Blessings from the Top of the Tree

A few days ago, we had a pretty rough windstorm—pretty rough for around these parts, anyway. Not anything approaching tornado severity, but enough to knock down a few trees, tear off a bunch of roof tiles and stir up some pretty nasty allergies.

My husband, Johnny, has severe lung problems, so winds have become something to dread. They often bring on a week or so of tough times for him.

This morning, Aunt Vera dropped by our place, her arms piled high with three plastic grocery bags. All of them were stuffed full of pecans from her trees.

“They were all over my yard, after that wind the other night,” she announced. “I had to do something with them, and I know how Johnny loves pecan pies.”

All of the nuts within her reach on the trees had been harvested prior to the storm. These nuts came from the upper branches, the ones she couldn’t get to. “I guess they would have stayed up there until they rotted without that storm,” she said, with a wry little shake of her head.

After Aunt Vera left, I looked at those three bags of snacking nuts—three bags stuffed full of potential pies and other delectable desserts—and I saw them differently. They were the fruits of the storm—blessings from the top of the tree. Good things beyond our reach.

And God has a way of shaking them loose and raining them down all around us!

In future, I hope I can remember to look at the storms of life differently, as well. During the blizzard, it’s hard to see anything but toppled trees and destruction to property. It’s difficult to look past the blowing garbage and allergic reactions.

While the wind’s blowing, it’s almost impossible to remember that after the storm, God always sends a rainbow. After the winds, we reap the sweet-smelling, clean air and sunshine.

After He tries us, He showers us with good things…the very things we didn’t have access to before.

After the storm, we get the blessings from the top of the tree!

Proverbs 10:6 - Blessings are upon the head of the just…

34 years and counting...

Sixteen years old and without a clue what lay ahead.

That’s when I fixed my starry gaze on the handsome young man I’d loved since the first time I saw him (I was all of eleven at the time), and said, “I do.” It was thirty-four years ago today.

Amazingly enough, he still likes me!

In the years between then and now, Johnny and I have raised four wonderful children, and we’re so proud of the men and women they’ve become. We’ve been blessed with four adorable, perfect grandchildren—they’re the best part of growing older.

It hasn’t always been easy, this road we’ve traveled. There have been bumps along the way that nearly destroyed us. We have disagreed, and agreed to disagree. The embers of love have ebbed and waned, and at times we let them flicker far too low. But always, always we’ve found that necessary little burst of “oxygen” to turn the flicker into a steady flame.

On this special day, I know that I am blessed. I have someone who knows when I’m down, and finds a way to pick me up. Someone who knows when I’m up, and tries to keep me buoyed enough to stay there. He knows when I need a moment of peace, and is willing to allow me that. He recognizes my physical frailties, and steps in to be my strength. He’s aware of my faults and weaknesses, and loves me anyway.

On this day, I find myself wondering if I’ve brought as much into this union as my husband has. Have I been all the things for him that he has been for me? I’d like to think I have, but I’m going to try harder, because he deserves it.

And because I love him.

Are you following my blog tour?

I hope you're going with me from blog to blog, and leaving those comments! When the tour's all over, I'll be drawing a winner from the commenters at each blog stop. Every time you comment, your name goes into the hat again. The prize is a Goldeneyes T-shirt and an e-copy of the book.

In case you missed the initial announcement, I'm posting my schedule again (below). You can still visit the blog sites I've already stopped at, leave your comment, then follow along for the rest of the tour.

Hope to see you there!

Pre-tour, but included in contest incentive:
Interview in Shirley Kiger Connolly's newsletter.

Blog Tour:
1. Feb. 1 – Cecelia Dowdy - www.ceceliadowdy.blogspot.com
2. Feb. 2 – Diane Wylie - www.dianewylie.blogspot.com
3. Feb. 4 – Tyora Moody – http://www.faithwebbin.net/share/authors
4. Feb. 5 – Jill Elizabeth Nelson - www.jillelizabethnelson.com/artisticblogger.shtml
5. Feb. 7 – Toni V. Lee - www.tonivlee.blogspot.com
6. Feb. 11 – Joe Prentis – www.PrentisAtPickwick.blogspot.com
7. Feb. 13 – Grace Bridges – www.gracebridges.blogspot.com
8. Feb. 14 – Teresa Slack - www.teresaslack.blogspot.com
9. Feb. 15 – Angela Wilson - www.WickedWordsmith.com
www.popsyndicate.com
10. Feb. 18 – Suzanne Woods Fisher – www.suzannewoodsfisher.blogspot.com
11. Feb. 20 – Cindy Bauer – www.cindybauer.blogspot.com
12. Feb. 21 – Cindy Bauer – www.cindybauer.blogspot.com
13. Feb. 24 – Shelagh Watkins –
http://uk.blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-YBhTm88ic6MDORhJ2w7ss1P4kF_DWA--?cq=1
http://shelaghs.blogspot.com/
14. Feb. 25 – Rhonda Clark –
www.freewebs.com/rhondaclark
http://rclarkwriter.spaces.live.comhttp://www.shoutlife.com/rhondaclark
http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-1g3AwwAjc6kAYkXzT8AzLjY15oA-?cq=1
15. Feb. 26 – Cindy Bauer – www.cindybauer.blogspot.com (Guest Blog)
16. Feb. 28 – Julie Kornhausl – www.simplyromancereviews.com
17. Mar. 2 – Mary Connealy – www.mconnealy.blogspot.com
18. Mar. 4 – Dee Owen – www.marjo-mumswritings.blogspot.com
19. Mar. 5 – Tabitha Robin – www.tabitha-robin.com
20. Mar. 7 – Tori Close – www.toriclose.com
21. Mar. 10 – Jennifer Hudson Taylor – www.jenniferswriting.blogspot.com
22. Mar. 12 – Debra Ullrick - http://www.christianromancewriter.blogspot.com/
23. Mar. 17 – Miralee Ferrell – www.miraleesdesk.blogspot.com
24. Mar. 19 – Bonnie Winters - http://360.yahoo.com/indianabon
25. Mar. 20 – Cynthia Hickey – http://www.cynthiahickey.blogspot.com
26. Mar. 24 – Pamela James - www.pammer.blogspot.com
27. Mar. 24 – 28 – Tracy Ruckman – www.pixnpens.blogspot.com
28. Mar. 25 – Christa Allen - http://cballan.wordpress.com/
29. Mar. 27 – Melissa Meeks - http://forstrose.blogspot.com/
30. Mar. 31 – Gina Conroy – http://portraitofawriter.ginaconroy.com
31. April 20 – Marian Merritt – http://www.marianmerritt.com
32. April 27 – Margaret Daley – www.margaretdaley.blogspot.com
33. Throughout February and March – David G. Boggs – http://www.freewebs.com/davidgboggs/delialathamsnewbook.htm
www.davidgboggs.blogspot.com

Change

As I get older, I find myself less willing to accept change ... or deal with it. My parents used to talk about people who were "set in their ways." I think I'm only now really finding out what that means.

Due to a number of unfortunate circumstances over the past couple of years, I suddenly find myself looking at an uncertain future. We've sold our house. How will we afford another one ... or will we even be able to? Will we have our own place, or be forced to live in a two-family household, at least temporarily? Will we still be in California, or will we be living in another state by the end of this year?

Perhaps I misspoke. I don't really mind change so much as I mind uncertainty. Yet ... doesn't it imply a lack of trust in God to be bothered by not knowing what the future holds? I've been taught all my life that tomorrow is in God's hands, and I believe that, I really do. I also believe the Psalmist's words, "I have never seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread." Intellectually, I know God will not fail me, that He has a plan, and that He has not forgotten nor forsaken us.

But my heart ... oh, my heart quails within me! I like feeling that I have some control of my own destiny. It makes me rest better at night to know the bills are paid and the roof over my head is my own. Those things give me at least an illusion of security and safety.

So in this present trial, I'm learning that perhaps all my talk about trust and faith has been merely lip service. Maybe I don't trust and believe as much as I ought to. I ask your prayers that God will restore my faith and my confidence.

Father, please help me to put my trust in You! Teach me to find my safety in Your presence and protection. I want to trust You to take care of me and mine in the best possible way, even when I can't see what You're doing or why You're doing it. Create in me a clean heart, O Lord ... and renew a right spirit within me!

Cherub on the Loose

I'm blogging today over at Daily Muse for Writers, where I'm a co-blogger with several other authors. Come on over and check out my Valentine's Day poem, just for a giggle. :)

Heah I Is!

We said goodbye to a dear family friend today. Our precious brother in Christ, Larry Shadden, said his farewells to this earth and went to be with the Lord this past Monday. I had known this man since I was - as he would have put it - "knee high to a grasshopper," and I loved him dearly.

Larry was a true Christian soldier who had fought a long and difficult battle with cancer. He amazed me by remaining faithful to church services long after most people would have given up that extra effort. And he didn't sit down and just get through the service, either - no, sir! He was up out of his seat, worshipping God, from the first word to the last amen. I've seen him make a running lap around the church on nights when it was obvious he was barely able to put one foot in front of the other. None of us will ever forget how often he'd drag his poor, pain-wracked body through the doors, wearing that handsome smile of his even through the discomfort and illness, raise his hands as high as he could get them, and holler, "Heah I is!"

He often stated, in reference to his health, that it was a win-win situation. "If God heals me, I win," he said. "If he takes me, I still win."

He won. I can just see him arriving at Heaven's gates with that killer smile on his face, and announcing, "Hey, Lord ... heah I is!" You know, there's not a doubt in my mind but that those gates opened wide in welcome.

What an inspiration, this precious brother's life! What a joy to have known one so dedicated, so faithful, and so full of hope ... not in this life only, but in Christ Jesus.

I will miss you, my dear friend. I'm so proud of you - you really are a winner!

February "Bookshelf"

Have you seen this month's newsletter? Come on over and take a look. We've got a biblical take on love from Pamela James, a great interview with Jill Elizabeth Nelson, and more hot speaking tips from Dr. Chuck Wall. There's a new contest, too. Do you know how to enter? Don't forget, you must be a "Bookshelf" subscriber to be eligible to win!

Nor Iron Bars a Cage

by Caprice Hokstad


Two baby boys are lost in the hostile country of Ganluc - one the firstborn son of a prince and princess (third in line for the Royal Throne of Latoph) and the other an illegitimate half-breed born to an Itzi slavegirl and fathered by a licentious owner who was executed for treason. Yet Duke Vahn is determined to rescue both of these boys. Scores of knights and bounty hunters have risked their lives trying to retrieve them, yet none can even find a clue to their whereabouts.

When all else fails, a bold plan is proposed to send Vahn's most trusted servant posing as a runaway slave in order to gather information. Reluctantly, Vahn sends a strange trio off to Ganluc - his brave captain, a middle-aged healer, and an Itzi slave. Little does he know what challenges await both the trio and his own house, now forced to survive without its key leaders.


Read an excerpt from Nor Iron Bars a Cage

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Sisters, Ink

It is February FIRST, time for the FIRST Day Blog Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an author and his/her latest book's FIRST chapter!

This month's feature is:

Rebeca Seitz

and her book:

SISTERS, INK

B&H Books (February 1, 2008)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Rebeca Seitz is Founder and President of Glass Road Public Relations. An author for several years, PRINTS CHARMING being her first novel.

Rebeca cut her publicity teeth as the first dedicated publicist for the fiction division of Thomas Nelson Publishers. In 2005, Rebeca resigned from WestBow and opened the doors of GRPR, the only publicity firm of its kind in the country dedicated solely to representing novelists writing from a Christian worldview.

Rebeca makes her home in Kentucky with her husband, Charles, and their son, Anderson.


AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Tandy’s purple stiletto heel tapped in perfect rhythm to the pulse that threatened to leap out of her neck. She stared at the phone, willing it to ring and someone on the other end to declare this a joke. Her boss did not just call her into his office. Now.

The smooth tones from her CD player of Ole Blue Eyes crooning I Did it My Way mocked rather than soothed. She had to calm down, but Meg’s idea of music soothing the savage soul was not working. Fingers shaking, Tandy snatched up the receiver and dialed her sister. Calm, stoic Meg always knew what to do in a crisis. From falling off the swing set to supplying Oreos and caffeine the night before Tandy’s bar exam, Meg was a pro at handling crises and keeping her three sisters’ lives humming.

A busy signal sounded, and Tandy slammed the phone back down. Of course Meg would be on the phone right now. Why on earth couldn’t that woman understand the helpfulness of call-waiting? Tandy could hear Meg’s soft, persuasive response now: Why would I stop talking to one person before our conversation ended, T? It’s rude and I just won’t have it in my house.

Grabbing the receiver again, Tandy punched in Kendra’s numbers, jumping when yet another hawk flew into her window. Why did Orlando have to have a courthouse with the perfect nooks and crannies to build a nest? Ever since the completion of this new structure, hawks circled attorneys in the Bellsouth building across the on a daily basis.

Kendra’s melodic voice floated over the line, its harmonious tones the same as in childhood: "You have reached the voicemail of Kendra Sinclair…"

Tandy slammed the receiver down again and glared at the circling hawks. Of course Mr. Beasley was angry. He had every right to be, really. That fat deposit in her checking account every other week meant the continuation of her dedication to keeping their clients out of jail. Certainly it meant she wouldn’t hand the prosecution the very evidence they needed to obtain a conviction. She fiddled with the purple and black silk scarf tied around her neck.

Would Joy be any help at all in this situation? Joy might be the baby sister, but her quiet strength could come in handy right now. Except that Joy loved to talk and Christopher Beasley was waiting. The thought of him in his office high above the hawks, tapping his long fingers on the glass top of a heavy mahogany desk, didn’t allow for long phone conversations.

Tandy’s office phone rang and she jumped. "Tandy Sinclair."

"Tandy, it’s Anna." Tandy smiled, thinking of the gentle lady seated a few floors above her. "Mr. Beasley’s on his third cup of coffee."

Her smile vanished. "Oh, no, Anna. Couldn’t you have dawdled a bit? You know how he gets with caffeine overload."

"And you know how he gets when I dawdle. You’ve got maybe three minutes before he asks me to get cup number four."

"I’m on my way." Tandy pushed back from her desk and stood up. "Thanks, Anna."

"No problem, sweetie."

Tandy dropped the phone in its cradle, her gaze darting around the room for something, anything that would prevent the next ten minutes.

If that idiot Harry Simons had been one iota less smarmy, this predicament could have been avoided. His outright ogling of her figure had been bad enough, but certainly not the first time Tandy had been forced to ignore a man’s unwanted attentions. They all seemed to believe her red, wavy hair was a sign she’d fulfill their wildest dreams. Heck, Mr. Beasley had probably even made that assumption at some point, as evidenced by his swift promotions landing her in a cushy corner office of Meyers, Briggs, and Stratton.

Tandy swigged caffeine and paced the office. It wasn’t even Harry’s condescension. His superiority, rooted in maleness, made no effort to hide the belief that a brain resting between the pierced ears of a thirty-year-old female graduate of Yale School of Law somehow negated its existence. That idiocy didn’t even raise her blood pressure. She fingered her pearl earrings and grimaced as a hawk glided to rest on the ledge outside.

No, she would have been fine, and Christopher Beasley would not at this very moment be preparing to fire her, except for one innocent little lunch with small-minded Harry. Why, oh why, had she agreed to go to lunch with the lizard? (Honestly, his head rivaled the shape of geckos that ran in and out of every flower bed in Central Florida.) Come to think of it, his eyes were shifty like a gecko, too. Was the single life getting to her so much that she’d date a lizard? She stopped and tapped the window ledge. Meg and Kendra were on her case to date more. But who had time to meet people after spending sixty-five hours a week at the office? She sighed. The sisters just didn’t understand life in the city.

"You guys have got it easy," she said to the hawks. "Circle, eat, rest, repeat. With the occasional head bang into a window to keep us lawyers on our toes." She shook her head.

Well, it didn’t matter now. Mr. Beasley awaited her presence and it would only get worse the longer she stood here. Her heels sank into the plush pearl-colored carpet as she crossed the office, ignoring the latest sacrifice to her black thumb—a nearly dead African violet. She opened her office door and cast one last glance at what, in about ten minutes, probably would not be her office. Oh well. Maybe she could take the plant to Anna.

She picked up the violet. At least the charade of defending a slimeball, who made fun of an old homeless man to make himself seem big, would come to an end. And the day was still young; she could hit the beach before the lunch rush hit I-4.

Shoulders thrown back, chin up, Tandy made her way down the hallway and entered an elevator lined in the obligatory mahogany, brass, and mirrors, testimony to Christopher’s desire to never rock a boat even in the decoration of his law firm’s offices. She eyed her reflection and saw steel in the brown eyes staring back. Cutting Harry off at the knees in public wasn’t the best financial move to make. How would she buy food for Cooper? Pay his vet bills? Keeping an old basset hound with arthritic knees and hips in comfort was a pricey endeavor. Still, it had been worth it to see the shock on Harry’s face when she announced in her loud voice the impending completion of his career. From a 9x9 prison cell, that cardboard box would look like heaven.

She checked her chignon, tucking in a stray curl and smoothing the rest down. Picturing Harry’s smug, pudgy face behind bars did way more to calm her pulse rate than Sinatra’s croon. The elevator dinged, announcing her arrival to Christopher Beasley’s penthouse lair.

Tandy took a deep breath, tightened her grip on the sagging violet, sent up a prayer of thanks that she’d picked the Ann Taylor suit today—must look sharp when being fired--and stepped across the threshold.

"He’s waiting for you." Sympathy shimmered in Anna’s blue eyes. The Orlando sun shining through the window made Anna’s hair glow like a fresh pearl.

Tandy set the violet down on Anna’s desk. "Thanks, Anna. It’s been good knowing you. I wonder if you might coax this little guy back to life?"

Anna raised her eyebrows. "Tandy, how many times do I have to tell you? You’re a danger to plants." She smiled and wagged her finger. "You taking them in isn’t an act of kindness. You leave the greenery to us old chicks."

Tandy laughed. "Yes ma’am." She took another breath. "I guess I should go in now."

Anna sobered. "Guess so."

"Still on cup number three?"

"I just took in cup four. I doubt he’s taken a sip yet, though. He’s slowing down."

"Thanks for everything, Anna."

"You’re welcome, honey. Take care of yourself. And you call me if you need anything, hear?"

Tandy nodded, only now realizing that losing her job also meant losing Anna’s kind wisdom. She blinked hard. Crying at work would not do. She stepped to Christopher’s door and knocked.

"Come." His deep voice bellowed through the door and Tandy’s pulse kicked up again. This was it. For the first time ever, Tandy Sinclair was about to be fired from a job.

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