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.
Author: vicklea
I love to read! I’m a retired teacher with a spouse of 45 years, three amazing children and nine wonderful grandchildren. I am blessed!
This weekend brought devastating news to me. First the MSM declared that Biden is the president-elect. Never mind that the vote has not been certified and there are all kinds of allegations of election fraud and legal challenges to the current vote. There are statistical anomalies that make more sense and the election is being compared to Richard Daley taking over Chicago with “down ballots.” I’m disgusted and dismayed, but I’m not defeated and neither is the President. And if it turns out that he LEGALLY loses, then the USA has gotten what we deserve and what many asked for. Nevertheless, I continue to cry out for God’s grace and mercy for our nation.
But, to me, even more upsetting news was the death of the “Jeopardy” TV show host, Alex Trebek. I have watched Jeopardy since I was in my teens at home with my mom and siblings. We watched, played along and enjoyed that half hour of TV each night. (At that time the host was Art Fleming.). Then, when I got married and moved every couple of years, the one show that was a constant in my life was “Jeopardy.” I felt like watching it made me smarter somehow as I absorbed the trivia that was presented there. When Alex Trebek wrote his memoir last year, I got it and read it intently, wanting to know more about this guest in my living room for over three decades. The memoir was heart-touching and heart-rending as he accepted his inevitable death from pancreatic cancer. And yesterday, he passed away. May he Rest In Peace.
So, what wins do I have? I went to church yesterday for the first time in eight months! My husband and I attended a new church in a town about forty minutes away (twice the distance as my previous church), and I thought the service was amazing! Excellent praise and worship time, communion and a sermon that my heart really needed. Just going into public was a real challenge for me since I haven’t gone anywhere except to medical appointments since March. But, masked up and limping around with my boot on my broken foot, I went to church and loved every minute. Afterwards, I met an elderly lady outside waiting for her ride. But as it turns out, Deborah didn’t have a ride. She was trusting Jesus for one. Since she is currently staying in a town near ours, we took her home. Win! We got to help someone! Then, we went to the local restaurant and ordered a thin crust pizza for our lunch. I haven’t had pizza since March either. Even with my very restricted diet, I was allowed two pieces. A lot of thanks for that taste in my mouth again!
Here is Dr. Denison’s Forum for today. I hope that you enjoy reading news from a Christian perspective.
By the way, I joined Parler because it doesn’t censor conservatives. If you want to join, it’s quite easy. I’m @wattsvickie on this app. I hope to see some of you there.
I have almost turned off all news yesterday and today. I cannot watch as the election shenanigans continue and the votes are taken away from our President. I do not think that Joe Biden is evil, but I do believe that he is bad for America. Nevertheless, the election process and the legal challenges continue and the stress has been too much for me, so I just turn it off. I did read Dr. Denison’s take on the election and this is part of his forum for today.
In America’s Expiration Date, Cal Thomas makes this prophetic statement: “Given the history of other empires and great nations, the decadence that now is tightening its grip on America almost guarantees our demise, or at the very least a radical decline that will leave the country devoid of the liberties we now enjoy but are rapidly exchanging for a license to do whatever we wish.”
God destroyed the nation of Israel because of its sins (Amos 9:8). The less we fear divine judgment, the more we should (cf. v. 10). If a tiny virus can bring the world’s greatest superpower to its knees, what of the judgment of an omnipotent and holy God?
But as we discern and grieve for the sins of our nation, we must remember that it is always too soon to give up on God. And never too late to intercede for a mighty movement of his Spirit.
Methodist minister Samuel Chadwick wrote, “Satan dreads nothing but prayer. His one concern is to keep the saints from praying. He fears nothing from prayerless studies, prayerless work, prayerless religion. He laughs at our toil, he mocks our wisdom, but he trembles when we pray.”
I was particularly drawn to the paragraph about interceding for our nation. We need to pray as never before that God will be merciful. I must admit that I had a conversation with God last night (or actually early this morning since I couldn’t sleep) and in my discourse, I just frankly told God that I’m angry about everything that is happening. I honestly told him that in the past I prayed for presidents that I had absolutely no real love for, like Clinton and Obama. And I told God that I just didn’t think I would be able to pray for Joe Biden. He calmed my heart and told me that He would give me the prayers to pray and the words to say when I need them.
Again, when I talk to God, I speak to Him from my heart and my frustrations came through clearly. I have not been able to attend church since March, although my husband has been going to our old church. I, in fact, chose to leave that church in August when the pastor kept preaching from commentaries instead of from the Holy Bible. The big issue was that he never makes it clear that what he is saying is from a commentary, so what he spoke was “extra-scriptural.” To me, that was wrong because the pastor is held to a high standard to preach God’s Word and I felt that He was adding things to God’s Word for the purpose of unnecessary theatrics. After speaking with the pastor, I decided that it was best for me to walk away since he does not see that he is erring at all and my heart sees things differently. I have spoken to the pastor since I left the church membership and even helped him edit a story that he wrote, but the relationship is not what it should be between a sheep and the shepherd. With my trust in my pastor fading and then disappearing, I made the only decision that I could, prayerfully, of course. So, I have been pastor-less, and I told God that I was upset about that, too. He has spoken to me repeatedly that He is my Shepherd so I don’t need to fear. Unfortunately, my husband is on the board for the church and is trying to fulfill his duties there, even while he searches for a new church for us to attend. In the meantime, when I have prayer requests, I have two good friends whom I contact as well as my daughter, and it is to them that I pour out my heart. I do miss praise and worship, so I keep worship music on most of the day, as I do my devotions, write this blog and read my books. But I miss the corporate worship in a way that I can’t describe. I miss the people in the church, but not the errors in the message that made me cringe.
I say all this to just say that we all need prayer, but mostly, our nation needs us to stand together in prayer. We need to stand our ground and pray for God to make things right and to protect us from the coming judgment.
This first book in LIsa Harris’s new U.S. Marshals series will definitely leave you wanting more. As U.S. Marshals Madison James and Jonas Quinn race across the states in the Pacific Northwest in search of an escaped felon, my heart raced right along with them. Each time that they thought they had Barrick in a trap, I cheered, only to sigh with resignation when he escaped again. He was one smart prisoner! But Madison and Jonas were ready for his wily ways and they gave me chills with how perceptive and clever they were in their pursuit of the escaped killer. I was delighted that I learned so much about the U.S. Marshals and that I could actually picture the beautiful forest land that they were trapped in, attempting to find the felon who was like the Road Runner in the cartoons, always one step ahead of them. The author did an outstanding job of describing the setting! Fans of romantic suspense will really love this action adventure story! Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher. 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.”
A clean book with lots of action, some of it very intense. So, I would rate it PG-13. Photo from the author’s website at lisaharriswrites.com
This is a lovely story about a young woman who needs to learn to trust again and the sheriff in a small town who helps her along the way. Tess Harper lives alone with her toddler daughter who has Down’s Sydrome. Being the parent of a special needs daughter is a challenge, but being alone in that frightening world is even more so. The author expresses perfectly how fiercely protective Tess is of her daughter and of her heart. When Sheriff Anson Curry enters their lives, it’s like exploding stars. Little Hannah just eats up his love and attention and Tess is gradually swayed to begin trusting him. I thoroughly enjoyed this Christmas story of love and acceptance, even in the midst of great trials. The author did an amazing job of characterization and her plot moved along at exactly the right pace to keep me engaged. The events evoked tears, anger, happiness…all the expected moods for a romance with just the right dab of conflict. Fans of Christmas romances will love this book, especially the portrayal of a little girl looking for her perfect circle. 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. 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.”
I would rate this book PG-13 because it does have extramarital sex included, although the salient details are not there. Author Bio: Makenna Lee is an award-winning romance author living in the Texas Hill Country with her real-life hero and their two children. Her oldest son has Down syndrome and taught her to appreciate the little things, and he inspired one of her novels. As a child, she played in the woods, looked for fairies under toadstools, and daydreamed. Her writing journey began when she mentioned all her story ideas, and her husband asked why she wasn’t writing them down. The next day she bought a laptop, started her first book, and knew she’d found her passion. Now, Makenna is often drinking coffee while writing, reading, or plotting a new story. Her wish is to write books that touch your heart, making you feel, think, and dream. She enjoys renaissance festivals, nature photography, studying herbal medicine, and usually listens to Celtic music while writing. She writes for Harlequin and Entangled Publishing and believes everyone deserves a happy ending.
I was blessed by Dr. Denison’s article today and hope that you will be, too. I am fired up and ready to pray for our nation and its leaders! No matter who wins the election, they need our prayerful support.
How many books do you read at once? The number varies, but right now I am reading five library books, four books from Netgalley, and two for pleasure plus my Bible.
How do you decide when toswitch between multiple reads? I read the books that need to be reviewed first, then I read my library books and then I read for pleasure the books that I purchased. I also read my Bible every day and it is the first book I read in the morning during my devotions.
Do you ever switch bookmarks partway through a book? No. I collect bookmarks, so I choose one when I start a new hard copy book and keep that bookmark in the book until I’m done.
What time of day do you usually read? Since I am retired, I can read any time of day. After reading my Bible, I usually eat breakfast and watch a show that I have recorded. Then, I will read a book or books that I need to review soon. In the afternoon, I usually read for pleasure. And at night, I read my library books.
How long do you typically read in one session? One or two hours at a sitting, with plenty of looking outside my window to rest my eyes every 20 minutes or so.
Do you read hardcovers with the dust jacket off? Usually, but right now, I’m reading Karen Kingsbury’s new book TRULY MADLY DEEPLY and I have left the dust cover on it so far.
Do you take your current read with you everywhere you go? Always! I spend a lot of time waiting in medical offices, so I pass the time by reading. Reading calms me.
How often do you update your Goodreads profile? I updated it when I retired but that was three years ago, so it’s not something I really even think about.
If you enjoyed reading the questions and answers to this short bookish survey, consider yourself tagged! And please let me know if you decide to participate as I would love to read your answers.
First, a warning…you can’t read this book without a few tears, or at least I couldn’t. The puppy mills portrayed were so very sad, but not as heart-wrenching to me as the situation that Constance and Rhett are in. Constance is trying to work through the emotional problems caused by a devastating loss and the resulting depression. Rhett owns a gym called Semper Fit (clever name) in which he pours all of his frustrations from PTSD into intense, extreme exercise routines. Both main characters find out that you cannot run from your problems, and since this is a romance, they both eventually find solace in each other. The getting there to understanding that they are better together is told masterfully in this wonderfully written romance. There is lots of emotion between the humans in the story as they interact with each other, and there are also plenty of emotional scenes between humans and dogs. My heart went out to the dogs being rescued by Constance’s sister Sunny. Those scenes were so realistic that I wanted to jump into the page and help the pups myself. Since both of the main characters are injured in their hearts and their heads, it may take a dog to actually rescue them…the best part of the story was finding each other! 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. 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.”
Rated PG-13 because of contentElysia Whisler was raised in Texas, Italy, Alaska, Mississippi, Nebraska, Hawai’i and Virginia, in true military fashion. Her nomadic life has made storytelling a compulsion from a young age. She doubles as a mother, a massage therapist and a CrossFit trainer and is dedicated to portraying strong women, both in life and in her works. She lives in Virginia with her family, including her large brood of cat and dog rescues, who vastly outnumber the humans.
One Constance slammed on her brakes. Steam rose from the street as rain gurgled through the ditches. She killed the engine, stepped into the pattering droplets and scanned the shoulder of the road. Nothing there but the remains of a goose carcass. “Where are you, boy?” Constance gave a low whistle. It hadn’t been her imagination. The picked-over goose only made her more certain she’d seen a dog, weaving through the foggy afternoon air like a phantom. A lost dog, with his head bent against the rain as he loped along the muddy ditch. Constance whistled again. Silence, but for the sound of rain hitting the trees that lined the road. “Maybe I’m just tired.” She’d done a lot of massages today, which made her feel wrung out. Constance almost ducked back into the van, but halted. There he was: a white face with brown patches, peeking at her from behind a bush. “Hey, boy.” Constance squatted down, making herself smaller, less threatening. The dog watched, motionless. Constance drew a biscuit from her coat, briefly recalling the cashier’s amusement at the grocery store today when she’d emptied her pockets on the counter, searching for her keys. Five dog biscuits had been in the pile with her phone, a used tissue and the grocery list. “Dog mom, huh?” the elderly cashier had said. “Something like that.” More like dog aunt, to all of the rescues at Pittie Place. Her sister, Sunny, had quite the brood. Constance laid the biscuit near her foot and waited. A moment later, the bush rustled and the dog approached. He had short hair and big shoulders. He got only as close as he needed to, then stretched his neck out for the prize. As he gingerly took the biscuit, Constance noted a droopy abdomen and swollen nipples, like a miniature cow. So. He was a she. Constance inched toward her. The dog held on to the biscuit, but reared back. Constance extended her fist, slowly, so the mom could smell her. “You got puppies somewhere?” The dog whimpered, but crunched up the biscuit. “Where are your puppies?” The dog whimpered again. Her legs shook. Her fur was muddy, feet caked with dirt. She had blood on her muzzle— probably from the dead goose. By her size and coloring, Constance decided she was a pit bull. Constance rose up, patted her thigh and headed toward her van. She slid open the side door, grabbed a blanket and spread it out, but when she turned around, the dog was several yards away. Her brown-and-white head was low as she wandered beneath a streetlamp, the embodiment of despair in the drizzle that danced through the light. Constance followed, slipping on the leaves that clogged the drainage ditch. The dog glanced once over her shoulder, but her pace didn’t quicken. Constance decided her calm demeanor was working, keeping the dog from fleeing. And let’s be honest: the biscuit hadn’t hurt. Chances were, the dog would be happy to have more as soon as she got wherever she was going. “Let’s see where you’re headed, then. Show me if you’ve got a home.” Constance followed her across the road, around the curve and down the narrow lane. Frogs popped like happy corn all over the slick street, but the chill of the oncoming winter slithered through Constance’s blood. She followed the dog for a good quarter mile. Even before she hooked a left down the unpaved road hidden behind the trees, Constance had figured out that the mama was headed to one of the handful of empty places that sat decomposing on the hundred or so acres the Matteri family owned. Constance paused only long enough to squelch the sizzle of anger that bubbled up inside before she pressed on, determined to know if the dog was a stray or a neglected mother from Janice Matteri’s puppy mill. Constance took the same turn and watched as the dog neared the abandoned house up ahead. Nobody had lived there in years. It was only a matter of time before it became condemned. The dog bypassed the crumbling porch of the old colonial and went around back. Constance knew little daylight was left, and she hadn’t brought a flashlight. She broke into a trot, clutched her coat tighter around her and didn’t slow until the dog came back into view. Constance followed her, her heart thumping harder with each step. The dog passed the rusted chain-link fence and disappeared over a rise in the property, near an old shed so overgrown with trees it was only recognizable by a pale red door. Just as she reached the hill, Constance heard a squeak. The sort of high-pitched noise that echoes from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Another squeak came. And another. She crested the hill and saw the dog slink inside the shed door. Constance got to the shed and pushed inside. The dog had reached her destination: a battered old mattress, three shades of brown, lying a few feet inside. The mewls, now loud and hungry, came from a shredded section of the mattress. Constance narrowed her eyes. At first, she counted only two bobbing, brown heads, but as she drew closer there was a third. Then a fourth. The last one didn’t move nearly as much, just sort of waded on his stomach. The puppies had cocoa-colored fur and black muzzles. Eyes open. The ones that moved didn’t really walk, just stumbled into each other, like drunks. Mama dog curled around them and they all wiggled toward her abdomen. Constance knelt down next to the mattress and watched the suckling puppies. She decided they were about two weeks old. The air in the shed smelled of sour milk, poop and urine. She dug out another biscuit and reached, slowly, her hand in a fist to protect her fingers, her gaze on the mama for any sign she was upset, such as pinned ears, bared teeth or a raised ridge of fur down the back. The energy around the mom and her pups was calm, to the point of exhausted. Constance had certainly helped with enough of Sunny’s dogs over the years to know. She offered the biscuit and the mom took it. With her mouth busy, Constance carefully touched the smallest puppy, who shook so hard the tremble came from deep inside, beneath his skin and fur, straight from his bones. Constance rose slowly and did a quick search of the vicinity for more puppies, which turned up nothing but trash, vermin and an old orange crate, which she brought over to the mattress. Now to see if Mom was going to accept help. Though daylight was precious, Constance waited until the pups were done suckling before she offered a third treat. “Let’s go back to my place,” Constance said as Mom accepted the biscuit. “My sister has a rescue for critters, just like you. And I help her all the time. You’ll be safe there. Does that sound okay?” While Mama crunched, Constance reached for the two pups closest to her and, keeping an eye on Mom the whole time, she lifted them and settled them in the crate. Mom’s chewing quickened, so Constance acted fast, lifting the last two pups swiftly but carefully. She rose to her feet, crate in her arms. The mother dog was on her feet almost ahead of her, pointing her muzzle at the crate and whining. Constance knew the mom would follow her anywhere she took those pups, but she also lacked any signs of aggression, almost as though she knew that this was their only chance. Or as Pete, owner of Canine Warriors and Constance’s longtime childhood friend, would put it, “You just got something about you, Cici. Everybody trusts you. People. Dogs. The damn Devil himself.” Constance headed back to her van, chasing the sunset. As expected, the mother followed. Once to the vehicle, Constance opened the van and set the crate full of pups next to the blanket she’d spread out earlier. The mama dog leaped in after them. Constance slid the door closed, settled behind the steering wheel and let out a great sigh. Mission accomplished. She edged down the long, lonely road. The rain pattered on the windshield and the scent of dirty puppies hit her nose. She’d take them home tonight and get them settled in, see how they reacted to a new environment, then text Sunny in the morning. Constance had worked with enough dogs, and people, to know that introducing another new person this evening was bad news. Let Mama get used to Constance first, and get some good food and rest, before she was moved to Pittie Place. Tonight, at least, this girl and her babies belonged with Constance.
We all know that there is a lot of hatred in the world. If we are Christians, we also know that we are supposed to love everyone, including our enemies. A quotation from Dr. Denison’s post today really got me to pondering. Here it is:
Fyodor Dostoevsky stated: “To love someone means to see him as God intended him.”
I’m pretty sure that is how God loves you and me, the way He intended us to be, not the way we are on a daily basis. So that opened my eyes to the possibility that I haven’t been showing God’s love to others. I say that I love, but do I really? I don’t have the answer to that yet, but I am considering it and what it means to truly love someone as God does.
It’s hard to conceive that I have been loving wrong all of these almost five decades since I became a Christian. I have loved, but with a human kind of, “I love you because I’m commanded to but I don’t really like you” attitude. How many of you all are doing the same thing? But to love as God intended for them to be is to see people in a whole new light, isn’t it? Mind-boggling and eye-opening! Have a blessed day and remember to love!
Vickie's Book Nook and Meditation Corner 