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A Place to Call Home…and a Writing Prompt.

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

First, let me start off with, as I googled “home” and hit images, it quickly dawned on me that I’d typed in “hoe.” After flushing my eyes for several minutes, drinking half the bottle of antacid for a nauseated stomach, and learning how to breathe again, I entered the word “home” correctly and…found nothing I wanted to use. That was for free. 😉

Next, I’m honored to have won the Liebster Award, twice! Thanks Loree and Sheri!

Now on with the show, this is it!


 Two Saturdays ago, I had the privilege of going to writer’s group. Yep, I call it a privilege. I get to sit around a few tables of talented men and women, who love God and the pen and paper (ok, keyboard but whatever, it sounded prettier).

From the first moment I stepped inside Byhalia Christian Writers group, I felt… at home. I was welcomed and ushered in as if I’d always been there.

We chat, talk, sometimes eat…we write. And we share a devotion together. Saturday’s devotion was given by William Hill, a really neat guy with a gift for poetry (just one of his many, I’m sure). I stink at poetry.

He talked about an award he won and how one of the best employees there, congratulated him. He said, “He gave me permission to be great.” I loved that. He went on to talk about sharpening each other. “As iron sharpens iron so a man sharpens the countenance of his friend.”  Proverbs 27:17

“I need to know when my blade is dull, but I also want to know when I’ve made a good cut.”

How incredible is that? I wrote it down. Words of wisdom from a writer, who loves the Lord. What he said, struck me. Do I want to know when I’m dull or do I just want a pat on the back for clean, seamless cuts?

I drove home thinking that day, like all days I visit writer’s group. I never leave wondering why I attend. I learn something new. I feel like I’ve invested my time wisely.

Marylane Koch, our fearless leader, a great encourager, and all around beautiful woman, inside and out, never fails to amaze me and make me feel special. And she does it for everyone. It reminds me of Jesus. When I’m worshipping in the congregation, and He speaks so intimately to me, I think I’m the only one in the room of hundreds. After church, my bff will share how God touched her deeply and I think. How? He was touching me.

That’s Marylane. Making everyone feel like they’re the only one. They matter. They have something to say. And they can make a difference, honoring God.

If you’re a writer, I hope you’re in a group as fabulous as ours. If you’re not in a group, I encourage you to get in a group.

If you’re a reader, pray for us writers. We do it for you. We need the prayers and guidance to make every page something you’ll not only love, but something that will strike a chord deep inside you, something that will make your heart sing, draw you closer to God, and leave you with a glorious melody to be shared with others.

Our 5 minute writing prompt for the day was: This is one thing I cannot throw away.

What is one thing you cannot throw away? Have a great weekend!

Taming the Tongue: Guest Post by Jennifer Slattery

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

Today’s guest post is by Jennifer Slattery. I had the privilege to meet Jen at the WFTS conference this past February.

Before we get to it, I’d like to link to a book review I did by Rene Gutteridge, Listen. It’s a great story about taming the tongue and how our words build up and tear down. Click Here to read it.

Welcome, Jennifer!

Have you ever noticed how readily we cling to the negative, no matter how irrational it is? Things spoken to me during my elementary years have stuck with me throughout countless successes and accolades, tearing at the walls of my heart. Think of your own life and those evasive lies you’ve allowed to wiggle their way in.

Countless people can tell you again and again how smart, or pretty, or resourceful you are, and yet you’ll cling to that one statement hurled in the heat of the moment to the contrary. Which is why it’s so important to guard our words, because once spoken, they penetrate deep and can never be returned.

I’ve always struggled with my tongue. Mainly because I’m impulsive. Often, I speak the first thing that comes to mind without taking the time to sift my words through my listener’s ears. And yet, those much needed words, like, “Good job,” and “Thank you,” seem to linger in my throat like rubber cement. The other day after reading one of my articles, my husband told me how much he enjoyed it. (It was largely about him and the effect his behaviors have had on our daughter.) When I asked him why, he said, “It’s good to know that maybe I’m doing something right.” His response surprised me.

He does so many awesome things and is such a great family leader. Couldn’t he tell we adored and admired him? And yet, at the same time, I understood the insecurities and fears beneath his response. We all have inner demons, fears of failure, insecurities. We all need to hear an “atta-boy” once in a while. More often than not, actually. I’ve heard that it takes about five positive comments to counter one negative. Now, think of all the negative comments your spouse might hear in a given day, then multiply that by five. Kind of tips the scales a bit, doesn’t it?

Sometimes I forget how fragile the human heart is. Thought processes influence our self-concept and words spoken influence thought processes. According to social scientists Dr. Gangel and Dr. Canine, our self-concept is created, developed, and maintained through communication and interaction with others. (Dr. Gangel, Dr. Canine. 1992) Marriage is a life-time of close, consistent interaction—interaction that has the power to build up or tear down.

Ephesians 4:29 urges us: “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouth, but only that which is helpful for building others up, that it may benefit those who listen.”

How many words would be left unspoken if I truly lived this verse out? How many wounds avoided? 

Dr. Gangel, Dr. Canine. Communication and Conflict Management. Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock Publishers; 1992. p. 66

Jennifer Slattery writes for Christ to the world Ministries, the Christian Pulse, Samie Sisters, and is the marketing manager for the literary website, Clash of the Titles. She’s placed in numerous contests and has written for numerous publications, E-zines and websites. Visit her devotional blog, Jennifer Slattery Lives Out Loud to find out more about her and her writing.

Question: How hard do you find it to tame your tongue?

Blood Spatter, Latex, and Richard Goodship

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

“I could never be a forensic investigator, I’d toss my cookies and contaminate the crime scene.”

“That’s why we don’t eat them.”

That’s not a line from Richard Goodship’s novel, The Camera Guy. It’s a conversation we had over twitter, where I met Richard.

Richard Goodship served Queen and Country for over 26 years, the last 22 years as a Forensic Investigator.  Richard’s last 5 years before retiring were spent working out of the Office of the Attorney General.  Richard now, spends his time writing, having completed 3 novels, and taking pictures of living things.
I’ve always been fascinated with forensics and crime and I’m sure that’s why I write it. So when I discovered what Richard had done for a living, I had to invite him over to share a little about what he used to do. And when I have a question about evidence, I’ve got a new friend to go to. (another plug at why you should twitter)
Richard, you wrote the novel, The Camera Guy. By the way, everyone, it is not an inspy book. Tell us why you wrote it.
The Camera Guy is one of the nicknames given to those who work in the Forensic section. The book was to say the least ‘cathartic’ for me.  Gave me a chance to lay some old ghosts to rest.
Intriguing. Share with us your job description, while working for Queen and Country. Love that.

During my time in Forensics I became an Arson Investigator, Bomb Tech (E.O.D.), Post Blast Tech, fingerprint examiner, firearms reconstructionist, Expert Photographer/Videographer and led several skeletal retrievals (Forensic Archeology) 
Come on, people, you know that’s fascinating. Ok, pretend you’ve arrived on the crime scene. Show us how it would all go down once you started working.
>first priority upon arriving at a scene is to ensure scene has been secured
>Determine who has entered the scene and why
>Begin a photographic and video documentation of the scene prior to entering
>Determine a path into the scene that will be least damaging to possible evidence. (contamination)
>Photograph and video all evidence found at the scene prior to any handling or examinations
>Determine what is evidence and what is not. (we don’t ‘hoover’ a scene) but if in doubt, collect it
>cursory examination of a body if present. Extensive photography and video at this point..
>Determine what the scene is. Break and Enter with a Homicide, Suicide, Sexual Assault, etc

>Label evidence and again photograph and video it prior to collection
>collect the evidence properly, ie some evidence requires paper bags, cardboard boxes, plastic evidence bags, vinyl bags etc

>once the evidence for the scene is collected, then the body can be removed.
>photograph and video the area under the body. Examine the side of the body not visible during initial examination
>Ensure body is escorted and secured at the morgue
>Secure warrants for post mortem exam and burial from Coroner. (In Canada the Coroner relies on the expertise of the Forensic Investigator to determine if a post mortem exam is necessary. In Canada all sudden deaths are treated as a homicide until otherwise proven and will require the post mortem)
>Copious notes are to be taken during all stages of the scene and body examinations
>The Forensic Investigator will then allow the detectives onto the scene and given a ‘walk through’ and confer regarding what took place at the scene.
If you write suspense, crime mysteries, or thrillers, you should be taking notes! Richard, will we see any grizzly scenes that mirror some of your past experiences?
The Camera Guy does contain scenes that I’ve investigated. I have made some changes for moral reasons and to help fit into the story.
Let’s talk about “the perfect crime.” Is there one? Can it be done? Give us your expert opinion.
There is no such thing as ‘the perfect crime’.  All Forensic Investigators live and work by the philosophy that all contact leaves a trace.  When you handle something, you leave something of you behind and take with you something from the object/scene/body.  Some crimes may take years to solve but only because the person doing the crime may not have a prior record or the technology isn’t available at present to detect the evidence.  This last is fast becoming a thing of the past. (lets not reference CSI please)
LOL! Ok, no CSI references, that show went to pot after William Peterson left anyway. Alright, enough expertise talk, what do you do for fun?
I ride horses, spend time with my daughter and take pictures and write.  Travel has always been a love of mine as well.
I love traveling as well. I can’t ride horses anymore. Scary story. Save it for another blog!
If you’d like to connect with Richard, here’s how:
@RGoodship on twitter and facebook 
You can purchase his book on Amazon
Here’s a peek at The Camera Guy:
“Life was not easy for Forensic Investigator Bill Walters. His ability to see the spirits of the victims at his crime scenes gave him an edge, but it kept him isolated from his fellow Officers and gave him the reputation of being a ‘Nutbar’ on the force.
Bill could live with this. He could even live with the family of ghosts that haunted his apartment, the loss of his friends and religion and the estrangement of his daughter, Eryn.
What Bill couldn’t live with was the Demon that came to town hungry for those spirits.

And his own.”

Question from Richard:                                                                                      
If Identical twins have identical DNA, why don’t they have identical fingerprints?
Good question. Dang! I don’t know the answer. Thanks for coming by today, Richard. It was fascinating and fun. Side note* The cover of your book creeps me out!

It’s Official…I’m a Paradox

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

Yesterday, I had a plan. Really. I did. Until I visited Lynda Schab’s blog, On the Write Track.

My plan, went downhill after that. She was talking about this brain test she took. No harm or poking involved.

Naturally, as I read, my interest was piqued. And then she did the unthinkable…

She posted the link to the test and gave me permission to take it.

There went laundry, revising, working on a crit for a friend, researching books for the bookclub, and the treadmill. Because after I took the test, I had to blog about it. Like Lynda did. Go check hers out. It was fun and entertaining.

Here are my results. I was shocked at how accurate the answers were.

“Jessica, you show a slight right-hemisphere dominance with a moderate preference for auditory processing, an unusual and somewhat paradoxical combination of characteristics.”
What a way to start off.  I’m not only unusual, well duh, I’m a paradox of sorts. Nice.

Oh yeah, a reasonable degree of success. That’s…comforting. “Don’t you want to be successful?” Sure, I mean to a reasonable degree. Oy!

“You are drawn to a random and sometimes nonchalant synthesis of material. You learn as it seems important to a specific situation, and might even develop a resentment of others who attempt to direct your learning down a specific channel.”
Seriously! I just got out of my mouth a couple days ago. “Ugh, I wouldn’t want to go back to school to save my life. I love studying, but I don’t want anyone telling me what I have to study. I study what I want.” And, I am drawn to random and nonchalant material. I’m often told, “How do you know that?” “You have more useless knowledge than anyone I know.” Yeah, I’m proud of that! I studied for that! 
 “Your right-hemispheric dominance provides a structure that is only loosely organized and one which processes entire swatches of reality, overlooking details. You are emotional in your reactions and perceptual more than logical in your approach, although you can impose structure and a language base when necessary.” *I did not highlight this for any specific reason, but I couldn’t get blogger to make it white! What’s up with that?
That’s pretty much true. Probably why I’m more of a pantser than a plotter, although I do plot when necessary. See!

“Your tendency to be creative and free-flowing is accompanied by sufficient ability to organize and be logical, allowing you a reasonable degree of success in a number of different endeavors. You take in information methodically and systematically which can then be synthesized rapidly. In this manner, you manage to function consistently well, although certainly less efficiently than you desire.”

“You prefer the abstract and are a theoretician at heart while retaining the ability to be practical. You find the symbolism in a great deal of what you encounter and are something of a “mystic.””
Nailed it! I do find symbolism in everything, because everything is a physical picture of something spiritual! Mystic, L.O.L. But spiritual, definitely.

Okay, now I give you permission to take the test and come back with your answers! After you take the test and it gives you the %’s, click on view summary to get the detailed rundown!

BRAIN TEST

Brought to You by the Letter…”P”

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

It’s Wednesday, so we’re talking about faith. Got any? Need some? Have a little to share?

A few weeks ago, I talked about a man named Gideon. A scared, weak man, hiding in a winepress trying to thresh wheat.  We talked about The Angel of the Lord (Pre-Incarnate Jesus) coming to see him, calling him a brave man. You can read or refresh yourself with the story HERE.

Today, I want to talk about the same man from the same book. Judges. Gideon, the man who begged over and over for God to confirm through a sign that he was supposed to deliver God’s people from the Midianite’s oppression. Gideon would throw out what’s called a fleece and God would prove that He hadn’t made a mistake–that Gideon was His man.

You can read about scared Gideon in Chapter 6 of Judges.

I want to skim across Chapter 7 and land us in Chapter 8. Put your seat belt on, we’re moving fast.

Gideon pulls together an army, not the biggest one, but one none-the-less. However, God knows it’s too big for Him to get the glory. He instructs Gideon, (7:4-8) and shortens his army down to 300 men. The odds didn’t look good by human standards, but that was God’s point.

Man can’t do it without Me.

God has a Plan.

Gideon is probably freaking out about now. He’s hesitant to begin with, but he’s being obedient. Now he has 300 men out of more than 22,000 to start with and God is going to use this pitiful army to take down the Midianites and Amalekites. Gulp!

I wonder if the men could sense Gideon’s apprehension. Maybe the whispers amongst the camp sank what minimal courage he had further down toward his tail. Just about the time he’s ready to turn it and run, God speaks to him.

Paraphrase: “Gideon, if you’re still shaking in your boots, and we all know you are, go down with your buddy that you’ve been whining to and listen. I think you’ll hear something to muster up some courage, you brave guy you.” Judges 7:9-12

God had a plan to save his people from these vicious warriors. It’d been laid out all along, He just needed Gideon to partner with Him.

Gideon and his servant, Purah (don’t get me started on the names) slip down in the thick of night and what happens…

God Precedes and Perfects.

They stop dead in their tracks. Someone is talking. One of the enemies is sharing a dream he just had with one of his comrades. “To my surprise, a loaf of barley bread tumbled into the camp of Midian; it came to a tent and struck it so that it fell and over turned, and the tent collapsed.” (7:13)

“This is nothing else than the sword of  Gideon, son of Joash, a man of Israel! Into his hand God has delivered Midian and the whole camp.” (7:14)

Coincidence? I think not.

God gave that dream to the soldier, woke him up, and prompted him to tell it to his buddy at exactly the right time. Side note: “tumbled” in Hebrew is “haphak” and it means, to overthrow or overturn.

And if that isn’t enough– to be sovereign over time– then look at the detail that went into the dream, just for Gideon.

What was Gideon doing when the Angel of the Lord came to him?  Threshing wheat. Working hard at simply getting some seeds/grains from the winepress.

What came into the enemy camp and took out the whole army?

A loaf of Barley.  A finished product. Barley and wheat are both planted in the fall, but Barley matures faster and is harvested first, usually in April.  Something  Gideon knows all about.

God was saying, “What I began, I will finish. You’re ready. It’s time.  I don’t see a little scared seed. I see a loaf.”

God makes it Personal.

“I saw Gideon.” Not just any old Gideon. “Gideon, the son of Joash.” That’s like saying his first and last name. “A man of Israel.” Israel. God’s people. “I saw Gideon son of Joash, you know, God’s man.” Not boy. Man.

The word for “man” in Hebrew in this verse is “iysh” and it does means man, but also, “great man; champion”

There is no room to doubt. He’s ready. God has made him ready, harvested him, like Barley, for this moment. Used the enemy to prove that he is going to overturn the camp.

God is Patient, and He always Prevails.

With this last boost of confidence, Gideon takes the 300 men, uses his brain and makes a plan, then defeats the enemy. You can read about it in Judges 7:15-25.

And lastly, if you’ve hung on with me for this long, we land in Chapter 8. The high is over. Gideon, by God alone, has freed God’s people from the Midianites. Imagine the pats on the back. Maybe someone poured the vat of wine over his head like a football coach who’s brought his team to victory.

Those strokes of ego, embed in Gideon’s mind…his heart, and in one chapter look what happens:

Gideon chases down kings Zebah and Zalmunna, but they’re running fast, so Gideon asks the leaders of Succoth to help him out, which they snottily refuse. Gideon boldy tells them when he gets back from whipping Zebah and Zalmunna’s tail, he’s gonna whip theirs. Literally. With thorns and briers. (Judges 8:6-7)

Gideon comes to Penuel and speaks to them in the same way and when they refuse, he tells them when comes back he’s going to tear down their tower. (watchtower. Judges 8:8-9)

Pretty bold for a man who a couple chapters back was hiding in a winepress and trying to convince God He had no business enlisting him, isn’t it?

Pretty Speech breeds Pride

Paraphrase: “Rule over us, Gideon.”

“Nah, God’s your ruler, but thanks for the offer. I’ll tell yah what though, you can give me the earrings you took off the dead.”

“Anything for you, Gideon.”

Guess what Gideon did with the 42 pounds of gold? He constructed an ephod. An ephod was the vest, God instructed priests only to wear. It was pretty amazing with colorful threads and dazzling gems. (Judges 8:22-27)

What was the point of Gidoen’s ephod? Not sure. But, in verse 27, the Bible says it became a “snare to Gideon and his house.” The word snare is used in talking about idols.

Gideon also named one of his sons, out of 70 by the way–for he had many wives–Abimelech. Ambimelech means “My Father is King.” Maybe, deep in Gideon’s heart, the one that swelled after victory, he thought he was the king. Maybe it passed down to his sons. It definitely passed down to Abimelech, who killed all his brothers but one to be king. (Judges 9)

Pride will get you every time. Especially after a big victory. Physical victory, emotional victory, spiritual victory. Be wary of it.

Gideon was human. I don’t fault him for a swelled head. I do learn a lesson…

God Picks us anyway

Don’t think for a second God didn’t know what would happen to Gideon. Yet He picked him to do great things anyway. He loved him start to finish. Snares and all.  And in those days of Gideon, regardless of his sins, there was peace for 40 years until he died. (Judges 8:28)

Question for you: Have you ever wondered why God would pick you for…anything? How did it turn out, or how’s it going?

Rizzoli & Isles, The Surgeon, Thrills and Chills

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch
 

If you haven’t watched Rizzoli & Isles, you’re missing a great show!

Angie Harmon’s tomboy and witty character mixed with Sasha Alexander’s no-nonsense, no humor’s makes for a great crime show set in Boston.

As a suspense writer, I love all things that thrill and chill. This show is excellent! My friend Tiffany White has a really cool blog and one of my favorite days is Tele Tuesday, where she talks all things TV! Check out her blurb on Rizzoli & Isles, here.

Also, the show is based off the book, The Surgeon–the first in the Rizzoli & Isles series–written by Tess Gerritsen.

The Surgeon is not an ABA book. It’s graphic, disturbing in subject matter, and colorful (not just the tons of splashed blood red)–the language.

Right now you’re asking, “Why do you read such things?”
My answer:  I don’t know. I love thrillers. And I love when evil is triumphed by good. Which it was, but not without danger on every page.

Books are always better than movies…or shows, so I wanted to know. I picked a great time to read The Surgeon, during a week when my husband was out of town. Every tiny pop or creak had my attention. It was that night, I realized I’d given my business card to a server at a restaraunt I didn’t know, and it had my phone number and address on it. (I’ll tell that story another day) It was hair raising, heart pounding, eyes wide open all night, kind of reading.

Turns out, Rizzoli isn’t the main character in this book.  Thomas Moore is, and he was great. I enjoyed his soft, compassionate character. He respected the victims and was good at his job. He was honest, loyal and protective.

I also loved the female main character–Dr. Cordell. She was a victim, but she wasn’t weak. She had overcome, and fought with her head high all the way through. I cheered her on, respected and admired her. Tess Gerritzen did a great job writing about such a tender subject matter. This wasn’t a light bathtub read.

You know who I didn’t like?

Jane Rizzoli. (Maura Isles wasn’t in this book)

She wasn’t a likable character at all, and I hardly if ever say that. Now that wouldn’t be a big deal, if she was only a minor character in this one book, or even the series, but I’m expecting her to become the main character as the series goes on. I don’t want to dislike the main character!

Rizzoli was overbearing, grouchy, inconsiderate and lacked compassion. In fact, she pushed victims to answer questions they weren’t ready to. Yeah, she was fighting for survival as the only female detective, and yeah, the guys gave her a hard time, but dang!

She never showed any softness. When she wasn’t pouting, ranting, or getting jealous over Moore’s romantic relationship, she was whining about her lack of good looks and outcussing every other character.

Now, having said that, I’m going to read on and maybe, over the series, her character will evolve as she takes on more of a lead role. I hope so. If not, I’ll just keep watching the awesome show. Here’s a peek at The Surgeon:

“He slips into their homes at night and walks silently into bedrooms where women lie sleeping, unaware of the horrors they soon will endure. The precision of the killer’s methods suggests he is a deranged man of medicine, propelling the Boston newspapers and the frightened public to name him “The Surgeon.”

The cops’ only clue rests with another surgeon, the victim of a nearly identical crime. Two years ago, Dr. Catherine Cordell fought back and killed her attacker before he could complete his assault. Now she hides her fears of intimacy behind a cool and elegant exterior and well-earned reputation as a top trauma surgeon.

Cordell’s careful façade is about to crack as this new killer re-creates, with chilling accuracy, the details of Cordell’s own ordeal. With every new murder he seems to be taunting her, cutting ever closer, from her hospital to her home. Her only comfort comes from Thomas Moore, the detective assigned to the case. But even Moore cannot protect Cordell from a brilliant hunter who somehow understands-and savors-the secret fears of every woman he kills.”

Question: Do you watch Rizzoli & Isles? Do you read Thrillers?

Back to School, Already? and…A Moment with Myles

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

First off, I’m guest blogging over at David N. Walker’s blog. Come by and let’s talk memories!

My kids have gone back to school. Already!

Bailey was indifferent, only excited about her dry erase board and mirror. So rolling my eyes right now.

Myles was pumped. He had his new Transformers backback and “fresh” markers. 🙂 His teacher is new this year. I told him to try and abstain from breaking her in too soon.

I dropped Bailey off. 7th grade. I pulled away and teared up. When did my baby become a jr. high student?

As I drove to Myles’s school he asked, “So is 2nd grade going to be hard? Will I know everything?” Same thing he asked about 1st grade.

“Not everything, sweetie. But that’s what you have a teacher for–to help you learn new things. Not everything will be easy, but that’s why you do your best and study–“

He cuts me off with his deadpan tone. “Mom, is this a speech?”

Well, there went that. “No, I was encouraging you.”

“Sounds like a speech.”

I turned the volume up on the radio and the rest of the ride we listened to Jesus Culture. Love me some Kim Walker.

He refused to let me walk him up. “I’m 7, Mom.”

“Okay. Have a good day. Try to listen and–” I smiled. “Have fun.” That last statement could be dangerous.

But man, I loved going back to school!

I loved new clothes, shoes, and supplies. I loved seeing all my friends again…because the day before had been too long. School was enjoyable for me. A new year, new teacher/s, new adventures. I’ve only been kicked off the bus twice and detention once!

I’m thankful my son doesn’t ride the bus. Eventually, detention will be inevitable. I’m preparing now. 

 I’m leaving you with a clip from one of my favorite movies. Billy Madison. I’m sorry, I can’t get enough of Adam Sandler.

Did you like going back to school? What did you love most?

Ssshhh….Wait For It!

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch
One of my favorite things to do as a child, was to catch lightning bugs (fireflies) at night. I would pull the light out and put it on my ring finger, pretending I was engaged. Now, I realize I was just putting bug guts on my finger. Not quite as magical.
I haven’t chased down lightning bugs in a very long time. In fact, I haven’t even thought of them in years.
Last week Melissa Tagg asked a question on her blog, Tag(g)lines: “How has God wow-ed you this week?” She had a beautiful, exciting post about her nephew, Ollie, with an amazing video of him before his surgery. I encourage you to read about it by following the link above and following her blog. She’s a talented writer, with a gift at hilarity!
How has God wow-ed me?
For the sake of sparing some embarrassment, I’m going to be a little vague, but my daughter, Bailey (12), spent a week up north with my family.
We’ve had some major disappointments in our family over the last few years, when someone we love dearly walked away from us and his faith. We’ve had time to grieve, get angry, resentful, bitter…and then time to let God heal and bring peace to those wounds.
But Bailey just found out. She’s going through the deep hurt and angry stage. And I’m letting her. Because, it isn’t fair to expect her to “straighten up that attitude when he’s around.” I expect her to be respectful, but God is going to have to do for her, what He’s done for the rest of us.
This family member showed up while Bailey was visiting, and she purposely ignored his knocks on the door. When he finally came in and tried to visit with her, because truth is–he loves her–she stared at her phone pretending to text.
He knew what was wrong. He told her if she ever wanted to talk to him about anything, she could. She ignored him.
Later, after he left, she came into the living room with tears in her eyes and said to my mom, “I wasn’t nice to him.” Then she shared about not answering the door, pretending to text, and ignoring him. (He didn’t share that with my mom.)
And then she said, “But God told me something.”
“What did He say?” my mom asked.
Bailey wiped her eyes. “He said, ‘Bailey, you know how lightning bugs’ lights go on and off? Well, that’s what’s happened to him. His light’s gone off…but it’s going to come back on. And do you know when you go to catch a lightning bug, right before you grab it, the light goes off? You have to wait…be still…watch…and then the light comes back on and you can catch it. Be still, Bailey…just wait.”
That’s what God said to my daughter. My 12 year old daughter!  That’s how God wow-ed me.
I sobbed because, I’m overjoyed and in awe that my daughter listens to God, that He speaks to her so intimately at a young age, though I shoudn’t be surprised. I wept because it renewed my hope that our dear loved one hadn’t escaped God’s eyes, arms, or heart. That God still indeed has plan for his life and hasn’t given up on him.
And I cried out of shame, because I had. I’d given up, succumbed that this was just the way it was. Some days, his name never entered into my prayers. I was tired of praying. Tired of believing and I became complacent. Which is exactly what the enemy wants for us. But we can’t give up hope. We can’t stop praying for loved ones.
Like a lightning bug, a light blinked on in my heart, to illuminate God’s truth:
 “My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of My Father’s hand.” John 10:29
Question for you: What’s one favorite childhood, summer memory?

Walking on Broken Glass: Christa Allan

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

                                                          ï»ż

Christa Allan

ï»ż“So that was my epiphany for sobriety. Apple juice.”

Christa Allan’s Walking on Broken Glass was the bright surprise I clicked on when looking for the next read amongst a billion books downloaded on my kindle.

I scanned the first pages of many, but Christa’s book held my attention from the first line.

“Cruising the sparkling aisles of Catalano’s Supermarket, I lost my sanity buying frozen apple juice.”

I had no idea what the book was about because I hadn’t even read the backcover blurb. Downside of kindle books.

How does a woman lose her sanity buying juice? I read on.

What I discovered about Christa and WoBG.

As a reader, I was hooked, immersed in the story and into Leah’s–the main character– life, thoughts (which cracked me up often), and sensory details.

As a writer, I was mesmerized by Christa’s fresh voice, interesting and new metaphors, and style of writing. And that is why as a reader, I was hooked.

I kept thinking, “This is briliant. What a fabulous debut novel!” (I had to immediately find out who  Christa Allan was and I discovered WoBG was her first book.)

Leah Thornton is a strong character, with many flaws, who fights for sobriety by admitting herself into rehab at the suggestion of a close friend.

Who wants to read a whole book in one character’s head about rehab?

YOU DO!

Leah is a witty, snarky character, full of sass and strength. I loved her. I loved the journey she took, as her painful past surfaced and answers to why she relied on alchohol came to light.

I shed a few tears in this book and I laughed a lot, mostly at her sarcastic wit. As me and my husband say when watching movies/TV, “That’s good writing.”

My only disappointment

I walked on broken glass with Leah through the entire book. I stayed up late to finish it up, because I had to know how her marriage was going to turn out as well as a few close personal relationships involving illness, but those things weren’t resolved.

Leah’s husband had some serious issues and I never knew where all of them stemmed from. I wanted to know if he and Leah would end up the way I wanted them to. It eluded to that, but I didn’t know for sure.

So I’m disappointed the book ended! I would have read on and on, but alas, I suppose all good things must come to an end.

Will Christa write a sequel and dive deeper into Leah’s husband’s past? (amongst other questions, but I don’t want to spoil any of it for you)

I don’t know. I can only hope. In the mean time, I’ll be reading her new novel,  The Edge of Grace, because Christa Allan is a fabulous author, even if her book ended before I wanted it to! 🙂

4 out of 5 stars

Here’s  a peek at Walking on Broken Glass:

“Leah Thornton, already sloshed from one-too-many at a faculty party, is cruising the supermarket aisles in search of something tasty to enhance her Star-bucks—Kahlua, for example. Two confrontations later—one at the grocery and the other with her friend Molly—Leah is sitting in the office of the local rehab center facing an admissions counselor who fails to understand the most basic things, like the fact that apple juice is not a suitable cocktail mixer.  Rehab is no picnic, and being forced to experience and deal with the reality of her life isn’t Leah’s idea of fun. But through the battle she finds a reservoir of courage she never knew she had, and the loving arms of a God she never quite believed existed.”

Question for you: What book/s have had you screaming, “No! Don’t end! Not yet!”

See “Jane” Drive. See Jess Scream. See “Jane” and Jess Fight.

Posted on by Jessica R. Patch

It wouldn’t be a road trip if “Jane” and I didn’t have some kind of ordeal. We’ve been lost. We’ve nearly ran down a serial killer (he had to have been!), and we just got back from our last trip. It went a like this:

Oh, side note real quick, if you haven’t visited my Writer Page on facebook, would you mind stopping by and “liking” me? (Shameless plug at self-promotion. I apologize, but still…will you?)

Jane and I took our last summer road trip, well our first road trip this summer. We spent the weekend at my mom’s, visiting my great niece–she loves me most, and buying dented cans and cheap hair care products at a Mennonite store.

On Sunday, I gassed up–the van, not me–and we loaded up. We stopped halfway, went to the bathroom and grabbed some lunch, then hit the road.

The Script blared from the speakers and Jane and I talked. As she lulled on about finding a teaching position this fall, I drifted off to sleep. I don’t know how long I’d been snoozing when I felt a soft hand tap my arm.

“Jess,” she said in her soprano drawl, “I know you’re resting, but…your gas light is on.”

I popped my eyes open beneath my mirrored Aviators and looked around. Bean field. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” she sing-songed.

“What do you mean…you don’t know?” I watched as irrigation lines watered the fields. No indication of where I was. “We have to be in Arkansas. Somewhere.” I looked at the ticking, orange line set right on the “E.”

My stomach knotted. I never let my tank get this low. “Jane, how long has that light been on?”

She tapped the steering wheel, obviously not concerned. “Oh, a bit.”

“A bit. A bit? Jane, there’s nothing for miles. Miles!” I sat up straight in my seat, glanced at the temperature sign thingy. 99 degrees. Lord, we can’t run out of gas in this heat. It’s too hot to walk. It’s too hot to stay in this van!

Jane looked at me. “I saw a sign for Tyronza back a ways.”

Tyronza.

“We’re screwed.” I began plotting how we would make this thing work when, not if, we ended up stranded. I’d sprint across the field, no Jane would, to one of the farm houses off in the distance, and ask for a can of gasoline. They run farms. They have to have their own gas tanks. Right? I’d stay in the van with a weapon.

A semi blew past us. Jane followed. “Maybe he can pull us in his draft.”

This is the one time, I didn’t poke fun of Jane and her knowledge of NASCAR.  “Yeah, do that.” I picked up my cell to call hubby. Maybe he knew of a town coming up soon. We were only an hour from home.

“Jane…no service.”

She gripped the wheel and I watched her mouth move. I saw Hannah from the Bible in that moment. No wonder Eli thought she was drunk. I started acting drunk too. Pray. Pray. Pray.

God, get us to a gas station. Please, Lord. Keep us safe. We have pre-teeens! Girls. We can’t be out on the road alone with them!

The book I had just read popped into my head and I was pretty sure vomit was about to explode all over the van. There are so many evil things that can happen to stranded women. To women in general. Why did I read that stupid book!?

I glanced at Jane. “You picked a fine day to wear a flimsy tank top!”

“Don’t yell at me! I wanted to be comfortable.”

“Well, when some strange man walks up to the van, that’s the first thing he’s gonna see! What will it say?” I was frustrated, terrified.

“It’ll say, ‘it’s hot outside’.” She pursed her lips and kept behind the semi. I checked my phone again. Signal.

I called hubby. “Hey,” I said in a syrupy voice. “Just curious. Is there a gas station past the Tyronza exit?”

A pause. “Why?” he asked warily.

No getting around it. “Well, I sorta didn’t get gas at Marston, but I filled it almost up back at my mom’s and you said if I filled up I could make it.” That’s right, blame him!

“I did say that. But almost filled up, gets you almost home.”

My heart sank.

“Why didn’t you get gas halfway?” I heard the slight irritation in his voice. Maybe panic. I don’t know. Line were blurring.

“I…forgot?” Well, I never drive. And why didn’t Jane look? She was driving. This wasn’t my fault!

“Who forgets to get gas?” he bellowed.

“I guess me!” I said, fired up. No valid reason for it. “What am I going to do if we run out?”

“I guess sit stranded and I’ll have to come find you!”

Jane sniffed and whispered. “Is he mad?”

I pulled off my mirrored sunglasses and gave her the what-do-you-think? look. I hung up. We went back to praying.

My daughter perked up in the very back. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” we both shouted together. They didn’t need to freak out, too.

“How many miles have we been?”

Jane shook her head. “I don’t know.”

And then…up ahead…I see it.

A sign! A symbol of hope! No, not the superman sign or the bat signal.

“Jane! There’s a station up ahead.” We dared not shout in victory, though. We had another mile to go. We gulped and tensed.

And…

We made it. I’ve never been so escstatic to spend almost $5 a gallon for gas. We spent the next hour laughing at ourselves, and talking through scenarios of what we’d do if we were threatened. It’s easy to talk big when you know you’re safe.

I texted hubby to let him know it was all good, wishing I’d have waited five more minutes to initially call him. Typical.

We pulled into my driveway as hubby stood at the edge of it with a sign that read, “GAS STATION NEXT EXIT.”

I guess he thinks he’s funny. He’s not. Okay, maybe he is a little.

Question: Have you ever ran out of gas? What did you do?