Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

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Smiles in pictures

Welcome to the late edition of Saturday smiles. It is NOT Saturday, though maybe if you had today off for Columbus Day, it might feel like a Saturday. We can pretend, if you want to. Actually, my husband is on break from school, so today definitely doesn’t feel like Monday to me. He’s usually in class. Tonight he’s home.

Anyway, I had a previously scheduled blog for Saturday (Book review of Kathi Macias’ A Christmas Journey Home, if you’re interested and you missed it.) and we planned a family day, so I postponed this week’s list of things that make me smile till now. I hope you don’t mind.

It’s mostly visual this week, although that’s hard for a writer. I’ll try to stay out of it. Mostly what made me smile this week was my kids. Isabelle using big words like “situation” and “frust-er-ated” (how she says it) and earning a Mommy-Daughter Date for having 5 days in row with no potty accidents. Corban saying “please, Mommy” followed by any request up to a trip to the moon. He asks so sweetly, I’d give him anything.

And moments like these.

Here, kitty kitty. Kitty (whose name is Buddy. Neighbors named him, not us.) wants no part of the kids. But it still makes me smile.

And I spent most of Saturday smiling because of this:

 Our kids’ first tractor-pulled ride to the pumpkin patch to pick out their own pumpkins. Corban is a little concerned here because the tractor, which he couldn’t wait for, was a little noisier than he thought and the ride was bumpy. Isabelle is already plotting her strategy, I think. Pumpkin picking is serious business.

I had no idea, until this happened:

 “Oh, it’s a baby one. I have to watch over it.” She found this pumpkin seconds after we got off the trailer. And we had to gently persuade her to pick out another, bigger, pumpkin. She’s turning into quite the little mommy. We also picked out a family of gourds to help her watch over this little one. We probably could have walked away from the pumpkin patch with $5 worth of tiny gourds, but Phil and I insisted on at least one big, orange pumpkin. Creative persuasion for the sake of tradition, if you will.

Corban helped us out, finally picking out one with his trademark overexcited “ooooo.” That, in itself, makes me smile. No matter what he’s “oooo”ing at.

Here he is helping Daddy make the final cut.

Of course, the best smile-maker of all, we saved for the end of the day.

I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream.

Two days later, this still makes me smile. And that’s what I’m appreciating about this weekly exercise. I find myself reflecting throughout the week about what makes me happy. What makes me smile. And what makes me downright laugh out loud.

What’s got you smiling this week?

 

Not without hope

When I think “good Christmas story,” illegal immigration is not the first thing that comes to mind.

And that is one of the traits I have come to love about author Kathi Macias. In her recent release A Christmas Journey Home, Macias tells a story of a young Mexican couple, expecting a baby, who enter the United States illegally in search of a better life. They have left their crime-ridden border town with almost nothing and their struggle to survive in the Arizona desert is heartbreaking and overwhelming at times. I found myself skimming over some scenes because I thought I might cry and never stop if I let myself dwell on them. It is a story of loss and hope; survival and freedom.

But it’s not their story alone. A Christmas Journey Home also follows a young widow’s path through grief. Her husband, a border patrol agent, is killed in the line of duty, fueling her anger and hatred toward illegal immigrants. With the help of her 6-year-old son and God-ordained circumstances, this young woman faces what she fears most.

Watch the trailer for a glimpse of the struggle the characters face.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeI-m0X2Osw]

It’s not a feel-good holiday story in the traditional sense, yet it doesn’t leave readers without hope. Macias is a master at shedding light on dark subjects (read my review of her Islam-focused novel, People of the Book, here. And stay tuned for a review of another upcoming release that centers on sex trafficking.) and A Christmas Journey Home follows suit. While immigration is a controversial and political subject, I appreciated Macias’ heart on the subject. When the elderly Mexican grandfather wonders, “Was it wrong to try to save a life when doing so involved breaking the law?”, I found myself re-evaluating my own beliefs. The book offers no easy answers. It is, after all, a work of fiction. But it is thought-provoking and makes the personal side of illegal immigration — that there are actual, real-life people involved in the issue, each with their own stories — hard to ignore.

Macias has another winner with A Christmas Journey Home. I can’t wait to read more.

Hear from Macias in her own words about the book, writing and future projects in the interview that follows.

How did you come up with the idea for A Christmas Journey Home?

I knew I wanted to do a Christmas book—the first of what would become an annual event that my publisher and I were discussing—and I also knew that despite the lighter tone required in a Christmas book (as opposed to the darker themes of the persecuted Church and human trafficking, which I’ve been writing about), I had to stick to my “brand” as closely as possible: hence, an “issues-related” Christmas novel, dealing with the issues related to illegal immigration.

What was your favorite scene to write in A Christmas Journey Home?

I loved writing this entire book, and the characters are delightful (except the villains, of course!), so I loved almost all the scenes. But I think I liked the scenes with Isabella’s old abuelo best, as the grandfather reminded me of my own grandpa and even my dad, both of whom I loved dearly. I love incorporating at least one elderly saint in each of my books, and in this one I decided on a man since most of the other books have had women as the elderly, praying characters. I also brought in a little boy because children can add such a delightful element to any story, and six-year-old Davey certainly does that in A Christmas Journey Home.

What was the most difficult scene, and why?

The toughest scene had to be when Francisco and Isabella thought they were finally on the verge of being able to get away from the migrant camp and find a small home of their own, where their baby could be born in relative comfort and safety. If you’ve read the book, you know that isn’t at all what happens. But this heartbreaking scene had to take place to bring the story to its miraculous conclusion.

What is there about you, apart from writing, that many people don’t know?

First, my “road name” is “Easy Writer” because my husband and I were Harley riders for many years. (We’ve traded the bike in on a 2005 Corvette, so I’m still “Easy Writer” but in comfort now!) Also, I served on staff at a large Southern California church for several years, training small group leaders and doing biblical counseling, among other things.

Who are some of your favorite writers, and are you an avid reader?

Absolutely I’m an avid reader! I have always loved books/reading/words and been fascinated by them. When I ran out of books as I child, I started writing my own. (Voila! Look what came of that!) As for favorite writers, that’s tough, but here are just a few: Brock and Bodie Thoene, Francine Rivers, Patti Lacy, Athol Dickson, Jim Rubart, and Alan Paton, who wrote my favorite all-time fiction book, Cry the Beloved Country. That book changed my life and inspired my novel set in South Africa in 1989, No Greater Love. I also enjoy reading Brennan Manning, Jennifer Kennedy Dean, Oswald Chambers, and Max Lucado for nonfiction.

What’s on the horizon for you now, so far as future book projects?

I am currently finishing up the final book of the three-installment Freedom series (Deliver Me From Evil, Special Delivery, and The Deliverer). Then I will jump into my Christmas 2012 novel (working title is A Home For Christmas) and a novel called Last Chance for Justice, which is part of the multi-author Bloomfield Series with another publisher. After that I hope to get going on a new fiction series, which is still in the discussion/planning stages with my publisher and agent. So life is busy, but most contracts coming my way seem to be fiction right now. I am also keeping busy with very occasional editing projects and some speaking/teaching around the country.

Where can we find out more about you, The Freedom Series, and keep up with your to-be-released books?

Please feel free to visit my website at www.KathiMacias.com.

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I was given a complimentary copy of this book from the author in exchange for posting the author’s interview on my blog. This blog tour is managed by Christian Speakers Services (ChristianSpeakersServices.com).

Slowly simmer, for life

Simmer.

If ever there was a dirty word in the kitchen, for me, it’s this one.

Boil. Now there’s a word I get. Turn the heat way up, walk away and in a few minutes, action. Boiling gets the job done quickly. When a recipe says to “simmer,” I find myself impatiently watching the pot for signs of movement. This was the case a few days ago while I was making cream of broccoli soup. It turned out less thick than I would have liked. I’m not sure I ever simmered it properly. I was in too much of a hurry.

I have the same problem with life. I’m a point A to point B kind of girl, who once she gets to point B is often on to points C, D and E. This troubles me. Especially since I’m sure I’m missing some prime moments.

In Sunday School, we’re working through John Ortberg’s video series “The Life You’ve Always Wanted,” which teaches about spiritual disciplines. I was challenged one week by the admonition Ortberg once received and passed on to us: You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life.

I tend to be in a hurry, even when I have no reason to be. When the kids and I are walking around the block, I’m in a hurry to get home, which is in direct conflict with my kids who would rather pick up EVERY stick and rock and dandelion they see. My son is a collector. He stuffs his pockets with souvenirs from our trips around the block. I have to give myself an anti-pep talk on our walks, convincing myself that we don’t have to hurry around the block. Part of me is afraid something will happen while we’re out. Part of me just wants to rush the day along so I can rest and do what I want to do instead of being asked a dozen times if I want to play ballet school or with the Dora dollhouse.

Selfish, I know. Parenting is exhausting, though, and even people with full-time jobs get breaks now and then. (Disregard this digression. I’m tired. My husband has had two full days of classes and meetings at the seminary. I’m running out of ways to keep the kids occupied and to cope with the solo parenting.)

Eight months. That’s how long we have until the next “next” in our life. And I find myself wanting to rush to get there, just to know what it’s going to be. Isabelle keeps asking where she’s going to go to school and where we’re going to live. I have no answers.

Eight months is a long time to simmer. But just like the adage “a watched pot never boils,” I suspect the same can be applied to life. A watched life, if you will, never amounts to much. Lord willing, May will arrive. What I do with the time between now and then will determine the quality of the life I have in the meantime.

I really don’t do simmer well, but I want my life to be full and flavorful, like a soup that has cooked slowly and incorporated all the individual ingredients into a delicious meal.

Slow. Eliminate hurry. Enjoy the moments as they come.

These are my goals. Now, how do I do it?

Ortberg gave a few suggestions, like standing in the longest line at the grocery store, but what are some other antidotes to hurry?

How do you “ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life”? And what benefits have you seen from slowing your life?

An hour a day

OK. I’ll admit it. When I picked up a book titled The Hour That Matters Most and discovered it was about the importance of family mealtime, I felt guilty before I read a word. See, in our season of life, “family dinnertime” is more like “see how quickly we can get this over with” time. I have two kids under the age of 4 and my husband, working his way through seminary as a waiter, is rarely home for dinner. If I’m not already frazzled from cooking dinner, then by the time we sit down to eat, I’m usually just waiting for the chaos to begin.

What I found in the book was not what I expected. Instead of heaping guilt on me for not being a better mother who provides healthy, nutritious homemade meals for her family every night and patiently instructs her children in proper etiquette and conversation, authors Les and Leslie Parrott, and Dream Dinners entrepreneurs Stephanie Allen and Tina Kuna, sympathize with busy families. For the latter two, being busy moms was the catalyst for their business, which started as a couple of friends getting together once a month to prepare meals they’d later freeze.

The book, itself, is an interesting mix of practical, how-to-make-this happen tips, recipes and anecdotes. After reading it, I’m inspired. To plan ahead so that having homemade meals is more feasible. To seek out other women who might be interested in group meal planning and assembly. To intentionally engage my kids in conversation around the table.

I feel empowered to make a difference in my kids’ lives just by sitting around the dinner table.

My only complaint about the book is that it draws from many of the Parrotts’ previous books. So, if you’ve read anything else they’ve written, you might find it repetitive, though it seems the quoted material is adapted for this subject.

Final word: It’s a surprisingly good read.

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I received a free copy of this book from Tyndale House Publishers in exchange for my review.

Saturday Smiles, week 2

It’s Friday night and I’m home alone. Well, as “alone” as a person can be with two kids in the house. An hour ago I was hardly able to keep my eyes open while putting the kids in bed. The kids were overtired, resisting sleep, and I still had a batch of Rice Krispie treats to make ahead of an all-day marriage retreat/seminar on Saturday.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to write a post about what made me smile this week. Reviewing the list I’ve been compiling all week is already lifting my spirits.

Here are the things I’m smiling about this week.

  • Despicable Me. I laughed out loud. A lot.
  • A 6-year-old telling me she was soo stressed because of school.
  • Isabelle telling me, after she received a notebook from the potty prize box, “I could stay up all night writing.” Oh, do I know the feeling.
  • My husband reaching for my hand during singing in church.
  • Pretty much everything that comes out of Corban’s mouth right now. “Bye, kids” at the Y Kids Korner. “I like puddles” on a rainy day. “I’m just lookin’, Mommy” as he touches everything on the grocery store shelves.
  • Receiving two copies of the One Year Joy and Laughter Devotional in the mail and seeing my name on two of the entries.
  • Playing “ting-tong” (ping pong) with my kids at the seminary while visiting my husband on his lunch break between classes.
  • Making up after a fight.
  • Sandwich King Jeff Mauro. My new favorite Food Network show. Not only does he make sandwiches that sound DELICIOUS, he’s from Chicago and takes viewers on a weekly food tour of the city. I want to download the recipe for everything I’ve seen on the show so far.
  • Making other people smile when I wear my “Super Mom. Super Wife. Super Tired” shirt. This week, it could have been my uniform.
  • VeggieTales humor.
  • My kids’ imaginations. And their giggles.
  • Day trips with friends.
  • Being outside.
  • Flowers.
  • Co-op parenting.
  • Meeting new neighborhood kids.
  • Watching my kids play with their friends.
  • Fall weather. And jeans and sweatshirts.

What’s got you smiling this week?

Walking on broken glass

The sound of breaking glass is almost never good.

Especially not when the sound is coming from the kitchen, where dinner is cooking, and you’re in the living room, watching the kids watch “Bob the Builder” and taking a quick minute to check your e-mail.

Even more surprising than the sound that propels you out of the easy chair in a dead run for the kitchen with two curious kiddos trailing behind is what you find when you get there.

Glass. Everywhere.

Mostly concentrated on the stove, where you discover the cause: You turned on the wrong set of burners for the cast iron griddle. The chicken sausages you thought would be ready when the acorn squash came out of the oven are literally chillin’ on a cold griddle while the dishes you had piled on the stove to make room on the table (yes, you have an oversized pile of dirty dishes) are now in various states of broken, hot and cooked.

You shoo the children back to the living room, slap on a pair of flip-flops so as to avoid the inevitable shard-of-glass-in-the-bottom-of-the-foot pain and sweep the room with your eyes before deciding to sweep the floor with the broom. Gotta start somewhere.

After trying to salvage the sausages for dinner, you notice glass on the griddle and fearing shards of glass lodged in the sausages, you dump five otherwise perfectly fine sausages in the garbage because you don’t want a trip to the emergency room. (You also have an overactive imagination.) Besides cleaning glass from every corner of the kitchen, you wrack your brain for a quick and easy protein replacement for the sausages, knowing the squash won’t quite cut it for dinner.

Meanwhile, the squash is ready to come out of the oven and the children (well, one curious almost-2-year-old in particular) begin to wander toward the kitchen. You send him away for his shoes and he wails “But I can’t put them on!” He brings you his sandals; you put them on; you realize he’s walking funny, like he’s in pain in one foot. You sweep him up in your arms and take him to the bathroom, ready to administer your minimal first aid knowledge.

A small spot of blood appears on the bottom of his foot. You wipe it away and poke around with tweezers, finding nothing. You attempt to put a band-aid (a Cars band-aid, no less) on the squirmy child, who resists. You put his shoe back on. He limps and cries in pain. You take the shoe off and poke around on his foot again, wondering if glass causes infection and if you’ll have to have his foot amputated when his father gets home from work in a couple of hours. (See previous note about overactive imagination.) Shoe back on. Limp and cry. You wonder if the glass is in the shoe. “Glass in da shoe,” your son tells you. You look, then look again, and sure enough, you pluck a small piece out of the shoe. Sandals back on.

Meanwhile, you discover this has happened in the living room while you’ve been sweeping, picking and wiping up glass in the kitchen.

Under normal circumstances, this would send you searching for the closest Diet Coke or bar of chocolate. Today, you shrug and retreat to the kitchen. The 3-year-old follows you, wearing mismatched slippers, determined to help you find all the glass in the kitchen and asking a million questions. (Where was the glass? Everywhere. But WHERE was it? Everywhere you can see.) You move back to dinner, finishing up the squash and deciding that scrambled eggs are going to have to suffice. Scrambled eggs and squash — not exactly a texturally diverse meal, but thankfully no Food Network judge is scheduled to appear at your house tonight. (Robert Irvine, however, would be a welcome guest. Kitchen: Impossible. You bet.)

You finally plate the squash and eggs and offer the children a nice little table in the living room in front of the TV for their dining pleasure. Your son plows through his eggs and demands more, then takes a bite of his squash, rubs it all over his hands and face and declares “I no like squash. I wanta save it.” He heads for the kitchen, barefoot, to get the plastic wrap. You get up for the 3rd time during your “dinner” and put his shoes back on before putting his plate in the fridge and offering the kids toast as another course to their gourmet meal. Butter and  jelly (also wiped all over everything in the living room) are a small price to pay for a few moments of peace.

You reflect on the past couple of hours and here’s what you what you can take away from the evening:

  1. You are finding new and different ways to ruin dinner.
  2. You now have at least 2 dirty dishes you don’t have to wash. Ever again.
  3. Women with more than 2 children under the age of five should not be allowed to cook without adult supervision.
  4. You will discover glass in your kitchen for the next month and be amazed at how far shattered glass can travel.
  5. The strongest drink you have in your house is Diet Coke and even if you had something stronger, your church disallows it and you are practically a pastor’s wife.
  6. You wish you’d paid more attention in chemistry (or physics?) about the properties of glass.
  7. You realize that by writing an entire post in the second person you are violating your English teachers’ rule about using the word “you” and even though you are MANY years past high school, you fear their correction. (Automatic one letter grade lower. Some things just stick with you.)
  8. It is Thursday night and even though you were underwhelmed by the NBC comedies last week, you are guaranteed at least a few laughs tonight. Unless you decide to clean the kitchen from top to bottom.
  9. Most importantly, you are grateful that neither you nor the children were in the kitchen when the glass shattered because although you aren’t always satisfied with your looks, “scarface” is not a name you’re eager to adopt. And you’re queasy around too much blood. You remember that God is good. And even when things are bad, they CAN be worse.

It’s a fish story but not a tall tale

I don’t like fishing. I do like a good story, though, and Susan May Warren delivers another hit with her straight-to-ebook short story Hook, Line & Sinker. If you’ve read any of her Deep Haven novels (I’ve read one and reviewed it here.) and liked them, then I’d suggest you check this out. It’s available for only $1.99. What a bargain!

Hook, Line & Sinker is characteristically Warren from page 1. She begins with action, conflict, tension and longing and builds from there. Her characters, the main two are Ross and Abby in this story, are likeable and believable, and Warren has a way of making them jump off the page and into your life, as if you have a front-row seat to the action. I was hooked (pun intended) in the first scene, and Warren’s other Deep Haven novels are on my must-read list.

The central conflict of the story is set against a fishing contest, which I, one who has barely fished and won’t touch worms or other creepy crawlies, could not personally relate to but enjoyed reading about. I’m not sure I’m ready to go out and catch a walleye or a muskie yet, but I certainly won’t rule it out. OK, maybe I’ll just stick to reading about fishing.

Bottom line: you don’t have to love fishing to love this short tale by Susan May Warren, so snag yourself a literary treat in Hook, Line and Sinker.

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In exchange for this review, I received a free digital copy of Hook, Line and Sinker from Tyndale House Publishers.

We went to Colorado and caught a serious case of fever

Nobody warned us when we took a mini-vacay to Colorado that we’d come back with mountain fever. I’d never heard of it before the trip, but we definitely caught it.

Symptoms of mountain fever include: uncontrollable smiling, delusions, lightheadedness, daydreaming and jaw-dropping.

The only cure seems to be moving to Colorado. Or forced amnesia.

Months ago, my husband and I planned this trip for my cousin’s wedding. Thanks to some writing work I’ve done, we could afford the airfare, and my husband’s seminary schedule made a long-weekend-kind-of-trip possible. The week before we were scheduled to leave, our basement flooded. (See my post on that matter here.) We worked hard in the days leading up to the trip so we wouldn’t have to consider cancelling it. A trip west was refreshing and needed. Maybe that made us more vulnerable to mountain fever.

You might be thinking: C’mon. You live in Pennsylvania. It’s not like you spend your days in Iowa. You can see mountains from down the block and every time you head to the grocery store.

True. But can Pennsylvania really compete with this?

It wasn’t just the mountains. Although I could wake up to this every morning.

I’m pretty sure I’d have to win the lottery or something to afford a view like this. I don’t know where the money comes from in Colorado, but some people have A LOT of it.

The people also warmed us. It started with our flight crew, who were from Dallas, but let’s just say, they were amazing, even in the worst turbulence I’ve ever experienced. (I laughed through it. I must be crazy.) Then, when the computer mixed up our car rental entry, the employee taking care of us offered us a free upgrade (can you say truck? I knew you could.) plus a big discount and a future discount. If you’re keeping score, that’s 1 for Southwest and 1 for Enterprise. Granted these people are in the customer service business, but we were blessed by their kindness.

The next day, shopping at Target, we were asked numerous times by employees if we were finding everything OK. And we didn’t even look lost! (Or maybe we did and I was oblivious.) And they asked with smiles on their faces, like they might actually want to help us. Am I making too big of a deal out of this or have I just lived in the Midwest and now the Mid-Atlantic too long? People are not like this everywhere. I think it has something to do with the mountain air. Or maybe Coors runs from the faucets instead of water. Whatever it is, I want some.

Here are a few other highlights from the trip. I’ll let the pictures speak for a while.

Elk on the golf course across from my cousin's wedding

 

 A talking moose at Group Publishing, the company for which I’ve been writing. It’s a little unnerving the first time, but a talking moose? That’s pretty cool. Great food at the cafe, too. And fun people! Seems like a great place to work. And visit. And hang out at.

I took pictures, mostly for my daughter’s sake.

OK, that’s a lie. How often do you see the back end of an animal that’s been stuffed?

Besides the people and the scenery, there’s a bounty of outdoor activity. Everything we had in mind to do in Colorado involved the outdoors. Hiking. More hiking. Driving through the mountains. (We were denied this opportunity because it snowed in the mountains. It’s 80 degrees in Pennsylvania today. At the end of September. Snow in the mountains in September sounds OK by me right now.)

And although it rained a lot, we still took in a lot of hiking. First at Devil’s Backbone in Loveland.

Later, at Red Rocks. (Note to self: Add “concert at Red Rocks” to bucket list.)

At the very least, we’ve added Colorado to our list of places to vacation as a family. You know, once my husband finishes seminary and has legitimate vacation time.

We will be back, Colorado. We will be back.

Saturday smiles

I’ve been focusing too much on the negative in my life. Our still-damp basement full of somewhat-salvageable stuff. My husband’s seminary workload. Finances. Demands on me (both real and imagined).

It can’t be healthy. I know this. I’ve been consuming 6 coffee-pot-cups of coffee a day most of the week. (Really, that’s only like 2 mugs of coffee, but when it makes me twitch, I have to wonder …) I’ve been overwhelmed and stressed and sarcastic, even with the kids, who SO don’t catch on to sarcasm.

It occurred to me this morning that the week wasn’t all bad. In fact, it was mostly good. So, with that in mind, I’d like to share with you the things that made me smile this week.

  • Spending $10 at the Farmer’s Market and coming home with 2 butternut squash, 2 acorn squash, 4 cucumbers and maybe 1/4 bushel of apples
  • My almost-2-year-old’s “going to see Daddy” dance (performed on Wednesdays when we meet my husband at the seminary for lunch)
  • Taking an overflowing 18-gallon tote of kids clothes to the new consignment shop in town and having them turn down only 3 pieces of clothing.
  • An unexpected customer service phone call from a Bible study publisher helping to point me in the right direction for study topics for our ladies’ Bible study
  • Leading Tuesday night Bible study with a great bunch of ladies
  • Suave dry shampoo (It’s a life-saver on those no-shower days, which unfortunately are more than I’d care to admit.)
  • Caramel macchiato creamer in my coffee. (I’m currently substituting with Italian sweet cream creamer because I drained the other kind this week.)
  • The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
  • Undeserved grace
  • the Psalms
  • My 3-year-old’s explanation of her Sunday School lesson last week: “That’s about a man who could not walk. Jesus said, ‘Take your wheelchair and go home.’ That’s when he was in Je-wu-sal-um.”

Join me weekly for Saturday smiles and feel free to share yours. I need the regular reminder of the good going on in my life. It’s too easy to focus on the bad.

Till next week.