Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

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Going where no woman has gone before

I’m no Star Trek fan, but I’m familiar enough with the series to know that in it, space is the final frontier. In 21st century America, it’s hard to imagine what the exploration of land was like, though I sometimes find myself thinking of pioneers as my family crosses the mountains in our van.

Author Jody Hedlund captures the story of a pioneer missionary couple in her new book The Doctor’s Lady. The story is based on the life of the first white woman to cross the continental divide and travel to the far West. Devotion to God links Priscilla White to her husband Eli Ernest, both of whom are following a call to mission work. Love is secondary. Theirs is a marriage of convenience and sometimes inconvenience. As they experience the trials of a 7-month journey from New York to Oregon Country, they discover parts of themselves they didn’t know existed, and their relationship is the better for it.

This story pulled nearly every emotional string I have. Hedlund’s characters resonated with me and the story’s message beats a drum on my heart that God has been beating for weeks now: courage in the face of new and terrifying experiences.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3n-UrDeevrE&w=560&h=315]

Priscilla has no idea what it’s like for a woman to travel across country or what it will take to survive. She has pledged her life to a man so she can fulfill God’s call on her life. She doubts. She fears. She presses on.

With a husband nearing the end of seminary, I felt akin to Priscilla. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the right woman for this job of supporting my husband in ministry. And if I have the strength to do it.

Commitment and courage — those are my take-aways from The Doctor’s Lady. Hedlund is also the author of The Preacher’s Bride (which may still be available for FREE on Kindle) and she has a new book coming next year.

Read on for an interview with Hedlund, a homeschooling mom of five from Michigan. And check in on the blog today to see if Jody stops by. Keep reading for a chance to win a copy of the book, too!

What was the inspiration behind The Doctor’s Lady?

This book is inspired by the true life story of Narcissa Whitman, the first white woman to brave the dangers of overland trail and travel west. In 1836, she married Dr. Whitman, and then the next day left her childhood home and would never return for the purpose of starting a mission among the Nez Perce natives.

It was my hope in this story to bring Narcissa Whitman to life. This heroic woman has often been ignored and at times even disparaged. In reality, she exuded incredible courage to attempt a trip many proclaimed foolishly dangerous. It was called an “unheard-of-journey for females.” Because of her willingness to brave the unknown, she led the way for the many women who would follow in her footsteps in what would later become known as the Oregon Trail.

What percentage of The Doctor’s Lady is true? And how much did you add?

As with any story of historical fiction, the large majority of what I’ve written was truly from the depths of my imagination, all of my creative meanderings of “what could have happened.”

However, in my research of the Whitmans, I drew from numerous biographies. While I wasn’t able to stick to every historical detail in complete accuracy, most of the story outline is taken directly from Narcissa’s diary.

I tried to follow the trail they took west as closely as possible. While I was unable to include every stop and incident of their travel for the sake of brevity, I did try to capture the essence of their journey. I included their travel first by sleigh, then steamboat, and lastly by wagon and horse.

Make sure you read the Author’s Note at the end of the book where I explain in more detail which specific incidents came from the pages of her diary and what I made up for the sake of the story.

What’s coming next?

In 2012, my next historical romance releases. I’m really excited about this story because it’s set in my home state of Michigan. It takes place during the 1880’s at a time in history when the lumber era was at its height. Although the story isn’t inspired by a true person the way my first two books have been, I do include several real people, particularly a real villain by the name of James Carr who was notorious in central Michigan for his violence and for introducing white slavery into the state.

The heroine of the story is a young woman, Lily Young, who is looking for her sister who’s caught up into the degradation of lumber camp life. While Lily searches for her missing sister, she fights against the evil that runs rampant around her, and she fights not to lose her heart to the lumber baron who turns a blind eye to the lawlessness of the lumber business.

How did you decide to write historical romance?

I’ve always loved reading historical romances and losing myself in the past. And I’m also a big history buff. So I was naturally drawn to writing about the things I love most.

As a homeschooling mom of five children, how do you manage to find time to write?

It’s definitely not easy. I feel like I have two very full time jobs! But like any other writer trying to balance dual careers or multiple responsibilities, I’ve had to look for ways to make it work. I’ve scaled-back on outside commitments and simplified home life as much as possible. I also stick to a very strict writing schedule when I’m in first draft mode. I block out writing time and don’t let myself go to bed at night unless I get in my daily word count.

What’s your must-have road trip item?

My pillows! I always take my pillows with me on a road-trip (except of course when I fly). I’m really picky about sleeping on “used” pillows. I can’t help wondering who slept on the fluffy mound before me, whether they had clean hair or bad breath or whatever! And besides, no pillow can ever be quite as comfortable as my own. (Now you can see why I wouldn’t have made the trip west in a covered wagon–at least not without a great deal of complaining and whining!)

Where can readers find you?

I hang out on Facebook here: Author Jody Hedlund

I also love to chat on Twitter: @JodyHedlund

My home base is at my website: jodyhedlund.com

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WANT TO WIN YOUR OWN COPY? Leave a comment on my blog site (not Facebook) revealing your must-have road trip item. I’ll pick a random winner via Random.org on Sept. 30. The winner will receive a signed copy of The Doctor’s Lady! Open to U.S. mailing addresses only.

WANT A BONUS ENTRY? Share this post on Facebook or Twitter and come back to the blog to let me know you’ve done it.

But, wait! There’s more! Click the banner below for another contest on Jody’s blog.

Enter the Be A Trailblazer Contest!

In exchange for posting a review and interview, I received a free copy of the book from the author and Bethany House Publishers.

A crash course in letting go

Two weeks ago, I had a plan. A blog post every day of the week because I felt I had so much to say and I was learning some things worth sharing.

Then this happened.

The rains came down and the floods came up. Thirty inches of water in our basement turned our world upside down. Maybe that’s a little dramatic. Others have it worse. We are blessed. And God is good. I don’t doubt either of those things for a minute.

But life is, let’s say, overwhelming at the moment.

What started as an inch of water quickly escalated after the town’s leaders decided to cut power to the power station when it flooded. Our sump pump, which was diligently working while we slept, stopped when the power did. Thus, the indoor swimming pool in our basement.

We didn’t lose as much as we could have nor anything we consider extremely valuable. But loss is loss and it hurts nonetheless. Perhaps the biggest loss I discovered this week was all of my high school and college yearbooks. This didn’t matter as much to my husband, and I’m not sure why it matters so much to me. Nostalgia. Memories. These are the things that get me in trouble sometimes because I hold on to things that should have long been thrown away.

We’re still going through stuff, drying it out and finding ways to get rid of it. We’ve been collectors for too long. Clutter seems to follow us. I’m always saving things for later. (Like the mound of empty cardboard boxes that were in the basement for our eventual move next summer. Gone.) 

God, it would seem, helped us clear things out sooner than we’d hoped. (I’m not suggesting He caused the flood to punish us or anyone else. Just want to get that out there.)

Where I once stockpiled, I now find myself with an urge to rid our house of everything we’re not using RIGHT NOW. I have more than three years worth of kids clothes that will be finding a new home in the next several months, and even though it’s been years since my daughter wore some of her things, I still feel pangs of guilt as I toss them into a “to sell” tote. (I’m convinced guilt is a by-product of giving birth to children. I’ve never felt so guilty about everyday actions the way I have since becoming a mother. Is anyone else with me on this?)

My husband and I have talked about the desire to live more simply, but until now our actions haven’t matched our words. It’s still hard to give things away or throw things away, thinking we might need it again someday. Even with the kids clothes. We’re not 100 percent sure we’re not going to have more kids, but we have no immediate plans for another one. Besides, kids clothes are abundant and grandparents love to shop. (At least our kids’ do.)

We have much. And what we give away could easily be replaced in the future.

The Bible tells us to store up treasures in heaven where moth and rust cannot destroy and thieves cannot break in and steal. We are learning the reality of this principle. The reason so many of our stored items were in the basement is because a year ago, we had a mold problem in the attic and had to move everything out of the attic to the basement so the mold could be removed. We never moved our stuff back upstairs because we didn’t think we’d need to.

The water line

Treasures in heaven — where mold and flood cannot destroy.

After the fire department pumped us out.

Charlie Sheen made popular the idea of “winning.” I still don’t get it. Our family is experiencing a season of “losing.” At least in the earthly sense.

Elsewhere in the Bible, Jesus tells his followers that those who lose and give up for Him will gain in the long run. I’ve heard it called  “winning through losing.”

It’s not as glamorous as it might sound. Some days, it really stinks. My hope is that because of this, we’ll be better off.

Not wealthy in goods, but rich in what really matters.

Cooking with kids

If my husband and I had a show on Food Network, we’d have to call ourselves the Messy Chefs. We are pro at making a complete mess of the kitchen anytime we cook together.

The kids are starting to get in on the action, and I’ve considered sending Food Network some feedback about the challenges on their shows. Cooking for kids? How about cooking with kids? Now, there’s a challenge.

And it’s one I’ve voluntarily undertaken. Anytime I start preparing food for lunch or dinner, I’ve got two willing helpers instantly at my side.

Sort of like this.

Now, I know someone is going to warn me about the dangers of letting my kids “help” too close to a hot stove.

Trust me; it’s more dangerous if they don’t help. Like yesterday when we were making ratatouille (which I’m pretty sure is French for “everything but the kitchen sink”), I didn’t have much for them to do, so they made their own fun.

A pastry brush became a paintbrush. The meat mallet was a hammer that had to hit everything. (I cringed with every “BANG!”) My favorite, though, was the whisks, which they whisked into guitars. “Guitar, guitar,” Corban yelled as he air strummed through the kitchen.

Anyway, I decided to partially harness this eagerness to help and let Isabelle pick out one meal a week (that’s the goal, at least) that she wants to make.

We used this book:

To make these last week:

Piggy pies, they were called. And the only problem was Corban kept trying to eat the eyes (peas) before they went in the oven. How creepy would blind pigs have been?

They both had a blast, and I think Isabelle enjoyed eating more because she had helped make them.

Of course, this whole experiment requires large extra doses of patience and a frequent letting go of control, both of which do not come easily to me, especially when trying to accomplish a task.

Gradually, we’re letting Isabelle, and Corban to some extent, help more with food prep.

Here, she was helping us make baked hush puppies for Phil’s birthday meal on Sunday.

I love her two-handed method for stirring the wet and dry ingredients.

Cooking with kids isn’t always easy and sometimes we break a few eggs (unintentionally) but for me, it’s more fun to have them helping, even if the whole process takes longer.

Do your kids like to help in the kitchen? How do you let them be involved?

Nowhere to go but down

So I’ve been at this weight loss challenge for 2 months now with nothing but gain to show for it. I’ve gained weight. I’ve gained perspective. I’ve gained insight. I’ve also lost some things, too. Desire, motivation, pride.

Besides the actual act of losing weight, I’m struggling right now to make exercise and eating right a priority. We’ve had to — and will have to — make some tough decisions about what’s going to be most important to our family. Exercise is part of it, but in the last two weeks, we haven’t been able to follow through on that. Spending time together as a couple, time as a family, my husband’s last year of seminary, restoring the house to some kind of normal after being gone for two weeks … these are what we’ve spent our time on.

The next two weeks won’t be “normal” by any means — we’re having company; we’re taking a trip to Denver for my cousin’s wedding. I haven’t finished unpacking from the last trip yet and I’m already starting to think about packing for the next one.

I feel like I’m waiting for conditions to be “perfect” for exercise to fit into the routine. I know I’m kidding myself. Life with two little ones will never be perfectly right for making exercise a priority.

Help me out, here. How do you make exercise a priority? What suffers when that happens? What benefits do you get from it?

Looking for church in all the wrong places

Sometimes, I have a love-hate relationship with church.

I love the people who are the church. I hate what we sometimes do in the name of the church. I love getting together on Sundays. I hate that sometimes we leave it in the building and don’t take it into the rest of the week.

Like every relationship, it has its highs and lows. I’ve not considered leaving the church or living the Christian life solo, but after reading Joshua Harris’ Why Church Matters (formerly titled Stop Dating the Church), I’ve come to this realization: I’m unfaithful to the church.

Because my husband is going to be a pastor, I’ve thought that giving our lives and vocation for the church is commitment enough. Never mind that I “shop around” in my mind, comparing my current and former churches to other churches I’ve visited or heard about or read about.

If we could just be like that church, I’ll think, or, if only we lived closer to this church.

These kinds of thoughts set us up for disappointment and a lack of commitment to the church, God’s chosen vessel for the Gospel, His bride. Harris reminds us that Christ loves the church, and loved her to the point of death, and sees her with the eyes of a groom on his wedding day. She’s not perfect, but she’s getting there.

Harris encourages commitment to a biblically based church and offers 10 questions to consider before choosing a church. He does not advocate making the best of a bad situation, i.e. one where the Bible is secondary to anything else, discipline is an afterthought or where people live contrary to what they proclaim on Sunday. But church-shopping, or not attending one at all, is not to be a Christian’s way of life, according to Harris.

Some of Harris’ beliefs and teachings about church seem a little extreme to me and sometimes, with little room for grace. That doesn’t mean the book isn’t valuable. I think it’s best to take parts of it with a grain of salt. Like in another of his books, I Kissed Dating Good-bye, Harris writes with authority and backs up his beliefs with Scripture and experience.

I’m not sure everyone will buy everything he’s selling, but I think he makes some good points about committing to a church family, serving within that family and ending the search for a “perfect” church.

Check out chapter one here.

In exchange for this review, I received a free copy of the book from WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group.

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Nobody’s fine

I’m so tired of being “fine.”

You know how it goes:

Some other person: “Hi. How are you?”

Me: “Fine.”

Or sometimes I upgrade “fine” to “good.” Rarely do I think about my answer. It’s automatic.  Spit out an answer. Don’t take too long. Nobody’s interested in how you really feel.

Most of the time, I’m not even sure how I do feel. Maybe at that exact moment, standing in line at the grocery store without kids and everything checked off my list, I am fine. My overall state of well-being, though? Probably somewhere less than fine.

I’m obsessed with “fine.” And “OK.”

“Are you OK?” — I’ve noticed I ask my husband this question a lot. I want the answer to be “yeah, I’m fine,” but lately it hasn’t been. We’re working on some things to help us be more honest about how we’re feeling and our states of mind. He surprised me one day when he answered that question, “No. And that’s OK.”

Last week, the kids and I all caught some kind of stomach bug which one day resulted in our 20-month-old puking in the grocery store. If you’ve never cleaned up puke in a grocery store with people maneuvering around you to check out the produce offerings, let me tell ya, it’s a thrill. I think I used an entire roll of paper towels.

Because the illness had cycled through both kids and me, I thought we were done with it. The in-store puking caught me off guard.

The next day, I took the kids to the park for some morning fun and a picnic lunch. We had a great time, which I sort of didn’t expect. I’m learning that I associate leaving the house with things going wrong so having a great time at the park with my kids by myself was a pleasant surprise.

We had walked to the park, and on the way home, Corban started making some weird mouth expressions and my first thought was, “Oh, no. He’s going to puke again.”

So I made a beeline for home. Get home, get home, get home, was all I could think. I almost started to panic at the thought that he might puke in the wagon on our walk home. I kept turning around asking him, “Are you OK?” This must be part of my mantra for life. I’m noticing it more and more.

We arrived home safely, without incident, and Corban perked up like nothing was wrong.

I felt silly for worrying that something might go wrong. In all reality, something is always going to go wrong. I should be more surprised when things go right.

I hope that doesn’t sound cynical. I’m just re-learning that the world in which we live is wrong. It has been since Eve ate the fruit and gave some to Adam. It’s not a perfect world. Sometimes it’s not even a good world.

Bad things happen. Bad days happen. Sometimes I’m going to feel “fine” and sometimes I’m not.

And that’s OK.

Most people aren’t “fine.” And that’s OK, too.

So, how are you today?

Why some restaurants shouldn’t let us in the door

There’s a good reason some restaurants don’t go out of their way to cater to families.

We might be that reason.

Our family of 4 — including an almost-2-year-old and a 3-and-a-half-year-old — doesn’t eat out a lot, unless we’re on the road visiting family. Our most recent trip reminds me why eating out is usually limited to adults-only date night.

We’d been in the car for about 7 hours and made our usual stop in Toledo, Ohio, near the airport, where the restaurant choices are more varied than what is available on the turnpike. We’ve done Chipotle (not terribly kid-friendly despite a new kids menu) and Panera (ditto) and we’d eaten fast food (Wendy’s and Chick-Fil-A) the day before.

Even though sit-down is a risk, that’s what my husband and I thought might work. Healthier options. More room for the kids. That kind of thing. So, we chose Chili’s.

The host wisely seated us in a corner booth, near the door. We put the kids on the inside and started looking at the menu. I was impressed with the kids menu. Not only did it have a lot of options but it had pictures of the food. Isabelle, the 3-year-old, pointed to a chicken sandwich and corn on the cob. How grown-up, I thought. She had passed on the mac and cheese and the corn dog.

OK, I thought. We can do this.

Then she had to go to the bathroom. She skipped the entire way. This scene would repeat itself 4 more times while we were in the restaurant.

Meanwhile, back at the booth, my husband was in charge of the Corbanator. He destroys everything in his path, food included. The poor ladies sitting adjacent to our booth were subject to his non-stop greetings — hi, hi, hi — and pokes. If that weren’t enough, he was trying to climb into the window and eat the end of the blinds cord. Once, while my husband was extracting Corban from the window, Corban flung himself backward and cracked his head on the table. The entire restaurant seemed to go silent.

I wanted to say, “Carry on, folks. This is normal for us.”

Fortunately, we ordered chips and salsa. Throwing food at the children — hungry animals — seems to help. Corban, however, mostly just crushed the chips all over the table and the seat. I’d like to tell you things improved after their food came.

Not so. Now that Corban had more “supplies,” he decided to use the ketchup all over his hands to “paint” the window separating us from the entryway. And when he wasn’t redecorating, he was pulling sugar and Sweet ‘N’ Low packets from the table and dropping them between the booth and the wall.

On one such occasion, when Phil was with Isabelle in the bathroom, our waitress came by to ask if I needed more water. I wanted to tell her to bring a straitjacket instead. For me, not the kids. When my husband returned, we were both pretty much hysterical with laughter. Our kids were wild but they weren’t hurting anyone or themselves. We knew that, for the most part, their behavior was due to the long car trip.

Next time, I think we’ll just have to settle for a McDonald’s with a playland. At least there we’re understood. And accommodated.

So, fellow parents, tell me, am I destined to eat only at kid-friendly places for the forseeable future or is there a way to make eating out anywhere more family friendly? Your experiences are invaluable!

The long, hard road to success

I’m a big fan of The Next Food Network Star. I like seeing people’s dreams come true. And, competition, to a certain extent. Though the contestants on that show have years of blood, sweat and tears behind them, sometimes the show gives off the impression of instant success. You win the competition and — boom! — you’re a star.

So, I really appreciated reading Scars of a Chef by Rick Tramonto. In some circles, he’s probably a household name. I hadn’t heard of him, but I was drawn into his story. He worked his way up the ladder of success from the age of 15, overcoming a lack of education, drug addiction, a turbulent childhood and workaholism to become a star in the culinary world. Tramonto’s contemporaries and friends include Bobby Flay, Mario Batali, Emeril Lagasse and Wolfgang Puck. Not bad company if you’re a foodie.

But the real story isn’t his rise to stardom; it’s his transformation through life with Christ.

Scars of a Chef takes readers along Tramonto’s food journey from Rochester, New York and New York City to England and Chicago. It includes recipes fit for a gourmand and pictures from the chef’s life. Preview the first chapter here. Italian through-and-through, it’s easy for a reader to hear Tramonto’s voice, even if you’ve never heard him speak, which I haven’t.

With less than three hours left till the end of August, this is probably my last book for the Tyndale Summer Reading Program, though I have one more sitting on my desk and I might give it the old college try while my husband watches endless episodes of Top Gear.

Either way, watch for one more summer reading wrap-up post in the near future. I love books. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?

I found common ground with a pencil sharpener

My daughter is really into sharpening pencils right now. Sometimes she uses her manual Tinkerbell pencil sharpener. Other times she likes to use the battery-operated one. She brought it to me for help one day and I happened to see the sticker attached to the bottom: Receptacle must be secure for unit to operate.

“Must be secure for unit to operate.” Join the club, I thought.

I also just so happened to be reading Beth Moore’s So Long, Insecurity, and in typical Beth Moore fashion, I feel exposed and vulnerable because she’s speaking my language. The book is subtitled “You’ve been a bad friend to us,” and I’m discovering through it the deep net of insecurity in which my life is caught.

So when I read, “Must be secure .. to operate,” I thought of how that’s exactly what God wants. Insecurity keeps us from operating and functioning for God’s pre-planned purposes. When I’m secure in Him, I can do whatever He wants me to do without paralyzing fear or self-doubt.

I love how God uses two unrelated pieces of my life to bring home a point.

More on the book:

Moore has a passion for this topic. You can read a portion of it in the first chapter here. What’s especially great about the book is she offers not just words but tools to overcome insecurity. Prayers, scriptures and practical no-duh tips for walking and living securely amidst life’s disappointments and hurts.

Moore also doesn’t endorse glossing over hurt or denying emotions. She just wants us, women in general, to detach insecurity from these other hurts.

I borrowed this book from my aunt while I wait to receive my copy in the mail. She said it’s a book you could read every 6 months or so. I agree. What a blessing.

I’m not long acquainted with Beth Moore yet, but the two Bible studies of hers I’ve done, and now this book, have been life-altering. And they’ve seemed to address a current spiritual issue in my life. Moore is in tune with what women need spiritually because a) she is one and b) she has a close relationship with the Lord. This book, she writes, is birthed from experience. She’s been there, done that and shares personal experiences throughout.

Are you a woman? You NEED to read this book.

No pressure, but really, it’s that good. Even at its most painfully honest moments, I can’t wait to read it again and really dig in to the freeing message God has for me as a woman. I struggle deeply with insecurity. Moore’s book helps me believe that I don’t have to anymore.

That it is possible to live securely as a woman in this uncertain and painful world.

What sweet words of encouragement to this weary soul.

The ‘F’ word might not be so bad after all

It’s a 2-for-1 on the blog today. It’s been a few weeks since I updated on my weight-loss progress for the My Loss Their Gain challenge, and I’m reading books like crazy to finish out the Tyndale Summer Reading Program, so I’m doubling up on posts today.

We were home in Illinois for two weeks, and I was sure my weight loss efforts took another beating. Good food. Lots of it. Little exercise. Frankly, I came home a little depressed. Then we had a hurricane when we got back to Pennsylvania, and we found a bat in the house, and the kids and I all got sick with a stomach bug. I remembered to weigh in today and discovered that I’d actually lost about 1.5 pounds since I last weighed in two weeks ago. Most of that is probably from the stomach bug. Not the most enjoyable way to lose weight.

So, with that little bit of encouragement, I’m resolved to restart my campaign to lose weight and donate money to widows and orphans in Liberia.

Speaking of Liberia, I learned another little encouraging tidbit this week while reading In This Place by Kim L. Abernethy, who spent time in Liberia as a missionary. When she and her husband first arrived in the West African country, the people were so excited and greeted them with these words “Thank you teacher for your fat wife!” Abernethy, understandably, was a little taken aback by this but came to learn that Liberians associated fatness, if you will, with blessing. To them, a person who is overweight must be blessed because they have more than enough food to eat.

Funny. I haven’t thought of it that way. I’m not fat; I’m blessed!

“Fat” is such a dirty word in our country. No one wants to be called “fat” which is why Abernethy reacted negatively when the Liberians used the word to describe her. I still bear the scars of a friend calling me “fat” in third- or fourth-grade. I can’t think of any positive ways we use the word “fat.” (Unless of course, we’re talking about “phat.” That’s supposed to be a good thing.)

While I have my own struggles with weight, having kids increases them. Both of our kids are “above average” when it comes to weight. Their doctor doesn’t make a big deal out of it, but the WIC nutritionists have labeled them as obese already. They’re 3 and 1 1/2. That seems a little premature to me, so we try not to stress about it. We try to make healthy choices as a family and encourage activity.

I don’t want my kids to have to bear the consequences of being overweight. Seeing their weight as a blessing because we don’t have to worry about food is an attitude shift I hadn’t considered.

So, I’m still aiming to lose weight by the end of the year, but I’m not going to beat myself up for failing to do so.

“Fat” doesn’t have to be such a bad word, although I’m not sure I’m ready yet to use it as a compliment.