Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

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When life gets busy, there's still work to be done

It’s been a while, too long, since I posted anything about the modern-day slave trade aka human trafficking. Life was busy in a lot of ways this summer so my blog posts became infrequent.

But all that time, slavery was still happening.

Consider this:

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Shocking.

And it’s happening on our watch. Or while we’re not looking.

I learned this week that people are buying sex in my neighborhood, along a touristy stretch near where we live and work. It’s not just over there somewhere. It’s right. here.

But what can we do? What can we really do about it?

First, we need to get our heads out of the sand and realize it’s happening. I’m amazed at how much coverage about human trafficking I’m reading about in the news these days. If you want some credible sources for information, check out The Exodus Road, Love146 and International Justice Mission, for starters. They’re working and advocating and rescuing.

Second, start talking about it.

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Words are still powerful. The more we bring trafficking into the light, the more the darkness flees. <click to tweet> Share quotes, stats and pictures on Facebook and Twitter. Get the word out.

Third, refuse to look away. The more you know, the more likely you’ll be to take action. Click here for a good resource to help you learn the signs of trafficking and what to do if you suspect someone is being enslaved.

And if you’re able, give. The Exodus Road is currently raising monthly support to fund investigative teams. Click here for more information. This is real-life hero stuff.

These are small steps that may seem insignificant but they add up to so much more when put together.

The one thing you don't need to do to call yourself a writer {and 3 things you do!}

I’m honored to be a guest at Ritty’s Adventures in Writing today.

“When do you put ‘writer’ on your business card?”

I was about to teach a workshop at a writers conference when a woman in the front row asked me this question. I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly, so I asked her to repeat it.

It seemed an easy question to answer, and I gave her an easy response. But the question is more complicated than I made it. My own writing journey testifies to this. I’ve had business cards that say “writer, editor and speaker” on them for years, but that doesn’t mean I always believe I’m any of those things.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

In college, I was a mass communication major. We liked to joke that we were getting a B.S. in B.S. (For the record, I have a B.A.) I didn’t put a lot of thought into my major. I just knew that I liked to write. I took my first creative writing classes in college (and received my first soul-crushing critiques). But college is also where I began to see myself as a writer. And try as I might, I couldn’t deny it.

College is also where I heard a statement about writing that has stuck with me for more than a decade. Jane Friedman, a colleague at my college newspaper who has gone on to be an influential voice in the publishing and writing world offering countless words of wisdom to writers, spoke to a group about her self-discovery as a writer.

She said, “I don’t want to be a writer. I am a writer.”

Powerful stuff.

Read the rest here.

The long-awaited conclusion: Review of My Hope is Found by Joanne Bischof

This summer, my husband and I drove through the mountains in Virginia on our way to Tennessee and I couldn’t get Lonnie and Gideon out of my mind. I’d read the first two books in this series earlier in the year and I was left in limbo as to how things were going to end for them.

My-Hope-is-Found-665x1024When I finally received an advance reading copy of My Hope is Found, the third book in the Cadence of Grace series, I hesitated to start reading it because I wasn’t sure I wanted to hurt again. The first two books wrecked me in a good way and I ignored my real life to get through them. I was an emotional mess, and part of me didn’t want to go there. (Disclaimer: I received a free copy of the book from the author in exchange for my review.)

But I went there, and in a span of 8 hours, off and on, I finished the story of Lonnie and Gideon. And oh. my. word. I can’t–and won’t–give too much away, but here’s what I can say: this story is full of emotion. The ache of longing. The fear of losing. The pain of letting go. I felt it all, and even though I didn’t cry as much as I did with book 2, I was still moved.

I have appreciated Bischof’s willingness to travel the hard road with her characters. As in life, there are no guarantees that things will work out as they have planned (or as we as readers might want!) but there is hope that things work out for good.

If I had an official list of all-time favorite books, this series would be on it, and it would be near the top. Cadence-of-Grace-1-1024x691

Joanne Bischof has created a romance to rival the best classic love stories. I highly recommend this series, but a warning: if you start with the first book, have the next two on hand because you’re not going to want to wait to finish it. Also, stock up on tissue and whatever comfort food or drink you need to soothe the pain. You’ll need it.

You can find out more about Joanne Bischof here.

5 on Friday: Lessons from the first week of kindergarten

So, it was a big week for us. Our daughter started kindergarten.

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And the rest of us got an education in buses, neighbors and a one-child household.

Here are five observations from this week.

  1. My son’s love language is torment. He misses his sister so much he wants to punch her in the face when she gets home. Okay, not quite that, but he did tell me he wanted to scream and chase her when she got home. Apparently if he loves you, he gives you zerberts on your neck (which is basically  just spitting in your general direction) and hits you with his monkey. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
  2. School burns calories. The girl who whined every hour that she was hungry now comes home with a half-eaten lunch. But within minutes, she’s devouring the portions she didn’t eat at school. Carrots, grapes, raisins. She eats like she’s never seen food before and then eats a double helping at dinner. Using your brain muscles is hard work.
  3. There still aren’t enough hours in the day. When I first heard the words “all day kindergarten” I wondered what Corban and I were going to do with all our time. Some days this week, I was like, “Wow, we have to meet the bus in an hour and I still haven’t done laundry!” The day still passes pretty quickly.
  4. Community happens. A couple of days into her school year, we saw Izzy’s bus driver at the grocery store, where she works her other job. Yesterday, we met a neighbor kid new to the district who would be riding the bus with her. For the first three days, we were the only ones at the stop. I’m looking forward to meeting other parents and school staff in the coming weeks and months.
  5. Parenting practices exposed. People tell me sometimes that I’m raising her right. I appreciate the encouragement but I don’t always believe it. One day this week, Izzy skipped off the bus and told me she had over half of her lunch left. I asked her why she didn’t eat it, and she told me a story about a girl in her class who wouldn’t stop crying for their teacher at lunch time. “I kept telling her, ‘Calm down.'” We’ve seen glimpses of Izzy’s compassion, so it’s nice to know that it sticks in settings where we can’t see it. A call from the teacher at the end of the week encouraged us that Izzy’s first week was as good as we thought. (P.S. There’s still the potential to get a different kind of call from the teacher. She is Izzy Fierce, after all.)

Hope for the dark days: Review of Winter in Full Bloom by Anita Higman

I’ve never read a book by Anita Higman before, but now I’m sorry I haven’t. (Disclaimer: I received a free digial copy of Winter in Full Bloom from River North Publishers in exchange for my review and blog tour participation with Litfuse Publicity Group.) I loved, loved, loved this book, the story of Lily Winter, a recently widowed empty-nester who learns she has an identical twin sister who might live in Melbourne, Australia. Lily, who is afraid of flying, travels to Melbourne with few clues to how she’ll find her sister and plenty of self-doubt. Lily is firmly entrenched in a winter of the soul and what she finds in Melbourne sets her on a journey toward spring.

Higman works words to their full potential, describing feelings and events with such vivid word pictures that I found myself nodding in agreement. “Yes, it’s just like that,” I said to myself.

Like Lily’s description of her relationship with her mother:

I tried to batten down the hatches of my emotions, but I’d been born too flimsy to stand up to my mother’s hurricane-force blows.

And her mother’s use of language:

Why do you always have to pick the most potent spice in the rack when a little salt will do?

Metaphors in writing can come across as overused and tired, but Higman’s were neither. They’re fresh and imaginative, and I’d love to read more.

The characters are memorable, and I felt as if I’d traveled with Lily to Melbourne and back on this adventure.

Here’s the official summary:

Lily Winter’s wings are folded so tightly around her daughter that when empty nest arrives, she feels she can no longer fly. But Lily’s lonely, widowed life changes in a heartbeat when she goes to visit a woman who is almost a stranger to her—a woman who also happens to be her mother. During their fiery reunion, her mother reveals a dark family secret that she’d been hiding for decades—Lily has an identical twin sister who was put up for adoption when they were just babies.

Without looking back, Lily—with her fear of flying—boards a jumbo jet and embarks on a quest to find her sister which leads half way around the world to Melbourne, Australia. Befriended by imprudent Ausie, he might prove to be the key to finding her sister. But her journey becomes a circle that leads her back home to attempt a family reunion and to find the one dream she no longer imagined possible-the chance to fall in love again.

Purchase the Book: http://ow.ly/nIIcx

Meet Anita: Best-selling and award-winning author, Anita Higman, has over thirty books published (several coauthored) for adults and children. She’s been a Barnes & Noble “Author of the Month” for Houston and has a BA degree, combining speech communication, psychology, and art. Anita loves good movies, exotic teas, and brunch with her friends.

Connect with Anita at: www.anitahigman.com

Anita Higman‘s latest novel, Winter in Full Bloom, has just released. She’s teamed up with her publisher, River North Fiction, for a fun giveaway and a Facebook Author Chat Party on August 29th. — That’s today!!

Join the party here.

An inspiring look at a lesser-known prophet: Review of Greater by Steven Furtick

greaterLate last year, Waterbrook Multnomah offered some New Year’s guest blog style devotionals based on books by their authors. One of those was from Greater by Steven Furtick. I liked what he had to say, and my husband has been listening to his sermons, off and on, for a few months. So, when given the chance to read the whole book, I took it. (Disclaimer: I received a free copy of Greater from Waterbrook Multnomah’s Blogging for Books program in exchange for my review.)

As I began the book, I was skeptical. Furtick’s idea is that God has a vision for our lives and most of us aren’t fulfilling it, for whatever reason. Busy life. Apathy. Doubt. And the path to discovering this vision, and living it out, sounded almost too easy.

But I’m glad I stuck with it because the entirety of the book is not an easy four-step plan to spiritual fulfillment. It’s an encouraging look at the life of Elisha, the prophet, through ups and downs, and how we all have the potential to do something greater for God (not necessarily “great” as we might define it.) And sometimes greater is staying put. Furtick doesn’t offer a one-size-fits-all solution. He lays out principles and questions to ask ourselves about the life we’re living.

After reading it, I’m eager to re-read the stories of Elisha in the Bible and further contemplate the questions Furtick raises in the book.

The book includes questions for group discussion, and Waterbrook Multnomah offers a DVD and participant’s guide for group study as well.

Worth it. Especially in an age when people wonder if this is all there is to life, to Christianity, to the church. Reading Greater can be the spark that ignites more purposeful living.

Here’s a sneak peek from Furtick.

So this is how it starts

We’ve known for five years this day was coming. Why, then, does it seem so soon?

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This morning our daughter boarded a bus for her first day of kindergarten, and while my mother reminded me that I was not the first mother to ever send her child to kindergarten, it’s been a day I half dreaded, half anticipated.

After all, for the last five years, we’ve spent the days together her and I (and later her brother). I’ve learned how to take care of her every need. I’ve answered every question (sometimes with a “just because”). I’ve been around to hear the crazy, funny, profound things that come out of her 5-year-old mouth.

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So, today, it’s hard. Because she gets to spend her days with someone else. And I get to start letting go.

Because being independent is something else she needs to learn. And she can’t do that if I’m hovering all the time. (Also, I’m pretty sure I’d go bonkers if I tried to teach her to read or do math.)

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But I feel it already, the absence of her sweet spirit. She brings so much life to our days, and I’m glad we get to share that with other people, but still …

I was reminded this morning of the name we gave her: Isabelle. Consecrated, or set apart, to God. And when you set something apart for God, you lose some control (okay, a lot of it) over what that person or thing is set apart for. For us, this setting apart means letting her go to public school, a decision we’ve wrestled with but have ultimately been at peace with.

She was God’s before she was ours and I believe that means He has her best in mind. He’ll go with her where we can’t. And she’ll be better for it. So will we.

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Yesterday, I encountered parents who were sending their oldest off to middle school, and another couple who took their youngest off to college. We were all at different stages and yet our feelings were the same. Fear. Anxiety. Sadness. Loss.

What begins with the first day of kindergarten, it seems, never ends. I still remember the tears my mother shed when we left Illinois for Pennsylvania, even though I was a married woman with a child. I’ve heard it begins the moment our babies are born. We’re always letting them go, little by little.

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She will be fine in kindergarten. She will love it, I have no doubts. And she’s in good hands. Last night I was plagued with doubts: Who will meet her at the school to make sure she gets to  her classroom? As if these teachers and school staff aren’t professionals who do this every day of the school year. (I have a few of those in my family, but this time, it’s my girl we’re talking about!)

I’ve never looked more forward to the end of a day. I can’t wait to hear the stories she’ll tell.

As we waited for the bus this morning, a woman leaving the gym behind our house stopped to ask if this was the first day of kindergarten. She told us she’d sent three to school and cried every time. She encouraged Izzy with her excitement and she identified with my sorrow. This has been one of the blessings of this transition: Moms who’ve been there, who say it’s okay to cry, who get to the point where they’re sending their kids off with a wave and a smile and getting on with the day.

So, thank you for your encouragement. This is a big day for our family. One of many we’ve had this summer. As we adjust to new schedules, new responsibilities and a new rhythm to our days, we ask for prayer.

And because I can’t do it any other way: I’ll keep you updated on the journey. (Whether you want it or not!)

5 on Friday: Words I can't escape

I love words. Maybe that’s obvious. Maybe not. words with glasses

And every now and then, I see or hear words recurring in different books or settings and I can’t get them out of my mind.

Maybe that’s why I liked the idea of picking One Word for the whole year. And “release” has definitely been a word I can’t escape this year.

But lately, I’ve been noticing some other words that speak to me.

  1. Cadence. I noticed it in a book series I’ve loved. And then I read it in another book. And though it’s similar to “rhythm,” another word I’m pondering, there’s something almost musical about the word itself.
  2. Mystic. When my husband and I shopped at the used book sale last week, I picked up more than one book about Christian mystics and personal spiritual retreats and other stuff I would have thought weird in my early Christian days. The word “mystic” is mysterious to me but again, there’s something about it that speaks to me.
  3. Story. Yes, I’m a writer and I love to read, but lately I’ve been seeing the word “story” used to describe life and relationship to God and Christianity. I can’t get over how prevalent it is. And again, I’m drawn to it. This idea that life is a story being written and we have some say in how it turns out.
  4. Broken/brokenness. So many books and blogs have this theme right now. That we’re all broken in some way. That God can repair and restore. I used to cringe at the thought that I might be broken, in any way. Now, I’m starting to see the beauty in it.
  5. Slow. This one is more of an internal word, one that I have to repeat to myself. I always seem to be in a rush to get to the next thing, to get through the day, to finish what I’ve started. But I’m trying to slow down. My thoughts. My words. My worries. My driving speed. I’m not sure I’ll ever adapt to the Amish-style slow I see daily, but it is a good reminder that life doesn’t have to be lived in the fast lane to be fulfilling.

Faith to move mountains: Review of When Mountains Move by Julie Cantrell

when mountains moveAs much as I loved Julie Cantrell’s first book Into the Free, the sequel, When Mountains Move, is better. (Disclaimer: I received a free copy of the book in exchange for my review.)

Millie’s always been a survivor and her spirit is tested as she embarks on a new adventure with her new husband, far from home.

Both books are written in the first-person, which is a style I’m learning to love. I feel a closer connection with the characters when I feel like I’m walking in step beside them and they’re talking to me along the way. And Millie’s road has been hard, but she has a strength about her that won’t quit. I admire this young girl from the South who is determined not to end up like her mother and who battles events, past and present, that threaten to bring her down.

Millie has matured through the pages of these books, and When Mountains Move is a fitting continuation of this World War II era story. Where Into the Free dealt with young love and the desire to break away from circumstances, When Mountains Move tackles the tough subjects of faithfulness and honesty in marriage, as well as what it means to commit to someone for better, for worse.

For more about the author and her books, visit her website at www.juliecantrell.com.

When it's not you, it's me

It’s going to be different.

That’s what I think every time change is on the horizon. It’s what I thought a few months ago when I was survival parenting, barely hanging on to sanity by a thread.

Once we’re moved, things will be different.

Now we’re moved. And things aren’t all that different. I’m still frustrated with my kids. I’m yelling more than I’d like. I’m overwhelmed by housework, in serious need of some “me time.”

Where I'd like to spend my "me" time

Where I’d like to spend my “me” time

Once Izzy goes to school, I think, things will be different. It’ll just be me and Corban for the day.

Things will be different.

I’m detecting a pattern here.

I’m pushing through to the next thing, whatever it is, on the promise that once I’m there things will be different in a good way. Yet, when I get there, it’s more of the same.

The common denominator: me.

Circumstances will change. Settings will change. Schedules will change. And all along I’ve been hoping that those changes will be the elusive thing I’m looking for to make life better.

The problem is this: I’m no different in each of these changes. The same frustrations I felt earlier this year I carried with me to our new house. And just because I’ll be less one child come fall doesn’t meant I won’t still be overwhelmed.

I don’t want to keep living as if the next thing to come will be the better thing. I don’t want to say my marriage will be better when the kids are grown because I’ve seen marriages dissolve after that. I don’t want to think that life will be easier when both kids are in school and I’ll have more time to write because I know I can procrastinate with the best of them. I don’t want to hope that by the end of my life I’ll be a better person than I am today without making any effort to change. <Click to tweet>

I’m in danger of becoming bitter about life. Of missing the joy in each day because I think tomorrow, or the next day, or the next year has more potential for joy than right now.

How can these adorable guys not bring joy?

How can these adorable guys not bring joy?

I recently finished reading One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp and I’m feebly attempting to list 1,000 joys I find in the everyday. Maybe I’ll make it by the end of the year. I hope to be changed by the intentional looking for reasons to say “thank you, God.”

It’s a start. I need to change. Not just my setting or my circumstances but me. From the inside out.

Because when I’m honest with God about my life, the old break-up cliche fits: It’s not You; it’s me.