I am a Christian, a retired teacher, a mother and a grandmother. I love to read and I love the Lord Jesus Christ! Unless otherwise specified ,all visual illustrations are from the YOU VERSION APP of the Bible.
Encouragement comes from reading God’s Word. It also comes from our fellow believers. There is so much negativity in the world, so I ask that you be one you spreads the positivity of God’s promises, the testimony that He has put in your heart, and the hope that is in you.
Remember whose you are and live in that light.
Have a blessed day, my friends! May your day be filled with sunshine from the Lord, health, peace, happiness and friendship.
Many years ago, I received a copy of this poem by Kipling as a gift at a graduation. Since then, I have looked for the poem almost annually to present to others who have reached a milestone in their lives and are moving forward into an unknown future. Here is the poem, and credit goes to http://www.etsy.com for this photo.
This poem does not mention God at all or what should be His place in the lives of the young person seeking to make his/her way in the world. I do not know about Kipling’s faith or lack thereof and it is not for me to judge Him. I’m simply stating that faith is not part of the poem, so perhaps a better choice for me to give as a verse or a gift would be a Scripture verse or two that would lead them to look to where their true help lies when times get tough.
You see, the poet Kipling gives rather sound advice but it does not have the foundation that it needs to make it completely useful. Yes, it’s good to trust yourself, but it’s better to trust God. If the things in life are broken, then it’s good to remember that God is there to help you pick up the pieces and build something new. God is the one who helps us to hold on when we think all is lost. And, finally, the King we need to walk with daily is Jesus and glean wisdom from His Word. Yes, the poem “If” is useful, but God’s Word is a sure foundation, one that is trustworthy and reliable, a way that we can be absolutely certain that no matter what kinds of troubles assault us, we have the Lord of all of the earth in our corner, encouraging us to battle once more and declare the victory that He has already given us. So, rather than have an “if” that depends on my human choices and weaknesses, I choose to have a certain hope in the Lord. I hope that is what your choice is, too, for it is only hope in God and His mercy, grace and love that will lead to the future that we all desire, eternity with Him.
Have a blessed day and may your life be filled with hope in the One who has always loved, helped and shielded you.
This book has a wild plot that is somewhat unbelievable, wild characters that range from the heroine whose life is in danger to the reclusive hero and even to a perhaps trans psychic, and a really wild setting that is not helped by the out-of-control weather on the Pacific Coast. All of that being said, the book is a 3.5 for me, with the believability factor rating it down and the quirkiness of the setting being enticing. It is a dark novel with crime and violence lurking under the surface and a lot of hints about more to come. The village of Gothic makes the story since it is a one of a kind type of place where the castaways of life seem to have gathered, started a new life there and support each other. Adam Ramsdell is a sculptor of sorts (large, metal and not displayed in galleries) who is hiding from his disturbing past. Elle is running from her past but she doesn’t know why because when Adam finds her on the beach, she is half-drowned, suffering from hypothermia and has amnesia. All of this boggled my mind and stretched the bounds of realism, but it did contribute to the story. I enjoyed the story itself but not all of the constant drama. I especially enjoyed the developing relationship between Adam and Elle and how they learn to trust and depend on each other. Sex is a part of the story and it is rated a hard PG with some rather vivid descriptions that I tended to skim over rapidly since I did not think they added to the story itself. The entire book requires an active imagination but did not require me to remember all of the nitty little details about Adam and Elle’s past lives since these details were revealed slowly and methodically, in a definite teasing manner. I did not like the character of Rune, perhaps a trans, but not well portrayed, a psychiatrist who is now a psychic. That was over the top for me and just put there to appease the current trends. Rune’s advice and insight could have very well been given by her in her role as a psychiatrist; the psychic thing was not necessary and did not add to the development of the plot nor the entertainment value of the story, in my opinion. All in all, those who enjoy quirky thrillers will enjoy their trip to Gothic, but the emphasis is definitely on strange.
Disclaimer
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from Harlequin via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
two
A Morning in February
Gothic, California
The storm off the Pacific had been brutal, a relentless night of cold rain and shrieking wind. Adam Ramsdell had spent the hours working, welding and polishing a tall, heavy, massive piece of sculpture, not hearing the wailing voices that lamented their own passing, not shuddering when he caught sight of his own face in the polished stainless steel. He sweated as he moved swiftly to capture the image he saw in his mind, a clawed monster rising from the deep: beautiful, deadly, dangerous.
And as always, when dawn broke, the storm moved on and he stepped away, he realized he had failed.
Impatient, he shoved the trolley that held the sculpture toward the wall. One of claws swiped his bare chest and proved to him he’d done one thing right: razor-sharp, it opened a long, thin gash in his skin. Blood oozed to the surface. He used his toe to lock the wheels on the trolley, securing the sculpture in case of the occasional California earth tremor.
Then with the swift efficiency of someone who had dealt with minor wounds, his own and others’, he found a clean towel and stanched the flow. Going into the tiny bathroom, he washed the site and used superglue to close the gash. The cut wasn’t deep; it would hold.
He tied on his running shoes and stepped outside into the short, bent, wet grass that covered his acreage. The rosemary hedge that grew at the edge of his front porch released its woody scent. The newly washed sunlight had burned away the fog, and Adam started running uphill toward town, determined to get breakfast, then come home to bed. Now that the sculpture was done and the storm had passed, he needed the bliss of oblivion, the moments of peace sleep could give him.
Yet every year as the Ides of March and the anniversary of his failure approached, nightmares tracked through his sleep and followed him into the light. They were never the same but always a variation on a theme: he had failed, and in two separate incidents, people had died…
The route was all uphill; nevertheless, each step was swift and precise. The sodden grasses bent beneath his running shoes. He never slipped; a man could die from a single slip. He’d always known that, but now, five years later, he knew it in ways he could never forget.
As he ran, he shed the weariness of a long night of cutting, grinding, hammering, polishing. He reached the asphalt and he lengthened his stride, increased his pace.
He ran past the cemetery where a woman knelt to take a chalk etching of a crumbling headstone, past the Gothic Museum run by local historian Freya Goodnight.
The Gothic General Store stood on the outside of the lowest curve of the road. Today the parking lot was empty, the rockers were unoccupied, and the store’s sixteen-year-old clerk lounged in the open door. “How you doing, Mr. Ramsdell?” she called.
He lifted his hand. “Hi, Tamalyn.”
She giggled.
Somehow, on the basis of him waving and remembering her name, she had fallen in love with him. He reminded himself that the dearth of male teens in the area left him little competition, but he could feel her watching him as he ran past the tiny hair salon where Daphne was cutting a local rancher’s hair in the outdoor barber chair.
His body urged him to slow to a walk, but he deliberately pushed himself.
Every time he took a turn, he looked up at Widow’s Peak, the rocky ridge that overshadowed the town, and the Tower, the edifice built by the Swedish silent-film star who in the early 1930s had bought land and created the town to her specifications.
At last he saw his destination, the Live Oak, a four-star restaurant in a one-star town. The three-story building stood at the corner of the highest hairpin turn and housed the eatery and three exclusive suites available for rent.
When Adam arrived he was gasping, sweating, holding his side. Since his return from the Amazon basin, he had never completely recovered his stamina.
Irksome.
At the corner of the building, he turned to look out at the view.
The vista was magnificent: spring-green slopes, wave-battered sea stacks, the ocean’s endless surges, and the horizon that stretched to eternity. During the Gothic jeep tour, Freya always told the tourists that from this point, if a person tripped and fell, that person could tumble all the way to the beach. Which was an exaggeration. Mostly.
Adam used the small towel hooked into his waistband to wipe the sweat off his face. Then disquiet began its slow crawl up his spine.
Someone had him under observation.
He glanced up the grassy hill toward the olive grove and stared. A glint, like someone stood in the trees’ shadows watching with binoculars. Watching him.
No. Not him. A peregrine falcon glided through the shredded clouds, and seagulls cawed and circled. Birders came from all over the word to view the richness of the Big Sur aviary life. As he watched, the glint disappeared. Perhaps the birder had spotted a tufted puffin. Adam felt an uncomfortable amount of relief in that: it showed a level of paranoia to imagine someone was watching him, but…
But. He had learned never to ignore his instincts. The hard way, of course.
He stepped into the restaurant doorway, and from across the restaurant he heard the loud snap of the continental waiter’s fingers and saw the properly suited Ludwig point at a small, isolated table in the back corner. Adam’s usual table.
Before Adam took a second step, he made an inventory of all possible entrances and exits, counted the number of occupants and assessed them as possible threats, and evaluated any available weapons. An old habit, it gave him peace of mind.
Three exits: front door, door to kitchen, door to the upper suites.
Mr. Kulshan sat by the windows, as was his wont. He liked the sun, and he lived to people-watch. Why not? He was in his midnineties. What else had he to do?
In the conference room, behind an open door, reserved for a business breakfast, was a long table with places set for twenty people.
A young couple, tourists by the look of them, held hands on the table and smiled into each other’s eyes.
Nice. Really nice to know young love still existed.
There, her back against the opposite wall, was an actress. Obviously an actress. She had possibly arrived for breakfast, or to stay in one of the suites. Celebrities visits happened often enough that most of the town was blasé, although the occasional scuffle with the paparazzi did lend interest to the village’s tranquil days.
She wasn’t pretty. Her face was too angular, her mouth too wide, her chin too determined. She was reading through a stack of papers and using a marker to highlight and a ballpoint to make notes… And she wore glasses. Not casual I need a little visual assistance glasses. These were Coke-bottle bottoms set in lime-green frames.
Interesting: Why had an actress not had laser surgery? Not that it mattered. Behind those glasses her brown eyes sparked with life, interest and humor, although he didn’t understand how someone could convey all that while never looking up. She had shampoo-commercial hair—long, dark, wavy, shining—and when she caught it in her hand and shoved it over one shoulder, he felt his breath catch.
A gravelly voice interrupted a moment that had gone on too long and revealed too clearly how Adam’s isolation had affected him. “Hey, you. Boy! Come here.” Mr. Kulshan beckoned. Mr. Kulshan, who had once been tall, sturdy and handsome. Then the jaws of old age had seized him, gnawed him down to a bent-shouldered, skinny old man.
Adam lifted a finger to Ludwig, indicating breakfast would have to wait.
Ludwig glowered. Maybe his name was suggestive, but the man looked like Ludwig van Beethoven: rough, wild, wavy hair, dark brooding eyes under bushy eyebrows, pouty lips, cleft in the chin. He seldom talked and never smiled. Most people were afraid of him.
Adam was not. He walked to Mr. Kulshan’s table and took a seat opposite the old man. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“Don’t call me sir. I told you, call me K.H.”
Adam didn’t call people by their first names. That encouraged friendliness.
“If you can’t do that, call me Kulshan.” With his fork, the old guy stabbed a lump of breaded something and handed it to Adam. “What do you think this is?”
Adam had traveled the world, learned to eat what was offered, so he took the fork, sniffed the lump and nibbled a corner. “I believe it’s fried sweetbread.”
Mr. Kulshan made a gagging noise. “My grandmother made us eat sweetbread.” He bit it off the end of the fork. “This isn’t as awful as hers.” With loathing, he said, “This is Frenchie food.”
“Señor Alfonso is Spanish.”
Mr. Kulshan ignored Adam for all he was worth. “Next thing you know, this Alfonso will be scraping snails off the sidewalk and calling it escargots.”
“Actually…” Adam caught the twinkle in Mr. Kulshan’s eyes and stood. “Fine. Pull my chain. I’m going to have breakfast.”
Mr. Kulshan caught his wrist. “Have you heard what Caltrans is doing about the washout?” He referred to the California Department of Transportation and their attempts to repair the Pacific Coast Highway and open it to traffic.
“No. What?”
“Nothing!” Mr. Kulshan cackled wildly, then nodded at the actress. “The girl. Isn’t she something? Built like a brick shithouse.”
Interested, Adam settled back into the chair. “Who is she?”
“Don’t you ever read People magazine? That’s Clarice Burbage. She’s set to star in the modern adaptation of Shakespeare’s…um…one of Shakespeare’s plays. Who cares? She’ll play a king. Or something. That’s the script she’s reading.”
Clarice looked up as if she’d heard them—which she had, because Mr. Kulshan wore hearing aids that didn’t work well enough to compensate for his hearing loss—and smiled and nodded genially.
Mr. Kulshan grinned at her. “Hi, Clarice. Loved you in Inferno!”
“Thank you, K.H.” She projected her voice so he could hear her.
Mr. Kulshan shot Adam a triumphant look that clearly said See? Clarice Burbage calls me by my first name.
The actress-distraction was why the two men were surprised when the door opened and a middle-aged, handsome, casually dressed woman with cropped red hair walked in.
Mr. Kulshan made a sound of disgust. “Her.”
Excerpted from Point Last Seen by Christina Dodd. Copyright © 2022 by Christina Dodd. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This book is an intricately woven and multi-layered suspense/murder mystery that is centered around a family with a lot of problems. Marisa’s twin sister Clare was murdered when she was sixteen. As a result, Marisa has a problem with alcohol abuse and the inability to close that chapter of her life since Clare’s killer was never caught. Brit, her older sister, is a control freak who is a successful lawyer who generally gets her way about everything. The cast of characters is as numerous as the possible suspects and at times, it was difficult to discern the red herrings from the real clues. The story was so well-woven and intricately designed to keep me interested and guessing. There are friends who were around when Clare was killed, new friends, a police detective about to retire and unhappy that he hasn’t been able to close the case. I loved how the author developed the plot like a spiral…start from the outside with a lot of different things that could be true and work towards the middle to what is actually true. This was an edge-of-my-seat and talk-to-the-characters kind of book for me. I didn’t want to see Marisa hurt, even though she showed her weaknesses at times and allowed herself to be manipulated. In fact, this is a book about manipulation, trust issues, addiction and anger issues that was hard to put down. The plot was believable and the details so realistic that at times I felt as though I were reading a news report. The characters were not so much likable as easy to get to know and feel sympathy for them. The book is told with several POVs including Richards, the detective, Brit, Jo-Jo (a good friend) and Marisa, with Marisa’s story being the majority of the narration. The pieces of the mystery fit together like a good puzzle once the climax was reached and what had really happened to Clare was laid out clearly. Then, the part after the climax was amazingly well done, with a little nudge to make me think about what would happen to these characters whom I had befriended after I finished the book. What a great book for fans of mystery and suspense who like to play Sherlock Holmes as they read!
Disclaimer
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the author via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Finley O’Sullivan, the protagonist of a new series, is my new favorite heroine. Smart, determined and with a past that could kill a weaker person, Finley is a legal investigator who throws her best efforts into whatever task she is assigned. Working with Jack, the head of the investigative agency and her godfather, Finley is tenacious as well as compassionate with the clients. The realistic portrayal of the characters, with all of their weaknesses and self-doubts, is what makes this author one of the best and one of my go-to authors when I want a good book to read. This book was exceptional in that it introduced a new series with a complicated plot and plenty of suspects to choose from. The twists were innumerable and there were plenty of surprises along the way, too. I liked the relationships that Finley had with Jack and her friend Matt, a man who seems to want more but who isn’t pushy about it. I was captivated by Finlay’s mother, the Judge, because she has few attributes of a mom and all of the characteristics of a woman seeking more power. I am looking forward to finding out more about their broken relationship in future books of the series. The plot is one that is original, with a killer recanting his confession and the repercussions from his actions to all involved in the original murder, investigation and conviction. There are some real lowlifes in the book who genuinely need to be taken behind the woodshed and have some sense knocked into them. But they are integral parts of the story, so I was content just to dislike them. There is a sub-plot, too, in which Finley is trying desperately to find the men who murdered her husband Derrick and left her injured in body and soul. There are quite a few twists in that part of the tale, too! Fans of suspense with a kick butt female protagonist will enjoy this new series as much as I did and look forward to the next book.
Disclaimer
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the author via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guides Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.” Final note: I pre-ordered my own copy of this book because I love the author’s writing style so much that I have a collection of them.
Firstfruits
https://maggietiggles.wordpress.com/2022/07/26/firstfruits/
— Read on maggietiggles.wordpress.com/2022/07/26/firstfruits/
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LIS is always an entertaining genre for me and this book was no exception. Having read and been enticed by the synopsis, I was thrilled to be chosen to read and review it, and it did not disappoint. There were some parts on the book in which I got bogged down in details that seemed superfluous, but overall the book was well written. It was filled with action and surprising twists that kept me guessing who the villain was. My favorite thing about the book was how well the author expressed the emotional turmoil of the characters as they raced to catch the killer. FBI Special Agent Fiona Kelly returns to her old team in Memphis because she has heard that the Nursery Rhyme Killer, known as NRK or just “Rhyme” is active again and is beckoning her there with messages just for her. Her history with him has her magnetically drawn to the scene and working on guessing what the clues mean and when and where he will strike again. Once in Memphis, Fiona has to also confront her ex Asa Kodak, the leader of the team who is currently involved with a police detective named Amanda. There are tons of characters in this book, but the way the author depicted each of them realistically helped me to keep them all straight. The plot was complicated but well-developed so that even when the racing train veered in a different direction, I was able to hold on to the straps and stay in my seat reading. The secondary characters are important to the action and unified to catch the killer. There was also an element of faith involved, especially since Asa is a new Christian and openly shares his faith. The intense action and the dynamic characters made this a book worth reading and worth looking for more in the series. Fans of high-octane romantic suspense will enjoy trying to solve the mystery along with the team.
Disclaimer
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. I was not required to write a positive review. All opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
#JessicaRPatch, #HerDarkestSecret, #LoveInspired
Is this your image of what a church is? Well, honestly, it shouldn’t be. We are the church!
In the Old Testament, God dwelled AMONG the people, with them as they traveled and went about their daily lives. He often spoke to the people through the prophets. That changed in the New Testament.
The Holy Spirit dwells inside each of us. We are His temple.
“Creator God, keep me mindful that those of us who love You are the church. The building is a bonus.
—Gail Thorell Schilling”
Excerpt From
Daily Guideposts 2022
Guideposts
https://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewBook?id=1559463724
This material may be protected by copyright.
I have never inherited a great fortune, a big house or anything that was a huge sum. I did inherit about $10,000 from an aunt. It stayed in the bank for a long time until the year 2007 when I decided to use part of it to travel to Spain. As a Spanish teacher for many years, I had dreamed of visiting Spain since I was a junior in college. I was scheduled to go on a “junior year abroad” but my parents had financial problems that year, so it never happened. After graduating from college, I began teaching, got married, had children, moved with the military, etc. You get the idea. Life happened. Then when I got the money from my great-Aunt Eunice, I waited until an appropriate time and my husband and I spent two weeks together in Europe. I was an heir to a relatively small amount of money that allowed me to see dreams fulfilled.
There is another inheritance that I am assured of because I am a child of God. As one commentator pointed out, I don’t get that inheritance until after I die rather than waiting for a relative to die. Jesus already died for me and the inheritance of eternity with Him will occur upon my death. My Heavenly Father has provided for me for eternity, not just for a two week trip or a sum that us quickly used up. The inheritance He provides is for always. It’s hard for my finite mind to fathom such a blessing, but God’s Word is true and over and over He makes the promise that I will be with Him when I die. That’s a promise I can count on and a final dream fulfilled!
Jesus is the reason that I can call God my Father and call myself His heir. Indeed, those of us who know Jesus as Lord and Savior are all His children, all His heirs. It’s such a marvelous thing to contemplate! I didn’t have to try to win His favor, He just gave it. I didn’t have to cajole Him into including me in His Last Will and Testament because it was His plan from the beginning of time. Amazing Grace!
Have a wonderful day and may you rest secure in the promise of our Father’s love for you and in the hope of our eternal home.
As many of you do, I sometimes find myself focusing on things that really don’t matter in the long run. Events happen, press in on my life and then fade away. Sometimes, they end up being so inconsequential that I don’t even remember them later. God, in His great wisdom, has addressed this issue of priorities in His Word.
If we focus on God and His kingdom, then our time is spent wisely because that is the kingdom that will endure forever. Our mindset as humans is to prioritize our life on earth and the ever-changing good feelings that we can get from having nice things or power or whatever that just does not last. In the end, the things that we cannot see, how God is working in the world and lining up things according to His will, is what is most important. There is a great battle brewing, but it is not between Republicans and Democrats or liberals and conservatives. Rather, it is between the forces of good versus evil and we have to be focused in order to choose the correct side to support. The evil side is cunning, drawing us away by subterfuge and outright deception. If we stay focused on God, I firmly believe that He will show us the great and marvelous things He is doing and the promise of an eternity that is beyond our imaginations. He will lead us in the direction we are to go and show us the steps to take. It’s all about focus and what we spend our time and energy on. Our life on earth is so short, although we don’t like to think about that. It ends with the blink of an eye or the whisper of the wind. But eternity with God is forever. Priorities are everything. Choose wisely.
Have a blessed day! I hope that this Scripture will help you as you meditate on the unseen and God’s glory that will be everlasting.
Vickie's Book Nook and Meditation Corner 