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The one thing I didn't expect to release

I began 2013 with a withered soul. The soil of my heart was dry and cracked and the weeds of disappointment and bitterness were choking the life out of me.

On the outside, I wasn’t much better.  My words were unkind and pessimistic, evidence of the slow hardening of a heart that had been dealt one too many blows. I was barely holding on.

My husband had graduated seminary six months earlier and was jobless in his field. We were raising two kids under the age of five, 800 miles from family, and we were not even getting by.

This wasn’t the life I’d imagined.

Mad at God. Disappointed with my husband. Embarrassed to be asking family for help.

And that’s where I was when I found OneWord365.

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Today I’m guest posting at the OneWord365 blog. Read the rest of my 2013 OneWord experience here.

Even better than the 'real' thing: Review of The Headmistress of Rosemere by Sarah Ladd

So, Downton Abbey is back and the opening episode left me less than impressed. I was in the middle of reading Sarah Ladd’s latest The Headmistress of Rosemere when the premiere aired and I found myself wanting to read rather than watch. Shocking, right? (By way of disclaimer, I received a free digital copy of the book from Litfuse Publicity Group in exchange for posting reviews and promotional items.)

rosemereThe Headmistress of Rosemere features the elder of the Sterling brothers, William, a confirmed bachelor and landlord of the Rosemere School for Young Ladies on neighboring property. Rosemere is directed by Patience Creighton, who finds herself running the school after her father, the former headmaster, dies and her brother disappears to London. When Sterling is found beaten and near-death in the school’s stables, Patience wonders if the future of the school is at risk. And William, when he is lucid, finds himself drawn to the new headmistress, whom he hasn’t seen since she was a child.

It’s the second book in Ladd’s Whispers on the Moors series (and oh, do I breathe a little sigh at these beautiful covers!). The first, The Heiress of Winterwood, satisfied my Downton Abbey withdrawal last spring, and even though it was an award-winning story, I liked this second offering far better. (And it’s not the kind of sequel that you need to have read the first book to understand the second one. The main character, William Sterling, is a brother to the male lead in The Heiress of Winterwood but the storylines don’t really intertwine.)

Patience is a wonderful blend of a strong woman who has taken what life has given her and thrived as well as a woman who longs for the traditional family life and protection of a man. She is tender yet firm in her running of the school. She takes her calling as headmistress seriously but dreams of being a wife and mother to her own family. She bears a heavy load with an inconsolable mother and absent brother. I could feel her weariness.

William has dug himself a pit of financial trouble through gambling and reckless living. His reputation precedes him from his days in London. He is desperate to restore his family’s home to its former state and make an honest living but he can’t seem to catch a break. Though terribly flawed and obviously haunted by his past, William Sterling is a hero I wanted to see win in the end.

Lots of drama and action and a little bit of mystery bring this romance to a satisfying conclusion, though without spoiling anything, I will say that I was a teensy disappointed with the way Patience reacted to a surprising piece of news about William. I wanted her to struggle with it a little more. But that’s a minor complaint.

Overall The Headmistress of Rosemere is a to-be-read for fans of 19th century fiction.

Want to read what others are saying? Find more reviews and reader reaction here.

About the book:

Patience Creighton has dedicated herself to the Rosemere School for Young Ladies. But the return of the enigmatic master of the estate puts everything she loves at risk.

Bright, sensible Patience knows what is expected of her. At twenty-five, her opportunity for a family of her own has passed, so she invests herself in teaching at her father’s school for girls. When her father dies suddenly and her brother moves away to London, she is determined to make the school successful.

Confirmed bachelor William Sterling also knows what is expected of him, but mistake after mistake has left him teetering on ruin’s edge. As master of Eastmore Hall he owns a great deal of property — including the land where Rosemere School is located — but possesses little money to manage its upkeep. When debtors start calling, he is desperate to find a new source of income, even if it means sacrificing Rosemere.

When a fire threatens the school grounds, William must decide to what lengths he is willing to go to protect his birthright. And when Patience’s brother returns with a new wife to take over management of the school, Patience suddenly finds herself unsure of her calling. After a surprising truth about William’s past is brought to light, both William and Patience will have to seek God’s plans for their lives-and their hearts.

Purchase a copy: http://ow.ly/sgVC4

About the author: Sarah E. Ladd has more than ten years of marketing experience. She is a graduate of Ball State University and holds degrees in public relations and marketing. The Heiress of Winterwood was the recipient of the 2011 Genesis Award for historical romance. Sarah lives in Indiana with her amazing husband, sweet daughter, and spunky Golden Retriever.

Learn more about Sarah at: http://sarahladd.com

A goodnatured romp through frontier Texas: Review of A Match Made in Texas novella collection

I’ll be honest here. My expectations for this novella collection were pretty low. (And I received a free digital copy of the book from Bethany House Publishers in exchange for my review.) I’ve not read many novellas or novella collections, so I really wasn’t sure what to expect. I KNEW I would love Karen Witemeyer’s story because it involved one of the Archer brothers, who have starred in two other of her books, but the others I wasn’t sure about.

texasSO, I’m glad to report that I loved this! A Match Made in Texas is four stories by four authors centered around a frontier Texas town. In each of the first three stories, a woman or man in need of help is given an anonymous push toward a potential romantic partner. We don’t know who the matchmaker is until the fourth story when the tables turn and she finds herself the object of the town’s matchmaking efforts.

Two of these authors–Regina Jennings and Mary Connealy–were new to me, while Witemeyer and Carol Cox were familiar. I thought the stories blended well together, and I loved the unique situations each pair found themselves in.

My only complaint is that because they’re novellas, the stories are SO short and the action happens quickly.

What I’m learning to love about novella collections like this one is that they’re a good way to find new authors, especially when paired with authors I already know. I don’t know if I would have agreed to read this one if Witemeyer’s story wasn’t in it, but now I’m glad I did.

 

How I need to remember that change is gradual

I woke up feeling unwell in body and spirit. A challenging sermon on holiness at church yesterday and the onset of a cold that’s making its way through our family have left me drained before I’ve even started today. That, and the need to do EVERYTHING ALL AT ONCE IMMEDIATELY.

Tell me your Mondays are like this.

With piles of laundry mocking you as a failure.

With kitchen counters covered in dirty dishes singing “You’re no good, you’re no good, baby you’re no good.”

Back to school. Back to a sometimes routine. The first full week of a new year.

And I’m blowing it already.

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While it’s true I no longer make resolutions, I still feel the need to make changes in my life every time the calendar turns another year. Maybe I’m not calling them resolutions, but I’m still taking the opportunity to change.

And there’s plenty of opportunity for change.

As the first of the year dawned, I pledged to myself (again, for the third time) that this would be the year I finish my novel.

Last year, I felt mostly bland about my writing. Frustrated. Discouraged. Sure that I’d never make anything of myself. I chipped away at the story, adding words here and there without regularity.

Give up. Give up. Give up. The voices told me lies, but I wanted to listen.

Nevermind that my husband switched jobs and we moved and our daughter started school. Transition upon transition.

And when I dared to look at how much writing I’d actually done, I was surprised to learn that in all of 2013, I added 20,000 words to my novel.

It felt small and like nothing when it was happening. But at the end, it had amounted to much more.

—

I tried on three outfits before church yesterday because I’m having a love-hate with my body. I have some clothes I’d like to wear, to rediscover, and they.don’t.fit. Curse them.

I had a plan for Christmas Eve, to wear this purple dress I love and got on sale and haven’t worn in two years. It looked awful, which in my mind means I feel like I look awful.

But Christmas is full of holidays and eating so I allowed myself the feast, knowing that there would be a season of less come January. On December 31, I started a new plan. I would get up early. I would exercise. I would intentionally eat healthier. Oatmeal instead of a bagel. More fruit. More salad. I love all those things but they take more time to prepare. More effort. And, of course, I have to have them in the house in the first place.

As of today, I’ve worked out four times in the last week, which is four times more than all of fall, I think.

Yet I feel like a failure because there are no results.

It’s only been a week.

Time. Discipline. It won’t happen overnight.

(And for the record, I’m not aiming for a weight or a size but a healthier lifestyle overall. The older I get the better care I want to take of myself so I can enjoy my kids and life as a whole.)

—

A few months ago while sorting through some old newspaper clippings of columns I’d written back in my mid-20s, I had the urge to wad them all up. Or burn them. Something destructive.

Because the girl who wrote those words has changed in ways I couldn’t have imagined. Some of it was her choice. Some of it wasn’t. But she’s different. I feel like that girl barely exists in my memory. I wanted to shake her. Or punch her in the face. And tell her that she had no idea what she was talking about.

Life wasn’t like she thought. Faith wasn’t what she thought.

It was like looking in a mirror and seeing a reflection of me 10 years ago. And I saw not only how I looked on the outside but what I thought on the inside.

The urge to destroy passed, and now I’m grateful for the look into the past.

Because change has happened. It has taken years. But the differences are obvious to me. Ten years seems like a long time, but with those clippings in my hands, I felt like no time had passed at all.

—

A week is not a worthwhile measure for change.

It is good to want to change. It is good to have a plan. It is good to pursue what is better and whole.

It is not good to expect immediate change. But oh, how I want a quick fix for everything.

It is not good to expect perfection. But oh, how I want to do it right the first time.

It is not good to give up after only a week. But oh, how I want to say “forget it” to all my plans and intentions.

Here is what I am learning. Slowly, but I’m learning.

Change can’t happen alone. I need community.

Part of my writing plan was to join a group for word count accountability. Nothing happens if I don’t meet my goal, but I can be encouraged by what others are writing and knowing I’m not the only one struggling.

As for the other areas where I want to change and need to change: community applies there too. But that’s hard. I can’t go to a gym right now. But I can let someone else know my plans.

Invitation is a key to transformation. I have to let people in, and that starts with talking about my failings. Then it moves to sharing my plans. It continues with commitment. And it doesn’t end with failure.

5 on Friday: The best of Christmas vacation

We got to go home to Illinois for Christmas this year. It had been almost a year since Phil and I had been back to our hometown, and we missed Christmas last year. Even as much as we wanted to see family, we approached the trip with a little bit of dread and stress. Because when you only come home once a year, it seems like everyone wants to see you, and we hate to disappoint people.

As the days passed, though, we found ourselves having a lot of fun and with less stress than we had expected.

Here are five of the best things that happened while we were away for Christmas break:

1. Our daughter picked out gifts this year. She shopped at school for her grandparents and her brother, and when she got to Illinois, her great-grandma took grandparents giftsher shopping for Phil and me. We had no idea what any of the gifts were, so we were just as surprised as anyone else on Christmas. She got one set of grandparents a pen each that said something fabulous about grandparents, and the other set of grandparents got refrigerator magnets that also said something fun about grandparents. For her brother, she picked out a pair of squishy ducks in his favorite colors. He played with those all afternoon on Christmas. For me, she picked out a set of three pairs of earrings because she knew that I wanted to start wearing earrings again. And she got ones for sensitive ears because she knows mine hurt sometimes when I wear them. For her dad, she picked out a notepad and pen–“for work,” she said. More than the gifts themselves, it was fun for us to see the thoughts that went into each gift.

kaiden2. Playing with our nephew. We’ve seen him less than a handful of times in his two years of life, which means that when I ask for a hug he says “no.” But that’s okay. He did warm up to us eventually. We took advantage of our time and played as much as possible.

3. A daytrip to Chicago with my brother as tour guide. I’m not allowed to post pictures of him. (“No Facebook,” he kept telling me as I snapped photos with my camera.) But it was the best day. We rode every form of mass transit–the Metra to downtown, then after a few blocks of walking we took the subway to an intersection where a trolley picked us up to go to Navy Pier. We ate good food at Harry Caray’s and walked around the pier. I got to see the water and the skyline and breathe Chicago air. It’s weird, I know. We’ve never lived in Chicago, but every time we’re back, it feels like home. It’s my favorite city in the world, and probably always will be. When our day was done we took a bus back to the train station before heading west again. We did exchange gifts but I’ll take “presence” over “presents” any day. I don’t see my brother that often, so it’s always good to be together. And he’s the best tour guide in Chicago.

chicago skyline

4. A double-date with my husband’s brother and our sister-in-law. We ate delicious burgers at Buffalo Wild Wings then we went bowling. Bowling! It was like a time warp to my teenage years. The alley even smelled the same as I remembered. And though we were mostly terrible and felt a little too old to be participating in said sport, we had a good time as grown-ups doing grown-up things.

5. Being together. It sounds sappy, but the four of us–my husband, our daughter, our son and me–don’t spend a lot of time together as a foursome. I’m home with the boy a lot. Our daughter’s at school and my husband’s at work. Our together time is limited, an unexpected downside to starting school. So, these days of long van rides, fun experiences, family meals and just hanging out were a refreshing reminder of how much I love our little clan. Even when I want to pull my hair out.

When letters tell the story: Review of Dear Mr. Knightley by Katherine Reay

A new  year upon us means a new year of reading and books, and I’m thrilled to start 2014 with a review of a book I wasn’t sure I would like when I started it.

knightleyKatherine Reay’s debut novel Dear Mr. Knightley drew me in with its Jane Austen reference in the title. (Disclaimer: I received a free copy of the book in exchange for my review through the Booksneeze program.) What I didn’t realize is that it’s written entirely in letters. The main character, Samantha Moore, is an orphan looking for meaning in her life. Thanks to a mysterious benefecator, she applies to the presitgious Medill School of Journalism at Northwestern University and is accepted. The condition of her endowment is that she write letters regularly to the benefactor, who has taken the name Mr. Knightley.

So, the story unfolds in Sam’s letters to this man, which end up reading somewhat like a journal because Mr. Knightley seldom writes back. It’s not meant to be a correspondance. And, admittedly, it takes some getting used to. But as an introvert and a writer, I came to appreciate the novel’s style. And the story is compelling as we wonder if she’ll make it through the rigorous journalism program and if she’ll ever discover who Mr. Knightley is.

It’s fun and different, and because Sam has such a love for classic literature, I found myself making a mental list of books I want to read or re-read. The characters in these classic novels are her friends and part of her identity, and I felt like I knew them better because of her attachment to them.

So, reading this book has given me a dozen others to add to my reading list for the new year.

If you’re a fan of Austen, I think you’ll like this one, especially if you’re familiar enough with her works to get all the references to characters and quotes from her books.

The One Word I want to live this year

Yesterday I recapped my first OneWord365 experience, a year of releasing and letting go.

A month or so ago, I started thinking about my next One Word. What did I want to experience, live and be challenged by in 2014?

My soul settled on the word “enjoy.”

That sounds lovely, right? And on the surface, that might seem like not so much of a challenge.

But it is.

See, for several years now, I’ve not really been enjoying my life. I’ve been tolerating and surviving and plodding through to the next thing. Which is why “release” was so important to me this year. I was carrying a bunch of baggage in my heart, soul and mind.

Now that I’m free-er, I find myself in a season of goodness.

I love the house we’re living in. Our lives are full of good friends and supportive community through our church and this new city we’ve moved to. For the first time in years I can say “life is good” and mean it. It’s not perfect, of course, but it’s so incredibly different than the past five years that I almost don’t believe it’s true.

So, for the coming year I want to enjoy. I want to trust in God’s goodness and not worry about the future. I want to live as though we’re going to be here for a long time instead of being constantly on the lookout for our next move, our next house, our next job.

I want to play with my kids and say “yes” more often to the fun things instead of being bogged down in the drudgery of chores and “have-to.” I want to “want to.”

I’m already scaling back the number of books I’m going to review on my blog because I want to enjoy reading and not feel obligated to read. I’m weaning myself from my coffee habit so I can enjoy a cup of coffee for the pleasure of it instead of feeling like I need to have it to survive.

And these are just the beginning stages. If 2013 was any indication, I have no idea what God has planned for my year when it comes to “enjoying.”

I’ll post throughout the year about what I’m learning and experiencing along the way. I’d love for you to follow along and share your stories, too.

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And if you haven’t signed up with the OneWord365 community, there’s still time! Choosing one word for a year is the most effective change I’ve experienced for an entire year. I’d encourage you to give it a try.

Just one word: My OneWord365 year in review

I’ve been a maker (and breaker) of New Year’s resolutions for as long as I can remember.

Eat better.

Exercise more.

(My favorite sin) less.

I’m always sincere. Generally I have a plan. But inevitably, I fall short.

I forget.

I lose heart.

I give up.

And nothing really changes.

ow_250x250This year, though, something did change. And it started with a new approach to the new year. Instead of making a resolution, I chose one word.

I stumbled onto the OneWord365 movement through a blog I read. And the idea appealed to me.

Pick a word for the year. Something you want to become. An area where you struggle. Something God is speaking to your heart.

And let that word guide your year.

It sounded easy enough. And for a few weeks toward the end of last year, I mulled a few words that I knew would define my year.

What I ended up with was the word “release.” OneWord2013_Release

2013 was all about letting go for me, and while I expected certain things to be part of that, other things that happened this year caught me by surprise.

Now that the year is almost over, I can look back and see actual real change that happened this year, all because of one word.

I never would have thought something this simple could have such an impact. But throughout the year, because this word, this idea of letting go, was in the forefront of my mind, I noticed it everywhere. I read books and the words “release” and “let go” jumped off the page. In experiences where I might want to hold on for dear life and control, the word “release” whispered to me, and in an act of trust, I did. In the Bible, this theme presented itself to me again and again.

And I can say here, almost 12 months later, that I feel lighter. Less burdened. More like my hands are open instead of fisted.

And I can’t wait for 2014! (Check out tomorrow’s post to find out what my One Word is for next year.)

Want to join this movement? You can sign up here.

And here’s what I wrote throughout the year about my OneWord365 journey:

Change awaits, and it’s simpler than you might think!

Pearl Girls' 12 Pearls of Christmas: A Teenage Pregnancy by Robin Jones Gunn

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Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas blog series!

Merry Christmas from Pearl Girls™! We hope you enjoy these Christmas “Pearls of Wisdom” from the authors who were so kind to donate their time and talents! If you miss a few posts, you’ll be able go back through and read them on this blog throughout the next few days.

We’re giving away a pearl necklace in celebration of the holidays, as well as some items from the contributors! Enter now below. The winner will be announced on January 2, 2014, at the Pearl Girls blog.

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 Mother of Pearl, Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace, or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.

***

A Teenage Pregnancy
by Robin Jones Gunn

It was early, early morning, that delicate time of day just before sunrise when it seems as if all of creation is still asleep.

In the cold, gray light she gazed at the infant in her arms. He was less than an hour old and so, so small. Instinct prompted her to draw her newborn close that he might feel the rhythm of her heart. He curled his tiny hand around her finger and she smiled. His eyes closed, and with feathered breath he gave way to the blessed sleep that follows such a long journey.

In weary awe she studied his face, his ears, his nose. He was here. He had come at last.

A single tear fell from her eye and rolled across his cheek. She kissed the tear away but could not kiss away the memories that came with the tears; memories of the day she found out she was pregnant. How exhilarated she felt and yet how terrified. She was young, and there was much she didn’t understand.

Trying to justify her condition to her parents proved more difficult than she’d hoped. But the most excruciating memory was the moment she stood guileless before the man she hoped to one day marry. She had no words to make him understand the awful truth—the child she carried was not his.

Leaving seemed to be her only option. A gracious aunt took her in and welcomed her with open arms. From the moment she arrived she was showered with motherly words of hope and sisterly touches of love. Week by week, month by month, the child inside her grew.

Was it a miracle when she returned home, her belly round, her face flushed, and found him there?

What prompted this man to take her back and make her his bride? Did he now believe what she had tried to explain all along, that none of this was her own doing?

When the time was right they left their small town together, as husband and wife, with her due date rapidly approaching. The labor began—tightening her abdomen with a force she had never before imagined. Perspiration streamed from her forehead. The contractions multiplied with a frenzied urgency until the need to push overwhelmed her young body, and the baby was born.

Nothing of the past mattered anymore. He was here. Naked, perfect, quivering in her arms. With a thrill of hope, she believed that her life, her world, would never be the same.

Now as the first silver streaks of dawn pierced through the cracks in the stable, she tenderly wrapped her sleeping babe in swaddling clothes and laid him in the manger.

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Robin Promo Photo Close Up 2013Robin Jones Gunn, bestselling author of the much-loved Christy Miller Series and the award-winning Sisterchicks® series, has had more than 4.5 million copies of her books sold worldwide. Her frequent speaking engagements have taken her around the globe. Robin and her husband live in Hawaii and have a grown son and daughter. You can learn more at Robin’s website.

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