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Going to kick off my blog redesign, talk summer and stories with fun and giveaways! Be sure to join the party!

Hope to see you there! 

When Your Pre-Teen Trumps Writing Time

Did you hear me sigh? 

That was a mighty one. It has been quite a night. While I thought I'd have some time to write and get ready for my big blog kick off next week (see the note at the end of this post), the moments ticked on, now it's almost midnight, and three out of four kids are still unsettled. So, this is my quick writing time--as I sit here next to my anxiety-ridden youngest son who is squeezing his eyes to try and sleep away the fear of trying something new-- swim team.

I should be the one who's freaking out, though. I stepped into new territory tonight, also. 

While bath time was in full swing for my daughter, my pre-teen came up to me with a look of expectancy in his face and whispered, 

"Mom, a girl wants to FaceTime with me at ten. Is that okay?"

And now imagine my internal groan while I send a breezy look his way.

Well...Kudos to him for asking first, right?

And, she was someone he knew from school...so at least it wasn't a random internet stalker, right?

And he was very compliant to my rule of keeping the door open and allowing me to check on him.

But...

He's my baby. And there is soooo much out there that wasn't there when I was his age...social media, FaceTime, girls making the moves first (well, at least I was too scared to)!

on freedigitalphotos.net by sixninepixels

I shared some advice with him after his pretty mild and age-appropriate chat with the girl. I hope to God that he remembers it, and hides it in his heart for the more-than-a-friendly-chat instances in his life (and let's just say, I am not ready to think of this as flinging the door open to dating by any means...just a turn of the knob and observing what might be on the other side):

Advice Bit 1:  Be a gentleman--always. Be kind and appropriate. Be respectful. Really, this is something I wish he would grasp in all friendships, family relationships...etc!

Advice Bit 2:  Don't let go of yourself. Just because a girl is interested, doesn't mean that the relationship is up to her to define...or that there even needs to be anything besides a friendship!! Don't let her "redefine you" because you are flattered that she likes you. Be you without compromise! (This is a hard one to grasp, and I am so thankful for my mom-friends who have teenagers and shared their experiences before mine have come along!)

Advice Bit 3. Communicate with me (and Dad)! This is new for us, too... times have changed...and we have never raised a kid past your exact age before! Give us grace...and let us lead.

Praise God, he actually seemed pretty receptive to all of it! 

Life is coming at us from all angles, it seems. And I am so thankful for this phase, and those before, and those ahead. It's just another opportunity to sharpen ourselves and live life to the full (pardon the cliche...did I mention it was late here??) 

When my son went to bed tonight, he was super sweet. "I love you, Mom!" It wasn't in response to me, but it was on his own initiative. 

Lord, please keep his heart soft...to You and to his parents. Give him growing wisdom and discernment in all situations. And for goodness sakes, please slow this season down! --Amen

**Be sure to drop by on June 10th to get info on giveaways, prizes, and celebrating the official kick-off of my blog re-design! Follow this blog now, and start getting your points now! Comment below if you do.**

Kicking Off My Blog Over Coffee

Late sunsets, ice cream, campfires, hikes, bikes, water fun....and my favorite--slipping away amidst the lazy days to create stories of old with a little twist and love here and there! 

I am an author and a mama, and both roles give me loads of opportunities for creativity and inspiration!

I have re-designed this blog and will announce some Summer Kick Off Fun! In the meantime, please go through the tabs to discover a little more about my writing and life. And most importantly, FOLLOW ME! I would LOVE to build up a coffee-shop-(or two)-full of friends!

Soon, we'll pull up a chair over our favorite frappe or tea, share family fun, writing discoveries, and just good ol' fashioned chit chat!

Thanks for stopping by! See you next Wednesday!

The Horror of a World Without God

It is difficult to hear someone deny God when you believe He is your lifeline.  For an atheist to act like you are fooled into submitting to a pretend Daddy in the Sky--it's hurtful and offensive.

But when someone denies God, there is a horror that they imply...and it's something that twists my stomach when I think too long on it-- If there is no God in their mind, then there is no Devil.

Yet, I read the articles of little girls married off to sick men who mutilate them and use them for their pleasure. And I see the horror of abuse and manipulation and the un-Godly actions of men who seem to have lost their humanity long ago--or are a generation born without it.

If there is no evil, then how can we live another day with the torture of knowing that someone else's normal is a real life nightmare that will only end at death? And if there is no God, then that death brings no justice, no renewal...just dust at the feet of the men who have had their way and move on to the next child...breeding a generation of oppression. A generation that might find justice at the fingertips of a few who dare to try...but really, so many slip by without a breath of freedom.

If there is no God, then there is no Justice to be had for all. Maybe just a few. 

To live in a world where God does not exist, I think I'd go crazy.

Who would I plead to? How would I live with my heart's cry? I think if there really was no God, the horrors of the world would eat me up and cast me into a black pit of hopelessness.

Only with God, do I have hope for those I cannot reach and cannot help...only with God can I bring justice to the victims and fight the greater evil. For God leads me to the greatness of helping the weak, and if my hands and my feet cannot bring refuge to someone a world away, He gives me assurance that my prayer can.

Only with that prayer can I breathe without choking on my misery of knowing the evil that's out there.

Evil is often thought to be that white lie or that jealous look...but do we truly equate such trivial things with the dEvil...the one who uses innocent children, broken women, weak men, and horrific desires to evoke his wretched plan on God's holy creation? Do we underestimate that Evil...and shrug off those who deny his very existence? That denial might just be as offensive to the Holy Spirit as denying the Creator of the Universe.

I read articles of sickness in Africa, child brides in distant Iraq, and genocide across history. And I cannot live in this world if there is no God to bring ultimate justice. 

I cannot live with myself if I try to pretend the Enemy doesn't exist.

 How can we live in a godless world when innocent life is at inhumane men's mercy with no final justice in sight?

When I think too long on these evils, my very being whispers one thing only, 

May Christ come quickly!

Please go here to understand how we can fight the evils...and how, with God on our side, we are not powerless!  http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tellhisstory-a-story-that-we-dont-want-to-read-but-we-have-to/

Two Journeys, One Heart

I reflected on my life today. That's what happens when I get by myself and walk in nature. Well, nature today included a mowed soccer field and a dormant corn field in the heart of America...the great bread basket of the world.

But still.

God's breath was loud and moving--the leaves, the grass, the dried up corn stalks.

It seems that most of my memories consist of a walk. A trek of some sort. A journey. No matter how insignificant (although, I wonder at the significance seeing as how I remember the walks years later).

Like the walk I took along a curb with a friend named Zoey. It was a hot West Texas day, and we were ants on the concrete expanse of an Air Force base. She taught me that we could curse the devil with a certain finger, and not feel guilty one bit. Why does that stick out in my mind so much?

And then I think of the walk I took to school every day, clear on the other side of the world...through a quaint village nestled in the fields of East Anglia. Steps forward to a wooden gate that led to a path along the back of villager gardens, ending at the wide lawn sprawling from the little junior school of my youth.

Why do I remember that so much?

That time of my life was life. My eyes were opened to the beauty of literature, history, culture...and I had no idea at the time, but it was where the seed of a writer planted itself firmly in my soul. My heart opened wide as I read the stories upon pages of Enid Blyton, C.S. Lewis, and Roald Dahl, feeding and coloring the experiences of an American transplant in a world of old. I may have walked toward school and back home again, but really, I was walking toward a future that would not even meet my itching toes until twenty-eight years later.

There was a pretty coveted walk a few years later...one that I took several times over the course of high school. I found myself absorbing the life of characters upon a stage. I lost myself in the poetic verse of Shakespeare, the drama, passion, and rhythm of sixteenth century verse. How much my heart leapt with the emotion of my part. How odd to think back on those steps upon the stage and realize they were actual steps to my future...now just twenty years away.

But as with any good story, or worn journey, things do not find the future brimming and waiting unobstructed. And the heart gets in the way of that forward motion.
And I walked down the aisle...bashful and awkward, but hope-filled and assured in the love of a waiting heart at the altar.

And we walked toward a family--enduring the labor pains of a first child as we walked around a mall, stepped toward a future assured by each-other's security--walking around a neighborhood of our first house pushing our son and bursting with the new-found parental love--and ascending the steps of the church, to dedicate ourselves to the spiritual growth and guidance of our child...as we did with the next three children as well.

Every step moves toward something, doesn't it?

And while I was taking those steps, I thought I had a pretty good idea about what would meet me along the way.

And how wrong it was to think that I knew for certain.

I walked today, looking at my feet upon the path, remembering a most recent walk. One with my journal tucked beneath my arm, and my heart set on hearing God's voice. And I think I heard Him...and I reveled in His message to me. And I thought I knew. I thought I knew that this journey could only get better...but then everything stopped.

Who would have thought that from all the steps, the forward motion, my steps would dissolve in quick sand, and I'd not just take steps backward, but I would sink deep and low, finding myself in the darkest valley of my existence. My toes rested upon shards of broken dreams and expectations.

Even now, I can barely see the light. There is a crumb of my journey left...as I see those steps on British soil and upon the stage well up and create a story so close to my heart and so ingrained upon the pages of a novel, that I find hope there. I am not all lost.

And then, as I walked in a pitiful nature today...a manipulated one... I remembered the breath of God on my walk not long ago. It makes me wonder, if He really is still close to me...even in this darkness where the bramble of lies covers my ears and my heart?

I will keep walking. Hoping for that story--penned from the steps of a child to an adult, by the voices, literature, and art of those in history--to blossom on the paths of others' journeys pushing their hearts in steps of their own futures. This is my hope for my writing.

But mostly, I pray that the valley will not last much longer...that I will find a way out...that I will see God's hand once more, and He will pull me to the surface again. This is my hope for my heart.