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GREAT NEWS Kutless Style & Tips For Writing Conferences!!!

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

In 2004, I wrote my first novel. I wrote it under a pen name and I didn’t write it for the glory of God. 


Everybody falls sometimes, Gotta find the strength to rise, out of the ashes and make a new beginning.

In August of 2008, I had a conversation with God and I started writing again. I finished my first novel, under my name, for the glory of God, in December 2008. I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I had never read a blog or a craft book. I read it for typos, but that’s about all. 

So, I decided to put it on Christian Manuscript submissions. While it sat there, I wrote another novel, and another and then I put a new one on the same site. During that six months, I wrote a few more. 

In March of 2010, I wrote a new novel and submitted it in the Operation First Novel contest. I didn’t semi-final.


I made a decision to fly to Denver for the Writing for the Soul conference anyway. My husband is my rock. (Yeah, Jesus is, but you know what I mean) We were going to go together. I’m terrified of new places and going into unfamiliar territory alone. Not just apprehensive, terrified–but hubby was going. 

Until he wasn’t. “Jess, I can’t go. I’m swamped at work (not just busy but lots of stuff).” His face expressed concern. He knows I depend on him to get me places. 

Anyone can feel the ache, You think it’s more than you can take. But you’re stronger, stronger than you know. 


“Okay, I can do this.”
He smiled and put his hand on my knee. “I’ll take care of it.” 
A few days later, he booked a direct flight so I wouldn’t have to worry about layovers and he made sure I knew about the shuttle counter and how to get a ticket. 

In February 2011, I got on a plane in Memphis, alone. Except, I wasn’t.

“You’re crossing your Jordan, Jess. Just you and Me,” God whispered. 


I cried on the plane. I was flying towards my promise. I had taken the step of faith. I looked out the windows. I was doing this. Me! Little ole’ me. And Big Ole’ God.

Don’t you give up now, the sun will soon be shining, You gotta face the clouds, to find the silver lining.


I landed in Denver airport and met up with one of my Critique partners I’d made online during the few months before the contest. Where was she before I entered? 

 I had spent a lot of time in prayer. I read the blogs and articles about how hard it was to break out into the publishing world. But I had a God-given dream. I had to decide to persevere, when my heart failed, when my mind said NO WAY, when I thought about who I was–a nobody from a small town, when I cried alone at the thought of pitching to an agent or editor, when I needed the money to get to the conference. When I looked at all the reasons why this was ridiculous.

I kept writing. I kept believing. I had to.

It doesn’t matter what you’ve heard, impossible is not a word. It’s just a reason, for someone not to try. Everybody’s scared to death, when they decide to take that step…out on the water, it’ll be alright.


I didn’t know what to expect. But I’d prayed and believed as I searched the available agents and editors attending the conference that God would guide me to the right ones. Maybe nothing would happen at that moment, but for the future. “God, who is right for me? I don’t want to pitch to everyone. I don’t want to scramble and rush. I want the right ones. For me. That’s my prayer. Have Your way.” TIP: Be prayerful about pitching and querying.

That night we had the chance to sign up for 3 appointments, a mentor appt, and a coaching appt. “Lord, I believe you’ve led me to these 3 people. I’m praying I get a slot.”

I signed up for mentoring, then I signed up for the coaching and then I got all 3 of my prayerful picks. One publisher, one editor, one agent.

My mentoring came first. Praise God! She smiled, took my writing, asked me to give my pitch, then looked at what I wrote. “This is good writing.  I think your story starts in Chapter 2.”

“Should I not pitch?”

“No! Pitch it. It’s good. Let an editor decide that. You’re going to be great. Your pitch is perfect. Can I pray with you?” 

Later that day, I sat in on a 15 minute coaching session. I slouch. I know. It was a great coaching session. Talk slower, relax. You’ll be fine. Sounds like a neat story.

I pitched to the publisher first. She asked me what my story was about and had I written any other ones. I told her. “I like the story, but we do more missional novels. I’m interested in what others say, if you get a chance tonight, come find me and let me know how it went. Can I pray for you?” Tip: Editors, Publishers, and Agents are people. Relax. Easier said than done, I know. But they really do want the best for you!

Life is so much more, than what your eyes are seeing, you will find your way, if you keep believing.


I pitched to an editor next. I was intimidated, but she smiled and asked me some questions. Hard ones. She asked me, (TIP:) “Why did you write the book?” “Why do you think this book should be published?” I had answers. My first funny one was, “I’m pitching this one because it isn’t my first book.” We laughed. Then I told her the real reason why. She asked for a partial. 

And then, it was time to pitch to THE AGENT. The ONE. I walked in and shook her hand and introduced myself. “I know your name. Do you follow our blog?” TIP: Comment on agent blogs and be sincere.

“Yes, I do.” And then my nerves got me, but I gave her my elevator pitch.

“You know I’m going to need more than that now.” She grinned. TIP: Be able to explain your book further than one hook-pitch clearly and quickly.

She asked me a few questions, her eyebrows raised. I totally thought I was tanking it. I could answer her questions at least. She nodded. “It sounds like something I’d be interested in, but I won’t know unless I read it. Send me a full.”

WHAT? 

I left, went straight to my hotel room, crumpled into a heap and bawled. A partial and a full. It was hope. It wasn’t a contract, but it was hope. Slim. But hope.

I’ve seen dreams that moves the mountains, hope that doesn’t ever end even when the sky is falling. I’ve seen miracles just happen, silent prayers get answered, broken hearts become brand new…


that’s what faith can do…overcome the odds, when you don’t have a chance, when the world says you can’t


It’ll tell you that you can!


I sent the requested material March of 2011. The second week of June I received an email from the agent. She enjoyed the story and felt it was almost ready for representation. She made a list of a few areas that needed revised.

1. Too many POVs, I cut out 3 because she was right, they were there for convenience.
2. Too many switches in POVs per scene. “Could you keep it 2 POVs per chapter?”
3. Typos. “Could you polish it up a bit?”

YES! I’ll do all of it. I printed out the ms and prayed. Please help me to do this, Lord. After I tackled the big issues, I went through and polished it. Then I sent it to my critique partners. They all caught something! They were life lines. TIP: Get critique partners you trust and polish your ms before sending.

On June 8th, 2011, I sent my revisions. August came and I read a blog by another agent saying after a couple months it’s ok to send a nudge and see if the agent has received the material. So I did. I sent an email asking if she had received what I sent.

I got a reply. Yes, she had and she was half-way through it, with an apology for taking so long. How sweet was she? Okay, that’s better than I’m half-way through and not reading any more. I can wait. I can do this.

On September 9th, I received an email with a date to discuss representation! That call came this past Wednesday. I had a great conversation, we’re on the same page, and we’re excited about what’s to come!

Me signing my contract!

I am honored to be represented by Rachel Kent of Books & Such Literary Agency!   


If you’re writing or whatever your dream is– keep believing, keep dreaming, keep moving forward. Have faith.


Even if you fall sometimes, you will have the strength to rise.





Top 5 Ways I Warped My Little Brother

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

Okay, First of all, I had a friend bring to my attention that I had not set up my facebook writer page button correctly on my sidebar. So if you clicked it, you like facebook platform! Oy, so now it’s fixed! If you want to take a second and “like” me, I’d love for you to! And you’ll really and truly be liking ME! 


On with the show this is it!


My brother and I are 2 years apart, me being the oldest…wisest…smartest…the list goes on.

Here are the top 5 things I did to warp him. Not that he needed any help from me, but, I’d like to say I contributed something in his life. (My older sister helped with #5.) 


So without further ado…


5. Ignored him and called it “shining.” He would holler, “Mom, Jessica and Celeste are shining on me.” Since my mom had no idea what that was, we never got in trouble. Most nights he went to bed crying. Yeah, yeah, boo hoo.

4. When Mom and Dad were gone, I’d throw steak knives at his door so he wouldn’t come out. He still tells on me for that, twenty years later. I like to call that, overkill.

3. Left him in the road half dead when our psycho Doberman ran out in front of him on his bike. He flipped head over the handle bars. I was too busy laughing hysterically in the yard with the neighbor. He survived. Barely. He had a concussion. I might’ve peed a little.

2. To get out of washing dishes, because the psycho Doberman ate the dishwasher, no it did, I would holler, cry, and yell at  him, (he was drying) to stop hitting me. My mom would scream, “Jared! Knock it off!” He would plead, “I’m not doing it! She’s lying.” Why would I make that up? 😉 And then, my dad would make him wash and dry. Alone.  I could only get away with this about once a week to keep it believable.

And the #1 way I warped my brother…

1. I dressed him up in Holly Hobby nightgowns, painted his nails, and made him have tea parties. We have pictures as proof.

Love you, Bro! No, really. I do.

What mean things did you do to your sibling/s? Have a great weekend!


Oh yeah, if you haven’t visited Living by Grace–an online devotional community–please click here and join in! (or click the “like” in the sidebar)


AND… I have some BIG BIG BIG news! Coming Soon!

Who Doesn’t Get Thirsty?

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

I hope everyone had a great holiday! Cookouts, staying in jammies longer, poolside. Fall is on the way. No more white shoes or pants. Black’s more slimming anyway.

So let me ask  you a question.
What does living by grace mean to you? 
For me, it means walking each day knowing I am weak, but He is strong. I get tired, He never does. I stumble, He holds me up. I make mistakes, He’s perfect.
 So many things pour into me every day. Responsibilities of being a wife, mother, employee, a writer, a woman (if you’re a woman you know what I’m saying). I wear many hats. I love each one. I love each responsibility, but they can all wear me out.
I need my thirsty soul, quenched. I need saturated with His love, with the washing of the water of His Word. I can’t be good at any of the things above, if I don’t first fill myself up with Him.
Can anyone relate?
And because I’m a woman, I like to share. Women love to share, don’t they? My husband is amazed at some of the things I’m willing to divulge to my girlfriends. I love it when a bunch of us get together and talk about life and most importantly the foundation of life. Jesus Christ.
It renews me, encourages me, revs me up, and gives me hope. We bond through friendship and faith. We care for each other, pray for each other, laugh together. It’s a wonderful experience, especially when coffee and chocolate are involved!
“
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” Ecclesiastes 4:12
Doesn’t this sense of belonging, renewal, and friendship sound wonderful? Wish you could have it on a daily basis?
You can.
I’m honored to be partnering with some incredible women of faith who want to live by grace, together. We want a sense of community and camaraderie with other women. On September 12th, we’ll be launching a devotional facebook community. Living By Grace. We want to invite you to come by and let your souls be quenched, your minds and hearts challenged. Each day an amazing woman will bring the word through a devotional and feel free to mingle, chat, ask questions, and just have a good time.
We’re building bonds of sisterhood through faith and facebook! Come and join us.
“Like” our page by clicking the button on my sidebar and grab our button for your blog if you’d like!

I’m honored to be working with such talented writers. They all have wonderful personal blogs. You can find them by clicking on their names below.
Lynda Schultz
Joanne Sher
Jennifer Slattery
Maria Morgan
Patty Wysong

Top 5 Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Let Your Child Watch Spongebob

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

Ready? Here’s why you shouldn’t let your child watch Spongebob Squarepants based on experiences with my son…um..yeah.

5. His laugh is hideous. And your kids might try to copy it.

4.  Your child might want a pet squirrel named Sandy. He might ask over…and over…and over…and over…He might set traps in the backyard, a yard that has ZERO trees. He might beg you every time you pass a pet store, even though you’ve told him a billion times, they don’t. sell. squirrels.

3. When he watches the episode where Spongebob curses, and a dolphin voice is the censor, he might ask, “Which bad words is he saying?”
“It doesn’t matter. You don’t know any bad words.”
“Tell them all to me, then.”
“No.”
And then he might beg and plead and when you finally end it, he just makes dolphin noises instead. How will you discipline a kid for cussing in dolphin?
2. He might bend over in public and grab his behind, then say, “I ripped my pants.” A lot. A whole lot. And then refer to #5.
1. And the #1 reason you should not let your child watch Spongebob, he might say to you, “I want your booty.”
“What?” you’ll ask in total shock.
He might look at you as if you’re crazy and say, “I want your booty. You know…booty? Treasure?”
And you never know who else he’ll say that to.
Badamp bamp ching! Have a great weekend, watch whatever you want!

3 Ways to Respond to Detours in Life

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

Okay, so some of you may have clicked on Dawn Alexander’s link yesterday and found someone else’s journey story. Yeah, I got my days wrong. I’m not telling my story until September. But she has a great blog, huh? I hope if you went, you followed. How’d you like that little detour?

And one other thing, how does Weight Watchers make their blueberry muffins so delish and moist at only 5 points? 

Okay, on with the show, this is it.

MONDAY morning, we headed for school.

We hopped in our mini-van and cruised the same route we take every morning. I turned right by City Hall, made the 4-way stop, and BAM!
DETOUR!
 I slowed down. Myles asked, “What’s going on?”
“Detour.”
“Are you going to get lost on this one?”
I ignored his above average sarcasm for a 7 year old. “No.” Please don’t let me get lost
again.
I turned right, and crept ahead. I came off auto-pilot and paid attention. Nervous and unsure, as I wound around streets and curves, hoping I’d get them to school on time and not end up somewhere unsafe. I saw the end of the Detour ahead, not far, I waited patiently to get out on the main road leading to school. Phew! We made it.
TUESDAY morning, we left later than usual, rushed and irritated. Maybe I broke up a fight or two over their shared sink. Mental note: When we move, kids must have separate bathrooms. Not because they’re spoiled, but I need morning sanity to last longer than the hour I spend with Jesus before they get up.
We took off on our normal route.
BAM! I forgot. Detour. 
I was not apprehensive or worried about where I was. I was in a rotten mood, a million things going on in my head. My internet was down. Imagine the anxiety. I growled, literally, when I saw the sign.
I whipped the wheel to the right and muttered under my breath, griping at drivers. I sat impatiently while traffic didn’t help me by making a space for me to pull onto the main road. I may have honked and shook a fist at a teenager or two. Possibly a senior adult driving Miss Daisy.
We arrived on time. But I was angry.

The Lord blew the clouds of aggravation away with His voice and reminded me of the day before and the moment we were in at the same time. Then He spoke to me about the way I handle detours and the way I should handle them.

1.                                           

Don’t be afraid of detours
  D
“I put what you like to call detours in your life to make you slow down, wake-up, and pay attention. I know you get scared. I know it makes you nervous.” I felt the nudge to look up. The sky was incredible, the colors of a baby shower. “You think I can’t control where you’re going, when I can make this? Don’t be afraid.”
2.    
Don’t be angry at detours
“You think being angry and impatient with others will get you there any sooner? It won’t. It’ll only delay you. Do you think those drivers saw you as loving, gentle person, while trying to plow them over and shaking angry fists? Did your children see an example of how to respond to an unannounced twist? Why are you in such a hurry anyway?” His tenderness didn’t sear me with conviction, but wooed me to repentance.
3.    
Expect detours, plan for them

“You haven’t failed. It’s not too late to be a better example to others, to your children. It may be there tomorrow. It may not. But it won’t be the last one. You’ll get your chance to do it right. Plan for it. Expect it. You won’t be alone.”

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory
” 2 Corinthians 4:16-17
How do you handle detours in your life? 

Jaime Wright is…Moses?

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

I’m swinging with Jaime Wright today! Well, blog swinging that is. I’m over there and she’s over here! So read all her awesomeness and then skip over there by clicking HERE. Don’t forget to follow her blog if you don’t already, and be a doll or tough guy and go “like” her writer page on facebook. She asks lots of interesting questions and cool conversations take place all the time.
Tomorrow I’ll be talking about my journey in writing over at Dawn Alexander’s 


 I’m also at Jennifer Slattery’s blog, today, talking about hoarding. Are YOU a hoarder? Come by! 

So, heeeeeere’s Jaime!

Jess – wow! I’m on your blog! I feel like – important.
And important is just what friendships are meant to make you feel – at least I believe so. There’s nothing neater than when a co-worker/friend shows up at work and plops your favorite hazelnut soy latte on your desk (yes, it happens frequently). It makes me feel important. Or maybe valued is a better word.

Value in the writing world is critical. It’s a world where – frankly speaking – you spend most of your time feeling like a dead opossum that just got smucked by a semi truck and double-smucked by some rich dude driving a Hummer and then obliterated by a cowboy in a Dodge diesel. Fine. I’m graphic. Needless to say, we fledgling writers who are struggling to impress an agent, aching to sign with an editor, and trying to understand what the heck it is we just wrote 
 well, we need to be valued. A few too many rejections suffered alone is enough to make me bust the screen out of my laptop and short out its motherboard. Just be done with it.

Fellow friends in the writing world can relate to my hissy fits. They can understand the sadness and even the tears. They know what it feels like to give up when you’ve gone three weeks without writing one word because life is so busy you wonder if you’re living a pipe dream. They comprehend the true meaning of writer’s block.
Two months ago, I was pretty sure I was hanging up writing altogether. It wasn’t for lack of self-confidence. Lord knows I have enough of that. 😛 It was for timing, and sometimes the lack of time. I posted my resolve to quit on Twitter and emailed a few critical people – my critique partner and my mentor. While none of them told me the answer, all of them gave me encouragement in whatever direction I took. Their presence gave me value – encouragement – importance. Not arrogant importance. The type of importance that made me feel a bit like Moses when he needed Aaron and Joshua to lift up his arms because his strength was not enough.

Needless to say, it was shortly after that the Lord brought Jess into my life – via a little social network called Twitter. Gosh dang it – if I don’t love Twitter! Jess gets my sarcasm, my borderline sense of humor, and she’s short – she’s really – short. And I’m really tall. Funny how you picture a person you’ve never met physically and you find out facts that make you giggle.

We need each other. Plain and simple. We need people who UNDERSTAND our value as writers and to reinforce that in our low points. I’m still writing, by the way, and I haven’t busted my laptop. Although tonight I feel a bit like the smucked opossum, I know Jessica will make me laugh. S’all good, peeps J
Who’s your Aaron or Joshua? Who lifts your arms when you’re tired and how have your writing friends impacted your writing world?

So I Ran Over a Guy…So What?

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

Let me start with,

What had happened was…

BACKSTORY:
I sat in the car rider line, the endless one–maybe you know it too.

Bing!

I looked up at my dash and I saw something I’d never seen before. “That’s new.” I picked up my phone and called Hubby. “Hey, there’s a light on in my van.”

“Which one?”

Good question. “It looks like a toothbrush floating in the ocean.” Oh yeah. Good imagery. For sure.

“Okay, I’ll take care of it.”

And then I forgot, because I did what I was suppose to do. I informed the MAN of MANLY things and went back to my book.

FLASHFORWARD 2 WEEKS
I left Myles’s school and was on my way to get gas and head to the church to work.

Bing!

Crap.

I picked up the phone and called Hubby. “The toothbrush is floating in the ocean again.”

A big fat ugly sigh. “That’s not good.”

Profound.

“What do I do?”

“You can’t drive the van. You’ll blow it up!”

Ok, so we had a tad bit of an argument. I was rather unkind. Whatever, that ain’t the point. Point is…

“You have to go to Pennzoil and tell them to change your oil and check your radiator. Don’t let them do ANYTHING else.”

I hang up. Doubt I said bye.

I pulled up at the local oil place and waited for them to open.

The man behind the counter rolled his tongue to the side of his mouth to pack his chew tighter in order to speak clearly to me. Oh, dear God.

“Can I help you, Ma’am?” Ma’am? He’s older than me, for the love!

“I need an oil change and my radiator checked. That’s all.”

“Pull into Bay 2.”

Piece of cake.

The other guy sportin his do-rag and tattooed sleeves winked and signaled me forward on those ramp things. I pulled up, he motioned me closer.

My van stalled. I mean dang, it was going up hill…sort of. I gunned it.

And I drove into him.  Yes, yes I did.

It was just a tap. No one got hurt. It gently pushed him back a step. One step! He even smiled, after his clouded eyes cleared. I stuck my head out the window.

“Sorry, I never do this.”

“Run over people or get your oil changed?” He chuckled.

“Get my oil changed,”I teased, thankful he wasn’t going to sue me for bumping him.

He laughed and said, “Well, I might just give you a discount since you have a pretty face.”
I looked down. No ring today. Crap.

“My husband will appreciate that.”

He smiled. “Always the married ones. We never get any single women in here.”

I find that hard to believe. Most married women have husbands who aren’t in Nashville for the day to do the MAN work. A woman in the bay next to me smiled and I followed her inside, feeling uncomfortable.

She was reading a Tamera Alexander book. Had to be an angel. “You know when you get older, you don’t have to worry about that as much,” she said.

“I hate these places. I don’t know enough about cars but I don’t care enough to find out.” I sighed and we chatted about books.

He opened the door. “Did you know your inspection sticker is expired?”

“No.”

“Is something wrong with your car?”

“Other than the light with the tooth—” I caught myself. I already felt like an idiot. “No.”

“You haven’t had one since 2007.”

Have them check your oil and radiator and nothing else!

“Inspect it.”

The reader next to me whispered, “They always want to do something more than what you tell them.”

As if he heard her, he came back inside. “Waa-waa, waa, waaa, waaa. If you’ll come outside I can show you where the waa waaa waaa waaa is.”

As I followed him out, the angel said, “I’ll pray for you.”

In the bay area, a woman stood with the tobacco man, the same look on her face as mine. Smiling on the outside, screaming on the inside.

“Yeah, see this waaa waaa waaa can be fixed. We can’t charge you, but I mean I can do it. They’re only about six bucks a piece. That’s what I’d charge you.”

My stomach knotted. A side job?

Have them change the oil and check the radiator and that’s all!

“Um…Hold on.” I pulled out my phone.

“What’s going on, Jess, I’m in a meeting?”

“This man said some of my thingys are missing and one’s broken.”

“What thingys?” I heard the impatience growing. I wanted to scream, I didn’t.

“Black rubber do-hickeys, I don’t know! This isn’t my forte, Tim!” I looked at my new iPhone cradled in its white candy shell coating and then at the filthy man before me.

Crap.  “Could you talk to my husband?”

“Sure.” His smug grin made me wish I’d have bumped him a little harder.

“Waaaa Waaa Waaa Waaaa…Yeah…well, waa waaa waa waa waaa waaa.” He laughs. Leave it to my husband to say something witty and bright. “Yeah, man. It’s good. No problem.”

He handed me the phone.

I stared at it, praying my husband had nothing more to say and had hung up, and I’d have time to wipe dude’s sweat off my touchscreen before using it again.

No luck. Crap.

 I placed the phone, smudged with grease and his rough morning’s work, to my ear. “Hello?”

“It’s handled.”

About fifteen minutes later, I pulled out of the lot and was home-free. Later that afternoon, when it was time to pull forward in the car rider line, I threw my van in gear and accelerated.

I went nowhere.

“That freaking, idiot! AAAAAH!” I pounded the wheel with my fist, panicked, and glanced behind me in the rearview mirror, waiting for the car behind me to honk, as if I didn’t know I needed to go.

I went to punch the hazard button on my van. I saw the dashboard.

I was in neutral.

Oh.

Question: Any crazy things happen to you lately?
Happy Weekend to ya’ll!

I Walk With a Limp

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

Every day I gun it to my son’s school, just so I can watch a woman with a limp walk down the sidewalk, across the street, and up the hill.

It’s fascinating.

It causes me to inch too close to the vehicle in front of me, or lag behind and leave gaping spaces between. Depends on the day and how long it takes for the car behind me to honk.

About the time I turn the corner, she’s walking around the one across the street. Her right leg has a bend in it that has to have been there since birth. I haven’t noticed any scarring, so I’d say she’s never had surgery.

So why does this woman fascinate me?

Oh I forgot to tell you, it’s not her alone; she’s walking with her husband and her little girl who’s in kindergarten. I know this because of the building they walk her to. (I’ve had experience in stalking.)

Their appearance shows they’re not wealthy. And if it wasn’t for her limp, I’d have never noticed them. I’d probably be watching the woman who wears the exact same pajamas to walk her kid to school in every day. I’m not kidding. The same ones. Every. Single. Day.

They swing around the corner, the little girl holding on to her daddy’s left hand, while he holds his wife’s in his right.

There’s something about that, that touches me. He doesn’t really walk any slower, in fact sometimes I giggle as I watch the little girl try to keep up, her Dora backpack bouncing around behind her, it’s literally as big as she is.

He doesn’t seem to feel sorry for his wife, he hasn’t enabled her by bringing their child to school and allowing her to stay home. Who knows? Maybe she’s a fighter and begs to walk the distance. It’s a stretch to walk.

He holds her hand, and they fall into step together. I love it. I can’t explain it any better than I have. Other than it reminds me a lot of how I see myself with God.

No, I don’t picture him in black work pants and a sleeveless shirt. In fact, I never see Him in worn workboots or tattooed. Scarred, in riding boots–awaiting the day He can jump on His horse and rescue me, yes. A robe. Absolutely.

See, I have a limp, too. A spiritual limp.

I’ve had it from birth. One day, I’ll have surgery and it’ll be perfected.

Some days I don’t want to go out of the house. I don’t want to be seen. Some days, I don’t want my weakness to slow me down from the journey before me.

But my Husband, He takes my hand, and He walks beside me. We walk around the corner, across the street, and up the hill. We do it every day. I trust Him to go the distance with me.
He’s never impatient, angry, or annoyed.

He simply strolls beside me. Holding my hand, occasionally squeezing it. Letting me know, He’s able to catch me if I stumble.

I love watching that woman with the limp. It reminds me of me. It reminds me, when I don’t think I have a single step left, I do. It may not be an even step, probably won’t be.

But I’ll be moving forward.

How about you?

“Then great multitudes came to Him, having with them the lame, blind, mute, maimed, and many others; and they laid them down at Jesus’ feet, and He healed them.” Matthew 15:30

Bonded by Faith and Fiction…and a Little Dessert

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch
FaithReaders
Not everyone could make the
first group, but look at all these
lovely ladies!

Reading, dessert, (some even weight watcher friendly), and coffee. Who doesn’t love that?
Last night we launched FaithReaders, a bookclub/lifegroup at my church, in our sweet cafe.

Four years ago, my husband and I pastored, and yes I say pastored, even though it wasn’t a paid position, our young adult group. 18-28. Tim had led the choir previously, and I had led Women’s Ministry. We loved every minute of it.

But where I felt the most connected, was teaching the young adults on Sunday mornings. I wanted to impart so much to them. I wanted them to have a voracious appetite for the Word. To understand it. Long for it. Live for it.

So I began writing Bible studies. They called them Patch Packets. I did it for 2 reasons. 1. I wanted them in their Word, studying–not just skimming and wondering, “Huh?” and 2. I wanted them to understand the Old Testament. To see it as more than an angry God with tons of rules, smiting this and that.

I loved those few years. They learned. I learned. We both grew, and I never felt more connected in the body of Christ as when I was teaching. To watch nearly 20, and sometimes more, young adults pull themselves from bed to show up early on Sunday morning was amazing. It was an honor for me.

Our church cut Sunday morning teaching aka Sunday school, because they didn’t feel there were enough attenders to keep it going, or it wasn’t relevant with today’s generation of church goers. Maybe there weren’t. Maybe it’s not.

But it was to me.

 We still led our group, but I wasn’t as actively involved. My husband preached on Friday nights and while I was available, I wasn’t connected. I wasn’t a big toe or a pinky. It was a lonely time for me.

After a few years of service, we felt like it was time to pass the torch to someone else. A young couple in our church took the group, and they’re amazing. They’re taking it to a level we couldn’t. That’s how it’s supposed to be. I’m proud of them.

But now, we really had no fit. We picked up nursery, because it’s something we could do, and we felt like we needed to be doing something. See a need, fill a need (Robots the movie). Tim loves harassing babies, ahem…loving on babies!

I kept feeling God nudge me to start a book club at church. I kept telling Him I didn’t have time. I wrote out a list of why and held it up to Him. Not really, but basically.

He said to me, “You’re going to do it. Period.”

“Fine! Geez, You don’t have to be so Bossy about it.”

He gave me “The Eye.” I know He did.

And then…when I surrendered in my Jessica-kind-of-way…

Ideas began to spring to my mind, like wildfire. I felt that old giddiness well up in my heart. Excitement raced through my body at the possibilities! I stood at my table during two Sundays and watched as 25 women signed up. Bonded already by faith and the love of fiction.

We’re not simply reading books and discussing them.

We’re praying about which books to read, asking God to speak to us–minister to us through the stories. We’re praying for the author each day we read (let’s face it, us writers need prayer), and we’re going outside the walls and into the community. Oh yes, we can share our faith through books.

We can volunteer our time at libraries, one of our members is a librarian in our community! We can can help with literacy programs. The ideas are limitless and we can show, through our love, time, and service who Jesus is. We don’t have to keep it contained within our group.

That’s not what it’s about.

And once again, I feel connected. I feel part of the body of Christ again. And it feels good!

I had a great time last night. We talked, laughed, shared. I missed the women who couldn’t be there and look forward to them laughing with us in September.
Next month we’ll be discussing our first book, The Edge of Grace by Christa Allan. And…each month I’ll be posting our GROUP REVIEW! How fun will that be? You’ll get to meet our members, and hear what they all had to say.

Are you in a book club? What books have you read, and do you get involved in your community?