A Country Dessert

With living in a small community, occasionally we were given desserts from ladies in the congregation. One time after church, the entire family was ushered into the church kitchen and this sweet, simple country woman set a lovely, homemade lemon meringue pie in front us.

“Pastor, I made this for you.”

Then she said, “This is your’n. This is your’n.”

Mom watched the wheels in our heads spinning as we conjured all the puns we could think of…”this is urine.” Mom’s eyes pierced us and we could read the daggers….”Don’t any of you kids Dare laugh….or crack a smile.”

Mom received the pie with genuine gratitude and we were all dutiful to say, “Thank you.” But once we were at home sitting at the dining room table savoring the “Urine pie”….we broke into gales of laughter.

 

 A Mother’s Love

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These cuties are all grown up now…..

 

A mother’s love is deep and self-sacrificing. How I remember as young children, my siblings and I each took  $ 1.00 and went to the store to buy Mom a bottle of perfume for Mother’s Day. We wanted her to know how much we loved her. Each bottle had a different color lid on it—purple, red, yellow and blue. Daddy always purchased perfume for Mom—Chanel No. 5 and White Shoulders, so we just knew that she would love our choice of perfume for her.

She was so incredibly gracious and elaborate with her praise and gestures. We watched her lavish the individual fragrances on her arms and neck and exude, “Oh, it’s so lovely that you gave it to me. Oh, yes, Honey, I am wearing it.” And she did. We wanted her to wear our choice on Sundays, when we wanted her to smell really nice.  (What atrocious odors she wore for our sakes.) Years later as we reminisced, we all laughed until tears came out of her eyes.

How expansively she loved us. How many times did she lovingly drape a handcrafted macaroni necklace strung with simple yarn and proudly wear it to church because one of her children made it for her. She was a woman whose primary love language was “gift giving” and though our gifts were not expensive, in her eyes, they were indeed priceless, because they showed her that as our mother, she was loved dearly.

Fast forward to my life where my own sweet kids pondered what to make me for my birthday….several years ago when I was diagnosed with diabetes. They proudly served me a simple chicken breast with a candle and I can still remember the hopeful question, “Mama, do you really like it?” And, like my own mother, I sang their praise and delighted in their desires to bless me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Diving In

DCP_2080The story behind Broken Hearts Healed. For over a decade I scanned the Christian bookstores seeking to find a book that would do three things:

(1) tell the story of a fallen daughter

(2) have the component of a missionary calling

(3) show a godly, pure romance

I couldn’t relate to the pristine, godly true romance stories and I figured based on statistics, a lot of girls would also cringe inside and think, “That’s nice for you but that can never be my story.” I wanted a book that would encourage teenage girls and young women that God can still do amazing things in your life, even if you have lost your sexual innocence.

I finally realized the prompting from the Lord that I needed to write my story. It would be no less miraculous than the pure romance stories because it would still bring Him glory. I knew that writing my story meant risk and vulnerability. Yet, I imagined the hope it could bring and the healing that God could do in women’s hearts and lives if I shared my life with them.

Honestly, I didn’t want to run on the platform of “sexual abuse victim.” That was something I wished to forget and yet it became apparent that without sharing that part of my story, I wasn’t being true to my readers or myself. It was out of that place of deepest pain that God has brought forth tremendous victory.

It is my greatest desire that you will buy this book for yourself or even your friend and that God will use it to touch your life with His love. I am passionate about this story because I Know what God’s love did for me and I long to see you embrace that for yourself.

So, if I have captured your interest, Click on the Buy Now button and order Broken Hearts Healed!

 

 

 

 

Dropped Bottom???

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I hated social settings. They filled me with fear and nervousness. I was in 6th grade and had just started wearing pantyhose. Since we were always on a tight budget, my mother would generally buy the cheapest items, regardless of quality. I was at a wedding reception in a dress, pantyhose and heels.

The Ramada Inn was lavish in its décor of reds and gold with tantalizing foods spread in abundance. Two glorious silver fountains beckoned thirsty guests to come and be refreshed. My mother discreetly informed me that one fountain offered champagne and the other was merely punch. She cautioned me because one time in their early years of ministry, my father ignorantly proceeded to drink champagne, much to my mother’s chagrin. Since she often reminded me that I had hardly any common sense, she was making sure that I wouldn’t repeat my father’s faux pau.

Obediently, I steered clear of the champagne fountain. I was sipping my drink while holding a plate with cake, nuts and mints on it, wondering where I could sit and eat without having both hands occupied. My eyes were scanning the walls for an empty chair when a waitress came to me.

She was short in her black dress, fishnet stockings, crisp white apron and cap. “Honey, you dropped your bottom.” She promptly skirted away to continue her tasks for the evening. I was thoroughly mystified and mortified. My mind reeled.Are my pantyhose hanging bunched around my ankles, again?!!! Or has the entire waistband dropped and the pantyhose are lying on the floor around my shoes???? Is my slip hanging? What in the world did she mean, “I dropped my bottom !?!?

I found my mother and through gritted teeth told her what the strange lady said. “Mo-ther, what did she mean? I dropped my bottom?” My mother looked at me with twinkling merriment as recognition dawned on her.

“Oh, honey, she means the bottom of your cup.” She walked to the non-forbidden fountain to demonstrate that these cups came in two parts to be assembled. By the time she finished explaining verbally and visually, all I longed for was that the reception would finish and I could go home, far away from social gatherings, baggy pantyhose and dropped bottoms!

Baring My Soul

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This story is painful. I didn’t realize just what this will take for me to share it all, Jesus. Please hold me and help me.

(“Ruth, these precious women need to hear that they are not alone. I know how painful your life was…..I wept with you and over you….but that is the very reason I am sending you to speak. Don’t be afraid, My precious Daughter, I will not leave you….My Holy Spirit is helping you, even now, as you type these words.”)

God, this is excruciating.

“Yes, but you didn’t stay there. I redeemed you. I have healed you. I set you free.” The enemy wants you silenced but it is TIME for you to speak. It is MY time for you to speak.”

Are You…His Mother?

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I have had my signature silver hair for a very long time and Ross has always been “baby-faced.” Of course, that fact that I am the older one of us, by 6 1/2 years only adds to that “difference.” That’s what comes from falling in love with a younger man. Thus, I insisted that he must always have a beard and a mustache because if not, people would really think that he’s my son and not my husband…. as has happened on more than one occasion.

After only a few months of living in our new remote Alaskan village of 200, it was time for the high school graduation. It is an honor for the elders to receive their food first and in this case, dessert. As the entire village was milling around the school gymnasium, a young 10-year-old girl looked at me.

“You can go get your dessert now.”DSC05996

Quizzically, I looked at her. “Why?”

She promptly responded, “Because you’re an elder.”

I smiled as I was just in my early 40’s and one needed to be 55 to qualify for that status.

“What makes you think I’m an elder?”

“Well, your hair.”

I burst out laughing, leaned down gently and said, “Honey, I’m not an elder. My hair might look really old, but I am not.”

Later when relating that story to some of my new friends in the village, they started laughing in embarrassment. I was puzzled and they finally told me why they were all so embarrassed.

“We all thought you were older. We all thought you were his mother!”

DSC06002So, our first Christmas in the village, we were debating what to do for the church
program and our oldest daughter, Rachel Joy, chuckles and looks at me, “Well, Mom, you’re too old to be the Virgin Mary.” So, Ross and I goofed off and teased about being Simeon and Anna…..which became reality.DSC05997

Ross purchased theatrical make-up and a bald cap and beard but then in order for it to be applied correctly, he realized that shaving might be the better route. Now you can see for yourself how young he looks. That’s Dad posing with his two sons and oldest daughter. He was nearly 39 in those pictures. The last shot is us, as Simeon and Anna.


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Upcoming Book: Broken Hearts Healed, A Story of Transformation

At five years old, Ruth is an outgoing girl and her favorite place is church…until her world is rocked by sexual abuse. Now she lives in a private hell of silence, rejection, rage and shame.

As a teenager, desperate for attention, she spirals further into depression, embracing a lifestyle of promiscuity, sensuality and self-hatred. Stripped of innocence, deceived by people she trusted and haunted by skeletons from her past, Ruth longs for love but doesn’t believe she will ever find it. Shame engulfs her. Suicide is tempting. Who would ever want to marry a fallen preacher’s daughter?

Broken Hearts Healed, A Story of Transformation is a powerful true story of redemption and romance.

Pre-Orders Available Soon. Share with your friends!