To End the Year

To end this year I decided against a post. Instead, I am sharing 10 videos that I have come to love during the 2016 year. Each one tells a story and each one is unique. I hope you enjoy the music. 

The 2016 Top 10 Songs

 1: Lauren Daigle - Come Alive (Dry Bones)

2: The Afters - Live on Forever

3: Unspoken - Open the Clouds

4: Ryan Stevenson - Eye of the Storm

5: Skillet - Stars

6: Switchfoot - Live It Well

7: Need to Breathe - Happiness

8: Hawk Nelson - Diamonds

9: Capital Kings - Believer

10: For King & Country- Shoulders

 

Christmastime in Iowa

The snow has fallen. Wind chills have dipped to negative temperatures. And we still vacant our domiciles and venture into the shopping world. That is life in Iowa. A little snow (about a foot or more) won't hinder us a bit, maybe delay us, slow us down, but not hinder.

I think it is different for true Iowans rather than transplants; but we hang in there with the best of them (although sometimes we seem to be more layered clothing-wise than they).

Yesterday we spent a little time at the mall shopping for each other. With not a lot of money, wise choices had to be made. For some reason my husband thinks shopping for me is hard. That I don't understand. I appreciate any gift given. From rocks to books, from house shoes to a scarf, and anywhere in between. I like sparkles, the color white, psychedelic patterns and colors, books, music, little blankets or pillows, snowglobes/waterglobes/globes, and even maps. In other words, to me a gift from the heart is more priceless than the greatest ruby. 

I found a few things for my husband today, too. Hit a deal that scored a freebie item, one that was severely discounted, and another by using some rewards points that I had garnered.  Found exactly what I wanted to give to my son.

But Christmas isn't about presents under the tree. That is just a perk of the holiday. The ultimate present is Jesus. Born to die for us and to be set as King of all nations.
 
I love this holiday. The lights, the snow and weather, the tree, the warm cocoa, the music and art, but most of all, the love that this holiday has the ability to show.

As the year closes, and as I read my one book that I always love to read at this time of year, I can reflect that through the grace of Christ, born unto us as our Saviour, this year was a pretty good year.

Give the Gift of Books

Christmas has always been a wonderful time to me. I love the lights, the decorations, the music, and most of all the love. Even though it seems that each year the Christmas seems to become more commercialize, I have seen a resurgence of the true meaning of Christmas. 

When it comes to gifts, a lot of gifts are not needed nor should it be practiced. Instead, think of the wise men and how their three gifts were precious in the sight of God.

To help with choosing a few gifts, I am listing a few books that I have found that would be enjoyed. Click the link to connect with the author via social media. And help support an author this Christmas and buy one of the books. 

Romance:

Summer's Flame by Wendy Davy

Surrender to Peace by Rose Allen McCauley

Caged Dove by Andrea Rodgers

Tapestry of Trust by Mary Annslee Urban

From Dishes to Snow by Kathy M. Howard

Contemporary (some with a romance thread)

Flabbergasted by Ray Blackston

Mississippi Nights by D.M. Webb

Fixing Perfect by Therese M. Travis

The 17 by Clint Kelly

Futuristic/Speculative/YA/Supernatural

Wake the Dead by Victoria Buck

Vanquished by Katie Clark

The Watchman by V.B. Tenery

Historical/Historical Romance

The Madonna of Pisano by MaryAnn Diorio

Mail Order Surprise by Lucy Thompson

Lightning on a Quiet Night by Donn Taylor

These are just a few books selected from the reviews from Rebel Book Reviews. I hope you would choose at least one, if not more, for those special Christmas presents.
 

Christmas Excerpt from 30 Days: A Devotional Memoir

30 Days: A Devotional Memoir

(Ambassador International 2013)

Luke 2:14

"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."

This is a story told by my mother to all of her children. This is a story that helped to make sense why every Christmas we had an orange. And no other orange would smell as sweet, taste as soothing, and feel as smooth as that Christmas orange.

 

~~~~~~~

The Christmas Orange by Betty Sue Tutor

I grew up in a large family. As a large, poor family we seldom had a Christmas tree, much less Christmas toys. We waited for Santa Claus, but usually we got an orange and a note promising presents "next year". The Christmas that always stood out in my mind was when I was around three years old.

I remember waking up on Christmas morning and seeing a lot of cars and trucks in the yard. We didn't own a vehicle, so even a few cars would seem like a lot to me back then. We had just moved into the community and had very few household items. I remember walking into a room that must have been a living room without furniture, and there were several people sitting around on the floor with boxes of food, toys, presents, fruit, and clothes in front of them.

My mom was sitting in a straight-back chair hold the baby, and someone asked, "Which one is Betty Sue?" My older sister pushed me towards the person, but I was reluctant to go as I was a very shy child. My mom encouraged me to go to them. The person who asked for me showed me a box with my name on it and said it was for me. The one thing that caught my eye was an orange. I grabbed the orange and bit into the peeling. Nothing else mattered but that orange.

The people who came that Christmas morning were from a local church. And they had heard of a poor family that had a lot of kids without a Christmas...and that was the best Christmas I ever had.

This memory had helped me understand missionaries, missions, and the true meaning of Christmas. These people were simple ordinary people going about the Lord's work, and none of them knew the impact they had on my life nor the influence they had on me as a Christian.

I shared this memory with my mom and older sister when I was eighteen years old. They were both surprised I could remember that Christmas, since I was only three years old. My mom filled me in on the circumstances: how the church had heard from the farmer, on whose land we were living, about how we were poor, without food and without winter clothing. She said she cried that day thanking God for sending those people to help us and told me to keep this memory, to share it with my kids...I did, and I have.

Every Christmas I look forward to my Christmas orange, and every Christmas I find my orange under the tree, even if I have to put it there myself on Christmas Eve. A bag of oranges can sit on my counter, but the one that tastes the best is the one I find under my Christmas tree on Christmas morning.

Praise God for ordinary people willing to go about doing the Lord's work, and thank God for Christmas morning and my Christmas orange.

~~~~~~~

 

This memory of my mom's happened in 1955. And I still do not tire of reading her words. I am reminded of how in our daily life we touch the lives of others. We may never know it and may never will, but if we live our lives as Christ-centered as possible, then good things will always happen. 

 

I love my Christmas orange and still like to put them under the tree for my family. What about you? Is there a Christmas memory that holds a special place in your memory?

 

Why I Could Never

In this world today people take offense to the littlest of things and nothing more so than someone standing for her beliefs. And if that belief is a Christian belief, then the hateful mocking becomes worse.

As a Christian I know why this happens. Jesus said the world would hate us because the world first hated Him. And why would the servant be better than the Master? 

One instance of this is my stance against Planned Parenthood. For a place that states that it is there for women healthcare, their main goal is the killing of the unborn, which is also known as abortion.

I won't go into the facts or sources; those can be found by anyone by using any search engine option on the internet. And I won't go into why abortion of any type is against Christian beliefs. Anyone can enter into the same search engines and find passages about how God formed us and knew us in the womb. And those scriptures will lead the person willing to learn to other verses.

What I want to talk about is why I would never and why I could never commit murder (have an abortion). 

Some people may say it's because I haven't experienced a situation that warranted an abortion; such as, rape, incest, or life threatening to the mother or baby. Do people really know another?? Don't you think there are things within a person's life that you have no idea about because it was never spoken about?

For me it was the December of 2015. Some people, mainly close friends and close family, knew about it, but I don't know if I ever told them the seriousness of what transpired.

 ......................................................................................................

Late that December night I called my husband after calling another family member who couldn't come to my aid. I waited in extreme pain, doubled over the tub in my bathroom, not able to move, as he rushed home from work at the hospital only to take me to the hospital he had left. The pain was horrible. Worse than I have ever felt. Worse than a migraine or a gallbladder attack.

Through triage and into a room, where they pumped medication in me, but the pain never subsided. A CT scan was scheduled and the urine pregnancy test was pending. When I arrived in radiology, I was immediately wheeled back to my room when the pregnancy test came back positive. 

I was elated; and yet, foreboding settled onto my heart. Why the pain? Something had to be wrong. A transvaginal ultrasound was ordered and within moments the tech was there. She took the ultrasound; the ER doctor read the results and rushed out of the room. Within moments again the OB on call came to our room.

Yes, I was pregnant. But it was an ectopic pregnancy. For those who don't know what that is: it is a serious condition where the fertilized egg doesn't make it to the uterus, but instead implants into the Fallopian tube. There is no such thing as reimplantation or moving the embryo to the uterus (maybe in the future but not in today's medical world). 

Surgery was needed. But I was crying. No, I wouldn't have surgery, not if there was a heartbeat. You see, I was far enough along, at least 6 weeks, that the embryo (baby) would have a heartbeat and a heartbeat meant it was alive. 

I was adamant. No surgery. Not while the baby was alive. I didn't care that I would die if the tube ruptured, which was about to happen. The pain was that severe because the tube was on the verge of rupturing.

The OB doctor consulted the readouts, viewed the ultrasound, and assured me, with tears in his own eyes, that the baby had already died.

I underwent surgery; scared, terrified, heartbroken.

And the tube had ruptured right as they prepared to remove it.

And while I slept through recovery, the doctor brought surgery photos out to my husband to show what had happened and that there was not viable baby. Days later I received a copy of the pathology report citing that there were no viable tissue found, in other words, the baby had died long before I felt the pain.
 .......................................................................................................

What does this story mean? 

I was willing to face death, knowing it would be my baby and I who died. I was not willing to kill my child within me just to save my life. To me, that is selfish. I would not destroy an innocent life in order to extend my own.

But what about my other children, my youngest son? They would be cared for and loved. I had dedicated them to the Lord long ago and trusted the Lord to protect them. I would never kill an innocent just to live a few more days with them, especially since our tomorrows are never promised.

God knew my stance against abortion. And even though He removed that choice from me, I did not know it at that time.

How much can I stress that I could never have an abortion? And I find it a horrible act against the most innocent of all. That is why I stand against Planned Parenthood. And if that makes me an enemy to another, makes another call me "dense", "living in a bubble", or having "one-sided logic", then that is what I will be.

I've faced that decision, and I've made the right choice. I chose life, even though that life was taken from me. Standing for a belief takes strength and determination. And I urge all Christians who truly follow Christ to do so. Never lose hope. 
 

Thy Words & Thy Heart

It was only the other day that I was notified that I had received an award. Say what? Never in my life, discounting those Kindergarten awards, had I ever received an award for anything I've created or done. 

Yes, I know all about how we as Christians build up our rewards in Heaven, but it is always nice to have a wee bit of encouragement from others. It is not seeking justification or self recognition. It is hoping for something to bolster me when I'm suddenly self doubting or feeling low. And as always God knows the perfect timing for such things.

When the award for  Christian Religious Romance certification of excellence by Radiqx was given to me, it brought me from that low I was experiencing to a new determination to finish my race and to never give up.

 To some a small award may not mean much, but to me, it is more than I can ever explain. Readers chose my book for this award which has certain strict criteria for books to meet. A reader found what I wrote to be deserving of this honor. And that humbles me to no end. How can I explain what I wrote? How can I tell people how I wrote this and received this award?

I can't.

I write what I know. And because God is such an integral and intimate part of my life, I write about Him and for Him.

Matthew 12: 37 "For thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned."

These are words for me to live by. Only words that bring glory to Jesus will I write.  And maybe on some other day when I feel low I will remember that what I created had once touched people and bolstered their lives...just as they do mine. 

A Behind-the-Scenes Look at Mississippi Nights

You ever wonder how an author "sees" her characters? Or the types of vehicles used or places visited?

In Mississippi Nights the story of two brothers, torn apart by a tragedy, is told through their eyes. The bond of brotherhood goes much deeper since brotherhood also pertains to their professions. Jeremy is a police officer and his younger brother, David, is a firefighter. No matter how they try to stay away from each other, their lives, personal and professional, are thrown onto the path of the other. 

I used real places to give a sense of depth of my setting: Southaven, Olive Branch, Arkabulta, and Pick Wick Lake. These are actual places in Mississippi, although the town of Jasper City is fictional. Some readers will note similarities in Jasper City. That's because I drew from the towns Batesville, Hernando, and Oxford to create the downtown layout of Jasper City.

What about my characters? Did I use actual people for them? No, I didn't. I did, however, draw upon personalities of many people and used the characteristics of Type A's to create the brothers. Southern men are a different breed and give them a profession like theirs, and it takes it to a whole new level.

As for Maggie, I needed a person who could bring in a balance. She has her own faults, but her loving and compassionate nature far outweighs any vice. Without her, it would have been just two rams butting heads with no sense of direction. But in order to have her a viable part of the relationship and a reason for being in the midst of the confrontational brothers, I had Jeremy married to her cousin Sarah. Of course this throws another wrench into the situation since it's her father who is the pastor of the Boyette family's church.

 And there would be no story if there were not any secrets, and David carries two life altering secrets. One secret led to his fall into another. Of course as it is always with family, secrets have a way of showing themselves eventually.

This story is one that is dear to me. Not because it's my first published book, but because I dreamed these characters long before the idea of writing them came to be. I breathed and molded them for six months. I lived their lives and heartaches and joys. Now I'm writing an equally emotional book which is a follow-up with David, Maggie, and Poppy, the little girl who stole David's heart.

Until then, be on the look out in months to come for a new book with new characters and set in the South, this time Alabama.

Why That Name?

Do you put any thought into the names you chose for your children? Were they the most popular names or maybe a family name? Or did the name speak to you?

For me, each name for my children were actual names that I dreamed about.

Justin Caleb: I dreamed of the name Caleb. It means "bold" and in the Bible, Caleb was one of two who returned and praised God for the bounties that were there in the promised land. He didn't see the obstacles in the way because he knew that God would take care of those obstacles. Why? Because God promised the land to them and that was all Caleb needed to know.

And although I named my son Caleb, his heart is more like King David. Sure he may venture at times away from God, but like King David, Caleb is a man after God's heart and will always return to Him. 

Kaitlyn Michele: Even though my daughter didn't survive to take her first breath, I named her Kaitlyn. It means "pure", and she is a pure heart, a soul that never knew sin or hardship or sadness. She now dances with the Lord in eternal happiness.

Samuel Blake: I named my second son Blake. It means "dark, light", a duality of personality. This was a name I dreamed with such vividness I sat up in bed and exclaimed, "His name is Blake!".  And like his name's meaning, Blake has two sides to him: the light which shines as his love for the Lord, family, and friends, and the dark which is the quiet determination to see wrongs righted and longs to protect the innocent and weak. His anger at injustice will sometimes rule his heart, but the love that he feels balances him.

And though his name is Blake, he reminds me of Joseph (coat of many colors). Despite the injustice done to him, Blake forgives. He listens to the Lord and at times has dreams that help him make a decision. He strives to do right, to save for the future, and to be gentle with others. 

Will there be another name to dream? Yes. I have dreamed of another: a name that means "wise". Time will tell if it comes to pass. Until then I continue to watch my sons grow, and I continue to pray that they will never drift from the Lord.

A Moment in Time

It's just a moment in time

One speck, one blink

It's just an author's life

One word, one line

It's just a painter's life

One stroke, one brush

It's just a mother's life

One prayer, one memory

It's just a wife's life

One body, one heart

It's just a daughter's life

One hope, one dream

In the depths of a new day, so early the sun is still asleep and the stars play in the sky, so late at night that the winter sounds whisper in the dark, I find myself waiting for sleep to come and claim me.

And as I wait, I think about things that happen in my day, things that may happen tomorrow, and things that I hope to happen in the future and only one thing comes to mind.

I want to live forever.

No, not on this earth.

I want to live forever in the love of my Lord.

As I write this all I can think about is the song Live On Forever by The Afters. I heard this song one day while in the car with my husband and son. Driving down the snow laden roads in town, wondering about the future, Air1 Radio played this song and it caught my attention. Were it the lyrics? Was it the beat? Or were it the words "We are not where we belong
We have a hope that we're going live on
Forever"?

The song spoke to me and when the tendrils of depression reach out to me, this is the song that plays in my mind, reminding me that "dark days are gonna go away".

To me it's a promise that God is right here with me, always holding me, always strengthening me, always guiding me, and forever watching out for me.

What is your song that helps you make it through a moment in your life?

Distractions in a Day

Distractions are numerous in a day, especially when someone battles depression. Some people would say that distractions are not productive. Some would say that I need to read the Bible more. Even others just offer prayer. But did you know that many famous people battled depression?

The one that comes foremost to mind is Dr. Charles Spurgeon. He battled depression throughout his life, but he knew what it was and that it could come calling for no apparent reason. What brought him through it? The Lord.

 

A simple enough answer. And I agree. The Lord isn't only found in reading the Bible. He can be found in coloring a page in a book.

 He can be found in watching some music videos by Christian artists. 

He can be found in reading a book or even writing a few paragraphs in a story. He can be found in petting a cat or dog or a guinea pig. He can be found just staring outside at the snow or the stars at night. 

No matter where I am or what I am doing, I can find the Lord and that is what helps me. I know He will bring me through this.

As Jeremy Camp sings in his song He Knows, "You barely have the strength to pray in the valley low", that is how I feel a lot these days. 

And He knows. And because He knows, He will hold me until I am through this valley.

If you know someone who seems downcast, depressed, or just feeling "blah", drop a line to him or her, call her, hug him, anything to just let them know that they are loved and in someone's thoughts. Life pulls us all in different directions and at times we are overwhelmed by the world that we can no longer recharge. Having our distractions helps us to concentrate on the One who matters. It may be slow, but I do believe He is recharging my battery.

 

The North vs. the South

It's the North versus the South again. Ixnay to the West and East. I can't speak for them. But since I was raised in the South and now live in the North I can definitely say with some degree of confidence that the experience of Snow Days are quite different and almost hilarious in its difference.

In Mississippi we were lucky if we saw at least a dusting of snow or maybe even 2 inches, depending if the snow landed in a hole in the yard. Well, at least I thought we were lucky to get that much since I was always hoping for more. There was a year where I spent a full day frolicking in the snow with my family. It was more than a dusting. It was a good 2 to 3 feet, again depending on if you were standing in a dip in the yard or not. But did I ever panic when the snow came? Of course not, but there were people who did. 

One snowflake and there was a run on the grocery store. Piggly Wiggly sold out of bread and milk. Kroger's shelves were bare. Wal-Mart fended off hordes of milk and bread buying zombies. Two snowflakes and the schools shut down. Three snowflakes and the town rolled up its sidewalks.

It was exciting to see the snow. And it was cold...or so I thought.

I moved to Iowa and our first winter was met with SNOW! And we played in it. We walked in it. We even drove in it. We even walked to a nearby store and bought some groceries. Our Hy-vee grocery store still had bread and milk. Our Wal-Mart didn't fight off the hordes. The snowflakes fell hard and fast. They slammed into our faces, into our eyes, and into our mouths. And it was cold. Colder than freezing cold. But it was amazing. Our first real snow.

Then this year (2015 to now) we were met with the subzero cold. Our front door was looking like a scene from The Day After Tomorrow. The snow was heavy. The ice came. The snow fell even more. The temperature fell further. And we walked in it. Milk and bread was still there on the shelves. The schools may have been delayed, but they didn't close. We froze a little until I learned that the gas bill was so low that I could actually turn up the heat, which is what we do up here in the North I found out. 


Blizzards are not fun. They are dangerous. Don't get me wrong, but snow is absolutely beautiful. The light that reflects across the yards sparkle like hidden diamonds. The silence at night is more hushed with the snow that layers the ground. 

And learning about the difference in how the North handles the snow compared to how the South handles the snow is quite enlightening. 

Living in both regions have given me an unique perspective on how scary Snow Days seem to us. Here in the North the only Snow Day that makes us hunker down is a subzero, as in pass the negative 30 mark, and a blinding blizzard that even snow plows can't handle. In the South it is the thought of 9 inches of snow that makes the roads impassable and the store shelves empty. (Still don't know why milk and bread are the first to go.)

It's all in the perspective. And what we know. The South doesn't receive a lot of that white stuff. But they can handle the rain! The North sees it as another day in winter paradise. 

I see it as one more season of beauty that God blessed us with.

A December Winter

I've sat here staring at my computer for many minutes, long moments of time where my mind was utterly blank. I watched the people across the apartment complex leave the apartments, hop into cars, walk dogs, and yet I am still left blank. My mind has become a dormant thing within my skull. Much like the winter, somehow my life is covered in snow, cold...buried...asleep.

Why, you ask. There are lots of explanations. From the biological standpoint: depression, loss of ambition, still recovering from shock. From a spiritual standpoint: waiting, silent in prayer, being still. 

It is quiet moments in these kind of days that I find myself truly confronting what I've been avoiding for a month. My December held some happiness, but it gave me a great sadness beyond what I can explain.

I know the loss of a child. In 1998 my daughter was stillborn. At 26 weeks of gestation, she died within me: complications of hyperemesis and the medication used to control it. That grief was clouded by the pain medication I was on; yet on December 2nd I experienced this pain again, this time full force.

For 3 years my husband and I have been trying to conceive. Not even the admonitions of some family members deterred us. We wanted another child. 

That night I had severe abdominal pains. I thought: complications from my old gall bladder surgery. The pains were horrendous, beyond any pain I had ever physically felt. My husband rushed from work and then rushed me to the ER. After what felt like hours and hours of waiting and of the harshest pain roiling through me, I was heading back to radiology for a CT scan. Before the scan, my test results were checked. Congratulations! I was pregnant.

I felt such joy, but in the back of my mind was an ominous thought: something was wrong though. Ten minutes later, after a transvaginal ultrasound we received the news: I had miscarried and it was an ectopic pregnancy. 

Our spirits were crushed. To know that we were to have a baby and then to learn it was not to be was more than devastating. Everything flew by in a strange blur of memory. I was crying because I didn't want to abort. The doctor assured me the baby had not survived and this wasn't an abortion. Surgery was scheduled. Because of my pain, rupture was suspected of the Fallopian tube. 

How many tears passed? I don't know. I was crying. I was praying. I was wanting to be held by my husband. Instead, I was on the surgery bed to have my ruptured tube removed.

When I awoke, it still seemed unreal. My husband was there. Soon I was released to go home. The doctors and nurses were so sympathetic and caring, but still I thought of nothing. The world no longer seemed real.

Days and weeks followed. I healed physically. I broke down one morning in my husband's arms. But yet, I am still empty.

The loss of a child, no matter how far along in a pregnancy, is soul ripping. Coupled with the longing of a child, the joy being ripped away from horrible news, and then seeing where ever you look children in the arms of parents make you numb with grief.

Tears are dry. The heart clenches painfully over a hurt that I still cannot understand fully. The joy for what I once did: write, paint, and read no longer have any appeal. The pretending that everything is okay has sapped my strength.

All I can do is stand still and wait for the Lord. And sometimes that is all we can do. He knows our grief, our pain, our hurts. He knows our hearts, even if we don't or can't put into words. Every silent plea, every unspoken prayer, every mangled thought He hears. And He comforts. Part of life is to experience the pain of loss which in turn draws us closer to Him. 

Even though I still face days where I can't think or do, where I stare outside at the snow and watch people, I know that the day will come where my heart will be healed. 

We all have our winters to bear.