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.
We have all been hurt at sometime by someone in our lives. It may be an unexpected, come-on-you-suddenly kind of wound. Or it may be a sneaking around for a long time and then striking kind of wound. Whatever wound you have, during your time of waiting, you can give it to the Lord to heal. Forgiveness isn’t a suggestion in God’s word; rather, it’s a command. God knows that we cannot move on in life without forgiving, even if we don’t really realize that there is someone we need to forgive. I know God brought someone to my mind this morning that I didn’t even think about forgiving because I thought the wounds that were inflicted were already forgiven. Not so much if I still feel pain each time I think of what was done, so I am going to spend some time today taking my wounded self to the cross and asking God to forgive me for holding on to the wounds instead of letting Him heal them. I want to open myself fully up to God’s love and forgiveness, don’t you?
While we are waiting for God to act and tell us the next steps we should take, God is continuing to work in our lives. He uses the time in the waiting room to train us and get us ready for the new things we will be facing. We can use that waiting time wisely or we can moan and complain about our lot in life and the fact that God seems far away. I confess that I have often been in the latter group, but as I age (and hopefully mature more in Christ), I am more likely to ask God to use the season of waiting to get me ready for the next challenge. As the devotional points out, once the waiting is over, we have a tendency to totally forget the hardships of waiting and to bask in the current blessings. Instead, we need to continue to reflect on what we learned in the waiting room and use the resources and training that God provided there to carry us successfully and righteously through the task He has set before us.
In today’s world, everyone seems to be “out for themselves.” If people don’t think that they will benefit, they don’t want to undertake anything, especially if the benefactors are others. But Jesus showed us a different way, a way to selfless love, a sacrificial love that expected nothing in return, knowing that the real reward was eternal. As we go about our day today, let’s prefer others above ourselves. Let’s not be in a hurry in the “me first” movement. There are no prizes in God’s kingdom for the “me first, last and always” crowd. The eternal rewards and crown of life go to those who practice humility and selfless love just as Jesus modeled for us.
An Example Worth Following
Jesus stood there in silence as he was stripped, spit on, beaten, and mocked. He stood there as they twisted thorns into a crown and shoved it onto His head. He watched as they gambled for His clothes. He was rejected, accused, and crucified—and He endured all of this willingly, because of love.
Imagine having unlimited power and authority, and giving it all up. Imagine voluntarily sacrificing your life so that others could also experience God’s deep, unconditional love. This is what Jesus modeled for us.
“You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had. Though he was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, he gave up his divine privileges… When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.”
Philippians 2:5-8 NLT
Jesus knew He belonged to God, and He knew what He was called to do. He knew that selfless service mattered more than selfishness. He knew that humility was greater than pride. And He knew that obeying God would lead to our freedom and His glory.
Jesus modeled humility by laying down His life so that we could know the love of God personally. And if we say that we follow Jesus, then we need to have the same attitude and outlook on life that Jesus did. But we can only do this by staying united in Jesus as we follow His example together.
So, how do we stay united? We show love to each other. And how do we show love to each other? By thinking about other people first, and choosing not to hold onto bitterness. True love requires a willingness to let go of pride, and to serve without expecting anything in return.
“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.”
John 15:12-13 ESV
So who can you show love to today? Spend a few moments allowing God to reveal how you can practically embrace humility, stay united in love, and serve others selflessly today.
Like Joseph, when we are in a period of waiting, it seems to be long and tedious. But in an instant, God can change things and we have to be ready for the change. That change may not be exactly what we were expecting, but it is always exactly what God planned for us, so we have to be ready to accept and move. Joseph didn’t continue to languish in prison after the Pharoah sent for him. He cleaned himself up and went before Pharoah. I can’t imagine he want in with an attitude of “What took you so long?” Rather, he, as we should be, was grateful to be out of the period of waiting and expectantly hopeful of what God was going to do next.
On Sale Date: July 16, 2024 9780778305477 Trade Paperback $18.99 USD 400 pages
Becoming the star is easier when the rest of your band is dead… All drummer Vienna Taylor ever wanted was to make music. If that came with fame, she’d take it—as long as her best friend, guitarist Madison Pierce, was sharing the spotlight and singing lead. And with their new all-female pop rock band gaining traction, soon everyone would hear their songs… Except, on the way to an event, the Bittersweet’s van careened off an icy mountain road during a blizzard—leaving one member dead and another severely injured. In order to survive the frigid night, the rest took shelter in a nearby abandoned cabin. But Vienna’s dreams devolved into a terrifying nightmare as, one by one, her fellow band members met a gruesome end…and Madison simply vanished in the night. What really happened to the Bittersweet? Did Vienna’s closest friend finally decide to take center stage on her own terms? She doesn’t want to believe it. But guilty people run.
My Thoughts
This twisted thriller is full of surprises and revelations that I just didn’t see coming! Sure, there were clues and I did figure out some things about the band and the interactions between the characters, but there was so much that caught me with my mouth open, totally unsuspecting that the book was going in that direction. The story of a rock girl band would normally not be my kind of story because I’m not a rock fan, but the way the story developed, with Madison and Vienna meeting and starting their own duo and then including others who combined to create the sensationally popular Bittersweet, was a compelling read with lots of reasons to keep me reading. The first reason, of course, was that I really wanted to know who survived the horrible accident in the blizzard and what happened to the other members of the band. I could have never guessed the revelations that were like a snowball rolling downhill; they just picked up momentum and kept growing. I was not a real fan of any of the characters because I didn’t consider them particularly likable. On the other hand, all of them were well-developed and dynamic. The plot moved along at a good pace and then, like the revelations, picked up speed and took off like a rocket ship so that once I got to the second part and found out who survived, I really wanted to know what happened in that isolated mountain cabin and why only one survived. What a nail-biting story, with escalating tension and an immersive plot. The reading experience was like no other, with my determination to piece the clues together and the author’s mastery of keeping things secret until she was ready to reveal them. This was brilliantly written and intriguingly complex…highly recommend it, but be prepared to stay up late reading! 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, and all opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16th CFR, Part 255, “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
Rated PG-16 for content: General Fiction
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Internationally bestselling author Hannah Mary McKinnon was born in the UK, grew up in Switzerland and moved to Canada in 2010. Her seven suspense novels include NEVER COMING HOME, THE REVENGE LIST, and ONLY ONE SURVIVES, and her work has been optioned for the screen. She also writes holiday romantic comedies as Holly Cassidy. Hannah Mary lives in Oakville, Ontario, Canada with her husband and three sons. You’ll find her on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and Threads as @hannahmarymckinnon, and please visit http://www.hannahmarymckinnon.com for more. SOCIAL LINKS: Author website: https://hannahmarymckinnon.com/ X/ Twitter: @HannahMMcKinnon Instagram: @hannahmarymckinnon
The day of the accident 1 Something screams at me to open my eyes. Just open your eyes. I don’t want to. Darkness thicker than molasses surrounds me like a cloak. It feels safe. Comforting. As if my brain already knows I can’t handle what I’ll see. If I look, no matter how small or fast of a glimpse, I’ll never forget. As I press my eyes shut, trying to block out the voice in my head, long spindly shadows emerge from the depths of my mind. They beckon me to follow them, down, down, and I give in, ignoring the screaming as I let myself sink deeper and deeper into the stillness, a place of peace. Vienna, open your eyes. It won’t go away. Won’t leave me alone. A thought emerges from the thick fog swirling through my brain. The voice isn’t mine. It’s not inside my head. I raise a hand in a feeble attempt to bat the words away. “Vienna, wake up,” the voice says, clearer now. “Please, please wake up.” It’s a herculean effort to do as I’m asked, and as my eyes flicker open, I turn my head, glance over my left shoulder. Madison’s leaning forward and staring at me, her fiery red hair disheveled, her emerald eyes wild, wide with fear and a hint of what might be relief. I’m not sure what to make of the mixture. I’m not sure what to make of anything. I look away, but not before I see tears snake down her cheeks and drop onto her blue hoodie. “Can you hear me?” she says. My throat’s dry, rough as sandpaper. I don’t think I can speak but manage to push out a weak-sounding “Yes.” I nod in case Madison didn’t hear, and the movement brings a stabbing pain to the side of my temple. When I touch my head, I feel a tender lump beneath my fingers. Why am I hurt? Why— Everything returns all at once. A sudden whoosh of thoughts and memories and fear—so much fear—banishing the darkness like birds startled from a tree. Six of us were in my old Tahoe SUV. The Bittersweet—Madison, Gabi, Evelina, Isabel, and me—plus Libby, the documentary research assistant who’s been shadowing us over the past few weeks. It’s midafternoon in early December, and we were driving from Brooklyn to a holiday party in the Catskills hosted by our record label. A major event Madison insisted we couldn’t miss, no matter what.
No matter the impending storm. A sequence of images flashes through my mind. Gabi offering to drive because I was tired. The weather turning earlier than expected, and far worse than anything we’d anticipated. Whiteout conditions. Getting lost in the middle of nowhere. A steep, winding, narrow road up a hill. Slippery lanes. Me tightening my grip on the cup of coffee in my hands, opening my mouth to tell Gabi we were perhaps going a little too fast. And then… My fists bunch tight as I recall the sudden movement when the Tahoe slid. This is when the memories slow down. It’s as if I’m watching the events unfold from above, all in slow motion. I remember the SUV getting closer and closer to the edge of the road. When I looked out of the passenger window, there was no asphalt left on my side, only the tops of snow-laden trees and a sharp drop below. Renewed panic rises, making my heart pound. It leaps into my throat, threatening to choke me when I relive the sound of our collective screams as we crashed into the metal barrier. There was a tiny moment of disbelief. A fraction of an instant when I truly believed we’d be fine, before the barrier gave way, and the Tahoe toppled over the edge of the road, right side first. One second, I thought we’d be all right, we’d be safe, and then we rolled once, twice. After that… I search my brain for what came next but there’s nothing. My coffee cup’s empty, its contents spilled, the scent turning my stomach. At least the vehicle’s upright now, which I’m grateful for, but the front passenger side where I’m sitting is severely crushed, the windshield and front window shattered, half-gone. Thumb-size snowflakes drift in through the holes, landing on my jacket. As I watch them soak into the fabric and disappear, I long to go back into the darkness. Pretend none of this has happened. Maybe if I escape for a while, everything will be back to normal when I wake up. Except I know it won’t. “Are you all right?” I ask Madison, turning around again, and she nods. I look at the others. Gabi’s in the driver’s seat, shoulders trembling, face pale, but she’s not making a sound. Libby’s in the back row, one hand over her mouth as she sobs. Evelina’s slumped face down on the floor, her body twisted at an unnatural angle. There’s blood on her jacket. My gaze searches for its origins but can’t find it. Madison leans over, touches Evelina’s shoulder, but she doesn’t move. Was she knocked unconscious, too? Is that why it’s taking her longer to wake up? My gaze sweeps the rest of the vehicle, my temple throbbing again. It takes me a moment to spot what else is wrong. There are five of us. Five. There should be six. “Wh-where’s Isabel?” I say. “Where did she—” “Look.” The tone of Gabi’s whisper makes a shiver tear down my spine. She points to the broken windshield, and I follow her line of sight. At first, I’m unsure of what I’m seeing. A jumble of clothes at the base of a tree? It’s what I tell myself until I register the bright teal color. The exact shade of the puffer jacket Isabel wore when we left Brooklyn. The coat she refused to take off, even after we cranked up the heat. “No,” I say, wrestling with my seat belt, breaking free. “No, no, no, no.” Scrambling, I heave myself up and climb over Gabi, hands yanking on the driver’s door. Mercifully, her side opens, and I jump out.
Driven by pure adrenaline, all temptation of going back to the darkness banished for good, I run to the heap of clothes—the heap I know is Isabel—gasping as I fall to my knees at her side. A tree branch thicker than my arm is embedded in the left side of her chest where her heart should be, her shirt torn and spattered with deep red. Her eyes are open, staring at the gray skies above, but she doesn’t blink. She doesn’t move. A guttural scream rises from deep within me, and I put my head back to let it escape. Before it can emerge, the smell of smoke makes the noise wither and die in my throat. The Tahoe’s on fire. My friends are still inside. 2 4 years 4 months before the accident Landing at the principal’s office two hours into the first day of twelfth grade had to be some kind of record. Considering I was a brand-new student at Rosemont High, and the aptly named, stone-faced Principal Mason didn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor, I decided not to ask. “I’m not impressed with either of you,” he said, before turning to me. “Vienna, I understand you’ve just arrived in town but it’s no excuse. Madison, I’m surprised to find you in this predicament. I’d have thought you’d know better.” Tuning out his monotone about decorum, expectations, and mutual respect, I snuck a glance at Madison. I didn’t know her last name and didn’t care. She was the reason we found ourselves in this mess. If it weren’t for her, I’d be in calculus class. Although in a way she’d done me a favor as math was my least favorite subject. Neither of us had said much, Principal Mason clearly enjoyed hearing himself talk. While I leaned back in my chair, Madison sat with a rod-straight spine, hands neatly folded in her lap, giving the occasional nod. Enviable, natural red waves tumbled past her shoulders, and she had choppy bangs, which emphasized her big green eyes and near flawless skin. My gaze dropped to her perfectly manicured nails, and the Lululemon backpack by her feet. I’d seen her cute tan suede ankle boots at Portland’s Maine Mall on Saturday, had quickly calculated I’d need over ten shifts at my ice cream parlor job to buy them, double if Mom’s boyfriend found the money I’d hidden again.
I bet Madison never needed to save for anything. Her jean shorts were as trendy as her backpack and boots, and they were strategically ripped in all the right places. Not the DIY job I’d done on the pair I’d got from the local pawnshop. At least nobody had the same ones, and I liked the fact mine were original whereas Madison was a carbon copy of all the other rich girls circulating around the building. The ones who air-kissed, flicked their hair, and pretended commoners like me were invisible. Girls who summered. I wondered if this was the first time Madison had ended up in front of Principal Mason. She seemed too much of a goody-two-suede-boots to me. Her mom was probably head of the parent-teacher committee, baked treats for the staff to keep them on her side. Whatever consequences came our way, no doubt Little Miss Madison would shimmy out of them faster than I could say blueberry muffins. “Are you going to answer me, Vienna?” Principal Mason’s use of my name snapped my wandering attention back to him. “Or do you plan to continue sitting in silence?” My eyes flickered over his fluffy dark brown hair, which reminded me of a duckling, and I took in his polyester-blend suit and Snoopy tie. Maybe he wore the latter to prove to himself he was a fun guy. He wasn’t fooling me. A knock on the door stopped me from answering his question. Principal Mason’s assistant stepped into the office, a short guy whose desk nameplate read Harry Sweet. He didn’t look much older than me and might’ve borrowed his dad’s pine-green corduroy jacket to give himself an air of authority, but all it did was transform him into a kid playing dress-up. “I made the calls to the parents,” Harry said. “Ms. Taylor didn’t pick up.” Unable to help myself, I let out a snort. “Something you can share with us, Vienna?” Principal Mason asked. There were a million things I could’ve said about my mother. My total lack of surprise at how Harry’s quest to reach her had failed would’ve been as good a place as any to start. She’d ignored school phone calls pretty much since first grade, including the time I’d fallen off a stone wall and Grams had taken me to get stitched up. Mom’s excuse was her busy work schedule at the gas station in Falmouth where we’d lived until the beginning of this summer, except most days I could smell alcohol on her because she’d been at her local bar. Maybe I should’ve told Principal Mason how Mom had never attended any of my school performances since I was eight, despite her knowing they were my favorite thing in the world. Once you’ve seen one goddamn school concert you’ve seen them all, Mom told her boyfriend du jour when she hadn’t known I was within earshot, or maybe she’d seen me and hadn’t cared. There’s two hours of your life you’ll never get back. She had no idea how wrong she was. My previous school’s production of The Addams Family had been such a success, we’d added another date. Mom still hadn’t come. Instead, she’d partied with Rick, her latest beau and the man who was the reason why I’d ended up at Rosemont for my senior year. I hated how we’d moved from Falmouth to Portland’s North Deering area, and now lived in his house. So did Grams, who seemed to loathe Rick more than I did, but at least we had a non-leaky roof over our heads and no longer shared a bedroom. I loved Grams more than anyone but sleeping in the same room was exhausting now her dementia had got worse and she confused the time of day, thinking it was afternoon when it was the middle of the night. Principal Mason cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows as he waited for an answer. Was there something I could share? Sure. Something I wanted to?
“Nope.” I omitted the customary sir to see if it would infuriate him, but to his credit, the guy didn’t react. “Mr. Pierce will be here any minute,” Harry said, and as I glanced at Principal Mason, I noticed a twitch of his upper lip, a small widening of his eyes. This news clearly bothered him. “Madison,” he said, turning to my newfound nemesis. “Before your father arrives, would you please explain what happened at the cafeteria?” Madison swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Wait for it, I thought, expecting a master class in how to wrap people around your little finger. What would she do? Go vamp and bat her eyelashes at the principal? Lean forward while subtly using her arms to push her boobs together as she insisted none of this was her fault? Maybe she’d wait for her father to rush through the door, and do a daddy’s little girl routine, bursting into tears so he felt protective of her. As I studied her, Madison looked straight ahead, raised her chin, and crossed her arms, her body language almost identical to mine. Her whole demeanor was interesting and…unexpected. Principal Mason was about to speak when another man pushed past Harry, who immediately fled and closed the door behind him. I swear the temperature in the office dropped twenty degrees, making me sit up straight as if on autopilot. The tall man I presumed to be Mr. Pierce wore a dark suit with a crisp white button-down shirt. Instead of a fun comic-strip tie, his was black, covered in silver spheres, and secured with the most precise knot I’d ever seen. I guessed him to be in his late forties, and whatever he did for work, it had to pay more than well. With his clothes, haircut, and shiny shoes, Madison’s father oozed cash. I’d never known my dad. Mom had me when she was twenty-one, another drunken one- night stand with an out-of-towner whose name she couldn’t remember. She’d regretted him, and me, ever since. “Mr. Pierce,” Principal Mason said, holding out a hand, fingers trembling slightly. “Ronald,” Mr. Pierce said as they shook. “What’s going on?” “There was an incident at the cafeteria,” Principal Mason offered. “What are the specifics of this incident?” “Well, uh, Madison and Ms. Taylor here—” the principal gestured at me “—ended up in a scuffle.” Mr. Pierce whipped his head in Madison’s direction, and she shrank into her seat, almost as if she wished it would swallow her. “You got into a fight? Explain.” “It was nothing,” Madison said, her voice small now, her defiance gone. “Which is why you ended up here,” her father replied, waving a hand around. “On your first day back. Let’s try this again. Tell me what happened. I rearranged a client call to be here, and I’d appreciate you not wasting more of anyone’s time.” There had been a few occasions over the past years when I’d longed for supportive parents who’d come to the school. A few years ago, I’d been bullied by a girl named Patsy. She’d picked on me for whatever reason, and when I’d asked Mom for help, she’d instructed me to do whatever Patsy did to me but twice as hard. Mom’s idea hadn’t gone down well—when Patsy kicked me in the shins, I’d done it back, and the teacher had spotted me. Then again, Patsy had limped for a week, and she’d left me alone thereafter, so maybe Mom’s approach hadn’t been the worst idea. Still, it would’ve been nice to have her show her face from time to time, although looking at Mr. Pierce now, I was thankful for her lack of interest, and for the fact my dad wasn’t around. “Madison.” His tone could’ve sliced Harry’s metal nameplate in half. “I want an answer.”
When I glanced over, my animosity toward Madison faded. She seemed terrified. Shoulders hunched, arms still crossed, chin now pointing to her chest. “It was my fault,” I said, and Madison let out a tiny gasp. I don’t know why I spoke up or why I chose to lie. Maybe it was because I saw part of myself in Madison, the way I’d been until I’d clued into building myself a suit of invisible armor, so nobody’s jabs, taunts, or comments got beneath my skin. Her father stared at me. “I don’t believe I was talking to—” “Who cares? You wanted an answer,” I said, cutting him off, figuring it would be the easiest way to draw his ire in my direction and away from his daughter. I didn’t have to live in the same house as him. In fact, I’d never see him again, so I didn’t care what he thought. “I cut in front of Madison at the cafeteria. She pointed out the back of the line, and I told her to get lost. Things got heated.” “And who pushed whom first?” Principal Mason said, his authoritative tone making a comeback now he was talking at a student, not with an intimidating parent. I shrugged. “I shoved her.” “Very well,” Principal Mason said. “Thank you for being honest, Vienna. You’re new to this school, but we don’t take assault lightly here.” “Assault?” I said with a laugh. “Seriously?” “I shoved her back,” Madison jumped in, “which means technically I assaulted her.” “Madison.” Mr. Pierce’s blue eyes bored into her. “You’re almost an adult. You most certainly know this is no way to behave.” As he paused, his gaze swept over me while a distasteful look he couldn’t quite—or didn’t want to—hide crossed his face. As he took in my edgy raven bob, the rows of silver hoops in my ears, my homemade ripped jean shorts, and the Joan Jett Bad Reputation tank top—the black one with the set of bright red lips—I knew exactly what he was thinking: this one’s trouble. “Principal Mason,” he said, still staring at me, “I expect consequences for them both.” “Well, seeing as it’s the first day of school and they spoke up, I think we should—” “Start as we mean to go on? Quite.” Mr. Pierce made his way to the door and pulled it open, rattling the gray set of blinds covering the window. Before stepping out, he turned and looked at each of us in turn before adding, “I trust you’ll make the right decision, Ronald. Madison isn’t busy this afternoon.” “That’s not true, Dad,” she said. “I have my audition for the orchestra after school.” He waited a beat. “Not anymore.” I watched as Principal Mason gave Madison a pained look while she clenched her fists and bit her bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood. Seemed I’d been too quick to judge. A love of music and a shared hatred for at least one of our parents? Maybe we had stuff in common after all.
We all have schedules and some of us still have deadlines to meet and responsibilities at work that have to be done on a certain time. So when are told that God doesn’t work on our timetable, it may boggle our mind. We say to ourselves (and to God, if we are being completely honest), “Look, I know you are busy and I am tryin to wait patiently here, but I need this today, or tomorrow at the latest.” Those words may work with co-workers and might even work with our spouses or other family members. But they don’t work with God because all of time is on HIS schedule, not ours. If we are waiting, then God has a reason for us to wait and something He is doing while we wait. God sees the whole picture while we see a tiny little corner of it and think we know what is going on and what needs to happen within our time limits. God knows exactly what we need and exactly when we need it, so He works on His own timetable, not ours. Disappointing to those of us who are A-type personalities and just want things done right and quickly. God always does things right, but He may not do them as quickly as we tend to demand or the exact way we think it should all be done. Step back in your time of waiting and let God be God…He will do things in His time and in His way and in such a way that you will marvel (or may even forget) your original request.
American horse trainer Adia Kensington is living her dream of working at the famous Janów Podlaski stables in Poland, where they breed the best Arabian horses in the world. But her plans to bring the priceless stallion Lubor to the US are derailed when the German army storms into her adopted country in 1939. Little does she know this is just the beginning of six long years of occupation that will threaten her beloved horses at every turn.
Bret Conway is at Janów Podlaski under the guise of a news reporter, but his true mission is intelligence gathering for the British. That and keeping Adia safe, which is harder and harder to do as she insists they must evacuate 250 horses to save them from being stolen, sold, or eaten by the invading forces. What follows will test their physical, mental, and emotional strength, as well as their faith in God, humankind, and each other.
Drawn from true events of World War II, this epic story of escape, capture, resistance, and love from debut novelist Nicole M. Miller will thunder into your heart like a herd of beautiful horses across a raging river.
My Thoughts
I am delighted that I was given the opportunity to read this fascinating story about a special breed of horses that were the targets of both the Nazis and Russians during WWII. Before I dived into the pages of this novel, I had no knowledge of Arabian horses, their origin or the perils they went through during the war. The novel wove information that was interesting and compelling into the story of horse trainer Adia Kensington and spy Major Bret Conway. Adia is from the U.S. and has traveled to Poland specifically to work with the horses at the Janow Podlaski stables since she has a family connection and an affinity with them. Adia is a talented and intuitive trainer who is not quite ready to face the challenges of a Nazi invasion, but she rises to the task in unexpected and surprising ways. She comes up with a plan to evacuate the horses and then has to fall back on plan B when the evacuation fails, forming an alliance with a German colonel to keep the thoroughbreds safe during the chaos of war. Not only does Adia shelter a little pickpocket orphan named Ewan, but she finds other creative and dangerous ways to help the efforts of the allies while also safeguarding her beloved horses. The destruction of war is evident throughout the story and some beloved characters are victims to the ravages it brings, all of which make the story captivating. I enjoyed the story immensely, even though I am personally not a big horse lover. The way the author layered the story with events from the war, the personal lives of Adia and Bret and the insightful look into the challenges of keeping horses safe when an entire nation is overrun by enemy forces kept me reading long past my bedtime. Brilliantly written and balancing action with history and romance, this story is memorable, an eye-opening look at people overcoming what seems like insurmountable obstacles in order to achieve worthy goals. The themes of hope for the future, faith and pure grit were evident, but not overly emphasized so that the main story continued to be Adia and her goal to save the bloodline of the stallions. The characters are people that I would like to get to know in real life since they are inspirational and courageous as well as dynamic and well-developed. The chemistry between the characters was believable and showed great depth of emotion. All in all, this was one of my favorite books to read this year with its unique story that drew me in and kept me there until the very end. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the Revell. I was not required to write a positive review and all opinions expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16th CFR, Part 255, “Guidelines Concerning the Use of Testimonials and Endorsements in Advertising.”
A story of war, I would rate this book PG. It is Christian Fiction.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
From the author’s website at Nicole Miller and in her own words:
I live in Southwest Washington state with my husband and two sons, along with my two purebred Arabian horses, chickens, ducks, dogs, cats, and guinea pigs. As a long-time horse owner, I’ve been involved in several horse organizations throughout my life, including serving as a Clark County Fair Court Princess and Miss Teen Rodeo Washington.
When I’m not writing or tending the animals, I works in human resources. A journalism major, I’ve received several national and regional awards for my nonfiction writing from American Horse Publications and the Society of Professional Journalists.
Let’s be honest. Life is not always easy; it just isn’t. We are going along on what we think is a smooth road and suddenly there are rocks there or raging water to cross over and the bridge is out. What do we do? As part of a community, we call for help. We may pick up our phone and call for prayer. Or we may tell someone about our dilemma and ask for their help with the problem. We were not meant to walk through life alone. Jesus had His twelve disciples and we have family and friends. The first thing I do when I encounter a problem is pray and then enlist others in my circle to pray with me and for me. I am sad that there are those who don’t know Jesus and who don’t have a circle of friends on whom they can call for help.
I went to visit my sister in NC a couple of weeks ago and I am sad that she has no friends there and is basically isolated. Her daughter and granddaughter visit occasionally but mostly she is alone all day, with the TV on constantly to keep her company. Please join me in prayer for her to find a friend. I know that it seems a difficult thing since she doesn’t go anywhere except to doctors and doesn’t socialize at all. But God is the God of the impossible, and I am believing for a friend for her, someone that she can talk to, relate with and feel a part of a community with. I would like to hope that she would step out of her comfort zone and go to church or a meeting with other elderly women, but she is adamant that she is not doing that. So I know that God will have to work a miracle and either help her change her choices or send someone to her that will befriend her.
I have decided that I will call her more often myself, knowing that the conversation will be long because she is so lonely, but also knowing she needs that human contact, even if it’s only over the phone lines. We all need someone with whom we can share the burden of life. Jesus promised to help us carry our burdens and I think one of the ways He does that is to provide friendships and fellowship with others. I am thankful for my husband, my children and my friends, all of whom check on me and make sure that I am safe and well. I want my sister to have that peace of mind that comes when you know that you are not totally forgotten. Thank you for your prayers for Ann today.
Made For Community
Have you ever worked in a group with other people who only slowed down your progress? A lot of people actually prefer working alone so that they can manage priorities the way they want. While this may be a good method in some cases, it’s not usually the best way to live.
From the very beginning of creation, God created us to be in relationship with other people. We are created for community and friendship, and God intended for us to work together and help each other through life.
And yet— a lot of people live their life in isolation from others. They believe that as long as they have Jesus, they don’t need anybody else. But you and Jesus can’t make it through life alone. You were created to share life with others.
The writer of Ecclesiastes tells us that there are many things that one person cannot do alone. We need others to help us when we fall. We need others to encourage us when we’re down. We need people to accomplish tasks in life that are greater than us.
Most people who have gone through difficult seasons of life wish there had been someone to walk alongside them. We long for connection and community.
This is how God designed us—we were created to share the burdens of life together.
God created the Church to be a community of people who all love God and love others. When we find community within the people of God, we will also find people who can walk through life together with us. You don’t have to walk through life alone—God has provided other people to help you along. And you are also called to help those in your life.
Take some time today to thank God for the friends and community He has given you. Thank God for each of them by name. As they come to mind, be sure to let them know that you appreciate their friendship in your life. Seek out ways that you can continue to build a healthy community of friends.
I never thought of waiting as a kind of prison, but I think the authors of this devotional have a point. We are all waiting for something…a special letter in the mail, a payment that we are anticipating, a visit from loved ones, or even an election to be over. We are all waiting, sometimes with excitement and other times with a sense of dread. Whatever we are waiting for, we can know with certainty that God is with us in the waiting. I want to be like Joseph and receive God’s favor as I wait. I must admit that doesn’t always happen, and I think that is mostly due to my impatient and demanding attitude. I need to learn how to wait with expectation for what God will do in every situation regardless of how hard or impossible it seems.
Prayer request: a man named Jeff in his mid-50’s has had a series of strokes and has extensive brain damage. The doctors are recommending surgery to help him live, but with surgery, his brain will be so damaged that he will have to live in a nursing home for the rest of his life. Thank you in advance for praying for wisdom for the doctors, peace and comfort for Jeff’s family and friends and a touch from the healing hand of the Lord. Jeff is in a waiting room that none of us wants to face, so let’s unite in prayer for him.
In our topsy-turvy world where excuses are the name of the game and not repentance or owning up to your sins, the Bible presents God’s view of sin. It always, always has consequences! You may excuse your way out of repenting, but the sin will follow you around and be an albatross around your neck. Joseph knew this truth and fled from the temptation that Potiphar’s wife put before him. He didn’t stick around to be captured by her wiles; instead, he ran. Some like to say that only cowards run away, but when sin is involved, it is the bold and righteous who flee. Joseph set a good example for us to follow. Sometimes we stumble into temptation and sometimes temptation walks up to us, slaps us in the face and demands we give in. That’s when we flee, whether we stumble our way in or temptation seems to attack us.
I don’t know why things happened the way they did in Joseph’s life, but I do know that God used the events, even his time in prison, to make him into the person God wanted him to be. Even when we flee temptation and do the right thing, the powers that be may “punish” us severely. We may never understand why things happen on this side of heaven, but we have to trust that God is in control of ALL of our circumstances and knows what He is doing, even if the picture is a little fuzzy for us. God sees things clearly and is working things out, just as He did for Joseph. We have to wait, sometimes in what seems like a prison, but we have to wait for God to act on our behalf. Trying to get ahead of God is never a good idea.
www.bible.com/reading-plans/26293/day/12
www.bible.com/reading-plans/26293/day/11
www.bible.com/reading-plans/26293/day/9
www.bible.com/reading-plans/26293/day/8
www.bible.com/reading-plans/26293/day/6
www.bible.com/reading-plans/26293/day/5
Vickie's Book Nook and Meditation Corner 