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.
This was one of my favorite hymns when I was a new Christian. And since it was in my devotional today, naturally I had to listen to and re-discover it.
This is my story, this is my song Praising my Savior all the day long This is my story, this is my song Praising my Savior all the day long
Perfect submission, all is at rest I in my Savior am happy and blessed You know I'm watching and waiting, I'm looking above Filled with His goodness and I'm lost in his love
This is my, I know that this is my story, this is my song Praising my Savior all the day long This is my story, this is my song Praising my Savior all the day long
As I read the lyrics and listened to the song, I was reminded of how a baby just knows that you will take care of it. They have total assurance that they can rest in your loving care.
This is my youngest granddaughter Evie when she was only a few months old.
Evie is a happy little girl in this photo and still is at almost three years old. She knows that she is loved and will be taken care of. Don’t you think that is the way that we should be with the Father? We are content, knowing that He has everything under control so we don’t need to worry about anything.
We need to continue in our daily lives, even with all of the struggles, with the “blessed assurance” that Jesus is ours. He lives in our hearts and His life within us makes us able to go through the deserts of life and come out on the other side refreshed, as though we had drunk of the living water the entire time. After all, isn’t that what we are supposed to be doing? Totally dependent on Him and that trust takes us forward into battle and out of battle victorious.
I have no doubt that these are hard times. People are suffering everywhere, but God has not changed. He is still our assurance that things will work out, that He is taking charge if we let Him.
I hope that you can get something out of this little blog today. I just wanted to bless you with the song that God put in my heart this morning and leave you with the image of a happy, trusting child. That’s what God sees when He looks at us…we are His children and we need to trust in Him! “This is my story…” and I hope that it is yours, too.
The first book in a new series is always exciting, but this one was especially so since it has a beautiful setting and characters that are complex and who react in an expected and totally human way. Starting with a plane crash and a pilot who stumbles away and disappears, this book is non-stop action with lots of mystery that just keeps building. Detective Jack Tanner is working in Montana after giving up his job as an FBI Special agent and ends up working with US Forest Service Special Agent Terra Connors when the two of them unexpectedly find a dead body. Since the two of them have a past that ended with a split, their interactions were very interesting, bringing simmering romance into all of the suspense. The plot was intriguing and intellectually stimulating to me. I had never really heard about archeological artifacts being stolen and trafficked, but that is really what is going on in this complicated and well-written book. There are many characters, but all are necessary as they add to the mystery one at a time and build up what becomes a satisfying resolution. The twists were surprises to me and the pacing was perfect. All of the chapters just flowed one into another so it was hard to stop reading since I really wanted to know what was going to happen and who the villain was. My favorite part of the book was the description of the scenery, because each new place the characters went was described with intricate detail so that I could place myself into that scene. My favorite character was Terra’s brother Owen, a wounded war veteran who is a real “horse whisperer” and a true hero. Of course, I loved the mounting suspense and the interaction between the characters. It seemed that Terra was destined for danger, but I enjoyed watching how she got herself out of those encounters. I particularly enjoyed knowing how the characters were working out the mystery in their minds, sharing with me what they were thinking so that I could work on the mystery myself. All in all, this was a thoroughly entertaining and delightful book and I am already looking forward to book #2 in the series. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from Revell as part of the Revell Reads Blogger Program via Netgalley. I also received a complimentary hard copy from the author as part of her review team. 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.” Note to my readers: I loved this book so much and want to collect the series, so I purchased my own copy from Baker Books.
First in a new series and a totally clean read suitable for all readers of Christian romantic suspense.Five plus stars for this amazing book!Photo from author’s page on Amazon
BIO: With over a million books sold, Elizabeth Goddard is the USA Today bestselling, award-winning author of over fifty novels and counting, including the romantic mystery, THE CAMERA NEVER LIES–a 2011 Carol Award winner. Four of her six Mountain Cove books have been contest finalists. Buried,Backfire and Deceptionare finalists in the Daphne Du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery and Suspense, and Submerged is a Carol Award finalist. A 7th generation Texan, Elizabeth graduated from North Texas State University with a Bachelor of Science in Computer Science and worked in high-level software sales for several years before retiring to fulfill her dreams of writing full-time. (BIO from the author’s website at http://www.elizabethgoddard.com
Available on April 6th! Pre-order now at the following purchase links:
First of all, this was a debut novel and I could tell because of its length and the slow pace at the beginning. Fortunately, the pace picked up as the mystery evolved and more bodies appeared, but I was almost ready to quit reading at some points. The main characters are interesting and add to the story line because of their own personal quirks and backstories. Inspector Anjelica Henley is married and goes into the field to solve multiple murders while her husband Rob is a stay-at-home dad. Her trainee, Ramouter, was the most engaging character to me because he was intuitive and sensitive to Henley’s mood swings and needs. The plot revolves around a copycat serial killer who leaves body parts along the Thames River, much like the imprisoned Olivier had done. There is a backstory to Henley and Olivier and that plays a large part in the story but it isn’t introduced until well along in the plot. This book is a police procedural and a crime thriller. I must say that the gory crime scenes were absolutely revolting at times, again a reason that I almost put the book aside. There were, in fact, some scenes that I skipped over because of the gruesome descriptions which were just too awful to read. I enjoyed parts of the book and may read the second in the series, but I wish the book were shorter and think that it could have been without all of the unnecessary gory descriptions and extra plot twists that seemed to circle back on 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.”
This book includes gruesome, gritty content so I would rate it a definite M for mature audiences. I would also like my readers to know that parts of the book were entertaining because of the police procedural content but other parts were like reading an autopsy report.
Nadine Matheson is a criminal defense attorney and winner of the City University Crime Writing competition. She lives in London, UK.
‘How long have we got until the tide comes in?’ Henley was facing the river watching the small waves crashing against the derelict pier. She checked her watch. Nearly two hours had passed since the first 999 call.
‘I checked online, and high tide is at 9.55 a.m.’ Ramouter replied as he stepped around a half-submerged car tire, his eyes glazed with anxiety. ‘Low tide was at 3.15. Sunrise was at 6.32. A three-hour window for someone to dump whoever this is and hope that someone would find it before the tide comes in?’
‘Maybe,’ Henley acknowledged. ‘But for all we know it could have been dumped after sunrise or was dumped earlier upstream before being washed up here.’ She inspected the glass façade of the Borthwick Wharf, empty commercial spaces and work units that opened to the terrace and lacked security cameras. Henley doubted that the local council would have extended their own CCTV cameras to this part of the street. They had been neglecting this part of Deptford for as long as she could remember.
‘Has it been touched?’ Henley asked Anthony who had appeared at her side.
‘As far as I’m aware, it’s in situ. It wasn’t touched by the woman who found it. Matei, your builder, said that he hadn’t touched the legs but unhelpfully, it’s covered in his vomit. I had a quick look at the arms that were found downstream before I came here. From the looks of things, the treasure hunters may have prodded around a bit.’
‘There’s always one.’
The wind dropped and the air softly crackled with the electricity generated from the substation nearby.
‘We’re isolating the recovery of evidence to the direct path from the alleyway to the torso,’ said Anthony. ‘I doubt very much that whoever it was sat here and had a coffee afterwards.’
‘They may not have had a coffee, but if we go with Ramouter’s theory and the body parts have been dumped then whoever it was certainly knows the river,’ Henley replied. ‘We’ll let you get on. Ramouter and I are going to take a walk.’
‘Where are we going?’ asked Ramouter.
‘To meet Eastwood.’
‘And you want to walk it?’
Henley did her best to push aside her frustration when Ramouter pulled out his phone. ‘Google maps says that Greenwich pier is almost a mile away,’ he said.
‘Your body-part dumper isn’t the only one who knows the river,’ Anthony shouted out as Henley began to walk determinedly along the riverbank.
The gold scepters on the twin domed roofs of the Old Royal Naval College pierced the cloudless sky. The bare masts of the restored Cutty Sark completed the historical panoramic view that Greenwich was known for. It was a resplendent, whitewashed version of history that contrasted with the sewage that washed ashore. Henley stopped walking when she realized that she could no longer hear the sounds of Ramouter’s leather soles slipping on wet pebbles.
‘Where are you from?’ Henley asked, waiting for Ramouter to take off his jacket and loosen his tie. She moved closer towards the moss-covered river wall as the tide began to encroach.
‘Born in West Bromwich. Moved to Bradford when I was twelve.’ Ramouter tried to brush off the bits of mud that had stuck to his trousers, but they only smeared more. ‘Lots of moors, no rivers. Surely it would have been quicker in the car.’
‘This is quicker. Unless you fancy sitting in traffic for the next half hour while they raise the Creek Road Bridge.’
‘You know this area well?’
Henley ignored the question. She didn’t see the point in telling him that she could have walked this path with her eyes closed. That this small part of South-East London was ingrained in her. ‘Whoever dumped the torso would have taken this route. It doesn’t make any sense to come down here, go back up to the street level and then drive up to Watergate Street. Out of sight, below street level. Lighting would have been minimal.’
‘Body parts are heavy though,’ Ramouter tried to quicken his step to catch up with Henley. ‘The human head weighs at least eight pounds.’
‘I know.’ Henley pulled out her mobile phone, which had started to ring. She saw who it was and ignored the call.
‘Head, torso, arms, legs. That’s at least six individual body parts.’
‘I know that also. So, tell me, what point are you making?’ Henley waited for Ramouter to reach her before maneuvering him towards the river wall as though she was chaperoning a child.
‘I’m just saying that that’s a lot of dead weight to be carrying around at three in morning.’ Ramouter paused and placed his hand against the wall, trying to catch his breath.
Henley didn’t openly express her agreement. She fished out a black hair band from her jacket pocket and pulled her thick black curls into a ponytail. She had forgotten how much energy it took to walk across the gradient slope of the riverbank. Worse, she felt mentally unprepared for the job ahead, with a trainee struggling behind her who had no idea this was her first time as senior investigator in almost a year.
‘It’s a bit grim, isn’t it?’ DC Roxanne Eastwood shouted out as Henley finally reached the first crime scene. ‘Morning, Ramouter. Not a bad gig for your first day.’
Henley had always thought that Eastwood actually looked and carried herself like a detective. Now, Eastwood was poised on the riverbank, the sleeves of her jacket rolled up with her notebook in her hand. She had come prepared for the river and was wearing a pair of jeans and trainers that had seen better days.
‘Morning, Eastie. How does it feel to be out of the office?’ Henley asked, her eyes drifting to a crime scene investigator who was putting an arm into a black bag.
‘I should be asking you that,’ said Eastwood, with a look of concern.
Henley silently appreciated the empathy and placed her hand on Eastwood’s shoulder.
‘But since you asked, it’s bloody terrible. I think I’ve got sunburn.’ Eastwood rubbed a hand over her reddening forehead. ‘Forensics are going to be wrapping up in a bit. Not that there’s much for them to do. Bag it and tag it.’
‘Where’s Mr Thomas?’
‘Ah, our illustrious treasure hunter. Last time I saw him he was heading towards the shops. Said that he needed to get some water for his dog.’ Eastwood shook her head, obviously not believing a word of it. ‘I’ve got an officer keeping an eye on him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already uploaded pictures of his find onto Instagram.’
‘I want him taken back to the station. Ramouter can take another statement from him.’ Henley said it purposely so that Ramouter would sense she was in control. ‘If he’s like most mudlarkers, he would have been out here first thing this morning waiting for the tide to go out. Where exactly were the arms found?’
‘Just over there.’ Eastwood pulled down her sunglasses and pointed towards the foamed waves created by a passing river bus. The tide had already come in where X had once marked the spot. A sense of urgency filled the air as the river regained its territory.
‘Did he say anything else?’
‘Only that he found the second arm about three feet away from the first.’
‘It’s a sick trail of breadcrumbs,’ said Henley.
‘You’re telling me and before you ask about CCTV, there’re loads of cameras—’
‘But none aimed at this part of the river.’
‘Exactly.’
Henley’s mobile phone began to ring. She pulled it out and answered. After a quick chat, she ended the call.
‘That was Dr Linh Choi. You wouldn’t have met her yet but she’s our go-to forensic pathologist. She’s just arrived,’ Henley explained to Ramouter. She wiped away the sweat from the back of her neck.
‘So, we’ve got two arms, both legs and a torso,’ said Ramouter. ‘Where’s the head?’
Good question. Henley thought of the places between the two locations. A primary school, two nurseries and an adventure playground among the flats and houses. The last thing she needed was to find a head in the kids’ sandpit.
‘Can I have a quick look?’ Henley asked the assistant from Anthony’s CSI team, who had just bagged up the arm and was scribbling in her notebook.
‘Sure.’ The assistant unzipped the bag and pushed the plastic apart.
‘Fuck,’ Henley said under her breath. Her heartbeat quickened, her stomach flipped.
‘Oh,’ said Ramouter as he peered over Henley’s shoulder. One arm was covered with gravel. Slivers of seaweed criss-crossed old scars. The second arm. Slender wrist, the ring finger slightly longer than the index, broken fingernails. Black skin. Henley could hear Pellacia’s words from earlier ringing in her ears.
‘Too early to say if it belongs to the same victim or if it’s more than just one.’
‘Call DSI Pellacia,’ Henley told Ramouter. ‘Tell him that we’ve got two possible murder victims.’
This is a thought-provoking and heart-tugging domestic drama. The story revolves around two half-sisters who have just discovered their relationship via a mail-in DNA test. Caroline has a dream life, with a solid marriage, three healthy children and a great job. Sela, on the other hand, is a struggling graphic artist, a single mom to a toddler and suffering from kidney disease that requires a transplant. When we meet them, Caroline is blissfully ignorant that she even has a sister, and Sela is hopeful that she will be able to survive until a kidney donor is found. Both women provide their points of view in this contemporary fiction that had me thinking long and hard about what it means to donate an organ and what it means to be the recipient. Since I was born with only one kidney and have had to be tested regularly to make sure that it’s still functioning okay, this book really touched me deeply. It is a powerful story about choices, acceptance and forgiveness. It also opens the door to learning about organ donation and even being an altruistic donor. I had never heard that term before, but the author did a good job of researching kidney disease and organ donation, presented by Sela’s caregiver Janie in such a way that the information flows seamlessly into the story. By no means are Caroline and Sela the only ones facing tough choices and forgiveness in this complex tale of family. The minor characters, too, must face their own demons and come to make a ultimate life-changing choice. I really enjoyed this book and totally looked forward to a new book by this author. It was different in that I didn’t really have any “aha” moments or times when I was amused. I was inspired to think about choices and consequences and unselfishness vs. selfishness. I highly recommend this book, especially for book clubs, because I am convinced that more than one group will be gathered around, discussing the dilemma of Caroline and Sela. Disclaimer Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from St. Martin’s Press 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 because of its sensitive content.Photo and bio from the author’s website at https://jessicastrawser.com
If we think negative thoughts consistently, then our whole being becomes focused on the negative. The news is famous for saying, “If it bleeds, it leads.” Negative most of the time, the news on any network is not teaching us to be positive and believing people. I would rather focus on God’s Word and the good things that are happening. I challenge you today to think positive thoughts all day. I know that for me this is quite a challenge, especially on this rainy day. But rain is needed, just as the sun is. So I am thankful for the rain that is watering the peas and turnips that my husband diligently worked to plant yesterday. I am thankful for each of you who reads my blog daily and makes comments to encourage me. Mostly, I am thankful for the privilege every day of being able to read God’s Word and to find His love and encouragement there.
May you each have a blessed day, thinking on the things that are pure, lovely, admirable, true, noble and right. As my mom used to tell me, “If you can’t say something nice, then don’t say anything at all.” Jesus wasn’t a negative “Eeyore” type of person, and neither should we be. Is the world all that we want it to be? Absolutely not! But this is God’s world that we inhabit for only a short time, so let’s touch the world and its people with positivity.
Having been told not to preach about Jesus, this was the reply of the Apostles. Can we do any less?
Wise words from Gamaliel, a leader of the day. The Gospel has survived for centuries and I know that it will survive the current onslaught of a culture that denies God.
Here is what Dr. Denison had to say about what Don Lemon (a liberal broadcaster on CNN) had to say about the Pope’s calling homosexual marriages illicit.
No matter what men may say is correct, we answer to a higher authority. God’s Word will stand! It’s just a matter of deciding whether we will stand with God or not.
I pray for you to have a blessed day, remembering that today is St. Patrick’s Day. It’s not all about wearing green and shamrocks. St. Patrick risked his freedom and his life to preach the Gospel. Think about that as you wear your green today and wish each other “the luck of the Irish.” The Irish were blessed to have such a Godly man be so burdened for their souls. May each of us remember that it is our sacred duty to preach the Gospel to the lost, particularly those who do not know that they are lost.
A fast-paced story about two sisters who are both half Native American. It includes many details about life on the reservation, since that is where they were raised by their Comanche grandfather Toko. Evie and Suda Kaye have absentee parents, so they lean heavily on each other and have developed a strong relationship. I enjoyed the story, the romance, the description of the bluff and the sunsets and the Native funeral rites. I did not, however, like the steamy details of the sex scenes. That detracted from the story for me because I was uncomfortable trying to read these scenes. I honestly admit that after the first one (there were several), I just skimmed or skipped to the next part and did not feel like I missed a lot. I did like, though, the inclusion of Native American language throughout the dialog in the book. That added to the realism and setting, too. I enjoyed the characterization of the major and minor characters and the realistic deference shown to Toko by other members of the tribe, including Milo’s parents. I think my favorite part was how Milo and Evie first met and the fact that their love continued for years. I give this book a 3.5 star rating because it was entertaining and educational about Native American lifestyles. 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.”
A definite PG-13 rating since there are quite a few steamy sexual scenesAudrey Carlan is a #1 New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of over 40 novels, including the worldwide phenomenon Calendar Girl serial, and her books have been translated into more than 30 languages across the globe. Audrey lives in the California Valley with her two children and the love of her life.
Tears track down my face as Tahsuda, my Toko, which is the Comanche word for “grandfather,” hands me a large stack of pink envelopes tied with a ribbon. My mother’s beautiful handwriting is visible on the top. He hands another stack to my eighteen-year-old sister, Suda Kaye.
“From my Catori, for her Taabe and Huutsuu,” he begins, using the Comanche nicknames my mother gave us. “To have a piece of her on their birthdays. One for today, and one for each birthday and important moment in your life to come. I shall leave you to your peace but know I am here for you, forevermore.” Tahsuda puts his hands together under his worn red-and-black poncho and nods his head forward. His long, silky black hair gleams a dark midnight blue in the rays of the sunlight that streak through our bedroom window. His hair is so much like my mother’s I have to swallow down the sob that aches to come out in a flood of misery and grief.
Misery because I am so angry at her for all the time we could have had together. Grief because she left this world six months ago, and today, on my twentieth birthday and Suda Kaye’s eighteenth, we are facing our entire lives without her. This wasn’t another one of her many adventures. We’d grown used to the routine. She’d skip around the house, packing her battered suitcase while she told us all about what she hoped to see and do on her travels. While she fluttered around the globe, we stayed behind and went to school, dropped off for an undetermined amount of time at the reservation where our grandfather lived. Months later, with a smile on her face and a song in her heart, she’d reenter our lives as though she’d never even left.
At least she’d come back.
As much as I hated our mother’s wanderlust, I always knew eventually she’d find her way home. Her weary feet would be tired, and she’d come dancing into Toko’s home with grand tales about a world I didn’t ever care to see. I didn’t want to go anywhere that made me up and leave my family for months on end. Them always wondering where I was, who I was with and whether or not I was okay.
No way. That was not me. And it never would be.
I finger the ribbon on the stack of envelopes and take mine to the papasan chair in the corner of our shared room. Suda Kaye stretches out on her twin bed. We live in a two-bedroom apartment in Pueblo. Suda Kaye has just graduated high school. I attend the local community college.
The one thing Catori Ross never imagined could happen to her was illness. In all her plans to travel the globe, to experience absolutely everything she could, she didn’t factor in time to get regular checkups. Since she didn’t tend to get sick, Mom hadn’t been to a doctor in a solid decade before she started to feel unwell. After three solid months of lethargy and depression—two things our mother never was— the first round of tests gave us the first blow.
Cancer.
Stage four.
She believed with her whole heart that she could beat it, but as Toko says, cancer took both his wife and his daughter. He says it was written in the stars. That was the reason he never gave Mom hell about her traveling and leaving us with him. He always said a person must do what their heart wants. Dreams are not only for the sleeping. They are meant to be chased and caught.
Our mother lived. Chased every dream with a hunger that could never be quenched. I fear my sister will do the same.
Suda Kaye sits against her headboard as I cuddle into the chair. I untie the ribbon and then set all but the top letter to the side. The first envelope has today’s date on it and her nickname for me. Taabe, which means “sun” in Comanche. Mom called me her sun because I am light everywhere, while she and my sister were dark. Mom was full-blooded Native American like Toko. Suda Kaye and I are half, and we each have different fathers. I got a lot of my coloring from my father, Adam Ross. Like Dad, my hair is golden blond and I have his ice-blue eyes. Though my high cheekbones, the shape of my eyes and my full lips are my mother’s. Suda Kaye has dark, espresso-colored hair, amber eyes and will one day have a knockout figure. She already is growing into her womanly hourglass shape—full bosom, long legs and rounded hips. Me, I have the tall, lanky, athletic build. Still, there is no denying our heritage even with the play on light and dark in our coloring.
We are Catori’s daughters, a vibrant mix of her and our biological fathers. Though Suda Kaye and I don’t know much about her real dad. We just know what Mom told us much later in life—that she had made a mistake. She and her husband—my father, Adam—had been going through a rough time and separated for a year. In that year she’d gone on an adventure and come back pregnant with my sister. I was only two when she was born so none of that had ever mattered to me one way or the other. My father treated Suda Kaye mostly the same, which also didn’t matter because he wasn’t around much, either, always deployed someplace far away.
I thumb the envelope and run my fingers across her pretty handwriting.
I miss you, Mom.
Taking a full deep breath, I ease back against my chair and open the first letter.
Evie, my golden Taabe,
Never in a million years did I think I’d be in this situation. Gone from you and your sister in a way that I cannot come back from. I know you’ve always hated my need to wander, as it took me away from you and Suda Kaye, but you were never far from my mind or my heart. Never unloved.
I had to chase my dreams, Taabe. One day, you’ll understand.
My greatest hope is that you know my love for you transcends any reality, location or final destination. It is as the sun, shining brightly each day. Never ending, always warm, forever shedding light onto you and your sister.
With me gone, without the burden of having to take care of me and Suda Kaye, I want you to think long and hard about what it is you want in life. Just you. Think big. Live out loud.
What is still out there to explore?
Where in the world do you see yourself visiting? What new journey have you wished to undertake?
Think of all the beauty I’ve shared through my stories and photos over the years. Those experiences are a huge part of me. And I’m so grateful I had them. It gave me the ability to open your eyes to the fact that anything in life is possible.
My only regret was having to leave you and your sister behind. Though I hope now, you will take time out for yourself.
Evie, you are so grounded. Your feet firmly rooted to God’s green earth. Pull those roots, my lovely girl. Break away from all that keeps you still and give yourself an experience unlike any other. Perhaps then you will understand my need to go, to feel the wind in my hair, the sand between my toes, the gravel under my boots. I lived every moment to the fullest and I want that for you so deeply.
Please take the inheritance I left you and use it to live.
See the world, my precious girl.
With all my love,
Mom
I grind down on my teeth and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. I fold my letter into thirds and stuff it back into the envelope. Clearing my throat, I flatten my hand along the front before lifting it to my nose and inhaling the familiar scent of citrus with a hint of patchouli.
“Smells like her.” I clear my throat as a traitorous tear slides down my cheek.
Suda Kaye sniffs her letter and smiles sadly. “Mom always said if you’re going to smell like anything, let it be natural. Fruit and spice.”
“And everything nice!” I chuckle, then sigh as the weight of everything in my letter festers in my heart and soul, mixing with the intense sorrow I haven’t shaken off in the six months since she passed.
“I miss her. Sometimes I pretend she’s just gone off on another one of her adventures, you know? Then I can be pissed off and plan out all the catty things I’m going to say to her when she finally returns with a suitcase full of dirty clothes and presents to smooth over the hurt.”
My sister gasps and her stunning amber eyes fill with more tears. “Evie, she didn’t want to leave…”
I fist my hands, rekindling the anger that never seems to disappear when I think of all the years we might have had with her. “Not this time, Kaye, but what about all the other times? Years and years of time lost. And for what?” I huff and stand, pacing our small room with Mom’s letters plastered to my chest like a well-loved teddy bear. “Fun. Wild experiences. Adventures! It killed her. This need to see the greener grass on the other side.” Scowling, I point at myself. “Well, that won’t be me. No way. No how. I’ve got my feet firmly planted on terra firma. I’m going to finish school, get my bachelor’s in finance, then my master’s, and make something of myself. And I’m going to be happy!”
How I’m going to be happy without my mother in my life, I don’t know. I never knew how to fill the hole she left with each adventure she took. It just seemed that the void got bigger and bigger. But my mother…she was such a glorious woman, an incredible presence when she was there. She could easily fill up that gaping wound that I call my heart each and every time she came back.
Finding that the pacing isn’t doing much, I toss my stack of letters onto the chair and drop onto the bed next to Kaye, face planted dramatically in the crook of my arms, my nose touching the mattress as I breathe deeply and try my best not to break down in front of my baby sister.
Slowly, she strokes my hair in long, soothing sweeps of her hand. Once I’ve gotten myself under control emotionally—for now, that is—I turn over.
“What did your letter say?” I ask. Kaye licks her lips and glances away. We don’t have any secrets from one another, but I can tell this is one she’d rather keep from me. Eventually she caves and hands me her letter. Pulling myself up, I sit cross-legged and read out loud.
“‘Suda Kaye, my little huutsuu.’” I cover my mouth and close my eyes. The last word comes out as a croak. Mom’s nickname for Suda Kaye meant “little bird” in Comanche. Huutsuu to my Taabe. My sister has always been the one up for a grand adventure. She could make going grocery shopping the highlight of anyone’s week with her dramatic flair and interest in all things. Same goes for a laundromat, the car wash, a walk around the neighborhood. Always something to experience, to see, hear, sense. My sister soaks up life like a sponge until she’s wrung out, and then starts all over again. That apple did not fall far from the tree, much to my dismay.
She smiles wide. “Always and forever, Taabe,” she responds. Not wanting to make Suda Kaye more emotional, I quickly read her letter. With every sentence my heart sinks. Basically, Mom has told my sister to leave home. To get in her car and travel the world, starting with the States. To leave me in order to allow me to find my own calling, without the worry of my baby sister there to hold me back. My stomach churns and acid creeps up my throat as I read the last couple sentences that tell her that if Camden, Suda Kaye’s longtime boyfriend, truly loves her, he will set her free.
My hands shake as I pass it back to her, my entire body stiff as a board. I feel as though I’ve been staked through the heart and left for dead.
My mother wants my sister—my best friend—to leave me.
To go away for as long as it took for Mom to find herself.
“You’re not going to do it, are you?” I ask, the fear clear in my tone.
She bites down on the side of her cheek and nods.
“Kaye…you can’t do that. What about Camden? He won’t understand. A guy like that…the life he wants to give you. No way. You just…” I let out a breath, grab my sister’s hands and squeeze, trying to transfer all the worry and fear I’ll experience with her leaving me behind. And yet I don’t say a word. In this moment, she has to make the choice that’s right for her.
I swallow down the lump of emotion swelling in my throat and whisper, “What are you going to do?” She stares into my eyes, right through to my soul, and says the five words I never wanted to hear from her.
“I’m going to fly free.”
I close my eyes, lean forward to kiss her forehead. “I love you, Suda Kaye.” It’s the only thing I can say. It’s raw, honest and life-changing.
“You know you could come with me?” Her voice fills with hope, but the last thing she needs is me tying her down, trying to run her life for her. Mom made that very clear in her letter. Heck, she made it clear in mine.
Shaking my head, I cup her soft cheek. “You have to make your own choices.”
She nods, folds up her letter, puts it back in the envelope and then ties up the stack in a bundle once more.
My sister, not one to let grass grow under her feet, pulls the big suitcase from under her bed that Mom gave her for graduation and sets it on the comforter. Methodically, without saying a word, I help my sister pack her things. The last item she puts on top of her clothes is a picture of me, Mom and her, taken last year before Mom became too sick. It had been a good day; we’d had a picnic in the park. Laughing, snacking and listening to our mother share one story after another.
I knew then that those good days would be few and far between, so I encouraged her storytelling, while Suda Kaye ate up every ounce as though it were her very favorite dish.
Holding hands, I walk my sister to her car and put her suitcase in the trunk.
“Do you know where you’ll go after you see Camden?” I ask, knowing she wouldn’t leave without seeing him first.
She smiles and shrugs. “We’re in the middle of the country. I’m going to pick a direction and just keep driving until I get too tired. Then I’ll stop and decide where I’m meant to be next.”
“You call me. I’ll come get you anywhere, any place. No matter w-what.” My voice shakes as I pull her into my arms and inhale her fragrance—cherry-scented shampoo and lotion. I allow the scent to imprint on my memory bank for I know I’ll need it in the lonely months, maybe even years, to come.
Suda Kaye walks around her car and opens the driver’s side door. “Miss me,” she says, and the deluge of tears falls from my eyes like a waterfall.
“Miss me more,” I whisper, and hold up my hand.
She mimics the gesture, placing her palm against mine. “Always.”
Then I watch for a long time as my sister’s taillights eventually fade and disappear into the black night. Before long, I look up into the open sky and the wealth of sparkling stars blanketing the sky like diamonds over black velvet.
I pick a star and make the same wish I’ve been making since I was a child. “One of these days, I wish someone I love would stay.”
It’s hard to believe with all of the technological advances that there are people today who are totally Godless. Or, perhaps that is better stated, that their god is themselves or their possessions or their job. Their god is not the God of the Bible; thus they are easily led into believing more and more lies. Point in case is the Episcopalian private school in NYC that is teaching children not to call their parents “mom” and “dad.” This was reported in Dr. Denison’s Forum yesterday.
There was a Papal announcement yesterday that had me scratching my head in wonder. Pope Francis has been very leftist and liberal, so his announcement yesterday that homosexual marriage is “illicit” puzzled me. According to the article I read, he said that we have to basically accept homosexuality, but homosexuals cannot get married and have the blessing of the church. What?!? I understand loving the homosexual, because they are sinners like the rest of us; they just haven’t found grace and forgiveness yet. Anyway, the Pope’s statement was a little disconcerting, like talking out of two sides of the same mouth.
Dr. Denison’s Forum today addressed the topic of the Pope. It also addressed the Grammy Awards, a show that I stopped watching long ago because of its blatant disregard for any kind of decorum or morality. According to Dr. Denison, the Grammys this year were worse than ever and could be considered X-rated. This is a terrible commentary on our nation, that we would accept such a blatant display and not call it out as sin. Again, my mind is reeling with all that is happening today, as our nation spirals quickly down the rabbit hole of sin and destruction. What concerns me is that more Christians are not speaking up against things like this. Mike Huckabee, a well-known Christian conservative and former governor of Arkansas, wrote against the show in his newsletter today. Finally, Tucker Carlson from Fox News, questioned the absurdity of banning Dr. Seuss and allowing X-rated dances and songs on the Grammys.
Well, with all of that bad news, what is the Good News?
Here you go! A promise from God for the blameless. Remember that you don’t get “blameless” on your own. The only way that you are cleansed is through the blood of Christ, God’s only Son who sacrificed Himself so that we could call ourselves His children. I’m glad that I fit into the first part of that verse and feel bad for those who are in the second part. Let’s remember to pray for them to see the truth and the light and to accept the truth of God’s Word. Repentance is the word of the day.
Blessings to each of you and prayers that you will remember to pray for our nation, for the sinners and for this end of the age. Come quickly, Lord Jesus!
One of the favorite games of my little granddaughters in Maryland is to play virtual hide and seek with me. They hide and their daddy uses his phone and my voice to tell him where to look. The giggles are so precious, even as I am seeking them. And they are young, so hiding in the same place repeatedly is a thing with them. Recently, the youngest (who will be three in a few weeks) grabs her mommy by the hand and insists that her mommy hide with her. When I read this Scripture verse this morning, this game came to my mind. Evie’s refuge is her mommy; she knows that she is “safe” with her.
Likewise, I know that I am safe in the arms of the Father. He is my refuge, no matter what the circumstances. The last two weeks have been hard. I mentioned something previously about our home in Pennsylvania. It was the first house we had ever purchased after over twenty military moves, and I was like a momma bird with her nest. I ordered carpeting, decorated and put up curtains that I had actually picked out. We had planned to make that our real home together, pouring time and energy into making it a refuge. But then, the unthinkable happened. I couldn’t find a teaching job in PA. I tried everything that I knew to do, praying constantly for God to show me what He wanted me to do. In the end, we left our home in PA and I got a job in MD. Our home that I had created was rented to various other people and has been for the last thirty years.
Two weeks ago, we discovered that our property management company had sought approval to put our house under Section 8 rentals, without our prior knowledge or approval. My husband, who worked in real estate after retiring from the Air Force, was visibly upset. Section 8 housing usually means lower property values and can often mean renters who do not take good care of the property. We tried in vain to contact the owner of the office in PA, but he never returned our calls. Frustrated, I called the home office in TX and got in touch with a nice lady who promised to investigate what was going on. She called back and told us that the house is already leased under Section 8, again without our knowledge of approval. We cannot get out of the lease, so we are stuck. That puts us in the uncomfortable position of having to try to sell the house when the lease is up. My husband and I prayed and think that will be what’s best, but we will continue to pray. We don’t want to be sued for discrimination, but neither do we want to have a home that is losing value annually.
Anyway, throughout this nightmare, my stress level has been high, so I have been praying a lot. God has reminded me daily that He is right there with me. He is my refuge, the place I can go to be safe from all of the cares of the world. I am trusting Him to show us what to do when the lease is up and when and how we should move and leave Virginia behind. I have to be reminded daily because somehow I am hard-headed enough to try to handle things on my own, get stressed and then God’s Spirit gently reminds me that He is walking through this with me. He is helping me on the multiple phone conversations with the nice lady in TX who has taken over our account, he is guiding me as I write e-mails to the office in PA concerning the errors on their invoice and their changing our property without our permission. He has even been there when I angrily cried out that the man in PA who was supposed to look out for our best interests betrayed us and lied to us. God reminded me that I must forgive him and move on. Honestly, I am working on that. When he comes to mind, I ask God to help me to forgive him and his costly errors that have already cost us thousands of dollars in repairs that may not have even been necessary. Like little Evie, I have to have God’s presence with me so that I feel safe from all that is happening.
Is there something hard that you are faced with today? God is your refuge, your place of safety. Are you feeling assaulted by the things of the world that you can do nothing about? God is your refuge, your place of safety. I thought I knew these promises, having leaned on them for years. But then, the enemy came and showed me that I was not leaning or hiding in God; I was trusting myself to make things right. That never works because God is my refuge, my place of safety. I’m still learning daily to let go and let God be God. As someone said, this, too, shall pass.
Blessings, my friends, for a lovely day filled with insights from the Heavenly Father!
Have you ever wondered what would happen in your life if you heard God clearly and followed His directions exactly? Moses spoke to God and God spoke to Moses. Yet, Moses and his brother Aaron sinned and did not follow exactly what God told them to do.
Notice the very important word in this passage is speak.Moses did not speak to the rock; he struck it. He did not follow God’s instructions which had been very specific. Consequences follow actions.
Shortly after this passage, Aaron died. Later, Moses got to go to the top of a mountain and look and see the Promised Land, but he was never allowed to enter it. “Unfair!” I can hear the outcry already. What in the world was God thinking that He did not allow Moses and Aaron,who had faithfully led the Israelites out of Egypt and through the desert, to enter the Promised Land, their destination the whole time?
Well, my answer is that God was thinking that He is holy and what He asks for specifically is for a specific reason and He expects complete obedience, not a partial, half-hearted, “I’ll do it my way” kind of obedience. One of the big problems in our world today is that so many people are trying to do things their way, the way that their minds came up with, and not the way that God has said it should be.
For example, the Bible tells us that God made male and female. Now, there are people in our world who say that one can decide their gender. Really? Is that what the Holy Bible says? The Bible says that man and woman marry and become one flesh. Man today, in all of his own wisdom, has decided that homosexuality and the resulting relationships are okay. Hmm. I’m sure that is NOT what God thinks is best for our world considering He destroyed Sodom for such sin. Nevertheless, men think that they know better than God and go their own way. Like Moses, they are headed in a direction that will not allow them to go into the Promised Land.
In the time of Moses, the Promised Land was an actual, physical place. Today, the Promised Land is Heaven, that place in which we have eternal life and live in the presence of God forever. People who think that they can “do their own thing” all of their lives and then live in the presence of a Holy God are just fooling themselves. God does not respect some people more than others, and if Moses, a great leader of the Israelites, could be denied entrance into the physical Promised Land, who are we to think that we can do whatever we want and still go into the Heavenly Promised Land? How presumptuous is that!
In my opinion, the big thing that we are missing in the picture of sin and choices is TRUST. We don’t trust that God will fulfill His Word, every jot and tittle of it. I trust that God loves and shows mercy and forgives. But I also trust that He is the righteous Judge who will one day hold all men into account for their own choices and actions. Once again, remember that Moses and Aaron were not allowed to go into the Promised Land. They changed one word of what God told them to do and that made all the difference.
God says what He means and means what He says.
I hope that you have a blessed day and that you feel God’s presence leading and directing you in the way you should go.
www.bible.com/1171/php.4.8.mev
www.bible.com/111/psa.91.2.niv
Vickie's Book Nook and Meditation Corner 