his life… and ours. I remember getting a counselor job at an exclusive summer camp so that my daughter could take English riding classes. I remember being a Cub Scout leader (even though I knew nothing about boys) so that son could one day become an Eagle scout and pursue his love of the great outdoors. And yes, I remember enrolling my preschooler in dance lessons. Later when all the little girls were scared to go on stage for the recital, she exclaimed that she had endured a whole year of lessons just so she could go on stage.

Don’t compare yourself to someone else. And don’t live vicariously through your favorite reality show star. Live your own story. And Moms, raise your kids to embrace the unique life God has for them.
Remember, He has given us everything we need for life!

Lucinda Secrest McDowell, a graduate of Gordon-Conwell Seminary, is the author of 10 books including “Role of a Lifetime,” “Amazed by Grace,” “Spa for the Soul” and the new Bible Study “Fit and Healthy Summer.” She is an international conference speaker and enjoys being a Pearl Girl from “Sunnyside” – her home in a New England village. Visit Cindy at www.EncouragingWords.net

Saturday, May 07, 2011

Pearl Girls™ : What is a Grandmother? by Suzanne Woods Fisher

Welcome to Pearl Girls Mother of Pearl Mother's Day blog series. The series is week long celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today's best writer's (Tricia Goyer, Megan Alexander, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Beth Engelman, Holley Gerth, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, and more). I hope you'll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother's Day.

AND ... do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful hand crafted pearl necklace. To enter, just {CLICK THIS LINK} and fill out the short form. Contest runs 5/1-5/8 and the winner will on 5/11. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents.

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

And to all you MOMS out there! Happy Mother's Day!

What is a Grandmother? by Suzanne Woods Fisher

“A grandmother is a little bit parent, a little bit teacher, and a little bit best friend.”
 Amish proverb

I arrived late in the night in Rhode Island, anxious to meet my two-day-old grandson, Blake, after a full day of flying. My daughter and son-in-law had just returned home from the hospital and felt like they had been in a train wreck. There was stuff everywhere.  Already, the needs of this little eight-pound bundle of joy were enormous: an all-terrain stroller, plenty of diapers, onesies, spit-up rags, an assortment of pacifiers to try out until he found the ideal one.

And he was perfect.

I know, I know. “Every mother crow thinks her own little crow is the blackest.” But this little dark eyed, dark haired boy really was perfect.

I spent the next seven days (and nights) getting to know this little guy. His schedule (he had none), his hunger cries (very similar to his every other cry). His pirate look--one eye open, one eye squeezed shut, as if he was still surprised by all that had taken place to him in a week’s time.

I felt surprised, too. How could my baby possibly have had a baby? How could I be a grandmother? I had just turned fifty-one. Shockingly young! How could a kid like me give up playing tennis three times a week to settle into knitting and crocheting and Friday night bingo? And shouldn’t I alter my appearance to fit this new label? Give up my jeans? Switch over to below knee-length calico dresses, thick black socks, practical shoes, gray hair pinned in a topknot. Think…Aunt Bee on Mayberry R.F.D.

As soon as people knew my daughter was expecting, I was bombarded with advice from my well meaning friends—even those who weren’t yet grandparents. “The best way to avoid getting on the nerves of your daughter and son-in-law is to not say anything. Ever.” Or “You’d better pick your nickname or you’ll be stuck with something hideous, like MooMoo Cow.” 

What should I be called? Granny? No…reminded me of The Beverly Hillbillies. Grandma? No…sounded like The Waltons. Grammy? No…it was already taken by the in-laws.

But no one really explained what it meant to be a grandmother. I didn’t know myself, not until I held baby Blake in my arms. In that moment, I realized that he was one of mine. He belongs to me. He will be on my mind and in my prayers, every day, for the rest of my life. There’s a bond between us that can’t be broken. He has altered my life forevermore.

I had become a grandmother. 

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

Friday, May 06, 2011

Pearl Girls™ : When Mother's Day is Difficult by Holley Gerth

Welcome to Pearl Girls Mother of Pearl Mother's Day blog series. The series is week long celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today's best writer's (Tricia Goyer, Megan Alexander, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Beth Engelman, Holley Gerth, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, and more). I hope you'll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother's Day.

AND ... do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful hand crafted pearl necklace. To enter, just {CLICK THIS LINK} and fill out the short form. Contest runs 5/1-5/8 and the winner will on 5/11. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents.

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

And to all you MOMS out there! Happy Mother's Day!

When Mother's Day is Difficult by Holley Gerth

I have a confession (anyone surprised?). I have mixed feelings about Mother’s Day.

On one hand, I love celebrating all the women who have made a difference in my life (thanks, Mom!).

On the other hand, a long journey of infertility has left my heart with some tender places.

On May 8th, we’ll celebrate Mother’s Day once again. For many, it’s a time of appreciation and joy. For others, it can be one of the most difficult days of the year. This is often true for women facing infertility, families who have recently experienced the loss of a mother, and many other painful situations.

At one point in my life it seemed as if I couldn’t take another step. In addition to infertility, I was facing several other losses. I felt as if I were in a dark cave. But then I sensed the Lord gently and lovingly speak to my heart, “You may be in a cave, but you still have a choice. You can sit in despair or you can diamond-mine your difficulties.” I decided I was not leaving that time in my life empty-handed. I was taking every hidden blessing I could find. Of course, I still had difficult days. But choosing hope made a difference.

As a reminder, I now wear two rings. The one on the fourth finger of my left hand represents my commitment to my husband. The one on the fourth finger of my right hand is a simple silver band inscribed with the word “hope” and it represents the commitment I have made to God and myself to hold onto hope no matter what happens.

The story of an inspiring woman named Terrie also reminds me to hold onto hope. She endured the loss of four pregnancies and waited seventeen years before adopting a little girl. She told me, “I think one of the most important parts of this journey is learning to trust God. I don’t mean the flippant kind of trust. It’s easy for people to say, ‘You just need to trust God.’ It’s much harder when you’re in the middle of all this pain. But he is trustworthy. Through it all, God has given us an amazing story. I wouldn’t have chosen this road, but he has been with us. I can look back and truly say every step was worth it.”

I don’t know how my journey will end and you probably don’t know how yours will either. I also don’t know how many of you will be silently grieving your losses as we sit in church together on May 8th. But I do know that God sees each one of us. He knows how many hairs are on our heads and how many cares our in our hearts. Whatever you’re going through this Mother’s Day, you’re not facing it alone. As King David, a man who experienced many losses in his life, expressed in Psalm 34:18 NIV, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” May God surround you with love, fill you with hope, and give you strength for each moment—especially this Mother’s Day.

Excerpted from When Mother’s Day is Difficult.

Holley Gerth is an award-winning writer for DaySpring, a cofounder of the popular web site (in)courage, and licensed counselor. Holley loves chocolate, coffee, Jesus and connecting with the hearts of women through words. Her next book, a devotional titled God's Heart for You: Embracing Your True Worth as a Woman (Harvest House) will release this July. You can find Holley online through her blog Heart to Heart with Holley.

Thursday, May 05, 2011

Pearl Girls™ : A Mother's Day Wish by Shellie Rushing Tomlinson

Welcome to Pearl Girls Mother of Pearl Mother's Day blog series. The series is week long celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today's best writer's (Tricia Goyer, Megan Alexander, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Beth Engelman, Holley Gerth, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, and more). I hope you'll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother's Day.

AND ... do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful hand crafted pearl necklace. To enter, just {CLICK THIS LINK} and fill out the short form. Contest runs 5/1-5/8 and the winner will on 5/11. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents.

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

And to all you MOMS out there! Happy Mother's Day!

A Mother's Day Wish by Shellie Rushing Tomlinson

Heads up: Margaret McSweeney deserves a medal, or at least a commendation for giving everyone a much deserved Mother’s Day rest. Okay, y’all can be seated. I’m glad you agree, but you’re supposed to be taking a load off, remember? Oh, and full disclosure—Margaret didn’t know I was going to say that so I hope she leaves it in, and no, I didn’t do it just because I’m ridiculously nostalgic about the theme of her community, although I am. As the Belle of All Things Southern, one who is southern to the bone, I have a thing about pearls.

When I was a teenager, add-a-pearl necklaces were all the rage. They may not be as wildly popular anymore as they were back in the day but I still say they’ll always be a classic concept: a gift of a single pearl on a dainty chain given with the intentions of adding other pearls on important holidays and special occasions. Today, I see add-a-pearls as a beautiful reminder of the accumulated wisdom we learn from our mamas.  Oh, sure, we snicker as young girls because not all of their advice strikes us as useful and some of it seems positively fossilized, but hopefully, over time and with the Father’s blessing, we gain enough perspective to see that these mama-isms—the important values and the silly little lagniappe— are all increasing in value with the years.  By the way, that’s my Mother’s Day wish for each of you, that we’d each take the time and the responsibility to thread these precious heirlooms into treasures worthy of bequeathing to the next generation. Mother’s Day...

May I be honest? I’m looking ahead to the annual celebration with somewhat mixed emotions. I’m not feeling very Mother of the Year. Instead of cooking dinner for my most deserving mama and enjoying her company, instead of reveling in the love of my husband, kids, and grands, (known as the Baby Czars of All Things Southern), I’ll be on the road, touring with my latest book “Sue Ellen’s Girl Ain’t Fat, She Just Weighs Heavy.” I’ve got Mama’s gift bought, wrapped, and ready to be delivered by my beloved hubby, and my grown kids understand that I didn’t choose the release date, but the facts remain:  I won’t be there. (Shameless plugs time, anyone? My daughter blogs at Kitchen Belleicious and is raising funds to build an orphanage in Rwanda at Shelter a Child http://www.shelterachild.com/ and my daughter-in-law celebrates the daily details of getting to know the Holy One at Providence, http://providence-carey.blogspot.com). I won’t get to enjoy Mama tickling the ivory from the piano bench of Melbourne Baptist Church and I won’t be overdosing on baby sugah. Sigh.

But, then, I mentioned mixed emotions earlier, didn’t I? Well, before some sweet soul cues the violin music, perhaps I should lighten up and come clean on what Mr. Harvey would call “the rest of the story.”  It so happens that while the 8th of May will find me miles from home, it’ll also find me in Savannah, Georgia where I’ve secured myself a little reservation at that famous establishment belonging to Mrs. Paula Deen, the Queen of Southern Cooking. Indeed, y’all, I’ll be suffering for Jesus at The Lady and Sons. I know. It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.

Regardless of where you spend it, I wish you each a Happy Mother’s Day. I’d love to think that everyone reading my words had a mother like mine, a woman of faith who taught me from childhood of the Risen Savior who saves souls and anchors lives. But, dear reader, if that’s not your past, I hope you know it can be your future. I pray you’ll be the one that begins such a legacy, and that you’ll be moved to start building that heritage today.

I’d love to see y’all on the road somewhere. Watch for me, and I’ll watch for you. I’ll be the one with an empty glass of sweet tea looking, always looking, for a refill.

Hugs,
Shellie

Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, known as the Belle of All Things Southern is a radio host, columnist, author, speaker and founder of the All Things Southern online community, www.allthingssouthern.com. She loves meeting, greeting, laughing and learning with the whole wide world or as many who wander her way. Shellie once dreamed of writing great important things that changed the world, only once she started writing the world grinned and christened her a humorist. Shellie saw this as a problem at first, until she discovered that the laughter softens hearts, builds relationships, and invites her into people’s hurting hearts where she can share her own, which is exactly where she wanted to be all along. Look for Shellie’s latest book, Sue Ellen’s Girl Ain’t Fat, She Just Weighs Heavy wherever fine books are sold.

Wednesday, May 04, 2011

Pearl Girls™ :Adoption, a Mother's Greatest Gift by Tricia Goyer

Welcome to Pearl Girls Mother of Pearl Mother's Day blog series. The series is week long celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today's best writer's (Tricia Goyer, Megan Alexander, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Beth Engelman, Holley Gerth, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, and more). I hope you'll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother's Day.

AND ... do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful hand crafted pearl necklace. To enter, just {CLICK THIS LINK} and fill out the short form. Contest runs 5/1-5/8 and the winner will on 5/11. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents.

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

And to all you MOMS out there! Happy Mother's Day!

Adoption, a Mother's Greatest Gift by Tricia Goyer

I held the small baby in my arms, wrapped up in a receiving blanket to keep her warm from the chill of the delivery room, and a voice spoke to me. "Congratulations, Mom."

The congratulations came from an unlikely source--the grandmother of this child, the mother of the sweet birth mother who chose adoption for her baby girl.

To say I was overwhelmed is an understatement. Thankfulness filled my heart--to God who'd answered my prayers and to the birth mom who'd chosen our family for her daughter. I also ached that my joy would be another's heartache. Working with teen moms for ten years, I was often an advocate for the young mother. I knew that while the weeks and months ahead would be a time of celebration for our family, they would be ones of heartache and grieving for this woman.

Adoption is a wonder and the beauty, and the sacrifice of it is never so clear as on Mother's Day. My new daughter is one-years-old now and she huge is a part of my heart. Her life is a gift to my days and her smile can make even the most dreary afternoon bright. I can honestly say there is no difference in the love I feel between her and my three other children. If anything the love feels even more special because she was an unexpected gift. John and I learned about her life just 2 ½ months prior to her being born. The years of prayers to expand our family were answered quickly and beautifully.

The sacrifice of adoption makes my heart ache, for I know on this Mother's Day another woman will be thinking about my daughter—her daughter. As I rejoice, I'll be crying tears for her. I'll also be sending up prayers that God will wrap His arms around her in a special way.

This Mother's Day I cannot help to think about Christ's sacrifice to make our adoption into God's family possible. Maybe it's because just a few weeks ago we were celebrating Easter, but I'm reminded anew that my gain required His loss, His pain. The greatest love, it seems, is not shown with flowers, chocolate or a diamond bracelet. The greatest love is shown when, because of your love for another, your desires and comfort are laid down for the greater good of someone else.

As Ephesians 1:3 says, “How blessed is God! And what a blessing he is! He's the Father of our Master, Jesus Christ, and takes us to the high places of blessing in him. Long before he laid down earth's foundations, he had us in mind, had settled on us as the focus of his love, to be made whole and holy by his love. Long, long ago he decided to adopt us into his family through Jesus Christ. (What pleasure he took in planning this!) He wanted us to enter into the celebration of his lavish gift-giving by the hand of his beloved Son” (The Message).

Perhaps you know an adoptive mother. Take time this Mother's Day to let her know that the beauty of her gift is not missed by you. Also, take time to thank God for adopting you into His forever family, thanking Jesus Christ for His sacrifice. I wouldn't be the mother I am without this Gift of Love.

Tricia Goyer is the author of twenty-six books including Beside Still Waters, The Swiss Courier, and the mommy memoir, Blue Like Play Dough. She won Historical Novel of the Year in 2005 and 2006 from ACFW, and was honored with the Writer of the Year award from Mt. Hermon Writer's Conference in 2003. Tricia's book Life Interrupted was a finalist for the Gold Medallion in 2005. In addition to her novels, Tricia writes non-fiction books and magazine articles for publications like MomSense and Thriving Family. Tricia is a regular speaker at conventions and conferences, and has been a workshop presenter at the MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) International Conventions. She and her family make their home in Little Rock, Arkansas where they are part of the ministry of FamilyLife. www.triciagoyer.com

Tuesday, May 03, 2011

Mother's Day Calling: The Story Behind Christine Lindsay's Shadowed in Silk

Shadowed in Silk by Christine Lindsay (Book cover photo shoot with Birthdaughter, Sarah)
I am deeply honored to announce the release of the ebook, Shadowed in Silk by Christine Lindsay. If you prefer the print book, it will be released later this year (set for September 1st,) but if you cannot wait for this sweeping story of love, honor and revolution, then do get the ebook!  
Because I have known Christine since early in her writing journey, I know her writing, yes, but I also have learned of her heart and the stories she has in her life that give such depth and rich characterizations to what she writes. I asked her some questions so you, my friends, could also know more about the heart of Christine Lindsay. 
Christine shares about how she first felt the call to write not long after reuniting with her birthdaughter, Sarah. (This also plays into the cover art of Christine's book, Shadowed in Silk.)
Let's read about Christine:
Author Christine Lindsay


Character Abby Fraser from Shadowed in Silk (Christine's birthdaughter, Sarah)

 Crystal: Tell us a little about the journey of this particular book. What kinds of God-incidences happened and why is this book, besides being your debut, extra special?: 


Christine : The call to write came to me about 12 years ago after I was reunited with my birthdaughter, Sarah. She was my first child, and I had relinquished her to adoption when she was 3 days old. Sarah was 20 when we reunited. God had been so kind to me after I gave up Sarah. He brought the most wonderful man into my life, and blessed my empty arms with 3 more children--kids that I could keep for my very own. 

But after my reunion with Sarah I began to relive the original loss of giving her up. The Lord very clearly told me to write out my pain, and after a while Sarah became the muse for my fictional writing. But the journey to grow close to my birthdaughter, and to becoming published was a long and difficult road. 

Each time I thought of giving up though, God would do something to encourage me, not only in my growing relationship with Sarah, but also in my writing. He sent fantastic writing mentors  to me, like Crystal Miller, whom I dearly love though we've yet to meet in person. One year the Lord arranged for me to win a scholarship to the ACFW conference. And in 2009 He astounded me with the 2009 Genesis award in the historical category. 

So though it was hard, He never let me quit. And neither did Crystal. Her editorial critiques were so instrumental in Shadowed in Silk being published.
  
One of the most exciting moments was when WhiteFire (Publishing) and I discussed models for the front cover. Off-the-cuff I suggested that my birthdaughter might resemble my main character. WhiteFire loved the idea, and in a short period of time it was  arranged. It was a hoot arranging the costumes. And Sarah is wearing the sari material I bought in India on a missions trip.

The photo shoot all happened so fast though. It wasn't until later that it dawned on me that our tender-hearted Heavenly Father had tied up the details of my life in such a perfect way. 
And all of this was taking place during one of the happiest periods of my life--as I helped my precious daughter Lana prepare for her wedding. It seemed as if God wanted to answer a whole bunch of prayers for me all at once. He left me breathless.

[Read about Christine and Sarah on Christine's blog.] 

Sarah, in the sari Christine brought back from her mission in India, which became the cover for her book

Crystal: What’s your favorite part of writing a book?

Christine: Once I've done the hard work of nailing down the first draft, I love the re-writing part, and the re-writing, and the rewrit..... I guess I like polishing. 

 Crystal: When the well runs dry, how do you recharge your creative energy?

Christine: I'm useless without the Lord. So I either grab my Bible and spend time in prayer, or I go out for a prayer walk to blow the cobwebs away. Or I take a break and read someone else's work.

Crystal : Do you keep regular hours in writing? What’s a typical day when you’re writing?

Christine:At the moment I still work part-time outside the home. But I hope this will be changing soon. On a typical writing day I keep a tight schedule. I have my devotions with a cup of tea at about 7 am, quickly check my email for anything urgent, and then dive into the writing. I need to start writing in the morning. By evening I'm beat.

Crystal: My writing world would be perfect if only….  
Christine:...I didn't have to work outside the home. I find it hard to jump into my fictional world unless I can start fresh at it every morning.

Crystal: My best ideas come from…..  

Christine: ...My husband, David, is a wealth of brilliant ideas. So much of the military stuff in Shadowed comes from him. He suggested the whole rifle theft idea, and how that sort of theft from a garrison could be arranged. David also goes out and finds me great research material. When we're out driving he helps me unravel plot problems. 
Christine's Family at her Daughter Lana's Wedding

Crystal: What do you know now in writing that you wish you had known in the beginning?

Christine: That it takes a lot longer than most of us think to become published. It's been 12 years for me to get to this point. And getting published isn't necessarily a true evaluation of your writing ability. And oh yes, get connected with other writers. Writing is not a solitary business. Join a group like ACFW. 
SHADOWED IN SILK
She was invisible to those who should have loved her.
After the Great War, Abby Fraser returns to India with her small son, where her husband is stationed with the British army. She has longed to go home to the land of glittering palaces and veiled women . . . but Nick has become a cruel stranger. It will take more than her American pluck to survive.
Major Geoff Richards, broken over the loss of so many of his men in the trenches of France, returns to his cavalry post in Amritsar. But his faith does little to help him understand the ruthlessness of his British peers toward the Indian people he loves. Nor does it explain how he is to protect Abby Fraser and her child from the husband who mistreats them.
Amid political unrest, inhospitable deserts, and Russian spies, tensions rise in India as the people cry for the freedom espoused by Gandhi. Caught between their own ideals and duty, Geoff and Abby stumble into sinister secrets . . . secrets that will thrust them out of the shadows and straight into the fire of revolution.
About Christine:
Christine with her "helpers"

Christine Lindsay writes historical Christian inspirational novels with strong love stories. She doesn’t shy away from difficult subjects such as the themes in her debut novel SHADOWED IN SILK. Christine’s long-time fascination with the British Raj was seeded from stories of her ancestors who served in the British Cavalry in India. SHADOWED IN SILK won first place in the 2009 ACFW Genesis for Historical under the title Unveiled

The Pacific coast of Canada, about 200 miles north of Seattle, is Christine’s home. It’s a special time in her life as she and her husband enjoy the empty nest, but also the noise and fun when the kids and grandkids come home. Like a lot of writers, her cat is her chief editor.




Pearl Girls™ : Merry Heart by Megan Alexander

Welcome to Pearl Girls Mother of Pearl Mother's Day blog series. The series is week long celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today's best writer's (Tricia Goyer, Megan Alexander, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Beth Engelman, Holley Gerth, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, and more). I hope you'll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother's Day.

AND ... do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful hand crafted pearl necklace. To enter, just {CLICK THIS LINK} and fill out the short form. Contest runs 5/1-5/8 and the winner will on 5/11. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents.

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

And to all you MOMS out there! Happy Mother's Day!

A Merry Heart ... by Megan Alexander

Sometimes family is really all you need. This was reinforced to me when my Mother shared a story a few days ago about her mother, my Grandma. You see, when my Grandma was a very young girl, around age 10, she was diagnosed with polio. This meant long hospital stays, extremely limited interaction with children her own age and lonely days staring out the window from her hospital bed. In those days, with polio, they felt keeping the children very subdued and quiet was best, and this particular hospital was as drab as can be. It was also during the time of the Depression, which meant money was tight and life was tough. Day in and day out, she was given the best medicine and treatment, but she wasn’t thriving and recovering. Daily visits from adult doctors and specialists is not exactly stimulating for a young girl. Her health was so poor, at one point, a Catholic Priest had administered the "last rites" at her bedside.

One day, her older brother and sister decided to sneak some brand new baby kittens into her hospital room. Their cat Fitzy had just had babies, and the cute kittens were small enough to put in a basket. Upon entering her room, my mother says they quietly took off the lid and showed my Grandma the sweet little kittens and let her cuddle with them. Her mother, my Great Grandmother, observed my Grandma’s mood instantly lift. Her eyes sparkled and she squealed with delight at the cute kitties! Her whole demeanor changed and she came to life.

My Great Grandma took all this in and made a decision that day. She decided that my Grandma would heal much better at home. She promptly checked my Grandma out of the hospital and brought her home with her family. My Grandma did gradually recover, among the love and warmth of her family. You know what Proverbs 17 says “ A merry heart does good like a medicine.” Also, I can imagine that she healed emotionally and physically and spiritually as well and that combined strength wouldn't have been possible in the hospital alone.

When they left that day, the hospital instructed my Great Grandmother to massage my Grandma’s legs everyday, something she promised the hospital she would do, and she did. My Grandma was one of the few people we know who did not have a limp or shortened leg due to polio. And perhaps most importantly, the entire family was always praying for my Grandma.

I’m not saying that medicine is bad or not necessary. But there is no cure quite like the warmth of your family. Its like milk, it simply does a body good. As a pregnant Mom about to give birth to a baby boy, I am inspired to provide this same love to my child. May he feel the same warm love from his family that my Grandma felt from her’s.

And in this same way, we are called sons and daughters of God. Galatians 4:1-7
“Now I say that the heir, as long as he is a child, does not differ at all from a slave, though he is master of all, but is under guardians and stewards until the time appointed by the father. Even so we, when we were children, were in bondage under the elements of the world. But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts, crying out, "Abba, Father!" Therefore you are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ.”

God claims you and I as his children. This is a wonderful gift and identity that is good for our heart and soul, and something that is more powerful than all the medicine in the world.
 
Megan Alexander can be seen nightly as a television correspondent for the top rated news magazine show “Inside Edition”.  She also appears on the CNN program “Showbiz Tonight”. She especially enjoys reporting on stories with a heart. She graduated from Westmont College with a degree in Political Science. She loves speaking to youth and works with Girls Inc and National American Miss. She and her husband reside in the New York City area and attend Redeemer Church of Manhattan. For more on Megan, go to www.meganalexander.com. Megan’s mother, Mary, resides in Seattle and provided insight into this essay.

Monday, May 02, 2011

Pearl Girls™ :3 DIY Mother’s Day Gifts that Celebrate Family By Beth Engelman

Welcome to Pearl Girls Mother of Pearl Mother's Day blog series. The series is week long celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today's best writer's (Tricia Goyer, Megan Alexander, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Beth Engelman, Holley Gerth, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, and more). I hope you'll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother's Day.

AND ... do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful hand crafted pearl necklace. To enter, just {CLICK THIS LINK} and fill out the short form. Contest runs 5/1-5/8 and the winner will on 5/11. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents.

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

And to all you MOMS out there! Happy Mother's Day!

3 DIY Mother’s Day Gifts that Celebrate Family By Beth Engelman

This Mother’s Day, celebrate family with this crafty games the whole family can enjoy.  


Block Photo Puzzle
Not only does this 6-sided photo puzzle provide hours of family fun, but it’s also a great way to reuse favorite family photos.

Materials:
•    9 - Wooden Blocks (Use old alphabet blocks)
•    6 - 8 x 10 Photograph Prints or Colored Copies
•    Ruler
•    Scissors
•    Mod Podge and Paintbrush

Directions:
1.  Arrange blocks in a square and measure the length and width of the square.
2. Measure and cut print to the exact same size as the 9-block square.
3. Place blocks in a square on top of print. Position blocks so they’re lined up neatly and as close together as possible.
4. Trace and cut the outline of each block.
5. Glue print pieces to blocks using Mod Podge. Set aside to dry and then seal with 1-2 top layers of Mod Podge.
6. Repeat process until all 6 sides of the blocks are covered with different photographs.
Thank you to the creative folks at www.photojojo.com for sharing this idea!

 “Go Fish with the Family” Card Game

This gift is perfect for Moms who like card games. Another bonus?  There’s always room to “grow” the deck.

Materials:
•    Camera
•    Double stick tape, or a glue stick
•    Several pieces of cardstock (one color)
•    Scissors

Directions:
1.    Take pictures of each family member and develop the pictures in duplicates (3x5 or 4x6 is fine, just make sure all the pictures are the same size).
2.    Turn the pictures into playing cards by gluing or taping a piece of card-stock to the backside of each picture.
3.    Game ideas include “Go Fishing with the Family” which is similar to “Go Fish” but, instead of matching numbers, the object is to collect matching pairs of photos. “Memory” is another fun game to play.  Place the cards face down in a grid and try to find matching pairs of photos.

Family Bingo
In my house, Bingo is always a big hit because regardless of age or skill level, everyone has the same chance to win.  However this version is extra special because the playing boards are populated with pictures of family members.

Materials:
•    Color Coordinated Game Boards (download here)
•    Images of Family Members (use photographs, drawings or clip art)
•    Bingo Markers (pennies, pebbles or buttons)
•    Glue and Scissors

Directions:
1.    Create the game boards:  Download and print desired number of game-boards. Remember each player gets a different game board.
2.    Color-copy and paste images of family members onto each game board.  Remember to paste one person per square and make each board slightly different.
3.    Make “call-out cards” by writing the name of each family member in yellow, green, blue, purple and pink (which coordinates with the colors on the board)
4.    To Play: Game play is similar to traditional Bingo except the caller will randomly select a call-out card and then read the color and person.  For example, “Blue, Grandma Mary” means there is a picture of Grandma Mary in a blue square.  Just like Bingo, the first person to get 5 in a row (horizontally, vertically or diagonally) wins!

Beth Engelman is a columnist for the Sun Times News Group’s Pioneer Press. Her column “Mommy on a Shoestring,” appears in over 30 local papers around Chicago area as well as on the Sun-times website where you can also view her Mommy on a Shoestring video series. She is also a regular on “You and Me this Morning” on WCIU and is frequent contributor for WGN America’s Midday News at Noon.  Recently, Beth was chosen by a celebrity panel from NBC Universal and iVillage to become one of 15 national  “mom” correspondents for NBC’s popular website, www.ivillage.com (over 3 million visitors a day) where she reports on issues that affect moms, families and communities such as bullying, divorce and weight loss.  For more information visit Beth at www.mommyonashoestring.com

Sunday, May 01, 2011

Pearl Girls™ Mother's Day Series: Pearl Pins by Margaret Sweeney

Mother of Pearl series
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Welcome to Pearl Girls™ Mother of Pearl Mother's Day blog series. The series is week long celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today's best writer's (Tricia Goyer, Megan Alexander, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Beth Engelman, Holley Gerth, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, and more). I hope you'll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother's Day.




AND ... do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful hand crafted pearl necklace. To enter, just CLICK THIS LINK and fill out the short form. Contest runs 5/1-5/8 and the winner will be drawn on 5/11. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents.

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


PEARL PINS by Chat 'n' Chew Cafe' guest, Margaret McSweeney

At age 49, I am a mom without a mom. This deep longing for my mother continues to surprise me. During milestone moments, I imagine phone conversations with her.

“Can you believe that Melissa is graduating from high school in June? I’m so glad you will be flying to Chicago to be here with us.”

“Wasn’t that a fun family dinner we all had last weekend to celebrate Katie’s ‘sweet sixteen?’ I am so glad you could join us.”

“Isn’t this exciting? I just got a new book contract. Will you please edit my manuscript before I send it in?”

Sadly, this will be my eighth Mother’s Day to spend without my mother. She has missed some poignant milestones in my life and in the lives of my daughters. Both Melissa and Katie were very young when she died so they don’t have a full reservoir of memories about Grandmommy Rhea. However, they do have the legacy of faith that she helped instill in them as toddlers. She loved to send Veggie Tales tapes, Children’s Bibles and devotional books.

Melissa and Katie were blessed to have Nana, (Dave’s mother) around for much longer. Nana passed away two years ago. A few years before Nana died, she gave me a beautiful necklace with a diamond pendant made from her wedding ring along with a pair of diamond earrings. She asked me to give these special gifts to Melissa and Katie for their sixteenth birthdays. Even though Nana wasn’t around to celebrate, my daughters were so happy to receive such special keepsakes from her. Hugs from heaven.

Last week on Katie’s 16th birthday, I discovered an unexpected blessing that had been tucked away in a cardboard container of my mother’s things. A jewelry box with three pearl pins! I gave one to Melissa as a belated 16th birthday gift, and I presented one to Katie for her 16th birthday. This Mother’s Day, I will wear my mother’s pearl pin as a tangible reminder that a mother’s love (and a grandmother’s love) is an everlasting gift from God.

Finding these gifts made me think about what I might leave for my own daughters someday. It isn’t the external value of the gift that matters, but rather the love that it represents.

Is there a special gift or letter that you would like to leave your children?

Margaret McSweeney lives with her husband, David and two teenage daughters in the Chicago suburbs. After earning a master’s degree in international business from the University of South Carolina, Margaret moved to New York City to work at a large bank where she met David. Margaret is the editor of Pearl Girls, author of A Mother’s Heart Knows and co-author of Go Back and Be Happy. Charity and community involvement are very important to Margaret. She has served on the board of directors for WINGS (Women in Need Growing Stronger) for over eight years. For more information, find Margaret at www.pearlgirls.info and www.kitchenchat.info.

Sunday Morning Has Broken: My Faith Journey Part 3


When my family moved to the country, we were on God's own little green acre. Dad was happy because he could come home to a garden, outdoor grill, neighbors weren't really too close and he could park his semi in the drive with no complaints. 

My brother was happy because we lived by a crick (creek) and the kid across the road, who was exactly his age, immediately friended him (Facebook's new word.) They spent the summer doing all things 8-year-old boys do. 

I'm not sure about mom, but she did have her own house and she was a country girl at heart, having grown up on a farm. She was driving tractors early in life, taking care of farm animals and she was used to being alone, having been married to my dad for many years. (He was a long-haul trucker.) She seemed happy.

I was 12 and was going to have to ease into this situation. Being the "new" girl comes with all kinds of landmines. And then there was the foreign territory of girl cliques and The Bus. The first few weeks of school were filled with tears for me. Not at school, though. My motto is Never Let Them See You Weep. 

First off, I wore the "wrong" kind of socks. I came home and started crying. Mom packed us up and drove to get me the kind "all the girls" wore. Phew. I wasn't used to the way the classroom was set up and I had no idea what my place was. I was smart in book learning and Bible, but I didn't know anything about recesses where the teacher wasn't leading the activity! No soccer or freeze tag. No all for one and one for all recesses where NO ONE WAS ALLOWED to BE EXCLUDED anymore--no sirreeebob. Girls huddled in cloistered groups around the playground. I never realized the freedom my previous school provided. Freedom from hurt, that is.

But what I took care of was making sure no one called me "Crystal." I had seen the last of that name, or so I thought. None of my family called me that (they called me Crissy) and in my last school I'd been called Crystal. (Granted, this name is on my birth certificate--the name my sainted mother gave me.) I told my teacher, Mr. Rosen, that I was Cris, but at the last minute added an "h" to make it really cool. Everyone just accepted it.It was easy.

I missed going to Sabbath school and I missed our daily Bible lesson. I even signed up for a by-mail Bible study correspondence course so I could study on my own. No one talked about Jesus at school. That was strange to me. There was no opening prayer, prayer before lunch, prayer and benediction at the end of the school day. There were no hymns of praise sung in class with the teacher at the piano. There was no mention of God anywhere. 

To top this all off my dad told my mother no going to the town so much, so while our old school and church were only 20 minutes away, we only went there for doctors' appointments and shopping. I lost all of my friends. Basically I lost my brother, too. He was now playing everyday sun up to sundown with boys in our country mile. Most of the girls I asked to come outside told me, "I have to wash my hair." This was the 1970s and if you had long hair, it did take all day to wash and dry it. Funny thing was, I had long hair, too. I knew when I was being dissed.

                                            

Then, one day someone asked me to come to Sunday school at the little white Christian church across the road. I was starved for hearing the Bible, so I said yes. How bad could it be? I came home and told my mother I was going on Sunday morning to just get her ready for it. The girl who invited me was a cousin to the very young pastor, but she didn't want to go by herself since her family went to church at another denomination in the small town nearby. She wanted to go to the youth group there because of the girls who went to that church. So, off we went on Sunday morning. I walked over and met her at the door.

It was the friendliest place I have ever been to then and now, bar none. The congregation was a mix of elderly, young families and had a group of girls around my age. Besides the pastor's cousin, there were two other girls from my class at school. I think they were just glad to have more people. Most of the families had generations past who started up the church and had built it. And the best part? We heard all about the Bible. The pastor happened to be a graduate of  Christian universities, and he was a history teacher by day. He had no problem teaching deep truths of the Bible to our little youth group. The cousin who had invited me went back to church with her family, but I stayed. I was home, cousins or not.

Old to young, those people accepted me as I was. They were nice to my parents who never came to church with me. They were patient when I asked endless questions about doctrine and Bible teachings. But they were practical Christians, too. When my dad had a trailer on his truck and wanted to stop by to spend the night at home, "the church people" said it was ok for him to park in the large churchyard, even if he never darkened the door. And sometimes that meant that his truck was parked there on Sunday morning. And the girls of that youth group there became my best friends forever. While my parents weren't there when I joined the church and was baptized, all of these people were, and my parents loved them for who they were, too. If anyone ever said anything harsh, it wasn't within my hearing. And I had heard enough harsh words from "Christians" to last another lifetime.

This is where I was encouraged to write, too. One of the young mothers, Karen, had a writing contest. She announced it from the pulpit one Sunday morning and told us to turn in our pieces to her. I don't remember if I was the only one to turn something in, but she read it in front of everyone the next Sunday and gave me a bound book with blank pages for my prize in front of everyone. I was a writer! I considered that a pronouncement in church.

Even though we were few in number, we played baseball in the churchyard, took trips to state parks and horseback riding, gathered to ride together to the Easter pageant, and studied God's Word every week. We ate meals together, sang, lived. My library grew with books we read of the great Christians, and my faith was full.

Years later after I had married and had children of my own, my mother became quite ill in the fall and nearly died during the three weeks she was in the ICU. That same young pastor, still pastoring the small church across the road, but now also a professor at a nearby Christian university, married with children of his own, came to see her. Unknown to us, mom had asked him to do her funeral at that time. She knew she could die and her own church had deserted her. He promised her that he would.

She didn't die until that spring,quietly in her chair one April Sabbath afternoon, not long after hanging up the phone talking to her brother who had been a missionary. I couldn't think of anyone else to do the funeral, so, I called up my mentor and asked him. He told me she had already asked him. I was stunned. She had never gone to church there. But she was also part of that family. He honored her just as if she had been there every Sunday. I will always cherish this Christian family in rural Indiana.

I owe my life to these people.There are many more stories connected to them, woven into the pages of my heart, and this is where my foundation was built on solid Rock. They gently wooed my soul, placed balm on my broken places, loved me with the Jesus-skin-on, practical "love-thy-neighbor"-feet-on-the-ground Christian faith. They weren't perfect and had struggles, as we all do, but never let me catch you saying anything negative about a single one of them! :)

I left the community after I married, but not once in all the years since,seeing and doing many things with Christian communities and ministries, did my heart leave these people. Yes, people let you down. Sometimes people, even Christian people, are condemning or judgmental and cruel. Sometimes you feel unworthy of the love people bestow on you. Living is a strange mix of acceptance and pain and lack of self-worth sometimes. I feel disconnected most days living here. But despite all the pain of moving into that community and the ugly days I endured even in my own family, that church, those people will always be a spiritual balm to my soul. It was a time of heart of the true Church with Christ at the center. At the center of Center Christian Church.


Some of the girls of Center Christian Church  :)